My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(33)

But those three years were a closed door. He was a free man now, and he never wanted to think about them again.

They drove through Branding Iron, passing Hank’s Hardware on the way out of town. The lights strung in the Christmas tree lot glowed in the twilight, where a few families were already checking out the trees. The scene only served to remind Travis of how far behind they’d already fallen in getting their own trees ready.

They pulled into the yard and unloaded their purchases in the shed. Bucket, who’d been waiting on the porch, trotted down to greet them, then barked and ran to the pasture gate as if to remind them that it was time to bring the horses into the barn.

“I’ll go with him and handle the gates,” Conner said. “You look dead on your feet.”

Did he look that bad? Until Conner’s remark, he hadn’t realized how tired he was. He climbed the front steps, went into the house, and hung his coat on the rack. In the fridge, he found a cold beer and popped the tab. At least they’d filled up on burgers and shakes before leaving Cottonwood Springs. Nobody would feel like cooking tonight.

Setting the beer on the table, he pulled his wallet out of his hip pocket and found the receipts for their day’s purchases, including gas for the truck. After smoothing them out, he opened the file drawer in his desk and slipped them into a folder. The business was going to need some kind of bookkeeping system, especially after the money started coming in—if the money started coming in.

Money had been a worry ever since starting this venture. The trees were free. But everything else—the licensing fee, the tools, the trailer, the coming publicity, the endless small things they needed—they all added up. He and Conner had almost maxed out their credit cards, and they were just getting started. They would need a small miracle to keep them afloat until the trees were sold. But tonight he was too tired to think about it.

Maggie’s clean casserole dish and salad bowl sat on the counter. The leftover food she’d brought was long gone. Travis had put off returning the dishes—partly because he’d been so busy and partly because of the awkwardness. Should he deliver them to her porch, or maybe her office, and leave without seeing her, or was he man enough to face up to the stunning redhead who’d returned his kiss and walked away?

He glanced at his watch. It was early enough for a trip back to town. Maybe it was time he faced the music and returned Maggie’s dishes. If she wasn’t home, he could leave them on her covered porch. If she was, especially if she had company, he would thank her politely and go.

Decision made, he put on his coat, picked up his keys and the dishes, and went outside to tell Conner he was leaving.

Conner, with Bucket at his heels, was coming out of the barn, where they’d just put the horses away. When he saw the dishes in Travis’s hands, he grinned. “So you’re finally going to take those back. I’ve been waiting for that.”

“I’m just returning them; that’s all. It’s not like I’m going to stay and visit.”

“Sure,” Conner teased. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Bucket. And if you’re not back by bedtime, I won’t call nine one one.”

Travis climbed into his truck without answering. He knew Conner was only having fun. But sometimes his jokes could be annoying as hell. Maybe because, deep down, Travis wished they had some basis in truth. Maggie had gotten to him as few women ever had. But he wasn’t into rejection, thank you. He would leave the dishes at her house, wish the lady a good night, and head for home.

The night was getting darker, the wind stronger. Clouds raced across the face of the moon. Travis kept both hands on the wheel. He had felt nothing at the house, but now, as he drove, a strange premonition crept over him—a sense that something unforeseen was about to happen.





Chapter 9


By the time Travis pulled up in front of Maggie’s house, a fine sleet was peppering the windshield of the truck. Shadowed by the deep porch, the front window glowed with lamplight.

Picking up the dishes, he climbed out of the cab and strode up the front walk. The wind tore at his jacket as he mounted the steps. Maggie wouldn’t be expecting visitors on a night like this. He didn’t want to startle her or make her uncomfortable in anyway. But his pulse quickened at the prospect of seeing her again.

Don’t be an idiot, he told himself as he pressed a finger to her doorbell. Just give her the damned dishes and leave.

He heard a stirring from the other side of the door and the metallic snik of the dead bolt sliding back. The door opened a few inches, then wider as she recognized him.

“Come in, Travis.” She was dressed in black leggings and a baggy gray sweatshirt that had slipped off one shoulder, showing a lacy pink bra strap. “Here, let me take those.” She reached for the dishes in his hands. “I hope you didn’t drive all the way here in this weather just to return them.”

“No,” Travis lied. “I just thought I’d drop them off on my way home. Sorry to be so long in getting them back to you.”

“No problem. If I’d needed them, I’d have taken them with me when I left your place. Take off your coat while I put these things away. There’s a coatrack behind the door.” Barefoot, she pattered into the kitchen. Travis hesitated, then took off his coat. He hadn’t meant to stay. But she’d clearly invited him. And her living room was so cozy and inviting that he couldn’t make himself leave.