Christmas in Kings Grove: Kings Grove, Book 5 Read online

  He laughed. “Tactical error, mostly.”

  I tilted my head at him, wondering what he meant.

  “I let some kids around the meadow name them the first time we were out for a walk.”

  “And they came up with Zappy and Yoga Pants?” I laughed.

  “Without hesitation and with zero explanation,” he confirmed.

  "I love that.” Only Tuck would be easygoing enough to give up control over something other people obsessed over. “Have you worked on 'sit'?" I asked him, trying hard to avoid direct eye contact as my chest warmed.

  "Annie, I let them do whatever they do. That might be part of the issue. We better start at the very beginning, here."

  I nodded, and we got to work teaching the dogs to sit and stay, while Hattie looked on with interest. Tuck's dogs were full of personality, much like him, I guessed. Zappy liked to add a little something extra to each command she obeyed—sitting came with one paw off the ground, and staying was an approximate stay, but she liked to creep slowly forward. Yoga Pants was a little more by the book, reveling in the praise we lavished on her when she performed as expected.

  After thirty minutes of training, the dogs were starting to show signs of tiring, so I gave them each a treat, and we let them laze on my porch for a few minutes while Tuck and I sat down.

  "Gorgeous morning," Tuck said, tilting his chiseled chin up to the sky and stretching his arms wide. The muscles on his biceps bulged beneath his cotton Henley shirt. I couldn't help longing to curl myself up against that broad chest of his, even though I'd been telling myself all morning to keep things professional.

  "It is," I confirmed, forcing myself not to look right at him. "But warm still. I doubt we'll get snow in time for Christmas."

  "Do you usually end up with a white Christmas up here?"

  "Not anymore," I said. "I feel like when I was a kid it snowed a lot at Christmas, but with the drought the last few years, we've been lucky to get any snow."

  Tuck kicked his long legs out and crossed his ankles. "I bet it'll snow this year." His voice held a confidence there was no way he could actually feel. It wasn't going to snow. It never did, anymore.

  "Well, maybe," I told him. "But we'll have the festival either way. Think you're up for helping a bit?"

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and watching me in a way that made it very hard to keep my gaze from those penetrating blue eyes. "Tell me about it."

  "Sure, uh. . ." Having Tuck's undivided attention was making me nervous. And after he’d heard me say he was hot this morning, I felt like I was at a disadvantage. "Well, we generally do things over a three-day period, with the tree lighting as the main event." I risked a look up at him and saw he was watching me with interest. I took a breath and continued. "This year, I'm going to have a cookie-decorating contest, some outdoor games at the clubhouse—pinecone toss, three-legged race, that kind of thing. The day after Christmas, we used to do the dogsled race, but that was when we had snow. Now we just do a potluck."

  "Is that why you ended up having to plan all this?"

  "Because of the dog race?" I laughed. "No. I mean, I used to enter when I had five dogs of my own. But I ended up in charge of this festival a long time ago when my parents were both here. It was kind of our family tradition at the holidays, since we don't have a lot of extended family. It felt right to celebrate with Kings Grove."

  "And you're stuck with it now?" Tuck asked.

  "Kind of," I admitted. "But I enjoy it. It's a good distraction, I guess." I shrugged, darting my eyes to his face and then back down to my hands.

  "What do you need to be distracted from, doc?"

  That did it. The warm understanding tone of his voice, the way he dipped his head to catch my eye. It was hard enough having a crush on Tuck when he was just a bright, shiny, blond Adonis strutting around the village. But this? Having him talk to me in that soft voice and look at me like I was an injured bird he might try to save? It was too much.

  I jumped out of my chair and walked the length of the deck, trying to get a grip on myself. "Nothing, really." I forced a laugh. "I mean, I'm alone up here, you know? That's all, I guess. The festival keeps me busy."

  "I get it," he said. "I'm alone up here too. You might be on to something. Maybe I'll help you plan the festival, and I won't even notice I'm on my own for the holiday."

  I risked a look at him again, and nearly sank into the warmth simmering in his blue eyes. "That would be . . ." Words failed me as Tuck held my gaze and smiled at me, like he knew something. Something I hadn't told him yet. I guessed he kind of did.

  "That would be good," I managed. "And if you could film some of it during the first parts, I'd hoped we could show the movie the day after Christmas when folks stop through the clubhouse for the potluck? But I get it if you just want to be off the clock during the holidays. I guess this would be like someone asking me to do pet checkups at the festival."

  Tuck stood. "It’s my job, yeah, but there’s not a lot of demand for cameramen up here. I’m happy for the practice. But first, it sounds like there's a tree we need to get ready to light?"

  The tree lighting was a week out, and I hadn't done a thing. "There is.” I sighed. “I'm behind before I even start."

  "Where's this lucky tree?"

  "Next to the inn. But it's gotten a lot bigger this year, so I'm not sure how we're going to get the lights on it. A ladder isn't going to cut it anymore."

  "Leave it to me. Where are the decorations?"

  "In the shed at the stables next to my office."

  "Okay," he said. "I'm working over that way today, putting that new deck on the diner with Sam and Chance Palmer. Will you be around after three? I'll swing by and grab the stuff for the tree."

  "Um, sure?"

  "You sure you want help?" Tuck asked.

