A Family for Christmas

Lacie Collier is determined to give her niece, Kenzie, the best Christmas! But Lacie’s got her work cut out for her when they spend the holidays at her Christmas-averse mother’s home. With his focus on keeping his own mother’s holiday traditions alive, sheriff’s deputy Matt Stephens is surprised to see his old friend Lacie back in Ouray. He’s always regretted that their friendship became strained after he started dating her sister in high school. But it’s pure shock he experiences when he sees Kenzie, whose uncanny resemblance to Matt is undeniable. This Christmas will bring new memories for Lacie and Matt...if they can open themselves to the possibility of love.

“I didn’t have a tree last year.”

He peered down at her. “Which is why we need to go buy one.”

“I see. How about over there—” she pointed toward the corner “—against the wall, beside the bookcase?”

“I like that look.”

His approval had her biting her lip. When did things get so easy between them? Like this was the way they were meant to be.

She quickly shook off the crazy notion.

Kenzie handed Matt a book. “Will you read this to me?”

“Sure.” He took a seat on the couch. “Hop on up here.”

Lacie watched as Kenzie snuggled against his broad chest. Definitely one of the sweetest things she’d seen in a long time.

It was obvious that Kenzie was growing attached to Matt, making Lacie feel bad about taking her away.

A job in Telluride would mean she and Kenzie could stay in Ouray. Though it would also mean spending a lot of time with Matt, fighting to keep her feelings in check.

And that was a risk Lacie wasn’t sure she was willing to take.

Dear Reader,

I have wanted to write a Christmas story set in Ouray for a very long time. Probably because it combines two of my favorite things—Christmas and Ouray.

There’s something extra special about the Christmas season that makes us want to believe that anything is possible. Then again, it is Jesus’s birthday. And with Him, all things really are possible.

Nothing is too big for God. Not our mistakes or our sins. Because of Jesus, we have been redeemed. That means God can forgive us, change us and even use what we would consider our biggest regrets for His glory, if we simply trust in Him.

When I first began this story, I knew Matt was a true hero. That despite an error in judgment and a rocky relationship with his father, he was a man of integrity who didn’t hesitate to help someone in need, whether they were a strange woman being taken advantage of by an inebriated guy or an independent elderly teacher suddenly unable to take care of herself.

And then we have Lacie, a woman who gave up everything for her niece—her job, her home and her dreams of finding love. But God had other plans.

These two giving people were perfect for each other. And I hope you enjoyed watching them fall in love as much as I did.

I’m looking forward to introducing you to the remaining Stephens brothers and spending some more time at Abundant Blessings Ranch. Until then, though, I’d love to hear from you. You can contact me via my website, mindyobenhaus.com, or you can snail mail me c/o Love Inspired Books, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007.

See you next time,

Mindy

It took MINDY OBENHAUS forty years to figure out what she wanted to do when she grew up. But once God called her to write, she never looked back. She’s passionate about touching readers with biblical truths in an entertaining, and sometimes adventurous, manner. Mindy lives in Texas with her husband and kids. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking and spending time with her grandchildren. Find more at mindyobenhaus.com.

The Deputy’s Holiday Family

Mindy Obenhaus

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For all have sinned and fall short

of the glory of God, and all are justified

freely by His grace through the redemption

that came by Christ Jesus.

—Romans 3:23–24

To my loving husband, Richard.

You are my hero.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to former Ouray County deputy

Betty Wolfe, and theater arts teacher

Alyssa Preston for all of your valuable input.

I couldn’t have done this without you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Coming home had never been so bittersweet.

Lacie Collier tapped her brakes at the Ouray city limit sign, observing the snowcapped mountains that closed in around her. Okay, so her trip home in February for her sister’s funeral ranked right up there, too. But this was different.

She glimpsed the brown-eyed little girl in her rearview mirror. The last nine months had been quite an adjustment period for both her and Kenzie. And while her niece seemed to finally be adapting to life without her mother, Lacie was still struggling to balance motherhood and work. Or was anyway, until her employer decided the addition of a child was too distracting and let Lacie go.

Her heart ached as she approached the hot springs pool. She’d wanted so badly to make this the best Christmas ever for Kenzie. Now they didn’t even have a home.

Still, God had a plan, of that she was certain. She just wished He’d give her some clue as to what lay ahead.

“Are we there yet?” Poor Kenzie. They’d spent the last five-plus hours driving across Colorado. A trip Lacie never relished, but throw a four-year-old into the mix and it became an even greater challenge.

“Almost, sweetie. We’ll be at Grandma’s in just a few more minutes.” She knew the kid was eager to break free of the booster seat that held her captive.

Past the park, Main Street greeted them with all of its intimate charm. To the unsuspecting traveler, Ouray was simply a slowdown on their journey along Highway 550, but to those who had taken the time to stop, it was a treasure trove of everything from arts to adventure, four-wheeling to hiking, ice climbing to hot springs.

She slowed the car to almost a crawl, taking in the Victorian-era buildings and the sidewalks bustling with activity. Though it was only the Saturday before Thanksgiving, the town was already decked out for Christmas. Giant lighted snowflakes and evergreen garlands adorned every light post, stores sparkled with holiday-themed window displays, and twinkling lights were everywhere you looked. Everywhere except Barbara Collier’s house. Because her mom didn’t do Christmas.

She let go a frustrated sigh. How was she ever going to make this Christmas special for Kenzie?

A squeal erupted from the back seat.

Lacie’s gaze instantly jerked to her niece and the toy-filled back seat. “What’s wrong?”

“My drink,” Kenzie whined, her light-up shoes flickering with each and every kick of her suddenly wet legging-clad legs.

“Oh, no.” Lacie grabbed the wad of fast-food napkins from the passenger seat. “Did you spill?” With one hand still on the steering wheel, she tried in vain to blot the little girl’s legs.

Kenzie merely nodded, her bottom lip pooched out.

Still attempting to console the child, Lacie glanced at the road in front of her, sympathy instantaneously morphing into horror as a pedestrian dodged out of her way.

With a loud gasp, she slammed on the brakes, her seat belt tightening in protest.

Kenzie cried in earnest now as Lacie put the vehicle into Park and fumbled to release her restraint. Her heart thudding, she pushed her door open, the cold air slapping her in the face as she rushed toward the gray-haired woman. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, young lady.” Aged green eyes narrowed on her. “But you need to watch where you’re going.”

“I know. I apologize.”

“And you also need to think about moving your car.” The woman pointed.

Lacie turned to see a line of vehicles behind her. Not to mention all the people who’d gathered at the corner to see what was happening.

“Yes, ma’am.” She hurried back to her SUV, praying nobody recognized her. Then, with Kenzie’s whimpers still echoing from the back seat, Lacie double-checked for pedestrians and continued up the street. Thank You, God, that I didn’t hit that woman.

Half a block later, she heard the whine of a siren. She eyed her mirrors to discover flashing lights bearing down on her. “Perfect.”

With not a parking spot to be had on Main Street, she turned at the next corner and eased into the first available space.

“Are we there?” Hope laced Kenzie’s voice.

“Sorry, sweetie.” She again put the vehicle into Park, gathered her courage, along with her license, registration and proof of insurance, and drew in a shaky breath before rolling down her window. This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she watched as the deputy exited his Tahoe and started toward her. Somewhere around six foot and well-built, he wore a black ball cap embroidered with a gold sheriff’s badge over his short dark hair, but sunglasses made it impossible to see his eyes. A tactical vest with a plethora of pockets covered his tan shirt and she caught the name on his badge as the sunglasses came off.

Stephens.

One look at his dark gaze and her insides cringed. Obviously, she was wrong, because things had just gotten worse.

Out of the five Stephens brothers, why did it have to be Matt? The one who’d been her good friend through most of high school and the one she’d secretly crushed on...until he started dating her sister.

She sank lower into her seat. Their friendship was never the same after that.

“I thought that was you, Lacie.”

She had to force herself to look at him, though when she did, his smile made it impossible to turn away. “Yep, it’s me, all right.” How could it be that he was even more handsome than she remembered when he hadn’t really changed at all, save for the slight creases around his almond-shaped eyes. And those lips with that perfect Cupid’s bow—

Whoa! Wrong train of thought for Matt Stephens or any other guy. While Marissa may have thought it fine to have a bunch of men traipsing in and out of her life, Lacie wanted better for Kenzie. She deserved security, a good home and a happy life. Which was why Lacie had to find another job and get back to Denver as soon as possible.

