Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(51)

She had to tell him the truth, she knew, even if it ripped them apart. The longer she waited, the more hurt and angry Conner was likely to be. But how could she just pop the big revelation out of nowhere? It needed to be done right, in a setting where they could both talk openly. That would mean waiting for their Sunday date.

But putting off her confession was the coward’s way out. Maybe she should call him now, wake him up, blurt out the whole story, and accept the consequences. But that wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t have the nerve—and she was too afraid of losing him.

Restless, she swung her legs out of bed, turned on a bedside lamp, and walked to the open door of the closet. Lacy’s beautiful fringed, beaded jacket hung on its padded hanger, next to the skintight stretch jeans. The black wig rested on its inflatable base, along with the makeup box on the top shelf. The knee-high black boots, with their four-inch stiletto heels, stood in the corner. The sum total of Lacy Leatherwood was all right here.

With a sigh, Megan closed the closet door. If only she were tough-minded enough to bundle up the wig and the fancy outfit, haul it out to the trash, and be done with Lacy forever.

But even that wouldn’t save her from having to tell Conner the truth.

*

Early Friday morning, Conner woke to the sound of water dripping off the eaves of the house. His heart sank. It wasn’t a good sign.

With a muttered curse, he swung out of bed, strode down the hall, and out onto the front porch. Barefoot and still clad in the long johns he wore for sleep, he stared out past the overhang of the roof.

A warm chinook wind had swept in during the night, raising the outside temperature by a good twenty degrees. There was nothing left of the snow but a few melting white ridges where it had been scraped and piled. The front yard was a sea of puddles and gooey Texas mud, and the graveled driveway didn’t appear much better.

Bucket had followed him outside. With a happy yip, the dog raced off the porch and jumped into the nearest mud puddle, splashing and rolling in pure doggy joy. Scowling like a thundercloud, Conner shook his head. The blasted mutt would have to be kept outside until he could be bathed. Even then, he’d probably run right back to play in the mud again.

But that was the least of Conner’s troubles. He’d planned to spend the day restocking the freshly cut tree supply for the late shoppers who’d be showing up this weekend. Hank’s lot in town would need trees, too—even more so, now that the ranch yard was a lake of mud.

Yesterday, with the ground still snowy and frozen, harvesting the trees wouldn’t have been a problem. Today the trail to the trees would be a quagmire. The ATV’s thick tires, and the ones on the trailer, would be in danger of getting bogged down. And keeping the cut trees clean would be extra work. With the water to the outside hose shut down for the winter, mud couldn’t be allowed to get on their branches.

Travis had come out onto the porch. For a few minutes, he stood in gloomy silence, watching Bucket romp in the mud. “At least the damn dog’s happy,” he said.

“Yeah,” Conner agreed. “It’s going to be a long day. We might as well drag out our muck boots and get started. If you’ll fix breakfast, I’ll see to the horses. By the time we’ve eaten, Rush should be here to help.”

“He’s going to be late,” Travis said. “I just got a call. He’s been tending a sick mare most of the night, and she’s still not out of the woods. For now, it’ll be just you and me.”

“Then we’ll have to manage, won’t we?” Conner had no cause to complain about Rush’s absence. It was understood that he was free to answer emergency vet calls. And the financial support he lent to the ranch more than made up for the times when he wasn’t around to work.

In the house, Conner filled Bucket’s bowl with kibble and set it on the porch so the dog could eat outside. With that done, he put on his oldest work clothes and tall rubber boots and went out to the barn. At least it wasn’t cold. But by the time the day was over, he and Travis would likely be as dirty as Bucket.

“No sleigh rides for you guys today.” Conner spoke to the horses as he gave them fresh hay and water and shoveled the manure out of their stalls. “You can take it easy till it snows again, or until the big Christmas Parade, whichever happens first.”

And that was one more problem, Conner mused as he sloshed his way back to the house. The sleigh rides were a source of extra income for the ranch. But most Texas winters tended to be dry. Snow for the holidays was a rare gift. This year, the partners had hoped it would last. But now the snow was gone, most likely for the season. If there was no more snow, there’d be no more cash coming in from sleigh rides. The new equipment they’d planned to buy for the ranch would have to wait.

On the porch, he kicked off the muddy boots and left them at the top of the steps. In the kitchen, Travis had brewed coffee, fried bacon, and was scrambling eggs in the drippings.

“How’s it looking out there?” he asked.

“About how you’d expect. We’ll be working in mud halfway up to our knees. But don’t look so gloomy. Ten days from now, you’ll be setting out on the sea of matrimony with the lovely Maggie. That should be enough to make any man smile.”

“You’re right.” Travis gave a halfhearted chuckle. “But I’m glad I only have to go through the blasted wedding once. If I could have my way, I’d just skip it and go right to the honeymoon.”