Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)
Janet Dailey
With gratitude and thanks to Elizabeth Lane.
Chapter 1
Conner Branch pulled a freshly cut tree from the pile on the flatbed trailer. A cloud of pine-scented dust surrounded him as he shook the tree to fluff the branches and remove any debris. Once the tree was ready, he passed it to his partner, Travis Morgan, who carried it to the display rack in front of the old frame ranch house.
With Christmas less than three weeks away, the three partners at Christmas Tree Ranch had all the work they could handle. Trees were selling almost as fast as they could be cut and loaded. Now, just to complicate things, a big snowstorm was moving in.
Conner glanced toward the west, where angry black clouds were roiling across the sky. A speck of wet cold melted on his cheek. The storm was moving fast. The flatbed would need to be unloaded before it hit, burying the piled trees in snow and freezing them together into a worthless icy lump.
As he turned back toward the trailer, he felt the familiar stab of pain in his right hip. Nearly five years had passed since a near-fatal dismount from a bull in the Professional Bull Riders finals had ended his career as a champion rider and left him unable to even mount a horse. Bad luck—but Conner had learned to count his blessings. He was alive and able to work, with a home, good friends, and a stake in a growing business.
He grabbed another tree and shook it, striking the base hard against the ground. Heavy snow would make cutting and hauling the trees that much harder. It would also mean getting ready for the sleigh rides that had become a popular tradition at the ranch.
With so much to do, there was little time to think of anything but work. Still, Conner had managed to indulge in a few brief, secret fantasies.
At least he’d assumed they were secret. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Hey, Conner,” Travis called as he came back for another tree. “Do you think your dream woman will show up for the Cowboy Christmas Ball this year?”
Conner shrugged, feigning indifference as he handed off the tree and reached for the next one. The truth was, he’d been asking himself the same question. At last year’s ball, a female singer had performed with the Badger Hollow Boys, the Nashville band that played for every Christmas Ball. The lady had knocked his socks off. Tall and willowy in high-heeled boots, with long black hair and dark eyes that flashed like a gypsy’s, she’d been dressed like a cowgirl in tight jeans, a beaded, fringed leather jacket, and a battered Stetson. She’d had a good voice, too, with just an edge of sexiness. But it was her attitude—sassy and confident—that had really gotten to him. She was Wonder Woman in western gear—and she’d vanished before he’d had a chance to meet her. But he had learned her name. Lacy Leatherwood. Sexy. Like leather and lace.
“I take it you’re going stag,” Travis teased.
“I always go stag. It leaves me open to possibilities,” Conner said.
But that strategy hadn’t worked at last year’s ball. No sooner had he walked into the gym than Ronda May Blackburn had latched onto him and clung to his arm all evening. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Ronda May this year. She’d given up chasing him and landed a cowboy from a ranch on the far side of town. Last he’d heard, they were making wedding plans.
For this year’s Christmas Ball, Conner vowed, he’d be prepared. He would have his fun dancing with all the ladies, even some of the married ones; but he would make sure that when the entertainment came on, he was front and center alone, ready to catch his dream woman’s eye and hopefully meet her when she walked offstage.
But what if she didn’t show up? What if she came and he found out she was married or attached to a boyfriend in the band?
He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. But cross it, he would. As a national bull-riding champion, he’d dated rodeo queens, movie stars, and supermodels. As an injured partner in a small-town ranch, he’d romanced every attractive, eligible woman in Branding Iron. But none of them had made his heart slam on sight—until a dark-haired beauty in high-heeled boots and a fringed, beaded buckskin jacket fit for a rock star had walked onstage at last year’s Cowboy Christmas Ball.
“Hey, let’s get moving, man! No daydreaming allowed!” Travis gave him a playful punch. In the past, Conner had teased his partners unmercifully about their love lives. Now that Rush was married and Travis was planning a holiday wedding, they were repaying him in kind.
“Give me that tree. You can be lovesick on your own time.”
Travis grabbed the pine Conner was holding, gave it an extra shake, and carried it to the display rack. Bucket, the ranch’s black-and-white Border Collie mix, followed Travis to the front yard, sniffed at the tree, and lifted his leg on the trunk.
“You old rascal,” Travis scolded. “What are you going to do when you and Conner are the only bachelor holdouts left around here? Maybe you’ll go off and find that little lady coyote you met last winter. Too bad you’re fixed, huh? But Conner, here, isn’t. What’s he going to do about that? Where’s his little lady coyote?”
If there’d been snow on the ground, Conner would have lobbed a snowball at his partner. As it was, all he could do was ignore the jab and keep working.
As he hoisted a heavy tree off the trailer, he couldn’t help thinking how much things had changed in the past year.