Matt rested a forearm against the roof of her vehicle and glanced toward the back seat. “You doin’ okay? Looked like you were having a little problem back there on Main Street.”

“Yeah.” She brushed a wayward hair away from her face. “I got distracted, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” He straightened then, crossing his arms over his chest. “You almost took out Mrs. Wells.”

“I know.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. My niece was having a problem and I—”

“Could have killed somebody.”

Was he deliberately trying to make her feel worse?

“Lacie, you know you’re supposed to stop for pedestrians in the crosswalk.”

“Yes, yes, I do. And it won’t happen again. I promise.”

“I’m sure it won’t.” His breath puffed in the cold afternoon air. “But I’m afraid I’m still going to have to give you ticket.”

Indignation had her sitting taller. “A ticket? Why? Nobody got hurt.”

“I’m sorry, Lacie, but you broke the law.”

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose.”

“Nobody ever plans to have an accident.” He pulled a pad from his vest. “I’ll need to see your license, registration and proof of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” She shoved the documents toward him.

“You know, you could cut me a little slack. I’m just doing my job.”

She forced herself to smile. “Or you could cut me some and let me off with a warning.”

Chuckling, he patted her on the arm. “I’ll be right back.”

She could hardly wait.

“Aunt Lacie?”

“What is it, sweetie?” Turning, she noticed that not only was Kenzie no longer crying, but her deep brown eyes were as wide as she’d ever seen them.

“Are we going to go to jail?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “No, we are not going to jail. As soon as we’re done here, we’re going straight to Grandma’s to get you cleaned up and into some dry clothes. Okay?”

The little girl grinned. “Okay.”

“All right. Here you go, Lacie.”

She twisted back toward the door to accept her documents from Matt.

“And if I could just get you to sign here.” Pointing with his pen, he handed her his ticket pad. “You two in for Thanksgiving?”

And then some, but he didn’t need to know that.

“We are, yeah.” She scrawled her name. Why did he make her so nervous? After all, it wasn’t like they were in high school anymore. She was thirty-four years old, for crying out loud.

Must be the uniform.

She handed him his pad.

Or the fact that he’s every bit as good-looking as you remembered.

He tore off her copy then bent to hand it to her, his seemingly curious gaze drifting from her to Kenzie. “Be safe and I hope you guys have a happy Thanksgiving.” With a wink, he walked away.

She looked at the ticket in her hand. So much for old friends.

No telling how much it was going to cost her for almost killing someone. Yet as she continued to study the paper, she suddenly found herself smiling.

It wasn’t a ticket at all. He had given her a warning.

* * *

Matt couldn’t seem to get Lacie out of his mind. And, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Nonetheless, he’d spent the last twenty-four hours thinking of little else.

Was it the frazzled state she seemed to be in? Or the way she’d glared at him with those pretty gray-blue eyes?

Perhaps it was the little girl in the back seat. Though he may have been much older, he knew the pain of losing a mother. And with no father in the picture, Marissa’s death had likely rocked the kid’s world.

Memories of the child’s mother played across his mind. The last time he’d seen Marissa was six years ago, when he was stationed in Hawaii with the navy. Her visit had been a pleasant surprise. And for a brief time, he’d even thought their failed relationship might have a second chance. Instead, he’d gotten burned, and discovered the kind of person Marissa had really been. Evidently the old adage was true. Beauty is only skin-deep.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. The Collier women were the last thing he should be dwelling on. Not when he had plenty of other things to worry about. Like work, his father and the town’s annual Christmas play. He could only imagine what Dad would think of him taking on the role of director.

Something Matt wasn’t 100 percent sure of himself. He was just a deputy sheriff who barely knew stage right from stage left. Yet when he heard rumors that they were thinking about canceling the play, he’d felt compelled to do something. He couldn’t let the event his mother had begun over a decade ago die. That would be like losing Mama all over again.

So here he sat in the cab of his Jeep, staring at the two-story cream-and-blue brick building that was the Wright Opera House, praying he wouldn’t let her down.

Drawing in a deep breath, he grabbed the stack of scripts from the passenger seat and stepped out into the chilly late-afternoon air. The cast would be arriving soon, so he’d better get inside and at least pretend he knew what he was doing. He refused to let other people see him as the screwup his father believed him to be. Because regardless of the what the old man thought, Matt was not responsible for his mother’s death.

He flipped on the lights inside the circa 1888 building that smelled of lemon oil and popcorn. Moving past the box office with its intricately carved moldings, he continued up the curved staircase to the second floor. The view at the top never ceased to stop him in his tracks.

Beyond the expanse of arched windows, the gray volcanic peaks of the Amphitheater enveloped the town’s eastern edge. Cloaked in white and skirted with conifers, they were a sight to behold. God’s majesty on full display.

A few steps closer and his gaze fell to a nearly empty Main Street. He could only imagine how things must have looked back when Ouray was a thriving mining town. Carriages lining Main Street as people turned out in their finest for some cultural enrichment.

With an about-face, he moved into the theater opposite the windows and brought up the house lights. Unexpected emotion clogged his throat as he took in the large space with its brick walls, wooden floor and the original stage curtain that now served as a mural. Mama used to think of the Wright as her second home. He could still see her, taking the stage in an array of roles—everything from a soldier to a nun. She may have been a country girl, but she loved the theater. And this play was her legacy. Meaning as long as Matt lived and breathed, the show would go on.

“Oh, good. I’m not the first one here.”

The voice had him whirling to find Lacie standing behind him. Her caramel-colored hair, which had been pulled back into a ponytail yesterday, now spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Much longer than the no-nonsense, chin-length style she’d worn throughout high school. And with her pale pink peacoat cinched around her waist, she was quite the contrast to the tomboy who had once run circles around him and just about every other guy on the basketball court at Ouray High. She’d always steered clear of anything remotely feminine. That is, until she took the stage their senior year. Watching her transform from the Cockney Eliza Doolittle into a refined lady in their school play had had everyone’s jaw dropping.

Her smile wavered as he approached, her expression suddenly curious. “What are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m directing the Christmas play. Why are you here?”

“I’m in the play.” Hands stuffed inside the pockets of her coat, she shifted from one stylishly booted foot to the other. “I thought Mrs. Nichols was directing. That’s what she said when she called and invited me to be a part of it.”

“You’re only in town for Thanksgiving. Why would she ask you to be in the play?”

Lacie hesitated a moment before jutting her chin out. “Actually... I’m here throughout WinterFest.”

But that ran from Thanksgiving all the way to the ice festival in January, so—“Why would you do that?”

A hint of annoyance pinched her brow. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my mom needed some holiday help at the boutique.” Removing her hands from her pockets, she brushed something from her coat sleeve. “And since I no longer have a job...”

She’d lost her job? Now he was really glad he’d given her only a warning. After all, she had a child to care for. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s only temporary.” She looked everywhere but at him, seemingly studying everything from ceiling to floor. “So where’s Mrs. Nichols?”

“Rehab.”

Eyes wide, she finally met his gaze.

“She broke her hip.”

“Ooh, that’s rough. She’s such a sweet woman.”

“Yes, she is.”

Lacie meandered toward the windows. “Great theater teacher, too. I hope she recovers soon.”

“We all do.”

After a silent moment, she faced him. “So you’re directing the play in her stead?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I...didn’t realize you were into theater.”

“I’m not. But my mother was. The Christmas play was her baby.” He lifted a shoulder. “And since there was no one else willing to direct...”

A hint of a smile played across her pink lips. “That’s actually very sweet. I know how close you were to your mother.”

Sentiment prevented him from responding with anything but a nod.

“That reminds me, though,” she continued. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a warning instead of a ticket.” Hands back in her pockets, she shrugged. “In case you couldn’t tell, I was kind of freaked out about what had happened. That warning made my day a little bit better.”

Something about that last statement warmed him. “Glad I could help.”

“So where is everyone else?” She looked to the street as an echo of voices drifted from downstairs.

“Sounds like they just arrived.”

A short time later, after moving a few rows of chairs out of the way, he gathered in front of the stage with the dozen or so cast members comprised of townsfolk ranging in age from eighteen to seventy.

“I want to thank you all for coming and for being a part of this play.” He filled them in on Mrs. Nichols’s condition. “Now, I know many of you have been involved in this event for many years. However, I’m new to this directing thing, so if any of you would like to bow out, this would be your chance.”

