Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(60)

“No. The truth is, I don’t want to marry you, Derek. I don’t want to date you. I don’t even want to work for you.”

Stunned into momentary silence, he dropped the ring box back into his pocket. “There’s somebody else, isn’t there?”

“Yes, there’s somebody else.” Just saying the words was a release.

“Somebody in Branding Iron?”

“Yes.”

“Has he asked you to marry him?”

“No.”

“Has he told you that he loves you?”

“Not yet.”

“He’ll break your heart, you know.” Anger had crept into Derek’s voice. “When he does, you’ll come crawling to me and beg me to take you back.”

Megan gave him a hint of a smile. “That’s a chance I’ll have to take—and I’m taking it because I love him. Now please drive me back to my apartment. You’ll have my letter of resignation in the next couple of days, mailed from Branding Iron. That should give you plenty of time to find a replacement for my job.”

“And what about your great singing career?” Derek started the car and pulled away from the curb. “You weren’t really incandescent up there, you know. You can barely sing on key, and in that Lacy Leatherwood getup, you look like a two-bit streetwalker.”

He was trying to hurt her now, but Megan couldn’t help finding a bit of truth in his words. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. “Just drive.”

Fifteen minutes later, Derek let her out in front of her building and drove away, with a roar and a squeal of tires. Still costumed as Lacy, Megan took the elevator upstairs to her one-bedroom apartment and let herself in.

Before doing anything else, she found her cell phone in her purse and tried calling Conner again. There was no answer, not even voicemail. What was wrong? Surely, if Conner had been in some awful accident, her parents would have heard about it and called her. Maybe there was just something wrong with his phone, but she wouldn’t rest easy until she knew for sure. She had Tracy’s number and called her, but could only leave a message. If she’d thought to get the phone numbers of his partners, or Maggie, she would have called them. But Conner’s and Tracy’s numbers were the only ones she had.

Still worried, she began the process of removing her costume, laying out the clothes, wig, boots, and makeup case and packing them away for the trip home to Branding Iron. She wouldn’t be wearing them again until the night of the Cowboy Christmas Ball. Maybe after that, she would pack Lacy Leatherwood away for good. It was time.

And why not? Tonight she’d burnt her final bridges with Derek and her job. She would miss her friends in the band, but they’d have no trouble finding a new and perhaps more talented singer. And one of the teachers at school was looking for an apartment. It was as if her life only needed a nudge from her, and everything would fall into place.

Her nerves were still raw from the final parting with Derek. It hadn’t been pleasant, but it had to happen. Maybe he would now meet a woman who wouldn’t mind his controlling ways—and could hopefully stand up to them.

Derek’s words had been brutal, but they’d forced her to clarify her thoughts. True, Conner had a reputation for breaking hearts, and he’d never told her that he loved her. But he had trust issues of his own. If she wanted to get around those issues, she would have to love him enough to be completely honest—and that would include revealing her secret identity as Lacy.

With a tired yawn, she set the alarm, crawled into bed, and tried to sleep. But her mind was churning with worries and plans. Her flight left early tomorrow morning. After it landed, she would have to drive home from Amarillo. By the time she arrived in Branding Iron, it would be midday.

After a quick checkin with her family, she would set out to find Conner—or at least find out what had happened to him. She would go to the ranch first. If he wasn’t there, she would go to Maggie’s.

She could only hope that he was all right, and that, when she finally told him the truth about being Lacy, he would forgive her.

*

Conner finished cutting the season’s last tree and loaded it onto the trailer. Pausing to rest a moment, he gazed out beyond the dark pines to the horizon, where muddy-looking clouds were spilling over the western hills. The December sky was clear, but the breeze on his face smelled of snow. Did he dare to hope for a storm that would bring a white Christmas?

After tying the load of trees onto the trailer and checking the hitch, he climbed into the driver’s seat of the ATV, whistled for the dog, and headed back down the trail toward the house. Bucket made a flying leap to land beside him on the passenger seat.

Conner and Rush had been cutting and hauling trees all morning, but now Rush had left on an emergency call. Conner was on his own. He was still waiting for the cell phone he’d ordered after giving up on the one he’d dropped in the puddle. This morning, he’d borrowed Rush’s phone and tried to call Megan, but after a few rings, the call had gone to voicemail. Twice—once yesterday and once last night, he’d driven by her house, thinking to find her and explain about the phone. But both times, her car had been missing from the driveway, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her family.

Things had been so good between them on Sunday. What had happened? Some emergency? Since he knew she couldn’t call him, all he could do was wait and hope.