Kitabı oku: «The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Two hours later, he reminded himself of the conversation with his foreman as he listened to the Pine Gulch mayor ramble on about every single civic event planned for the coming year, from the Founders’ Day parade to the Memorial Day breakfast to the annual tradition of decorating the town park for the holidays.

Public relations, he reminded himself. That was the only reason for his presence. If that meant expiring from boredom, it was a small price to pay.

“This is a nice town, as you’ll find when you’ve been here a little longer,” Mayor Wilson assured him. “A nice town full of real nice people. Why, I don’t guess there’s a more neighborly town in all of Idaho. You could have done a lot worse if you’d settled somewhere else.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” he murmured to the other man, wondering when he could politely leave.

At least the mayor was willing to talk to him. He supposed he ought to be grateful for that. While he wasn’t encountering outright hostility from people at the party, he had seen little of that neighborliness Mayor Wilson claimed. Most were polite to him but guarded, which was about what he expected.

The server walked past with more of those divine spinach rolls. He grabbed one as she passed by, hoping she wasn’t keeping track of his consumption since he knew he’d had more than his share.

At least the food was good. Better than good, actually. He had come in with fairly low culinary expectations. A stock growers’ holiday party in Pine Gulch, Idaho, wasn’t exactly high on his list of places to find haute cuisine.

But the menu was imaginative and every dish prepared exactly right. He paid a Cordon Bleu-trained personal chef to fill his refrigerator and freezer here and in San Francisco and he thought the food at this party was every bit as good as anything Jean-Marc prepared.

None of it was fancy but everything he had tried so far exploded with taste, from the mini crab cakes with wild mushrooms to the caramel tart he’d tasted to the spinach rolls he couldn’t get enough of.

He could only hope the personal chef he hired from Jackson Hole for the guests who were coming to Raven’s Nest in a few days was half as good as this caterer.

The house party was an important one for McRaven Enterprises and he wanted everything to be exactly right, especially since he had a feeling this was his one and only chance to convince Frederick Hertzog and his son, Dierk, to sell their cellular phone manufacturing business to McRaven Enterprises.

Frederick loved all things Western. When Carson learned he and his family were traveling from Germany to Salt Lake City for a ski vacation, he had made arrangements to fly them to Raven’s Nest for a few days in an effort to convince the man McRaven Enterprises was the best company to take Hertzog Communications and its vast network of holdings to the next level.

He and Hertzog had had a long discussion the last time they met about some of the range policies Carson was trying to emphasize at Raven’s Nest and the man was interested to see those efforts in action.

He expected to have more opportunities to entertain at Raven’s Nest. He preferred his solitude while he was here but he had built the house knowing some degree of entertaining was inevitable. It wouldn’t hurt to meet the caterer before he left, he decided. He could at least get a business card so he could pass it along to Carrianne, his enormously competent assistant who handled all his event-planning details.

The kitchen was at the rear of the community center. Just before he reached it, another server came through the doors carrying a tray laden with artfully arranged holiday sweets. Cookies and truffles and slices of nut bread.

He focused first on the food, wondering how upset she would be if he messed up her lovely tray by snatching one of those giant sugar cookies. He lifted his gaze to the server to ask and did a quick double take.

“Mrs. Wheeler!”

She wobbled a little and nearly dropped the entire platter. “Mr. McRaven,” she exclaimed, in the same voice she might have used if an alien spaceship suddenly landed in the middle of the room. “What are you doing here?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I was invited. Why do you sound so surprised? This is the cattle growers’ association holiday party, right? Since I run four hundred head of cattle at Raven’s Nest, doesn’t that make me eligible?”

She paused for only a moment and then continued to the buffet table, where she set down the tray before answering him. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. You certainly have the right to attend whatever party you’d care to. I just…wouldn’t have expected you here, that’s all. I was surprised to see you. The cattlemen’s association is usually old-timers. The local good old boys.”

“What about Viviana Cruz? You can’t call her a good ole boy and she runs the whole association.”

She smiled suddenly, brightly. “Point taken. Viv is definitely her own person. And we all love her for it.”