“Don’t be silly, Matt.” Valerie Dawson waved off his comment. She’d been a good friend of his mother’s and a part of this event since its inception. “We’re just happy you were willing to step in on such short notice. Besides, it’ll be nice to have a Stephens leading us again.”

A round of nods and “that’s rights” followed, bolstering his confidence. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard, after all.

“All right, then. Since this is supposed to be a read-through, I guess I’ll just pass out these scripts—” he picked up the stack from the edge of the stage “—and we’ll get started.”

“Excuse me.” Lacie held up her hand. “Are we not going to go over show expectations?”

Show expectations? What were those?

“Do you have our call times?” asked someone else.

Call times? Okay, that was rehearsals. At least he thought that’s what they were.

“Oh, and what about costumes?” asked another. “When will we be fitted?”

Matt wasn’t used to having his authority questioned. Then again, he wasn’t wearing a uniform, either. He was completely out of his element.

He scanned the expectant faces before him, not wanting to let them down. Yet there was one glaring factor he couldn’t ignore.

He was in way over his head. Having Lacie here only amplified his incompetence. And he got the feeling she didn’t like him much, either. Two things he was determined to change.

Chapter Two

He was crashing and burning. And Lacie couldn’t bear to watch. Not after hearing why he’d chosen to become their director. She had to help him out.

Suddenly nervous, though, she hesitated, glancing at the faces around her. While she knew most of the people, one she even used to babysit, she’d been gone from Ouray for a long time. She didn’t want to come across as a know-it-all, no matter how much community theater she’d done. A cast was a team, no one person better than another. She supposed she should have remembered that when she brought up the show expectations.

Still, she had to do something.

With lights glaring overhead, she raised her hand again and mustered her most charming smile. “You know what? I think we’re all eager to do the read-through, so let’s not worry about the technicalities right now.”

“You are absolutely right, Lacie,” said Valerie. “Let’s get on with the read-through.”

“No, no.” Matt set the scripts back down on the edge of the stage. “If the show expectations come first, then we will cover them now.”

What? It was obvious he didn’t have a clue what show expectations were. And yet when she’d given him an out, he ignored it.

Let him fail then.

No, that wasn’t right or Christian of her. Though it was apparent he didn’t want anyone to interfere.

Hands slung low on his denim-clad hips, he continued, “I want to do this right. So let’s go ahead and discuss our expectations.” He scanned the group before him. “Rehearsal times are firm. In case you aren’t aware, I’m former military, which means I’m a stickler for promptness.”

The cast was silent, giving him their full attention. The military reference must have scared them.

The corners of his mouth lifted a notch. “However, I’m also a realist. As a law enforcement officer, I know how life can interfere. Before you leave tonight, I will give each of you my cell number. If you’re going to be late, please let me know.”

She had to give him credit for trying.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way—” he reached for the scripts “—let’s continue with the read-through.”

One by one he passed out the scripts, though she was beginning to wish she hadn’t signed on for this. No matter how much she loved acting, she’d agreed to work with Mrs. Nichols, not Matt Stephens, the man who didn’t have a clue he’d broken her heart.

“The Bishop’s Wife.” His baritone voice carried throughout the space. “Mr. Garcia, would you get us started, please?”

For the next hour and a half, Lacie focused on the script as well as the rest of the cast instead of the man leading them. And once they were finished, she was eager to leave. After chatting with Clare Droste, the girl she’d once babysat, Lacie donned her coat and started across the wooden floor. Maybe she’d even make it back to her mother’s in time for dinner.

“Lacie?”

Her steps slowed. Matt’s voice set her nerves on edge.

Hands in her pockets, she turned on her heel. “Yes?”

He took a step closer. “Would you mind staying? I’d like to talk with you.”

Talk with or talk to? She had questioned him, after all.

Reluctantly, she made her way through the cluster of exiting cast members, toward the stage and the man she’d seen more of in the past two days than she had in the past sixteen years.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Yes.” Hands clasped, he leaned against the edge of the stage. “How much acting have you done?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Until Kenzie came to live with me, quite a bit.”

“I suspected as much.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s just that—” he pushed away from the stage “—well, I have no idea what I’m doing here. I was wondering if you’d be willing to teach me?”

Her arms fell to her sides. “Teach you?”

“Yes.”

“Teach you what? Acting?”

“What I’m supposed to be doing as a director.”

“Oh. You mean you really don’t know?”

He shook his head. “All I ever did was help with the set crew. And even that was only for a couple of years before Mama got sick.”

Why did he have to keep bringing up his mother? Just thinking about Mona made it much more difficult to say no. And she wanted to say no. Just the thought of being with Matt made her edgy. “If you could just walk me through some of the terminology and what I need to do at each step in the process.”

“I really should be getting home to Kenzie.” She poked a thumb toward the exit.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight. The group doesn’t meet again until next Sunday.”

“Yes, and there’s Thanksgiving and—”

“Please?” His velvet brown eyes pleaded with her. “I don’t want to mess this up, Lacie.”

She did not want to be around Matt Stephens any more than necessary. Unfortunately, a successful play fell into the “necessary” category. The entire town looked forward to this event.

“Okay, I’ll help.” Letting go a sigh, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “What’s your email address?”

“Email?”

“Yes, so I can send you a list of things you need to do.”

“Okay. But can we meet at least once to go over it?”

She’d rather have a root canal. They gave you painkillers for that. “Fine. But I hope you don’t mind kids, because Kenzie will likely be accompanying me.”

“Not a problem. We can even meet at your mother’s, if you like.”

She typed in the email address he gave her. “I’ll send you something later tonight or tomorrow morning. Then we can schedule a meeting.” Tucking her phone back into her pocket, she continued. “Right now, I need to get home to my niece.”

Outside, she tightened the belt on her peacoat and shivered. Seemed the temperatures had gone down along with the sun. It was downright freezing.

She hurried across the darkened street to her SUV, wishing she’d brought her gloves. She’d forgotten how much colder it could be here than in Denver. Of course, Ouray was also more than two thousand feet higher in altitude.

Under the glow of a street lamp, she threw herself into the driver’s seat, shoved the key into the ignition and gave it a twist. Except instead of the engine roaring to life, it simply clicked. Weird. She turned the key again. Weeneeneeneenee... Weeneenee, weeneenee...

She groaned, recalling the words of the mechanic who’d done her last oil change.

“You’re probably going to want to think about changing out that battery soon.”

And she’d just driven all the way across the state.

Stupid! How could she have let that slip?

As the windows started to fog, she willed herself to calm down. All she needed was someone to give her a jump.

She opened her door and stepped out onto Ouray’s only paved street, looking around for anyone who might be able to help her. But with the other cast members long gone, things were pretty deserted.

A gust of wind sent her back inside her vehicle. “Lord, please help me to get this started.”

Once again, she twisted the key and was met with the same result.

Tap, tap, tap.

She jumped, jerking her head toward the window.

“Need a little help?” Matt stood on the other side, wearing a smile that would melt most women’s hearts. But she wasn’t most women.

She pushed the door open. “My battery could use a jump.”

“Sure. Just let me swing my Jeep over here.”

“I’ve got jumper cables,” she called after him. No point in having him think she was incapable of taking care of herself.

In no time, his vehicle was nose-to-nose with hers, cables extending between them, and she was back behind the wheel, praying her car would start.

“All right, Lacie,” he hollered from outside. “Give it a try.”

With a nod, she turned the key.

Weenee...

“No, please don’t do this to me.”

“One more time.” He sent her a thumbs-up.

Please, please, please... She tried again.

Nothing. Not one sound.

Matt opened her door then. “I’m afraid your battery is dead.”

She wanted to cry. Though not in front of him.

So she grabbed her purse and keys and stepped outside. “I guess I’ll just have to walk home.”

“No, I’ll give you a ride.”

She dared to look at him now. “It’s not that far. I’ll be perfectly—”

“You’re just as stubborn as ever, aren’t you, Lace?”

She froze. Lace? He was the only one who’d ever called her that. Something just between them, an endearment that made her feel...special.

“Well, so am I,” he continued. “And I am not about to let you walk. So get in the Jeep while I take care of these cables.”

She simply stared at him, though she wasn’t sure what bugged her most. The fact that he called her stubborn or that he thought he could tell her what to do. However, since her teeth were chattering and her fingers and toes were numb, she climbed into the passenger seat and waited.

