Christmas In Mustang Creek. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
pods, push a button and presto, instant anything-you-want.” She sank down in the opposite chair. “So how have you been? Bring me up-to-date.”
That was where they were five minutes later when Jax strolled through the door.
He was a lot of things, but deceitful wasn’t one of them. Charlotte knew the look of surprise on his face was genuine. He stopped abruptly about two feet into the shop. “Oh.”
“How many times in one day do I have to ask why you’re somewhere I don’t expect?” Charlotte teased, enjoying his discomfort just a little.
Hadleigh was hardly slow. She glanced at him, then over at Charlotte, and said with evident amusement, “Hey, call me Sherlock. By the process of elimination, I’ve deduced that you must be Dr. Jaxon Locke.” She stood up, stretching out her hand. “Hi. I’m Hadleigh Galloway.”
“Hi.” He took off his cowboy hat—it looked perfectly natural on him—and stepped forward to shake Hadleigh’s hand. Then he said to Charlotte, “I swear I didn’t know you were here. I asked my grandmother what your aunt might want for Christmas, and she suggested a quilt. Mrs. Klozz agreed and recommended this shop.”
Mrs. Klozz. Of course she’d be involved.
Charlotte sighed and pointed. “That blue one. It’s beautiful and she’ll love it. I was going to buy it for her, but go ahead.” She was joking, actually. The quilt was one of a kind, and it was bound to be expensive. Why hadn’t his grandmother suggested something more manageable, like talcum powder or fancy soap?
Hadleigh was definitely laughing. Oh, she was trying to hide it, but without success.
Jax bought the quilt, which was expensive, without a second’s hesitation and beat it out the door pretty fast, and Charlotte had to laugh then, too. “I can’t win. I walked in and took one look at that quilt and thought of Aunt Geneva. He’s moved here to my hometown, into my house and won over the dog. By tonight, tomorrow at the latest, the cat will be all his, and you can bet he’ll charm my aunt.”
“He’s really cute, Charlie.”
No argument there. He was. And that, of course, was part of the problem.
“We don’t want the same things, Hadleigh. I don’t know if you remember, but we were a couple for a while when I lived in New York.” At that, Hadleigh nodded vigorously. “He always seemed impressed by my job, but deep down, I have this fear that he has visions of a sweet little housewife. A woman who’ll have his babies and make sure supper’s ready when he gets home from work every night. And I’m nothing like that. I’m a go-to-the-office and pick-up-takeout kind of gal. He seems to have his life all sorted out, and I’m as confused as ever.”
“Don’t despair. It only took Tripp and me about ten years or so to come up with a plan.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
It was true, though; the road to true love had been a rocky one. Tripp had barged into Hadleigh’s first wedding, slung her over his shoulder and carried her out of the church to prevent her from marrying the wrong man. He’d done the right thing. But a pending divorce—his; a sense of outrage—hers; and a job out of state—his again, had all conspired to keep them apart. Until recently...
Hadleigh said, “I couldn’t be happier, but both Tripp and I had to make adjustments. So Jax knows what he wants, and that’s you. Now it’s your turn. What do you want, Charlie?”
Charlotte felt philosophical. “Before this, I probably would’ve said I wanted Jax—but the big-city version, if you know what I mean. I think I knew all along that that wasn’t going to happen. He had a great job. He made enough to pay all his student loans—and he liked New York well enough. He just didn’t love it. Not the way I did. It was hard to imagine him living in the East indefinitely. He missed tending horses and cattle, I could tell, but he missed the West even more. He’s the kind of man who needs a broad sky to look up at, and miles of space in every direction.” She paused, gazing into her empty mug. “Mustang Creek will suit him.”
“Does he suit you? If not, you’re very picky, Charlie Morgan. He’s handsome as all get-out, and he’s obviously nice. Hmm, maybe if he cured cancer or wrote a best-selling novel, you’d be impressed. Come on, Charlie.”
The truth was, she sometimes thought Jax suited her a little too well. She could lose herself in a man like that, become somebody she no longer recognized. She’d seen it happen, had watched, appalled, as smart, capable women gave up parts of themselves, one by one—shedding jobs, opinions, religions, even friends.
Especially friends.
“It isn’t his problem,” she admitted at last, “it’s mine.”
“Now we’re in agreement.” Hadleigh sipped her coffee. “You’re scared, Charlie. Plain old scared. Well, here’s a newsflash—love is risky. For everybody. It’s also worth taking a chance on.” She reached over, patted Charlotte’s hand. “Let’s sum up here. He’s in love with you and you’re in love with him. You’re living in the same house, but Mrs. Klozz is living there, too, so what can possibly happen?” Maybe the next statement made sense to Hadleigh, but it sailed right over Charlotte’s head. “It’s still two days before Christmas. I think you should go skiing.”
“What? Skiing?”
Hadleigh pointed toward the mountains. “See those? That’s where you go skiing. You strap those wooden things to your feet—”
“I know what skiing is.” Charlotte had to laugh. “Do me a favor. Explain why we should go skiing.”
Hadleigh got up and came back with a set of keys. “It’s too late to go today, but tomorrow would be good. There’s all this romantic snow, and Tripp and I have a condo up in the Tetons. Don’t ask, it’s some sort of corporate thing left over from when he owned the charter jet service. Anyway, I refuse to lurch down the slopes with a baby strapped to my chest, and we haven’t even used the place this season. Maybe the two of you could go there and talk.”
Talk. Right. Charlotte was fairly sure they’d just fall into each other’s arms and not leave that condo, never even set foot—or ski—on the slopes.
She took the keys. Slowly, but she took them. “Thanks. I don’t know how much talking we’ll do. Jax doesn’t officially start his new job until Christmas Eve, and I’m currently unemployed. And while this may well be the worst idea on earth, I might eat my weight in pastries hanging out with Mrs. Klozz. A little exercise couldn’t hurt.”
“There’s no better exercise.” Hadleigh twinkled.
Charlotte said drily, “Are we still talking about skiing?”
“Uh-huh.” Hadleigh took another sip of coffee, did her level best to look innocent and failed completely.
* * *
AT SUPPER TIME, Mrs. Klozz—Millicent—served a pot roast that would make his grandmother’s famous recipe fade into the recesses of culinary history, which meant he was never going to mention it to her, and he had three helpings of the mashed potatoes.
Forget Charlie. He might just go ahead and propose to Mrs. Klozz. She was a bit old for him, but still...
“That was better than good,” he told her, when he was finally full. “I think I’m on a food high.” Both Charlotte and Millicent scooted back their chairs to rise, but he stopped them. “No, no, stay where you are. I’ll clean up. Least I can do.”
“You’re a very sweet young man.” Mrs. Klozz relinquished the plate she’d picked up.
Sweet? Not so much. This was an act of self-preservation; he needed to move around before he fell over. He was used to grabbing a sandwich and calling that dinner.
Charlotte ignored his offer, took the plates from his hands and walked to the sink. “Way to suck up, you sweet young man, you.”
He couldn’t help watching