Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(61)

As he neared the house, he saw her small blue Toyota pulling into the driveway. His pulse kicked into high gear. If she got out of the vehicle, she would know he was home. She’d see his Jeep parked under the shed and hear the roar of the approaching ATV.

He watched her climb out of the car. Yes—she’d seen him coming. She was waving. Everything was going to be all right.

As he pulled up to the house, Bucket jumped to the ground and raced over to greet the newcomer. Conner shut down the engine and climbed out of the ATV. As he walked toward her, she ran to him and flung herself into his open arms.

He held her close, loving the feel of her in his arms. She trembled against him, so delicate and vulnerable, and yet so strong. But he could sense that she was troubled.

“What is it?” he murmured, his lips against her hair.

She raised her head to look up at him. Tears glimmered in her dark eyes. “I just got back from Nashville. I called and called to tell you I was leaving. But I couldn’t reach you. I was afraid something had gone wrong.”

“Hey, I’m fine.” His arms tightened around her. “Just my blasted phone—dropped it in a puddle and it stopped working. I tried to find you and tell you, but you were gone. This morning, I was able to call you on Rush’s phone. When you didn’t answer, I left a message.”

“I must’ve been on the plane. And I haven’t checked my messages since I landed in Amarillo.”

“But you say you went to Nashville?” He hated having to ask the question. “What for?”

When she hesitated, the first thing Conner thought of was the boyfriend she’d broken up with. Had she gone to be with him? Was she about to tell him they were back together?

“Tell me,” he said. “It’s all right. I just want the truth.”

“And the truth is what I’m about to give you.” She eased away, reached into her coat pocket, and handed him the keys to her car. “There’s a suitcase in the trunk. If you’ll get it and take it into the house for me, I’ll show you what’s inside.”

Conner strode toward the car, opened the trunk, and tossed her the keys. “What’s in it?” he joked, retrieving the suitcase. “A million dollars? A dead body?”

“You’ll see.”

The suitcase was medium-sized and not too heavy. Megan walked beside him as he carried it toward the porch. “I meant to ask,” she said. “How’s Travis?”

“Getting better. He’s at Maggie’s now. She’s giving him plenty of TLC. And the wedding’s still on track.”

“That’s great news. Nobody deserves a happy day more than those two.”

With Bucket tagging behind them, he carried the suitcase up the steps and through the front door. “Where do you want this?” he asked.

“On one of the beds, if that’s all right. Then I’ll need a minute alone to arrange things.”

“As Alice in Wonderland would say, this is getting ‘curiouser and curiouser.’” He glanced at Megan, hoping she’d return his smile. But she looked uneasy, as if she were about to confess to a crime.

“We’re using Rush’s old room as a spare these days,” he said. “At least it’s clean.” He carried the suitcase into the room and laid it on the patchwork coverlet. “Now what?”

“If you’ll step out for a minute, I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

As the door clicked shut, Megan opened the suitcase and laid the contents out on the bed: the wig, open makeup case, jeans, shirt, jacket, boots, and Stetson. She’d weighed the idea of putting everything on, but she didn’t want Conner to see her as Lacy. She wanted him to see the empty trappings of a woman who was only make-believe.

Hands shaking, she closed the suitcase and set it on the floor. Then, closing the door behind her, she went to get Conner. She found him in the kitchen, sipping a beer. “Liquid courage,” he said, putting the can on the counter. “You’ve got me worried. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Come on.” She led him back down the hall. “I’ve got a secret. It’s the reason I went to Nashville.”

“So, why did you go?” They had reached the door, which was still closed.

“I went to sing with the Badger Hollow Boys.” She opened the door, revealing the carefully arranged contents of the suitcase. “There’s your dream woman, Conner. Miss Lacy Leatherwood, or what there is of her.”

He stared at the things on the bed. Megan watched for his reaction. Would he be angry? Would he accuse her of playing him? But, no, what he did next took her completely by surprise.

He laughed.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “You think this is funny?”

“In a way, it is,” he said. “You see, I’ve got a secret, too. I’ve known who you were all along, almost from the beginning.”

“How . . .” She choked out the words. “Who told you? Maggie and Tracy?” Megan felt as if she’d been sucker punched. Had her so-called friends betrayed her?

“No way. Those two ladies would never rat on a friend. I figured it out by myself, when Daniel hurt his shoulder and I heard you in the backseat, singing to comfort him. ‘Walkin’ After Midnight.’ As soon as I heard that song, in that voice, I knew.”