He tossed the cables into the back before getting in the driver’s seat. “All right, let’s get you home.”

Couldn’t come soon enough for her. Being around Matt was so...nerve-racking.

He put the vehicle into gear and turned at the corner. “So are you hoping to find a job closer to Ouray?”

“Oh, no.” Looking out the window, she watched the houses go by. “Denver is our home. Kenzie has her daycare, our friends are there, our church... I don’t want to uproot her. I’m just biding my time until I have something else lined up.” Unfortunately, none of the home builders in the Denver area were looking to hire anyone, including interior designers/stagers until after the holidays.

“That’s very commendable.” He turned onto her mother’s street. “A shame, too.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure your mother would enjoy having both you and your niece near.”

“Oh.” She tamped down the unwanted disappointment. “Well, I just want what’s best for Kenzie.” Not to mention herself. And that meant keeping her heart closed to Matt Stephens.

She reached for the door handle as he eased to a stop in front of Mom’s house. “Thanks for the ride.”

* * *

Gray clouds and freezing temperatures were the order of the day as Matt climbed the front steps at the Collier house shortly before nine the next morning. When he’d dropped Lacie off last night, he’d barely brought his Jeep to a stop before she hopped out. Leaving him to wonder why she was being so standoffish.

Sure they hadn’t seen each other in years, but time couldn’t erase the fact that they’d once been really good friends. From seventh to eleventh grade, they’d had no problem confiding in one another. Then he’d started dating Marissa and Lacie no longer wanted anything to do with him. Just like last night.

Later Marissa told him Lacie had had a crush on him. Making him feel like the biggest jerk ever for not recognizing it.

But that was sixteen years ago. That couldn’t be the problem now, could it?

Regardless, his friend had a dead battery to contend with and her mother had a business to run. Even if Lacie were to use Barbara’s car, she’d still have to remove the battery and find a replacement all with a child in tow. He couldn’t let her do that. Not in this weather.

He knocked on the door of the slate-colored, sixties-era, single-story rambler, thinking of all the times he’d been there before. Back when two teenage girls lived there and the house was an ugly pea green. Much had changed in the last sixteen years. And not all for the better.

The door swung open then and Barbara Collier smiled at him, just as she had all those years ago. These days, her short, dark blond hair sported a little more gray and her blue eyes had lost some of their spark, but given what she’d been through, having lost her husband and a daughter, he supposed it was understandable.

She pushed open the storm door. “Matt, what a pleasant surprise.” Her gaze skimmed his uniform. “At least, I hope so.” She looked him in the eye again. “You’re not here on official business, are you?”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “No, ma’am. You’re in the clear.”

“Well, in that case, come on in.”

He wiped his booted feet on the mat before following her inside the comfortable living room with its pale yellow walls and overstuffed beige furniture.

“Can I get you some coffee?” She gestured to the adjoining kitchen.

“No, thank you. I don’t suppose Lacie’s up, is sh—”

“I’m gonna get you, you little stinker.” Lacie’s voice trailed down the hallway to the right, as a small child came running into the room wearing bright pink pajamas.

“No...” The little girl laughed and bounded onto the couch.

“I’ve got you now.” Lacie closed in on her, stopping short when she spotted Matt. “I didn’t know we had company.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your fun,” he said with a smile.

She grabbed the small shirt and pants that were draped over her shoulder. “Somebody’s giving me a hard time about getting dressed this morning.”

The child grew quiet and clung to her aunt’s leg once she realized there was a stranger in the house. She was a cute little thing. Dark brown curls, dark eyes... Not at all like Marissa. Yet there was something about her.

Obviously sensing the girl’s hesitation, Barbara said, “Kenzie, this is our friend Officer Matt.”

Did she remember him from the other day, when he’d pulled Lacie over?

Moving closer, he felt almost mesmerized as he crouched to her level. She was little, all right. How old was she anyway? Three? Maybe four?

“It’s nice to meet you, Kenzie.”

Her smile returned, albeit a shy one as she tightened her hold on Lacie. Still, the pleasure it brought him was inexplicable. Never had a stranger’s eyes looked so familiar.

“What brings you by?” Lacie’s tone carried that same stubborn edge he’d heard yesterday.

“You.”

Her eyes widened as he stood. “Me?”

“Yes. You have a dead battery that needs to be replaced. I’m here to help.”

“Oh, that won’t be—”

“That is so sweet of you, Matt.” Barbara made her way toward them. “Lacie’s been stressing all morning, wondering if she was going to need to have her car towed or not.”

One glance at a chagrined Lacie had him biting back a smile. “Nope, no towing needed. We’ll simply take out the old battery, pick up a new one and put it in right there on Main Street.”

“We?” Lacie’s glare bounced between him and her mother.

“Okay, you’ll just be there to supervise and pay for the battery. I’ll do the rest.”

She looked over his uniform. “But you’re working. I’m sure you have plenty of deputy things to keep you busy.”

“Helping the community is part of my work.”

She paused. “Well, what about Kenzie? I can’t let her ride in the back seat of a sheriff’s vehicle.”

Man, she really did not want his help. Or was simply too obstinate to accept it.

“That’s all right, dear,” said Barbara. “Kenzie can come to the shop with me.” She smiled at her granddaughter. “You want to come to work with Grandma?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, we’ll have to get you dressed first.” Barbara snagged the clothes from Lacie, then held out her other hand to Kenzie, who promptly took hold and accompanied her grandmother down the hall.

He managed to contain the laughter bubbling inside him. “Looks like we’re free to go whenever you’re ready.”

Lacie continued to stare down the hall. While he’d appreciated her mother’s intervention, it was obvious Lacie didn’t share his opinion. “I’ll get my coat.”

“Might want to grab some gloves, too. It’s kind of cold out there.” After last night, he figured a friendly reminder wouldn’t hurt.

Though, based on the look she sent him, she found his suggestion more irritating than friendly.

A short time later, he pulled behind her SUV on a slowly awakening Main Street.

“You can wait here, if you like. I just need to remove the old battery and—”

Lacie unhooked her seat belt. “I want you to show me how to do it.”

He glanced across the center console to her lined jacket. Definitely more work appropriate than that pink coat she’d worn yesterday. “That’s admirable. Most women leave this sort of stuff to someone else.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not most women. Should I ever find myself in this situation again—”

“Hopefully you won’t, but I understand. Why don’t you go pop the hood while I grab a couple of tools?”

He watched the set of her shoulders and the determination in her stride as she walked toward her vehicle. He had no doubt that Lacie could do anything she set her mind to, whether it was acting, becoming an instant mother or auto repair.

“First thing we need to do is remove the cables from the battery.” A semi rumbled past as he hovered over the frozen engine. “A wrench is better, but you could also use pliers.”

“Okay.” The expectant look on her face was beyond endearing.

He continued, explaining each step until the battery was freed. “All we have to do now is lift it out, go get a new one and we’re golden.”

“Golden,” she said with a rapt smile on her face. “Where do we find a new one?”

“At the service station north of town. That is, assuming they have one in stock.”

“And if they don’t?” Worry creased her pretty brow.

“You pick it up tomorrow. No big deal.”

Fortunately, they had one in stock. And when they returned to her SUV, Lacie insisted on carrying it. No small feat, since it weighed almost forty pounds. About the size of a small child. Though he doubted Kenzie weighed that much.

He shook his head. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the kid. Her dark eyes had grabbed hold of him and refused to let go.

“All right, Lace, this is your chance.”

“Chance for what?”

Strange. Until now, he never realized how much he’d missed that smile. The one that hinted at the tender heart behind the tough facade. The one that never failed to draw him in. “You get to install the battery.”

Still hunched over with the weight of her load, she said, “Seriously?”

“I’m only here for assistance.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Cool!”

Her attempts to lift the battery to the proper height failed immediately, though. She flared her nostrils. “Grrr...”

“Easy.” He moved to the back seat and grabbed Kenzie’s car seat. Setting it on the asphalt, he said, “Try standing on this.”

She did, and it was just the boost she needed to set the battery into place.

“All right, Lace, what’s next?”

“I don’t know.” A moment of panic flitted across her face. “The negative cable?”

“That’s right.” He handed her the wrench.

She cinched it into place, then connected the positive. “Screwdriver,” she said, moving the bracket into position.