With that smile, Jenna Wheeler suddenly looked as delicious as the food she was so carefully arranging, enough to make his mouth water. Her cheeks were flushed like the barest hint of color on August peaches and her silky blond hair was doing its best to escape the confines of the hair clip holding it away from her face.

He wondered what she would do if he reached out to finish the job, just for the sheer pleasure of watching it swing free, but he quickly squashed the inappropriate reaction. She was an extraordinarily lovely woman, he thought, not particularly thrilled that he couldn’t seem to stop noticing that little fact about his neighbor.

“Are you helping the caterer tonight?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I guess you could say that. Is there something wrong with the food?”

“No. Quite the contrary. Everything has been perfect. I’m looking for a business card, in fact.”

She blinked at him for a long moment, her big green eyes astonished, then she quickly looked away as if she hadn’t heard him, her attention focused on arranging items on the buffet table for better access by the guests.

As the silence dragged on, he realized she wasn’t going to respond. “So would you mind getting one for me from the caterer when you have a minute?” he pressed.

Again she gave him that odd look, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to handle his request. Finally, she sighed and reached into the pocket of her red-and-green striped apron and pulled out a business card.

A nice touch for the caterer, he thought, to give all his servers business cards to be handed out upon request. He scanned it quickly, then felt his jaw drop.

Cold Creek Cuisine

Weddings, parties, reunions, or just an unforgettable, intimate dinner for two

Jenna Wheeler, owner

“You made all this?” he asked.

She gave him a long, cool look. “Why do you sound so surprised?” she parroted his own words back to him.

He had no good response to that, other than the obvious. “You’re a widowed mother of four young children. Quite frankly, I’m astonished you have time to breathe, forget about running a business.”

He didn’t add that from what he had seen of her children, he would think just keeping them out of mischief would require six or seven strong-willed adults. Armed with cattle prods, for good measure.

“It can be challenging sometimes,” she answered. “But I do most of the cooking when they’re in school or sleeping.”

Even when he came to Raven’s Nest to relax, he could never completely escape work. Carson often had to take conference calls from Europe or Japan at odd hours. He remembered now that he had sometimes seen lights glowing at her house late at night and had wondered about it.

He was struck by another sudden memory. “Is that why you had so many groceries in your van today? I thought maybe you were just stocking up in case of a blizzard.”

She laughed out loud and he was quite certain it was the loveliest sound he had heard in a long time. “My boys eat a lot, I’ll grant you that. But not quite twenty grocery bags full. Yes, that’s why I had so many groceries in my van. It was also the reason for my panic this morning. I had a million things to do before tonight and couldn’t really afford the delay of being stupid enough to slide into a snowbank. Thank you again for pulling me out.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad I was there. I would have hated missing all this delicious food. Your tandoori beef skewers are particularly wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything like it.”

“Thank you.” She looked as surprised at the compliment as if he had just reached over and kissed her hard, right here above the maple pepper salmon bites.

Not a completely unappealing idea, he had to admit.

None of this made sense to him. Not his sudden fierce attraction to her or the fact that she was here in the first place.

He had paid in the mid seven figures for her ranch, more than its appraised value because he hadn’t wanted to quibble and risk missing out on the purchase after he had searched so long for the perfect rangeland for his and Neil’s plans for sustainable ranching.

He would think with careful management, she and her children would be well-provided-for the rest of their lives.

But she drove a five-year-old minivan and her house needed painting and she worked after her children were in bed to throw parties for other people.

It was none of his business, he reminded himself. She was none of his business.

Except she did fix a mean goat-cheese crostini.

“Well, your food is fantastic. Do you mind if I give your card to my assistant who plans my events for me? I expect I’ll be doing more entertaining at Raven’s Nest in the future. I was hoping to find someone closer than Jackson Hole to handle the catering when I entertain. I never expected her to live just down the hill.”

She paused for a long moment and he could clearly see the indecision in her eyes. He sensed she wanted to tell him no but instead she gave a short nod. “I suppose. I should warn you I’m very selective about the jobs I accept. If it doesn’t work for my children’s schedule, I have no qualms about turning something down. They come first.”

“Fair enough.”

