It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(13)

“Well, call me if you have any concerns.” Rush opened the front door to a blast of wind. “One thing more. If you want to avoid neighborhood gossip, you might want to have me come by during business hours. As a judge, you’ve got a reputation to consider.”

“Yes, of course.” Color bloomed in her face as she gazed up at him. Rush battled the insane urge to kiss her. He could almost imagine how sweet and tender those lips would feel against his.

But kissing Tracy would be the worst possible idea. Even if he didn’t get his face slapped, a move like that would destroy her fragile trust like a shotgun blasting through a cobweb.

He left her and walked up the street, through the blowing leaves, to his vehicle. Maybe Tracy would never be ready for a relationship. But at least he could be her friend. After all, friendship was something they could both use.

But could he settle for friendship with the beautiful judge?

That question had yet to be answered.

*

Standing at the window in the dark living room, Tracy watched Rush stride up the street. She was still watching when the Hummer’s lights came on, and the big vehicle made a U-turn and vanished around the corner.

She should never have called him. And she wouldn’t call him again. The sensual stirrings she’d felt when he’d stretched out next to her to look under the bed had been so intense that she’d almost reached out and brushed his cheek with her fingertip.

Dr. J. T. Rushford had never made an ungentlemanly move toward her. Tracy’s instincts told her she could trust him. But could she trust herself—especially when the cold hollow in the depths of her soul ached to be warmed?

No, she wasn’t ready. The experience of loving Steve and losing him was still raw inside her. To move forward, to feel again, to risk again—even the thought terrified her. Being alone was safe. And even loneliness hurt less than loss.

She would make the brownies as she’d promised. But she wouldn’t contact Rush again. If she had a question about the cats or Murphy’s medication, she could look for answers online.

She was making the safe choice, Tracy told herself. Rush deserved a woman who had something to give. She wasn’t that woman. She was doing him—and herself—a favor.

*

For Rush and his partners, the end of October marked the start of serious Christmas preparations. Not that they hadn’t been working all along. Over the spring and summer, in addition to growing two crops of hay and caring for the cows and calves they’d bought, the partners had been tending the acre of Christmas trees that grew on a remote part of the ranch—shaping and trimming the branches, checking them for insect damage, and making sure that every tree had water from the nearby spring. They’d even planted new trees to replace the ones they’d cut and sold last year.

Since it was Rush’s veterinary practice that provided a steady cash flow to the ranch, most of the other work had fallen to Travis and Conner. But with the Christmas holidays coming up, it was all hands on deck. Between his practice and needing to help with the trees, the yard, the supplies and equipment, the sleigh, and the massive Percheron horses that filled in for reindeer, Rush was kept busy every waking moment.

He’d never stopped thinking about Tracy, but as the busy days flew by, she hadn’t called him. True to her word, she’d delivered on her promise of more brownies, but she’d given them to Maggie to deliver to the ranch. Now, after two weeks, it was almost as if she’d dropped out of his life.

Rush tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. But it did. What if something had gone wrong? What if she’d needed his help and was too proud to ask?

On a bleak Saturday morning in mid-November, Rush found himself in town. A cancelled appointment had left him with time on his hands and several options. He could go to the barber for a needed haircut. He could have some coffee and pie at Buckaroo’s on Main Street. He could go home . . . or he could drive by Tracy’s and make sure she was all right. He wouldn’t necessarily have to knock on her door, especially if she had company. But if her car was there and nothing looked amiss at the house . . .

By the time Rush made up his mind, he’d already driven halfway there. Only now did he realize how much he’d missed her, and how much he looked forward to seeing her again.

As he turned onto her street and saw the empty driveway, his spirits sank. She wouldn’t be in court on the weekend, but maybe she’d gone shopping, or maybe she’d decided to catch up on her research while the courthouse was quiet. In any case, he’d missed her; and the disappointment was like a cold, heavy lump in the pit of his stomach.

He was driving to the corner to turn around when he caught sight of her vintage Mercedes in his rearview mirror. She was just pulling into her driveway. By the time he’d changed directions and parked across the street, she was climbing out of her car, her arms loaded with grocery bags.

“Hold on! I’ll give you a hand!” He sprinted across the street and took the two heaviest bags. She looked surprised, and not in a happy way. “Maybe I should have called first,” he said.

“So, why didn’t you?” She mounted the steps and opened the front door. Murphy was there to greet her. The old dog thumped his tail and ambled back to his bed.

“I hadn’t planned to come by.” Rush carried the heavy grocery bags into the kitchen and set them on the counter. “It’s been a busy time at the ranch, but I was in town with some time on my hands, and I got to wondering how the kittens were doing.”