My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(20)
He walked her around to the driver’s side door. Maggie was shivering beneath her leather jacket. Travis put his hand on the latch, then hesitated. One hand moved upward to cup her jaw. Leaning down, he let his mouth touch hers in a light, lingering kiss that sent electric jolts through her body. She willed herself not to move as his lips nibbled hers, sending her pulse on a roller coaster ride. This was trouble. But she never wanted it to end.
He drew away, his steely gaze holding hers. When he spoke, his voice was thick and husky. “In case you’re wondering, that’s what I want from you, Maggie,” he said. “Now I want the truth about what you want from me. No pretty lies, just plain honesty.”
Maggie fought back welling tears. This was the moment of truth—and the truth had just become cheap and ugly. “I want your father to be our new Santa,” she said. “And I want you to reconcile with him so you can work together with the horses and sleigh.”
The lines of his face had shifted and hardened. He opened the car door. “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Goodbye, Maggie.”
Chapter 6
Maggie drove home through a blur of snow and unshed tears. What could she have done differently? Lied about her motives? Slapped Travis’s face? Begged his forgiveness?
Nothing would have made any difference. He’d backed her into a corner, stripped her emotions bare, and left her with no choice except to tell the truth. She’d deserved what had happened. But his abruptness, after that soul-searing kiss, had left her raw inside.
It wasn’t just the way he’d dismissed her. It was the way he’d made her feel—like a lying, scheming manipulator. The sting was even worse because it was pretty much true. She couldn’t blame him if he never spoke to her again.
At the house, she pulled into the garage, took her purse and the sack of groceries she’d bought out of the car, and carried them inside. As she was putting the milk and cottage cheese in the fridge, the dam broke. A tear trickled down her cheek, then another and another. Blast it, she was crying—crying over a man she scarcely knew, a man who meant nothing to her.
The last time she’d cried over a man was eleven years ago, when her fiancé had broken their engagement two weeks before the wedding, with the invitations sent, the venue reserved, the cake ordered, and dozens of gifts to be returned. After cleaning up that mess, she’d sworn off serious relationships and focused on her career. It had been a wise move. She was independent, successful, and financially solid. But she was alone, and at thirty-two, she was facing the reality that she might never have a family of her own.
Never mind, Maggie told herself. She had a town to run. And wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to get her a Santa Claus.
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and sat down at her computer to check her e-mail. Maybe she could advertise for a Santa in the Cottonwood Springs Gazette. But Abner had always played Santa for the fun and honor of it. A new applicant would expect to be paid, and there was no money allocated in the city budget for a Santa. She had to find someone who would do the job for free.
She had nearly finished her e-mails when her phone rang. “Hi, honey!” The cheerful voice on the other end was Francine’s. “How’s it going? Any luck with that hot-looking man of yours?”
Maggie hesitated, struggling with her emotions.
“That bad, huh?” Francine spoke into the silence.
“Oh, Francine! I’ve made such a mess of things!” Trying to pull herself together, Maggie told her story. “I don’t know if he’ll ever speak to me again!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Francine said. “He’s just going to need a little time, that’s all.”
“I don’t have time. I need to make plans for the parade.”
“Is that all this is about? The parade?” Francine clicked her tongue. “If you believe that, honey, I’ve got some beachfront property in Kansas you can buy cheap. You’ve fallen big-time for the man, haven’t you?”
“It doesn’t make any difference. I still have a job to do.” Maggie took a deep breath and changed the subject. “How about you? Any luck with Hank?”
Francine sighed. “We’re still friends. But I’ve hit a wall. I had him thinking about playing Santa. But when he found out who had the sleigh and horses, he shut it right down. I don’t know what happened between him and his son, but it must’ve been pretty heart-wrenching.”
“You say he might play Santa?”
“He was hemming and hawing at first. But he says that as long as Travis doesn’t want anything to do with him, he’s not interested. But don’t worry, honey. Things will work out. You’ll see.”
“I wish I had your confidence,” Maggie said. “Maybe what we need is a go-between, somebody who isn’t emotionally involved.”
“Now there’s a thought,” Francine said. “Got anybody in mind?”
“Not a soul. And even if I did have somebody, I don’t know whether it would do any good. Right now, I’m out of options. All I want is to make myself a sandwich and crash in front of the TV.”
“Then do that, girl. You’ve been working too hard. Get some rest. Things will look brighter in the morning.”
Good luck with that, Maggie thought as she thanked Francine and ended the call. None of her problems were going to solve themselves overnight. Tomorrow morning, Travis and his father would still be enemies. Travis would still be angry with her. And Branding Iron would still be without a Santa Claus.