He would have added more but the woman who had been helping Jenna serve at the party approached them at that moment. She barely looked at Carson but the quick glance she shot at him was icier, even more than Jenna’s had been.

“Jenna, the mayor is asking if you have more of your baconwrapped shrimp. He’s crazy about them, apparently. I told him I would ask.”

“I’ll have to go check the inventory in the kitchen.” She turned toward Carson with an apologetic expression he wasn’t completely certain was genuine.

“Will you excuse me? Things are a little hectic.”

“Of course,” he answered. He watched her go, not at all thrilled to realize the brief interaction with her had been the most enjoyable moments of his evening.

Why wouldn’t the man just leave already?

Jenna returned to the kitchen after making yet another trip to replenish the buffet table, fighting the urge to bury her face in a pitcher of ice water.

This was becoming ridiculous.

She had made a half-dozen trips out into the holidaybedecked community center, circulating among the guests with more cheesecake or toffee bites.

Every time, she had vowed to herself she wouldn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to Carson McRaven. But the instant she would walk out of the kitchen, her gaze would unerringly find him, no matter where he was standing.

He shouldn’t have stood out so glaringly. She had no reason to hone in on him like a heat-seeking missile. It wasn’t like he was wearing some fancy tailored Italian-cut suit or anything. He had on perfectly appropriate khaki slacks and a light blue dress shirt under a sport jacket that looked casual but probably cost more than the average fall steer at market.

The man was just too blasted good-looking, with that dark wavy hair and those intense blue eyes. It didn’t help that he wore his clothes with a careless elegance that was completely foreign compared to the off-the-rack crowd in Pine Gulch.

She couldn’t help noticing him, maybe because he looked like a fierce hawk taking tea with a flock of starlings.

This is the cattle growers’ association holiday party, right? Since I run four hundred head of cattle at Raven’s Nest, doesn’t that make me eligible?

If he was your average rancher, she was Julia Child.

“I can’t believe that man had the nerve to show up here.”

Jenna swiveled to find her sister-in-law coming through the doors with another empty tray. “What man?” she asked, playing innocent, just as if her thoughts hadn’t revolved around him from the moment she had discovered him at the party.

“McRaven!” Terri’s glare looked incongruous on her pixie features. “Does the man have to ruin everything? It’s not enough that he waltzes away with your ranch and starts building that Taj Mahal on it but now he has to show up all over town like he owns the place.”

“He didn’t waltz away with anything, Terri. You know that. He paid good money for the ranch. And the house he built is big but it’s not obscenely big.”

“It’s the biggest house in town. I mean, who really needs a twelve thousand square foot mansion out in the middle of freaking nowhere? Do you have any idea what kind of hit he’s going to take if he ever tries to sell the place? Who else is going to want to shell out that kind of money in this soft market?”

“Does everything have to come down to real estate with you?”

Terri made a face. “I can’t help it. I’ve got loan-to-values and escrow analyses on the brain.”

When her sister-in-law wasn’t helping her serve the mad rush of holiday events she had overcommitted to, Terri was studying for her real-estate license.

“McRaven should have taken a good look at the market around here before he jumped in and started building his megahouse,” she added.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t care about the market. He’s got the money and the land. He’s free to build whatever kind of house he wants on it.”

She had to admit, she hadn’t been thrilled that, for ten months, Raven’s Nest had seen a constant stream of workers and delivery trucks and construction vehicles, with their dust and noise. The boys had been fascinated by it all but she had mostly found it annoying. And, okay, she had resented that Carson had the endlessly deep pockets to come in and make all the changes she and Joe had only ever been able to dream about in whispered conversations in the dark quiet of their bedroom.

“I still don’t think it’s right,” Terri muttered. “He doesn’t belong here. It doesn’t help that he comes in looking like he just finished a photo shoot for some sexy men’s magazine. No man should be allowed to be that rich and that unbelievably gorgeous. It’s just not fair.”

“You’re a married woman, Terri!” she teased.

“Very happily married,” she agreed. “But you have to agree, that man is lethal.”

Jenna decided she would be wise to just keep her mouth shut right about now.

“You should see Annalee Kelley putting out the vibe. She’s all over him. If Annalee has her way, she’ll be the first one in town to see the inside of Raven’s Nest. Or at least one of the bedrooms there.”

