If Only (18 page)

She followed her husband’s gaze to a woman in her early forties sitting on the sidelines, nursing a mug of apple cider while trying not to look bored. Her husband, who was sitting next to her, had a huge cast on his left leg, which would make it difficult, if not impossible, for him to dance.

“Clint broke his leg while riding a horse, and I thought maybe—”

Scott didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence because Bree interrupted him by winding her arms around his neck and pressing her body tightly against his, her mouth meeting his for a kiss.

“You are the sweetest,” her words broke off as she brought her lips once again to meet his. “Most amazing man I have ever met,” she confessed in a whisper. “Don’t you worry. I’m sure I can find something to amuse me,” she murmured with a naughty wink.

He wasn’t gone for more than a couple of minutes when a tall and handsome dark-haired man approached Bree, wearing a cocky grin that made her smile. Sometimes there was just no justice in this world. Every one of the Weston men was made for the sole purpose of satisfying a woman.

Six feet and two inches of rugged male masculinity was headed her way. There was a swagger in his steps, with the devil himself in his smile. This was a man who knew what he wanted, and he did his absolute damnedest to get it. Known as Mistletoe’s resident bad boy, Luke Weston was a force to be reckoned with. He was a law unto himself. Armed with an I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude, he was considered to be trouble with a capital T.

Luke was the baby of the Weston family. He had been spoiled as a child, and that had ultimately influenced his attitude as a grown man. Every woman in town wanted to land him, and every father in town was terrified their darling baby girl would be corrupted by him. It was probably a good thing he was on a first-name basis with Mistletoe’s finest, and best friends with the sheriff, because Luke Weston had been in his share of scrapes.

But in her eyes, Luke would always be a shoulder for her to cry on. He was the person she had gone to at the tender age of seventeen when Scott had confessed to her he had kissed another girl. She didn’t see him as two hundred pounds of trouble in tight blue jeans. She only saw him as her friend, her confidant, the brother she had always wanted but never had.

Luke Weston was almost as impressive as his older brother. They both had eyes the color of melted chocolate and the same dark brown hair, but that was where the similarities ended. Luke was the daredevil, the black sheep of the family. He was well-liked by his friends and well-loved by his family, but he was a risk-taker, a thrill-seeker, through and through.

At twenty-five, he already had a reputation around the town of Mistletoe. He loved women. He loved all women, and he had a history of dating more than one woman at a time, and he never dated the same woman twice. He was not into serious relationships; in fact, he had never had one. All he was interested in were not-so-discreet affairs.

Her brother-in-law grabbed her wrists and then began twirling her around in circles. She stared into the dark depths of brown eyes that were so familiar, yet so different. He was all cowboy, from the scuffed-up black boots he wore on his feet to the black cowboy hat dipped above his left eye. A pair of faded blue jeans encased his muscled thighs, and a denim snap-buttoned shirt showed off each and every one of his rippling muscles.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Bree and Luke turned in the direction of the voice, and she smiled when she recognized Doyle Bingham, their host for the evening, and his wife, Patty. With an apologetic look at Luke, she reached for the older man’s hand and smiled charmingly. “Of course you may,” she murmured.

They quickly changed partners, Bree with Doyle and Luke with Patty. She waved to Luke as Doyle led her in a Texas Two-Step.

Minutes later, Bree was back in Luke’s arms, and he leaned down to murmur into her ear. “Thank God,” he whispered. “Back to someone who knows how to dance. Patty stomped on my foot three damn times.”

She clucked her tongue sympathetically and then stated with a small smile. “Poor baby. Shall I call you a toe truck?” She giggled as he rolled his brown eyes in response.

Luke toyed with the thick fringe on her red off-the-shoulder sweater, wrapping the material around the width of his finger. “Ha, ha, very funny,” he answered. “Aren’t you just Mrs. Social Butterfly?”

Without any warning, he spun her around in a dizzying circle, leaving her without any choice but to cling to his strong arms desperately. As the world came back into focus, she laughed.