Finished, she handed him his tools, her gaze expectant.

“Go fire it up and let’s see what we’ve got.”

She hurried behind the wheel and a moment later the engine roared to life. “I did it!” She hopped out onto the pavement, thrusting a fist into the air. “Yes!”

This time he did laugh. He’d never seen someone get so excited over a battery.

Suddenly more subdued, she moved toward him, her expression softening. “Thank you for teaching me.” The pink tinge of her cheeks grew deeper, heightening his awareness of just how pretty she was. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? “I really appreciate it.”

“And I appreciate your willingness to help me understand my job as director. It’s important to me.”

Peering up at him through long lashes, she said, “I know it is.” Her gray-blue eyes held his for a moment, allowing him the slightest glimpse of the Lacie he’d once shared his secrets with. Then she stepped away to close the hood. “That reminds me, I still need to send you that list.”

“That’s okay. You had other things to worry about.”

She nodded. “Well, I...guess I’d better go get Kenzie. We need to run to Montrose to pick up a birthday cake.”

“Looks like we got this taken care of just in time then. Whose birthday?”

“Kenzie’s.” Her smile was like any proud mother’s. “I can’t believe she’s five already.”

“Five?” He took a step back. “But she’s so small. I would have thought she was younger.”

“Nope.” She glanced up and down the street, as though unable to look at him. “So I should go.”

“Yeah, of course.” He gathered up his tools and placed them in the back of his vehicle as she drove away. What was wrong with him? This nagging sensation that twisted through him hadn’t been there before. Was it Lacie’s appreciation getting to him? Or something more?

Chapter Three

Lacie pulled into a parking spot in front of her mother’s shop, mentally chastising herself. In all her gratitude, she’d almost let her guard down with Matt. Something she couldn’t afford to do with any man. She owed it to her niece to be that one constant in her life, instead of allowing herself to be distracted the way Marissa so often had.

Like the night her boyfriend crashed his car, robbing Kenzie of her mother and forever changing her life.

Still, Lacie appreciated Matt’s willingness to guide her through the process of installing her new battery. Not dismissing her or trying to take over the way Brandon would have. In the two years they’d dated, Brandon had insisted on doing everything for her. At first, she thought he was just being chivalrous, but later realized Mr. Know-It-All had a deep-seated need to feel superior to anyone and everyone. Including her.

Shaking off the unwanted thoughts, she exited her vehicle into the cold late-morning air. Judging by the gray clouds obscuring the tops of the mountains along the town’s western edge, they’d soon be in for some snow. Kenzie would love that. Good thing Lacie had scooped up a couple of coats and some snow pants on clearance for her back in the spring when she still had a job. She didn’t want to have to tap into her savings any more than necessary.

Turning, she glimpsed the beginnings of her mother’s window display at The Paisley Elk, a little clothing boutique that catered mostly to women. So far, it consisted of batting “snow” and white lights, but then the contest for best Christmas display didn’t start in earnest until next week, so there was likely plenty more to come.

Inside was another story, though. Lacie had to hand it to her mother. The boutique was definitely festive. Standing under a ceiling adorned with hundreds of twinkling LED lights, she realized just how adept her mother had become at feigning Christmas. Not a Christmas tree in sight. No nativity of any kind. Not even a hint of the traditional red and green, save for the occasional evergreen bough. No, this was commercialism at its best. And if there wasn’t a prize involved—even if it wasn’t anything more than bragging rights—she doubted Mom would do any decorations at all.

Still, The Paisley Elk had an undeniable appeal that would draw people in. Like the glistening purple and silver balls that appeared to float in midair just below the lights, adding a touch of color to the overhead charm. And, of course, everything was perfectly merchandised for maximum effect, with pops of glitz and glam everywhere you looked.

Now if Lacie could just convince her mother to decorate the house...

December 23 would mark twelve years since Lacie’s father’s death. She’d never forget coming home from the hospital and watching her mother take down every decoration in the house. They hadn’t even opened their presents. Mom said she’d never celebrate Christmas again. And, so far, she’d held true to her word.

However, this was Kenzie’s first Christmas without Marissa. They owed it to her to make it the best Christmas the kid could possibly have. That meant having a tree, presents and everything else Lacie and Marissa had enjoyed as kids.

“There you are.” Mom draped a glittering silver pashmina scarf around the neck of a dress form sporting a pine-bough skirt adorned with silver ribbon, purple and silver balls, and peacock feathers. “How’s the car?”

“Up and running again, I’m happy to say.” She spotted Kenzie off to one side playing with—“Mom, is that Marissa’s and my old dollhouse?”

“Sure is. I thought, since Kenzie will be here with us a lot and that old thing was just collecting dust in the basement, she might enjoy playing with it.” Moving beside Lacie, she lowered her voice. “And I was right. She’s been playing with it this entire time.”

Lacie’s heart grew hopeful. Perhaps Mom hadn’t lost all sentiment.

She crossed to the small table where Kenzie was carefully moving the tiny furniture pieces, her smile widening with each step. The kid must have been having fun because she hadn’t even noticed that Lacie was there.

Kneeling beside her niece, she said, “What are you doing?”

“Playing house.” Tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth, Kenzie placed the miniature baby into the tiny crib.

“Are you having fun?”

Kenzie nodded, her expression somewhere between determined and delighted.

“I know just how you feel, Kenzikins.” Lacie’s father had built the dollhouse when she and Marissa were little. Like Kenzie, Lacie would spend hours rearranging furniture and contemplating different wall colors. No wonder she’d gone into interior design.

“Would you mind helping me assemble these, dear?” At the counter beside the cash register, Mom shoved glitter-covered branches into one of five tall galvanized buckets.

“Sure.” She shrugged out of her coat, setting it beside the dollhouse before joining her mother.

Reaching for a trio of sparkling white branches, she mustered the courage to broach the topic of the holidays. “I noticed there wasn’t a turkey in the fridge or freezer. Would you like me to pick one up?” One at a time, she plunged the stems into the Epsom salt snow.

“That won’t be necessary.” After admiring her handiwork, Mom picked up a spool of wide purple ribbon and stretched a length around the first bucket. “I thought we’d just go to Bon Ton or The Outlaw. No point in spending our day off in the kitchen when for all intents and purposes, Thanksgiving is just another day.”

Had Mom’s heart really grown that hard?

“No, it’s not.” She stared at the woman in disbelief. “Thanksgiving is when family and friends come together to give thanks for their blessings.” Like we used to do when Daddy was alive.

Her mother smiled, seemingly unaffected by Lacie’s comments. “Okay, you pick where we should eat then.”

Passing the first bucket off to Mom for ribbon, Lacie reached for another cluster of branches. “Actually, I was kind of looking forward to some of your homemade dressing.”

No response. Barbara Collier had always been good at avoiding conflict.

But Lacie wasn’t willing to let it drop. “What if I cooked Thanksgiving dinner? Nothing fancy. Just some turkey, dressing—I’ll need your recipe—and maybe a pumpkin pie. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

“I don’t know.” Mom tied another swath of ribbon. “I hate for you to go to so much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I like to cook.” Especially when she had people to cook for. “Throw in those traditional recipes and I’m a goner.”

Mom was silent for a long moment. Finally, “Oh, all right. If you insist.”

She wasn’t aware she was insisting, but as long as they were on a roll... “And then, after dinner, maybe we could put up the Christmas tree.” Biting her lip, she held her breath and stabbed another twig in the bucket.

But her mother remained focused on the task at hand. Without so much as flinching, she said, “Lacie, you know I don’t celebrate Christmas anymore. If you want to take Kenzie to some of the festivities around town, that’s fine. But there is no Christmas at the house.”

She glared at her mother. “There used to be.”

How she used to love coming down the hallway Christmas morning to the glow of twinkling lights and the soft sound of Christmas carols playing in the background. So many memories. Memories she desperately wanted to recreate for Kenzie. God, please soften Mom’s heart.

“That was a long time ago.” Her mother moved her reading glasses to the top of her head and looked at Lacie. “People change.”

“And you won’t change for your granddaughter?”

Scooping up the two completed buckets, she whisked past Lacie to disperse them throughout the store. “We all have our beliefs and convictions. I have chosen not to celebrate Christmas.”

The bell over the door jangled then, ushering in a customer and effectively ending their conversation. Even though Lacie had so much more to say.

She glimpsed the little girl across the room. No, that wasn’t a discussion to be had while Kenzie was within earshot.