Okay, she didn’t want to go there, Jenna decided, and quickly changed the subject.

“How are the crab cakes? They seem to be going fast, don’t they?”

Terri looked reluctant to be distracted but finally gave in. “You have, like, three left out there. You’ve done a fantastic job, as usual, Jen. Everybody’s raving about how delicious the food is and at least a half-dozen people begged me for your white chocolate mousse recipe.”

She had been working like crazy to make everything perfect for the party. It was amazing the sense of satisfaction she found.

“Thanks for all your help these last few weeks as everything has been so crazy, Terri. You’ve saved my bacon.”

“You’re welcome, hon. I’m just glad this is our last gig for a while. I can’t wait for the cruise this week. I’m going to completely put the stupid real-estate test out of my head and just bask by the pool with an umbrella drink in my hand.”

Her brother and his family were leaving the day before Christmas for a weeklong cruise on the Mexican Riviera.

“Well, I won’t have umbrella drinks but I’ll be glad to take a rest, too. It will be nice to have things get back to normal.”

“As normal as your life can get when you live just down the hill from the McRaven McMansion. I heard from Melina Parker that he’s got guests coming in this weekend. You let me know if there are any naked hot tub parties up there, okay? As much as I despise the man, I might have to come over with Paul’s binoculars, just for a little peek.”

Oh, as if she needed that visual image in her head. She thrust a platter at her sister-in-law to distract her. “Here. This is the last of the crostini. Try to move them. I don’t want to take any home with me.”

Terri grinned but obediently headed back out to the party.

The next time Jenna dared venture out of the kitchen, Carson McRaven was nowhere in sight. She told herself that odd, hollow feeling in her stomach was simply relief that he was gone and she could finally concentrate on the job at hand.

It certainly wasn’t disappointment.

Chapter Four

“You’ve got company.”

Carson looked up from his computer monitor. His foreman’s wife, Melina—who served as housekeeper at Raven’s Nest—stood in his doorway, a dust cloth in one hand and an amused smirk on her plump features.

“Can you handle it? This is not really a good time for me to be distracted. I’m videoconferencing with Carrianne right now.”

Melina did a little finger wave. “Hi, Carrianne.”

His hyperefficient assistant smiled from the computer screen. “Hello, Melina. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. Except I woke up this morning with a little sciatica, but that should pass when this miserable cold weather eases a little. Sorry to disturb you two while you’re plotting to take over the world or whatever, but I’m supposed to tell you that your visitors are on strict orders to talk to you and no one else.”

“Who is it?”

“You’ll have to find out yourself, won’t you? See you, Carrianne.”

Before Carson could protest, she grinned at him and at Carrianne on the computer screen then walked away. He frowned after her. Neither Melina nor Neil were the most docile of employees, which was probably the reason he liked them both so much.

“Is everything all right?” Carrianne asked.

“Damned if I know but I’d better go see. Can you hang tight for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

Even if some emergency kept him away all night and unable to reach her, he knew Carrianne would still be waiting by the computer for him in the morning. She was dependable to a fault—and invaluable for it.

The slightest of headaches thudded in his temples in rhythm with the frustration throbbing through him. He didn’t need the distraction right now. He and Carrianne were trying to wrap up several projects before the holidays, a difficult enough task to accomplish via long distance. And even though Christmas was still five days away, the whole business community seemed to have decided to start celebrating early.

His frustration didn’t ease when he reached the foyer and found the three Wheeler boys standing inside the doorway, snow dripping from their parkas onto his custom Italian tile floor. The oldest one, Hayden, he remembered, was holding a couple of small parcels.

Cold poured in from the door they had left open to the outside and he caught a glimpse of two ponies tied to the railing of the front porch. Two horses, three boys. Two must have been forced to double up, a fact he was quite certain didn’t please either of them.

“Hi, Mr. McRaven.” The medium-sized one with the glasses—Drew, he remembered—seemed to have been elected spokesman for the group.

“Hello, boys. What brings you up this way?”