Her eyes sparkled with pleasure, and to his surprise, she slugged him affectionately in response.

“You look positively radiant tonight, my darling sister.” He grinned, exposing perfect white teeth that could have been used in a toothpaste commercial.

“Silver-tongued devil,” she retorted, looping her arms around his neck.

“Just where is my good-for-nothing brother, and why has he abandoned the most beautiful woman in the room?”

If looks could kill, he would be a dead man. The look on Bree’s face was positively priceless. For a few seconds, he thought he might have pushed the envelope just a little too far. But then a mischievous grin flashed across her face, and he knew all had been forgiven.

“That’s kind of like the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” she questioned, her auburn head tilting at an angle. “The man-whore of Mistletoe, the town hoodlum, calling my husband a good-for-nothing?”

“Guilty as charged,” Luke agreed as he shrugged his shoulders like he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Why aren’t you making the rounds with all the single girls in town?” she asked. He didn’t get the chance to answer immediately because another couple bumped into them.

The mayor and his wife mumbled their apologies. His wife, however, took a long, hard look at Bree and Luke before she averted her eyes and allowed her husband to whisk her away.

“Uh-oh,” Luke grumbled. “I smell trouble.”

Bree knew immediately what he meant. Jane Dailey, the mayor’s wife, was the town busybody. Whether a rumor was true or a malicious lie, she spread it around town like wildfire, not caring about the repercussions or the consequences. The latest rumor viciously distributed through the grapevine was that Bethany Mathers, the preacher’s daughter, had been pregnant with an illegitimate child. Of course, Bethany wasn’t pregnant, and she had never been pregnant, but the damage had already been done. And Jane Dailey hadn’t cared. She had done her best to trash the poor girl’s reputation, and she had nearly managed to damage her own in the process. Pastor Mathers hadn’t taken the matter lightly. He had used the opportunity to turn the tables and embarrass the mayor’s wife by giving an hour-long sermon that Sunday morning from the book of Exodus, outlining the harmful effects and the consequences of spreading gossip. Everyone in town had known specifically who that sermon had been addressed to.

“You had better watch it, sis,” Luke warned, trying to be helpful. “The next thing you know, that nosy witch will be saying you and I are having an illicit affair and that your baby is mine. Or even worse, that you are sleeping with both of us, and you aren’t sure which one of us is really the father.”

She couldn’t help herself; she laughed. The whole thought was just too ridiculous to be believed. She couldn’t imagine anyone actually considering those allegations. Everyone in town knew how much she loved her husband and how she had longed to have his child.

“Or maybe her story will be that the three of us are having a little ménage a trois action,” he suggested, his face deadpan, and she erupted into yet another fit of giggles. “Hell, by the time this story makes its way around town, Susan will probably be joining in on the action.”

“Gross!” Bree protested as she swatted him weakly on the forearm. She perked up when she heard someone announcing the next dance. “The Tush Push!” she exclaimed as she grasped Luke’s hand and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor.

*

Luke watched with a raised eyebrow as Bree began dancing along with the crowd, laughing as she did so.
The woman can certainly make her tush push
. He tried to follow along but he wasn’t quite able to figure out the steps.

When he crashed into Bree for the second time, she grinned at his awkwardness and examined him through dark eyelashes. “What’s the matter, cowboy? Can’t get your tush to push?” she questioned, her expression all innocence.

As she sashayed her little derriere past him, he noticed something. Something he should have noticed before. The only reason he hadn’t was because he didn’t think of Bree in that way. She was a woman, yes. In fact, she was a devastatingly beautiful woman. But he thought of her as a friend, as a buddy, as a sister. And he had just realized his sister’s underwear was playing peek-a-boo through her white jeans.

“Bree?”

“Yes?”

“What color underwear are you wearing?”

“The color that’s none of your damn business!” Scott growled, grabbing his younger brother by the shoulders. Forcefully pulling Luke away from the dance floor, Scott shoved him against the wall and slammed his clenched fist into the side of Luke’s face.

Chapter 14

Things were not progressing as smoothly as Scott had hoped.