So she finished the other three buckets while Mom assisted her customer, then went to check on Kenzie. “Are you about ready to go pick out your birthday cake?”

The child beamed. “I want chocolate.”

Turning her gaze to the window, Lacie couldn’t help smiling. “Chocolate it is then.”

Maybe she’d even get the kid to take a nap this afternoon, allowing Lacie to work on that list for Matt.

Thoughts of the deputy had her wondering what he was doing for Thanksgiving. Perhaps they should invite him to join them. As a thank-you for helping her today.

She rubbed her arms, quickly dismissing the ridiculous notion. He had his own family. A rather large one, at that.

Besides, she had better things to do than worry about Matt Stephens’s Thanksgiving plans. Like figuring out how on earth she was going to have a Christmas for Kenzie when her mom was dead set against it.

* * *

An hour after Lacie pulled away, Matt sat at the counter at Granny’s Kitchen, a local diner, staring at his untouched burger. Seemed no matter how hard he tried to erase the memory, his mind kept rewinding to one February night nearly six years ago. Marissa’s last in Hawaii. A night that never should have happened.

His insides churned. The math added up. But still...

Marissa may have done him wrong, but she would have told him he had a child, wouldn’t she? Then again, she hadn’t told him she was dating someone else, either.

So why isn’t Kenzie’s dad raising her?

He picked up a fry and forced himself to take a bite. He didn’t want to believe it. But he couldn’t ignore it, either. Could Kenzie be his daughter?

“What’s up with the sad face?” A hand clamped on to Matt’s shoulder.

He looked up as his brother Andrew helped himself to one of his fries. “What are you doing here?”

Andrew plopped down in the seat beside him. “Carly’s putting up the Christmas decorations at Granger House, so I’m on my own for lunch.” For the past nineteen years, Andrew had lived in Denver, where he ran a multimillion-dollar commercial construction company. Until last spring when he sold it, came back to Ouray and married his high school sweetheart. Now they were stuck with him.

“Christmas decorations? It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

Andrew snagged another fry. “True, but we’ve got guests booked for this weekend, so the bed-and-breakfast portion of the house needs to be ready before then.” His gaze drifted to Matt’s plate. “Something wrong with your burger? You haven’t touched it.”

“Guess I’m not very hungry.”

His cell buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Gladys Bricker’s name on the screen. His favorite teacher must be baking again, because that was the only reason she ever called. A fiercely independent gal, Gladys had never married, but considered many of her former students her children. Himself included.

“Hello, Gladys.”

“Oh, Matt, I hate to bother you.”

Something in the eighty-one-year-old woman’s voice wasn’t quite right. “Gladys, you are never a bother. What can I do for you?”

“I’m afraid I need some wood brought in. It’s already cut, but I just can’t seem to make it outside to get it.” His unease rose. That was definitely not like Gladys.

He stood. “Not to worry. I’m on my way.” He ended the call. “Looks like your timing is perfect, bro.” He slid his plate toward Andrew. “Duty calls.”

His older brother reached for the burger. “I’ll get the tab.”

“You do that,” said Matt as he made his way out the door into the brisk midday air. Honestly, he was grateful for Gladys’s call. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for a lengthy conversation with Andrew today. However, he was worried about the older woman.

He slid behind the wheel of his Tahoe and headed north, continuing outside of town. Gladys had always been faithful in keeping in touch with him over the years. He still had all the letters she’d sent him while he was in the navy.

A few minutes later, he pulled into her drive, gravel crunching beneath his tires. Exiting the vehicle, he spotted the large pile of wood near the barn at the back of the property. He made his way there first and filled his arms before heading to the small, white, single-story house with green trim.

He tugged open the screen door and knocked. “Gladys? It’s Matt.”

His anxiety heightened as the seconds dragged on. Reaching for the knob, he gave it a twist and inched the door open. “Gladys?”

“In—” coughing echoed from the living room that sat at the opposite end of the kitchen “—in here.”

He continued into the house, moving through the compact yet tidy kitchen and into the chilly living room. There, on the other side of the room, in front of the big picture window, the elderly woman lay in her recliner, buried under a stack of blankets, her short gray hair sticking up every which way. She looked frailer than he’d ever imagined.

Crossing to the wood-burning stove in the corner of the room, he dropped the wood before touching a hand to the side of the stove. “This thing is stone-cold.” He opened the door to see only ashes in the bottom.

He twisted around. “What’s going on, Gladys? Why don’t you have a fire going?”

Her face was pale, but she sent him weak smile. “I ran out of wood.”

This wasn’t good. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“Just a little cold.” One wrinkled hand clasped the blankets to her chest while the other held tightly to a handkerchief she used to cover her mouth when she coughed.

A few quick strides put him at her side. He touched her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Am I?” Clouded blue eyes met his. “Feels pretty chilly to me.”

He knelt beside her. “Have you been to see the doctor?”

“No.”

He knew what he had to do, but Gladys wasn’t going to like it. The best thing he could do was to make her a little more comfortable before bringing up the ambulance. A few more minutes wouldn’t make that much difference.

“Okay, let me get this fire started.” Back at the stove, he removed the ashes before adding a starter stick from the box he spotted on the shelf and a couple of thin logs.

After closing the doors, he went into the kitchen and set the four-cup coffeepot to brew. Probably not the best thing, but she needed something warm. A few minutes later, he filled an old green coffee cup halfway and took it to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you, Matt. You’re a good boy.”

No, a good boy would have checked on her more often.

After adding another log to the firebox, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “I wish you had called me earlier.”

“I know. But I—”

“Hate to bother me, I know.” Resting his forearms on his thighs, he leaned closer. “Gladys, I need to call an ambulance.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she passed him her cup.

“I’m afraid you have more than just a cold and I want the EMTs to come and check you out.”

“Can’t I just go to the doctor?” She coughed.

“And how are you going to get there? You’re in no condition to drive yourself.” Any other time he’d take her himself, but since he was the only deputy on duty... Besides, she’d likely be going to the hospital in Montrose anyway.

Her thin lips pursed as she turned her gaze to the conifer-dotted landscape outside the window. “If you think that would be best.”

He laid a hand atop hers. “I do. I want you to get better.”

He made the call, then monitored the fire and paced the beige carpet as he waited for the EMTs to arrive.

“When did you do this?” He pointed to two photos, one color, the other black-and-white, encased in a single frame on the wall near the opening to the kitchen.

“About a month ago. That’s my first graduating class—” more coughing “—and my last graduating class.” Forty years of teaching. Definitely impressive.

“Hey, there’s me.” He pointed to the newer photo.

“Bring it over here, please.”

He lifted the frame and took it to her.

She smiled as she touched the glass. “You and your brothers all had your father’s dark eyes.”

“Except Daniel,” he said. The baby of the family was the polar opposite with his blond hair and blue eyes.

“Oh, yes. He took after your mother. But the rest of you... Anyone could tell you were a Stephens.”

His gut clenched, images of Kenzie flashing through his mind. Her dark eyes. That sense of familiarity washed over him again. Could it be true?

Thirty minutes after the EMTs arrived, he watched as they loaded Gladys into the back of the ambulance. While bronchitis was a good bet, given her age, the doctors wanted to observe her to be certain there was nothing else going on.

He returned to the house to make sure everything was in order and the fire in the wood stove was put out. He’d have to touch base with the church and others in town so Gladys would have plenty of folks to check on her and bring her food once she returned home.

Before leaving, he picked up the framed photo and hung it back on the wall. Anyone could tell you were a Stephens.

His eyes closed. God, forgive me. I know I made a mistake all those years ago. How do I know if Kenzie is my child?

By the time his shift ended, he could hardly wait to get home. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but if what played across his brain was truly from God, he might have the answer he’d prayed for.

He pulled his Tahoe into the drive, ditched his gear at the back door and headed straight for the bookshelves surrounding the fireplace in the living room. Quickly locating the scrapbook his mother had compiled for him and his sister-in-law Carly had assembled, he flipped past the baby pictures and those of him as a toddler, his heart pounding when he came to a photo of him at age four and a half. Except the face staring back at him was Kenzie’s. The nose, the eyes—He touched a finger to his forehead—even that little widow’s peak had Stephens written all over it.

He dropped onto the couch, feeling as though the air had been sucked from his lungs.

Kenzie was his daughter.