“Our mom sent us.” Apparently, Kip’s trauma of a few days earlier had been forgotten. He seemed to consider Carson his best friend, judging by the wattage of the gap-toothed grin he offered that should have looked ridiculous but seemed rather appealing instead.

“This is for you.” Hayden barely looked at him as he thrust out the parcels and Carson now saw they were clear holiday patterned plastic containers filled with some kind of food items.

“We’re supposed to tell you to put the spinach rolls in the refrigerator. The cookies you can leave out.”

“I hope she gave you snickerdoodles,” Kip said with that grin again. “They’re my favorite.”

“Okay.” He had no idea how to respond to this unexpected visit or to their offerings.

“Tell him what we’re supposed to say,” Drew hissed to his older brother.

Hayden scowled, then spoke in a monotone. “We’re supposed to tell you we’re sorry for trespassing the other day and thank you for bringing Kip home when he fell off the fence and for pulling out our van yesterday when Mom got stuck in the snow.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.” He had absolutely no experience with neighbors who thought they had to bring him cookies. It was a Mayberry moment he found unexpected and a bit surreal. Still, just the thought of having the chance to enjoy more of Jenna Wheeler’s cooking made his mouth water.

“Your house is big,” Kip said, looking around the two-story entry that led to the great room. “It’s like a castle.”

“Grandma Pat says it’s a monster city up here.” The oldest one stated the insult matter-of-factly. “She says you’re only stroking your ego.”

It took him a few moments to figure out “monster city” probably meant monstrosity. Either way, it annoyed him.

“Does she?” he asked evenly, wondering who the hell Grandma Pat might be.

Drew studied him, those green eyes behind the glasses wary. “Is that something mean? What Grandma Pat said?”

Again, Carson felt out of his depth and wondered the best way to usher his bothersome little visitors out the door. “I guess that depends.”

“Grandma Pat says mean stuff like that all the time,” he said, apology in his voice.

“She does not, moron. Shut up.” Hayden punched his shoulder hard enough to make Drew wobble a little and Carson fought the urge to sit the boy down for a long lecture about not mistreating anybody, particularly smaller brothers.

Drew righted himself and stepped out of reach of his brother. “Mom says not to listen to her when she says something mean because she can’t help it. She doesn’t always think about what she’s saying.”

Hayden opened his mouth to defend Grandma Pat but before he could, Kip called out to them from inside the great room. “Hey, where’s your Christmas tree?”

How had the kid wandered away so quickly? One minute he’d been there grinning at him, the next he was halfway across the house. Like wayward puppies, his brothers followed him and Carson had no choice but to head after them.

“Don’t you have a tree?” Drew asked, his voice shocked.

“I have a little one in the family room off the kitchen.” A fourfoot grapevine tree his interior designer had left at Thanksgiving, when he visited last.

“Can we see it?” Drew asked.

“Why don’t you have a big one in here?” Hayden asked, with that inexplicable truculence in his voice.

“I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Don’t you like Christmas?” Kip asked, looking astonished at the very idea.

How did he explain to these innocent-looking boys that the magic of the holidays disappeared mighty damn fast when you lived in the backseat of your druggie mother’s Chevy Vega?

“Sure, I like Christmas. I have a tree at my other house in California.” One that his housekeeper there insisted on decorating, but he decided he didn’t need to give the Wheeler boys that information. “I just haven’t had time to put one up here. I’ve only been here a few days and I’ve had other things to do.”

“We could help you cut one down.” Drew’s features sparkled with excitement. “We know where the good ones are. We always cut one down right by where the creek comes down and makes the big turn.”

“Only this year we couldn’t,” Hayden muttered. “Mom said it would be stealing since it’s on your land now. We had to go with our Uncle Paul to get one from the people selling them at his feed store. We couldn’t find a good one, though. They were all scrawny.”

The kid’s beef was with his mother for selling the land, not with him, Carson reminded himself, even as he bristled.

“You want us to show you where the good trees are?” his brother asked eagerly.

“Drew,” Hayden hissed.

“What? Maybe he doesn’t know. It would be fun. Just like when we used to go with…with Dad.”

The boy’s voice wobbled a little on the last word and Carson’s insides clenched. He didn’t need a bunch of fatherless boys coming into his life, making him feel sorry for them and guilty that he’d had the effrontery to pay their mother a substantial sum to buy their family’s ranch.

