Western Christmas Wishes. Brenda Minton

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter One

      The small town of Hope, Oklahoma, happened to be everything Laurel Adams didn’t want for Christmas. She didn’t want twinkling lights, country cafés decorated with green and-silver garland or people who stood on the street corner and offered a cheery greeting as she drove past. She wanted big-city anonymity and her Chicago apartment, with its view of Lake Michigan. Instead she found herself in a town she had visited only twice in over twenty years.

      When she was nine years old, she and her mother had moved from Hope to Chicago. It had been their fresh start, her mom had said. It was their adventure. Really, it had been their escape.

      Back then, the town of Hope hadn’t been a friendly haven to a single mother who worked as a waitress and did her best to survive. Laurel’s grandmother assured her it had changed. As Laurel drove into town, it was easy to see the cosmetic differences. But the surface wasn’t what mattered to a girl who had been hurt by names and dirty looks.

      You could hang twinkling lights on it, put on a fresh coat of paint and plant flowers. Those things didn’t change the heart of a town. You could put a fancy facade on the front of a building, but if the foundation was crumbling, it didn’t matter a bit.

      She turned on a side road that led along the lake and up into the hills on the northern edge of town. Her grandmother’s old Victorian sat on the hillside overlooking the lake. It was a picturesque home, with pale peach siding, sage-green trim and a wraparound porch with white rocking chairs for summer evenings. It hadn’t changed since Laurel’s not-so-picturesque childhood.

      And yet, somehow, it still felt like coming home. She shook off the thought. This wasn’t a homecoming; it was a necessary visit. She was here to check on her grandmother.

      She parked in the driveway and stepped out. A cold December breeze greeted her and she pulled her jacket closed as she looked around, taking in all that was familiar, as well as what had changed.

      There was a caretaker. Laurel wondered where she would find him. She grabbed her purse out of the car, then headed up the stone walkway to the front porch. A shadow shifted and changed, becoming a shaggy brown dog as it exited the woods. The animal barked as he approached.

      “Easy, boy. I belong here.” Sort of.

      The dog continued to bark, his tail wagging but not in quite as friendly a manner as she would have liked. He growled at her, and she froze.

      “Zorro, down.” A strong, deep and in-command voice called out. The owner of it emerged from the woods—he was tall with a black cowboy hat pulled low on his head.

      She remained rooted to the spot, afraid of both the dog and the man walking next to the gigantic animal. As they drew closer she gasped and took a step back.

      At her reaction he snapped his fingers and spun to walk away, the dog moving quickly to his side with just a backward glance and one last warning growl.

      “Wait,” she called to his retreating back. “I’m sorry. I just...”

      She was unforgivably rude. She knew how it felt to be judged. As a child she’d suffered the dirty looks, the whispers, the judgment for what her parents had done. She knew how painful it was.

      “I was rude and I’m sorry,” she called out after him.

      He stopped, paused for mere seconds and then turned back, giving her the full effect of his scarred face. The right side was rather beautiful, with lean bone structure, a mouth that formed a straight and unforgiving line, and blue eyes.

      Correction. One blue eye. One eye patch.

      “Are you finished?” he asked. He meant, was she finished staring.

      She took a step closer. “I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t expect anyone to be here. And the dog frightened me.”

      “And my face, let’s not forget my face.”

      She contemplated her next words carefully. An objection would be a lie, and condescending to boot. He knew the truth so she should speak the truth.

      “Okay, yes, you shocked me. But what frightened me was the dog.” On a second look, she realized the scars weren’t so shocking. The skin on the left side of his face was rough and a defined scar ran along his cheek and down his neck.

      “Bravo for honesty.” He clapped a slow and steady beat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

      “Wait!” she called out as he started to walk away again.

      He stopped.

      “Are you the caretaker?”

      He laughed, his one blue eye sparkling with genuine humor. “No, I’m not. Is that what Gladys told you?”

      “She said I would have to get the key from her caretaker.”

      “I’m not the caretaker. I rent her guesthouse while my home is being built. But I do have a key to the main house.” He gave her a long look with an eye so blue it mesmerized, and thick lashes that only made it more compelling. That piercing gaze somehow made her feel as if the solid ground beneath her would soon give way.

      “Also, I’m not a babysitter so please come get Capital T,” he said as he started to walk away from her.

      “Capital T? Babysitter?” Laurel blinked, trying to decipher what he was saying.

      “Rose. She’s Trouble with a capital T. Not my trouble—yours. She’s been here all afternoon and I haven’t been able to get a hold of Kylie West. So Capital T is here, getting in the way, messing with my horses, annoying my dog. If you’ll follow me, you can have the key and the child.”

      “Child?”

      He pinned her with that steady gaze of his.

      “Gladys didn’t tell you anything, did she?” His hand went to the monstrous dog at his side. Her gaze followed the gesture, the calming hand, the wiry haired black dog that looked as if he could eat a small ham in one bite. Or her leg.

      He cleared his throat and she returned her full attention to the owner of the dog.

      “I’m afraid I’m in the dark,” she told him. “My grandmother just said that she could use some help around here until she gets out of the facility where she’s doing her physical therapy and recovery.”

      “Gladys is one of a kind.” There was a hint of admiration in his words, mixed in with a good dose of exasperation. Then he headed for the barn.

      “What’s your name?” she asked.

      “Cameron СКАЧАТЬ