Chapter Four

Standing at the island in her mother’s kitchen, Lacie transferred the remnants of Kenzie’s birthday cake to a large plastic container then licked a smudge of the super sweet frosting from her finger. Thanks to no nap earlier in the day, save for fifteen short minutes in the car on the way back from Montrose, the little girl had crashed early. Still, it had been a good birthday. Mom had gone above and beyond on the gifts. Clothes, toys, books... Yet she refused to do Christmas. Unless the abundance was to make up for not celebrating Christmas.

Whatever the case, they’d all had a pleasant evening.

She stowed the cake in the fridge, rinsed and dried her hands, then grabbed her laptop and settled on the couch in the living room. Since she’d sent off Matt’s list this afternoon, she was now free to see if any new job listings had been posted. Because if she could find something that started before Christmas, her problems would be solved.

“I see you got a turkey.” Sitting in an adjacent chair near the window, Mom looked up from her book and moved her reading glasses to the top of her head.

Lacie lifted a brow. Was that merely an observation or were they about to enter round two of holiday discussions? If so, she’d better prepare to stand her ground.

“Just a small one.” She snagged the deep purple plush throw from the back of the sofa and tossed it over her legs while she waited for the website to load. “Oh, and don’t forget to give me your dressing recipe.”

“It’s in the recipe file in the cupboard.” Mom reached for her herbal tea on the side table. “It’s fairly basic, no special ingredients, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding what you need at Duckett’s.”

Contemplating an inevitable trip to Ouray’s one and only grocer, Lacie was pleased to see that her mother had embraced the idea of having Thanksgiving here at the house. Now if she would just come around to Lacie’s way of thinking regarding Christmas...

A knock sounded at the door.

She and her mother exchanged quizzical looks.

“I wonder who that could be.” Mom set her cup down, stood and started for the door. Fingering the sheer curtain aside, she peered through the sidelight window and smiled. “I have a feeling it’s for you.”

“Me?” Lacie set her computer on the coffee table, tossed the throw aside and stood in her socked feet. Who would be here to see her? The only person she’d had contact with since she’d been back was—

Her gut tightened. Oh, please don’t let it be—

“Matt, this makes twice in one day.” Mom held the door, allowing him and a blast of cold air to enter. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Pleasure? Lacie tugged at the sleeves of her bulky sweater. That was debatable.

“Hey, Barbara.” He wore a heavy coat, a pair of well-worn jeans, gloves and a black beanie. And if the hefty dose of pink coloring in his cheeks and nose was any indication, he’d walked. “I’m sorry to stop by so late.”

“Nonsense.” Mom closed the door behind him. “It’s only eight thirty.”

Yeah, never mind the fact that they were settling in for a cozy evening.

When Matt’s dark gaze moved to Lacie, she noticed something different, though. His shoulders seemed to slump, as though he were carrying a heavy burden, and there was something sad in his expression. Something that made her heart go out to him, though she quickly snatched it back.

Had something happened with the play? Mrs. Nichols?

“Is Kenzie in bed?” He watched her intently.

Uncertain how she felt about this side of Matt, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. Why?”

“Could we take a walk?”

A walk? Now? But it was late. Moreover, it was cold.

“We won’t be long,” he added.

She looked to her mother.

“I’ll keep an ear out for Kenzie.” Obviously the woman had read her mind.

Lacie glanced down at her computer. So much for job hunting. “Give me a sec to get ready.”

She donned her coat, scarf, hat and boots, all the while trying to figure out why Matt would suddenly feel like taking a walk. With her of all people. Unless something had happened. Or he simply wanted to discuss his duties as director? But couldn’t they do that here or someplace else that was warm?

Tugging on her gloves, she let go a sigh. She’d find out soon enough.

Outside, the air was still as they started up the darkened street. The clouds that had plagued them all day had finally dissipated, leaving a plethora of stars in their wake. It also meant they were likely in for a very cold night. Perhaps a hot bath would be in order when she got back.

“How’d the party go?” Matt’s breath hung in the freezing night air.

“Not too bad, considering there were only three of us.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Kenzie made out like a bandit.”

“I’m guessing she’d consider it a success then.” Though she didn’t look at him, she could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Probably.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, seemingly heading nowhere in particular, which had her wondering what this walk was all about.

Approaching a dim streetlight at the corner, she said, “Did you want to discuss the email I sent you?”

He glanced her way, his expression somber. “You sent me an email?”

“I told you I would.”

Again looking straight ahead, he said, “I haven’t checked. Had other stuff on my mind.”

Okay, then what—

Hands in his pockets, he kept walking. “I’m curious—why isn’t Kenzie’s father raising her?”

“What?” How dare he ask something so personal?

“I mean, typically when one parent passes, the other assumes custody.”

“Unless there’s a will that stipulates otherwise. Kenzie’s father wanted nothing to do with her. My sister wanted me to raise Kenzie. Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“Were you planning to keep it a secret like Marissa did?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What secret?”

“That I’m Kenzie’s father.”

Dumbfounded, she stopped and simply stared at him. “If you’re trying to be funny, you missed the mark by a long shot.”

He stared back at her. “No, I’m quite serious.”

Not to mention crazy. She shook her head. “Did you not pay attention in ninth grade biology? It only takes nine months to have a baby. It’s been sixteen years since you and Marissa were a couple, so even if you had—”

“Marissa came to Hawaii.” The intensity of his gaze heightened and bore straight into her. “The February before Kenzie was born. But then you probably knew that.”

Her mind raced to keep up. Of course, she remembered her sister’s trip. Marissa and Grant had just broken up for the umpteenth time.

“I was there with the navy,” Matt continued. “I spent the week showing her around Oahu. And then...” He turned away as though embarrassed.

She burrowed her hands deeper into her coat. Her sister never said anything about seeing Matt. And as she recalled, Marissa and Grant got back together shortly after she returned from her trip.

February? She ticked off the months on her frozen fingers. March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, Novem...

A sickening flurry of emotions began to churn in her belly, spaghetti and chocolate cake morphing into a lead weight. She swallowed hard as the potential reality of Matt’s confession sank in.

It couldn’t be true, though. Grant was Kenzie’s father. He and Marissa had dated off and on for years. Until shortly before Kenzie was born, when he walked away for good.

She dared a glance at Matt, squaring her shoulders. Marissa would have told her if he was Kenzie’s father. “Matt, I don’t know how you came up with such a crazy notion, but I can assure you that you are not Kenzie’s father.”

He twisted toward her. “Really? Then how do you explain this?” He held out a five-by-seven photo. A little boy with dark eyes alight with amusement and dark brown hair that had been combed back to reveal a slight widow’s peak... Just like Kenzie. “That’s me at four years old. When your mother introduced me to Kenzie earlier today, I felt as though I’d met her before. I didn’t get it at first. Until you told me how old she was.” His voice cracked. “I’m not imagining this, Lace. I truly believe that Kenzie is my daughter.”

She stared at the photo, feeling as though she might be sick. Grant was as fair-haired as Marissa had been, with eyes just as blue. Why hadn’t her sister told her she saw Matt? That there was a possibility he could be Kenzie’s father?

She looked away. It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. Jutting her chin into the frigid air, she glared right at Matt. “It’s not true.” Then, before he could say another word, she turned and ran back home.

* * *

Thanks to Lacie’s abrupt departure last night, sleep had evaded Matt. Now as midafternoon approached, he was starting to feel the effects. Unfortunately, his shift wasn’t over for another three hours.

Under what he would normally consider a beautiful blue sky, he maneuvered his Tahoe through the neighboring town of Ridgway, eyeing the jagged, snow-covered peaks of the Cimarrons to the east. He wanted to kick himself for accusing Lacie of hiding Kenzie’s paternity, when it was obvious she was as shocked by the revelation as he was. What he couldn’t figure out, though, was why she refused to believe him.

Because maybe you’re not Kenzie’s father.

Yet he’d gone off half-cocked with no concrete proof to back up his supposition.

Anyone could tell you were a Stephens.

The image of Kenzie’s face haunted him. Wouldn’t a father know his own child? After all, it wasn’t like he was looking to be a dad. And while the evidence he had was circumstantial, it all added up and was impossible to ignore. At least until he had proof to the contrary.

So where did he go from here? And how was he going to convince Lacie that he wasn’t crazy?

His radio went off. Possible poachers. He waited for the address, cringing when it came. He did not need this today. Or any other day, for that matter. With the mood he was in, the last person he wanted to see was his father.