“We could take you on Peppy,” the youngest beamed. “Peppy’s the pony me and Drew share.”

“Like three people can fit on Pep,” Hayden scoffed. “He’s so old, he can barely carry the two of you.”

“Maybe he could ride his own horse,” Drew suggested. “It’s not far. So do you want us to help you? We already have our warm clothes on and everything.”

“Don’t be such a dork. Why would he want our help?”

Hayden’s surliness and his brother’s contrasting eagerness both tugged at something deep inside him, a tiny flicker of memory of the one Christmas he had been blessed to stay with his grandparents. He had been nine years old, trying to act as tough as Hayden. His grandfather had driven him on a snowmobile to the Forest Service land above their small ranch and the two of them had gone off in search of a Christmas tree.

He had forgotten that moment, had buried the memory deep. But now it all came flooding back—the citrusy tang of the pine trees, the cold wind rushing past, the crunch of the snow underfoot. The sheer thrill of walking past tree after tree until he and his grandfather picked out the perfect one.

He could still remember the joy of hauling it back to his grandparents’ home and the thrill as his grandmother had exclaimed over it, proclaiming it to be the most beautiful tree they had ever had.

He and his grandfather had hung the lights later that night and he had helped put the decorations up. He had a sudden distinct memory of sneaking out of bed later that night and going out to the living room, plugging in the lights and lying under the tree, watching the flickering lights change from red to green to purple to gold and wondering if he had ever seen anything so magical.

The next Christmas, he had been back with his mother and had spent the holiday in a dingy apartment in Barstow. The only lights had been headlights on the interstate.

He pushed the memory aside and focused on the three boys watching him with varying expressions on their similar features.

He really did need a Christmas tree. It was a glaring omission, one he couldn’t believe he hadn’t caught before now when he had been trying to make sure every detail at Raven’s Nest was perfect. He had guests coming in the next day who would be sure to wonder why he didn’t have one.

He had no good explanation he could offer the Hertzogs, other than his own negligence. He just hadn’t thought of it, since Christmas wasn’t really even on his radar.

He didn’t dislike the holidays, they were mostly just an inconvenience—a time when the whole world seemed to stop working, whether they celebrated Christmas or not.

On the other hand, where the hell was he going to get lights and decorations for a Christmas tree just five days before the holiday?

Carrianne could take care of that, he was quite certain. She would have the whole thing arranged in a few hours, even from California.

“You probably don’t even know how to ride a horse, do you?” Hayden scoffed. “That’s what Grandma Pat said. She says you probably don’t know the back end of a horse from a hole in the ground.”

Grandma Pat sounded like a real charmer.

“I do know how to ride a horse, thanks. I’ve been doing it for a long time now.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.”

He sighed at the boy’s attitude. He never had been good at ignoring a dare. “Give me ten minutes to wrap some things up in my office, then you’re welcome to judge for yourself whether I can ride or not. In the meantime, there’s a telephone over there by the fireplace. Why don’t you call your mother to ask her permission to go with me?”

The two younger boys couldn’t have looked more excited than if he had just offered to let them fly his jet. Hayden, though, looked as if he were sucking on sour apples.

Yeah, kid, I know how you feel, Carson thought as he headed back to his study. He wasn’t that thrilled about the whole situation, either. He should never have opened his mouth. He just had to hope Carrianne could arrange things so he wasn’t stuck with a perfectly good evergreen he had cut down for nothing.

“You’re doing what?”

Certain she couldn’t possibly have heard Drew right, Jenna held the cordless phone closer to her ear and slid away from her sewing machine at the kitchen table and moved into the hall, where she could hear better without the whoosh of the dishwasher and the Christmas carols playing on the radio.

“Mr. McRaven doesn’t have a Christmas tree,” Drew said, in the same aghast tone of voice he might use to say the man kicked baby ducks for fun. “We told him where the good ones are, up above the far pasture, but that we couldn’t go there this year to cut one down ‘cause you said it was stealin’. But since it’s his place now, it’s not stealin’ so he can get one there if he wants. And we’re gonna help him.”