Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(53)

Chapter 12


Megan was getting ready for bed when the phone call came from Conner. “Sorry to be calling so late. It’s been a hellish day.” Exhaustion threaded his voice. “Travis is in the hospital. A load of trees fell on him.”

Megan’s heart dropped. Not Travis. Not big, gentle Travis, who was always looking out for everybody else—Travis, who was planning to marry the love of his life days from now.

“How bad . . .” She struggled to get the words out. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He’s got a concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and a lot of cuts and bruises. The doctors want to keep him a few more days, maybe do a scan to make sure he doesn’t have internal injuries. Maggie’s with him.”

Megan began to breathe again. At least it sounded as if Travis would recover. But what about the wedding?

“Rush and I will be cutting and selling trees all day tomorrow,” Conner said. “But I’m hoping you and I are still on for Sunday.”

“I was hoping the same thing,” Megan said. “But with Travis in the hospital, are you sure you’ll be up for a good time?”

“A good time with you is just what I need. Here’s what I’m thinking. If you don’t mind a change of plans, I could pick you up about eleven. We could drive to Cottonwood Springs and visit Travis in the hospital, then go somewhere special for lunch. After that, we could figure something out—maybe a movie or just a nice drive. I want to be with you, Megan. After a day like today, I need to be with you.”

And she needed to be with him, too, Megan thought. There was nothing she wanted more than to spend time alone with Conner—time for them to open up and really get to know each other.

But how could she open up to him when she’d been hiding the secret that was Lacy Leatherwood? And how could she slam him with the truth on their Sunday date when he was still reeling from his best friend’s accident?

Maybe the truth would have to wait.

Or maybe she was just being cowardly.

“Megan? Are you still there?”

She’d fallen silent. “Sorry, I’m still here. Your plan sounds fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I’d like to see Travis and give him my best wishes—Maggie, too, if she’s still with him.”

“I’m guessing she will be. She hasn’t left his side.” He paused a moment. “I’ll see you on Sunday, then. You might not hear from me tomorrow. With the muddy mess at the ranch, Rush and I are moving the fire, cocoa, and marshmallow operation to Hank’s. We’ll probably keep it going there as long as there are customers tomorrow night.”

“No problem. I promised to take Daniel Christmas shopping after work to buy presents for Mom and Dad. So I’ll see you Sunday.”

“I’ll be there, looking forward. Sweet dreams.”

“Same to you.”

*

Megan ended the call and finished getting ready for bed. However, sleep wouldn’t come. Restless, she flung the covers aside, pattered across the floor, and lifted her guitar from its place in the corner. She’d been working on the song, on and off for days, hoping to have it ready for the Christmas Ball. But she wasn’t happy with what she’d done. Maybe something would come together now. Sitting on her bed in the dark, she began to strum and sing: “If you could read the secrets in my eyes, would you stay? Or would you walk, walk, walk away? If I could tell you what’s hidden in my heart, would you stay?”

She changed the chords from major to minor, moved the words around. No, something isn’t right. It sounds . . . fake. Like Lacy. She couldn’t imagine singing the song in front of an audience.

She knew that many of the big-name singers wrote their own songs. That was what she needed to get ahead in the business—an original song she could record. But this half-finished ballad wasn’t working. Maybe she was never going to write a good song. Maybe she should just give up.

With a weary sigh, she put the guitar aside and crawled back into bed. As she closed her eyes, she remembered the subtle premonition she’d had at the bridal shower—that this joyful season was just the time for something to go wrong. And now, something had gone wrong—something terrible.

Superstitious nonsense, she told herself. Bad things happen, that’s all. And when they do, there’s nothing to do but deal with them and move on.

But why did an awful accident like Travis’s have to happen at such a happy time?

She could feel herself drifting now. She would think about Sunday and being with Conner. Maybe that would lead to a good dream. And maybe, just maybe, that dream would come true.

*

Sunday was a warm day for December, breezy but clear. Under a bright winter sun, the muddy ground was drying into ruts and ridges. With no snow in the forecast, Conner’s hopes for a white Christmas and a profitable sleigh-riding season were fading. But he wouldn’t think about that today—not when he could look forward to spending time with his favorite woman.

Before leaving to pick up Megan, he turned the horses into the pasture to enjoy a few hours of sunshine and freedom. Rush had promised to come by later to check on them and let Bucket outside for a run.

On his way through town, he stopped at the do-it-yourself car wash, hosed the mud off the Jeep, and vacuumed out the inside. His vehicle was nothing fancy, but he wanted Megan to feel comfortable in it. If they could relax and talk today, maybe they could get beyond this edgy, uncertain stage of their relationship and into something warm and secure.