Why’d he have to call while Matt was the only deputy on duty? Couldn’t he have waited a few more hours for the next shift? Sure, it would be dark, but at least he’d have been off the hook.

Bound by duty, he reluctantly responded to dispatch and headed south on Highway 550. God, I’m going to need Your help.

Ten minutes later, his vehicle bumped across the cattle guard beneath the arched metal sign that read Abundant Blessings Ranch. He crept up the long gravel drive, praying that perhaps it had been his oldest brother, Noah, who’d made the call. Yet as he passed the recently expanded stable, his hopes were dashed when he glimpsed Noah tending the horses. He thought about stopping to check, but knew he’d simply be postponing the inevitable.

Approaching the ranch house, memories of that day nearly three years ago filled his mind. All he’d wanted to do was make Mama happy. And he had. For a short time, she’d forgotten the pain and weakness that had plagued her for months.

But Dad didn’t see it that way. Are you trying to kill her?

Ten days later, she was gone. The cancer had finally gotten the better of her.

Just then he spotted his father exiting the new barn his brother Andrew had built over the summer.

You’re nothing but a screwup, Matt. Always have been, always will be.

Clint Stephens’s words didn’t sting quite as much today as they had when he’d first spat them at Matt. And while Matt tried to pretend his father’s opinion didn’t matter, it seemed he’d been trying to disprove his father ever since. Yet for all of his trying, he’d only succeeded in proving him correct.

While Dad looked on, he parked beside the old man’s dually, in front of the long wooden deck that spanned the length of the single-story cedar ranch house. Thanks to Andrew and a good power washing, the place looked almost new. The ugly black buildup from years of neglect had been whisked away. If only the damage to his heart could be so easily erased.

His father was waiting as Matt exited his truck, felt cowboy hat perched upon his graying head, hands buried in the pockets of his Carhartt coveralls. “Wondered if you’d be working today.”

“I am. So whatcha got?” Because the sooner he could get away from here, the better off he’d be.

“A decapitated mule deer.” The old man poked a thumb over his shoulder toward the pasture. “Near Smugglers Bend.”

Matt knew the area well as he used to hunt there all the time. There wasn’t an inch on the ranch that he and his brothers hadn’t explored at some point in their young lives. “I’ll drive over there and walk in from the road.”

His father’s gaze narrowed. “He’s tucked in amongst the brush. Might have a hard time findin’ him, so I’d best take you.”

The dread Matt had felt earlier amplified. Did Dad think he was incapable of finding it? Or that he needed a chaperone to make sure he got things right?

Whatever the case, the old man remained quiet during the ride out there on one of the utility vehicles they used to get around the ranch. Despite an abundance of sunshine, the bitter cold air stung Matt’s face as they thudded over the now-dormant rangeland, carving a path around cattle and the occasional tree.

A short time later, his father brought the vehicle to a halt beside a small wooded area. Scruffy conifers and barren deciduous trees blanketed with underbrush. A hiding place for wildlife. “He was a big fella.” Dad stepped off the vehicle and led Matt several feet into the thicket.

Matt eyed the once-majestic buck. “Yes, sir. But then, poachers don’t make a habit of going after the little guys.” He surveyed the overgrowth around the animal. “How’d you find him?”

“Neighbor called and said I had cows on the road. When I went to get ’em, I discovered somebody had cut the fence.” Dad glanced some hundred yards in the distance. “Wasn’t long after that I saw the blood trail.” He looked down at the dead animal. “Looks like a clean shot, though.” He pointed to the entry wound behind the animal’s left shoulder. “Fella never knew what hit him.”

“I’m guessing they shot from the road.” Matt dared a look at his dad. “Then walked in to claim their trophy.”

Dad shook his head. “Them poachers are the ones that ought to be shot.”

Matt took some photos and jotted down a few notes before following the trail to the road and doing more of the same. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the first incident we’ve seen,” he told his father when he returned. “I’ll hand this information over to investigators, though with little to go on, catching anyone isn’t likely.”

They again climbed on the UTV and started back to the ranch house in silence. Matt took the opportunity to survey the land he loved so much. He gazed at the river as they passed, wishing he could spend more time there. How he used to enjoy walking the property, communing with nature, hunting, fishing... Except now he felt like an outsider. Unwelcome in his own home.

“Well, I suppose you need to get on, don’t you?” His father stopped the vehicle in front of the house. “Probably have reports and such to take care of, huh?”

If Matt were anyone else, Dad would have offered him a cup of coffee. But he wasn’t anyone else. No matter what he did, he was a disappointment to his father. The son who was arrested for underage drinking, then let his parents down by joining the navy without ever consulting them.

“Yes, sir.”

The old man followed him to his Tahoe. “I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re directing your mama’s play.”

Matt’s entire body tensed. “Yes.”

Hands shoved in his pockets, the old man rocked back on the heels of his worn work boots. “I gotta say, I’m kinda curious as to why you decided to do that.”

Turning, he looked at his father. “They were talking about canceling the play and I couldn’t let Mama’s legacy die.”

“I can appreciate that.” Dad nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line. “But don’t you think it would have been better to leave it in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing?”

Matt’s blood boiled. The old man would never cut him any slack. “Why? Because you think I’ll screw that up, too?”

When his father didn’t respond, Matt turned on his own booted heel. “I’m out of here.” He threw himself into his vehicle, fired up the engine and exited the ranch at a much faster pace than he’d arrived.

As far as Clint Stephens was concerned, his middle son had no redeeming qualities. Just wait until he found out about Kenzie. The fact that Matt had fathered a child out of wedlock would only amplify the old man’s belief that Matt was nothing but a failure, unworthy of his father’s love. And as much as it killed Matt to admit it, even to himself, that’s the one thing he desperately wanted.

Chapter Five

Matt could not be Kenzie’s father. That’s all there was to it.

Darkness had already settled over Ouray as Lacie stood at the stove in her mother’s kitchen, stirring noodles into the beef Stroganoff, its savory aroma filling the air. While she welcomed the opportunity to cook for more than just herself and Kenzie, the task did little to distract her from the annoying thoughts that had plagued her brain all day. How could one brief meeting have Matt believing he was Kenzie’s father? Talk about nerve.

“I’m hungry.” Kenzie approached from the living room, where an educational cartoon had held her attention for the past twenty minutes.

“I know, sweetie.” Lacie put the lid on the skillet, annoyed that she’d wasted most of her day, mentally rehashing last night’s conversation with Matt instead of interacting with Kenzie. “How about a piece of string cheese to tide you over until Grandma gets home?”

“Okay.” Her niece beamed at the prospect. “Can I play with my ponies?”

Lacie opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cheese stick. “You like those, huh?”

“Uh-huh.” Kenzie nodded, accepting her snack.

She had to hand it to her mother, she’d done a good job anticipating what toys Kenzie would and would not like. “Then yes, you may. I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

“Okay.” She grinned up at Lacie with a smile that reached her big brown eyes. Eyes not at all like Marissa’s or even Grant’s. Instead, they reminded Lacie of—

No. She shut the refrigerator door with a little too much force, rattling its contents. She wasn’t going to go there because it wasn’t true. Grant was Kenzie’s father, even if he was a deadbeat dad.

While Kenzie played and they waited for Mom to get home from the shop, Lacie seized the opportunity to focus on something besides Matt. She crossed to the table and opened her laptop to check those job listings she’d planned to research last night before she’d been so rudely interrupted. Yet even as she stared at the computer screen, her thoughts kept returning to Matt. To the pain and conviction in his dark eyes.

She let go a groan and returned to the stove to give the Stroganoff another stir. This was ridiculous. If Matt had been Kenzie’s father, Marissa would have told her. There were no secrets between them. They—

She froze. Kenzie’s birth certificate. She had Kenzie’s birth certificate in her files in the bedroom. Strange that she thought to keep it close by in case she needed it, yet had never taken the time to look over the document.

Quickly replacing the lid, she set the wooden spoon on its rest and started down the hall. Grant would be listed as Kenzie’s father on the birth certificate, putting this nonsense to rest once and for all.

Inside her old bedroom, she opened the closet door and grabbed the plastic file box that contained all of her and Kenzie’s important documents and set it on the bed. She lifted the plastic lid and fingered past shot records, guardianship papers and tax records until she located the folder labeled Birth Certificates.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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