That was the understatement of the year.

It had been a long and silent ride home. The only sound that could be heard from the inside of the sleigh was the jingling of Mr. Hampton’s bells.

He was waiting.

He was waiting for Bree to talk to him. But so far, she had remained uncharacteristically silent.

He knew she was mad, furious, enraged, livid, pissed off. And she had every right to be. He had made a total ass of himself. But he had apologized to her, and he had apologized to his brother.

Although his apology hadn’t miraculously healed his brother’s black eye, and it hadn’t persuaded his lovely wife he was sincere.

If he didn’t find a way to make things right between them, he was in for a long and lonely Christmas Eve. And with tomorrow being both Christmas and their wedding anniversary, he was currently batting 0-2.

*

Bree couldn’t imagine a more stubborn man. Scott was always convinced he just had to be right. No room for error, no room for mistakes. Luke had made a comment that could’ve easily been misconstrued, she wouldn’t argue with that. But what unnerved her was she had never even had the chance to explain what had happened. Everything had happened so fast, and before she could even open her mouth, Luke had been knocked to the floor.

When the sleigh came to a complete stop, she quickly got out and ran for the safety of the back porch, leaving Scott to act as pack mule and retrieve all their belongings.

Silence surrounded them. As Bree entered through the back door, she was encircled by complete darkness. The snow that had been caking her boots was now sticking to the linoleum of the kitchen floor. It dawned on her that the miniature lamp on the hall table was off, and she distinctly remembered it had been turned on while they had been decorating the tree.
So why is that lamp turned off?

Out the corner of her eye, she could see the slightest flicker of movement, lights blinking off and on. It was coming from the direction of the living room, and it was a steady pulsating motion. She approached slowly, making her way through the dark house, not quite knowing what she was going to find. She looked over, and Scott was hanging up their coats, so she decided to go and investigate.

Her steps slowed to the point where they almost stopped. She realized the flickering was from the blinking strands of lights decorating their Christmas tree.
What are they doing on? Why is our tree lit up like The Strip in Vegas? Didn’t Scott turn these lights off before we left?

As she crossed the remaining distance to the living room, she gasped. Like the rest of the house, the living room light was turned off, but brightness erupted in every corner of the room. The room looked like the inside of a diamond, with glimmering facets of illumination coming from every direction.

Brightly wrapped presents decorated in a rainbow of textures and colors with vivid metallic bows showered the carpet. Her living room looked like the front of a Christmas card, with everything perfectly in place. She grinned. She could only imagine the havoc that would be wreaked upon her house next Christmas; a wistful smile lit her face as she touched the slight curve of her stomach.
Next year, we’ll probably be tripping over all the toys and baby stuff.

She turned to him then, tears glistening in her green eyes. She silently opened her arms to him as he walked into her secure and loving embrace. Scott wrapped his arms around her, pressing his body against hers as her silent tears began to rain quietly down her cheeks to dampen the material of his snow-white sweater.

Kissing her tears away, he held her, not speaking, knowing this moment was simply for the two of them alone. No friends, no family. This moment was only theirs. Away from the accusations and the chaos, away from meddling friends and well-meaning family. Time for the two of them to simply enjoy each other and savor the closeness they had.

Scott moved only long enough to reach behind him for the stereo remote control, not even releasing his hold on her. He pressed a button, and the soft strains of Celine Dion singing a Christmas song filled the quiet room.

She looked up at him with a smile as they began to dance in slow, lazy circles in time to the music.

One of his strong fingers pointed heavenward, and she followed the direction of his gaze. She held her breath when she realized Santa had been to their house early this year. There was yet another addition. Someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe right above their heads. Looking at him with accusing eyes, she couldn’t help but grin when he shook his head in dissent.

“It wasn’t me,” he protested. “It had to have been Santa. I was with you.”

Or a kindly old man with blue eyes and bifocals.

Scott reached for her hands, entwining his with her own. After pushing her body against the entryway of the living room, she let out a gasp of surprise when he went down on bended knee, clumsily easing his body down onto the carpet.