  I realized I hadn’t sounded entirely certain. "Yeah, I mean. I just . . . are you helping, or are you just going to do it?" I didn't want someone to take over—even him. The winter festival, as silly as it might be to some people, was all I had left of my family's holiday traditions. Even if I didn't have the family part anymore, I still had this.

  Tuck stepped closer with a twinkle in his eye, and it took everything I had not to give in to the magnetism pulling me toward him. "I was just going to help get all the stuff. Maybe you could come with me to make sure I throw it onto the right tree? I don't have the first idea what I'm doing—I just want to help."

  "Yeah. Okay." No one had ever stepped in and taken charge of something in my life. I was having a hard time deciding if I wanted this kind of help. But I had asked, hadn’t I? As my mind worked through it, I realized I wasn’t used to having help with much of anything. It was new, that was all.

  But all of that indecision was buried beneath the waves of attraction I was battling due to the fact that Tuck's strong, broad chest was just inches from my nose.

  "I'll see you at the stables."

  As Tuck leashed his dogs back up and waved a goodbye, I leaned against the railing and thought about our conversation. Why would a guy like Tuck offer to do extra work on a Saturday? He seemed like the kind of easygoing guy who'd want to head out to the lake with friends or watch football. But it occurred to me that maybe Tuck was doing what I did on the weekends—staying busy so he didn't notice how alone he really was.

  3

  Tuck

  Working on a Saturday might not have been most folk’s idea of a good time, but I'd gotten used to it. Hollywood didn't keep regular hours, and when you were shooting on location, you filmed whenever you were told to. Sometimes I’d worked for weeks without a day off.

  Generally speaking, I'd found I was happier working than I was hanging around with nothing to fill my time. And in the months I'd been in Kings Grove, that was every bit as true. My free time up here tended to be spent with Cam, which meant spending it with Harper. And don't get me wrong, I loved Harper, but seeing Cam and her together . . . Well, it was hard.

  I wa
s happy for my friend, and God knew he needed the joy she brought him. But, you know how you can be sitting in the dark, and you don’t even realize how dark it is until your phone lights up or someone comes in with a flashlight and blinds you? I guess that's what my life was like.

  Not that I was unhappy—darkness was definitely not a metaphor for any kind of spiritual or mental darkness. It's just that I'm perfectly content in the dark, you know? But when someone—like Harper and Cam—illustrate how much happier I could be . . . well, it's harder to accept the darkness.

  But the idea of helping Annie with her winter festival responsibilities was like a tiny glowing bulb floating toward me, and though I knew it would only lead to trouble, I couldn't help but want more.

  Annie was pretty and sweet, and I felt goodness flowing from her like a song. I'd avoided her before because I knew she was exactly the kind of woman I could get wrapped up in—and that would only make it harder when it all came to a crashing end.

  Avoidance had been easy when things were light and simple—when it was just harmless flirting. But this morning on her deck, she hadn't been the same—she'd been worried about something. And I’d hated it.

  So I'd offered to help. Even though that would be putting myself directly in proximity of attraction. And if I acted on that attraction, crushing heartache was sure to follow. Maybe this time I could hold back. Maybe I could just be the friend Annie needed. I needed to at least try.

  I swung myself up onto the wide-open platform extending out toward the green expanse of the meadow behind the diner. "What's up, gents?"

  Chance Palmer was leaning against the back of the building, his arms crossed and a glower on his face. He stared at his little brother Sam, who was grinning as he knelt to hammer in a plank.

  "Tuck'll settle this," Sam said, springing to his feet and coming to my side.

  "Don't be so sure." I looked between the brothers, who had a comical love-hate relationship. Getting between the two of them during the hate part of the cycle was not my idea of fun.

  "It's pretty safe this morning," Chance said, pushing himself off the building and coming over to shake my hand. "No hammers flying yet, anyway."

  It was just the two of them back here working since they wouldn't ask a crew to come out on a Saturday. This job was essentially a favor for Frank and Adele, who owned the diner.

  I sighed. "Okay, hit me."

  "Hot dogs," Sam said, "they're sandwiches. I mean, technically, right?"

  "What?" I asked, shaking my head. They were arguing about hot dogs?

  "That's not the debate," Chance said, stepping in front of his brother. "This is: what is the technical definition of a sandwich?"

  "What's the—"

  "Anything between two pieces of bread, right?" Sam asked, moving even nearer.

  The Palmer brothers were nearly in my face now, both of them looking dead serious.

  "How long have you guys been arguing about this?" I asked.

  "Play along," Sam suggested. "Define a sandwich. Bread, filling, bread. Done."

  I lifted a hand, scratching my ear as I thought. Then I looked between them. "What about the open-faced sandwich?" I asked. "Like the tuna melt, for example. I mean, it's called a sandwich, but there's only one piece of bread, right?"

  "Thank you!" Chance shouted, throwing a fist in the air.

  "If that qualifies," Sam said, shaking his head, "then it throws off the entire vernacular of food. What's pizza then? It's really just an open-faced sandwich! You're inviting chaos with this kind of willy-nilly sandwich definition. It'll be deli anarchy!" Sam's face was serious, but I could see a spark of amusement in his eyes as he spoke, and I couldn't help chuckling.

  Sam liked to goad his more-serious brother, and it seemed he was just pushing him this morning. "Despite the merits of the arguments on both sides, maybe we should just get back to work? I need to cut out at about quarter to three."

  "Comes in at eleven thirty and can't even stay past three," Chance muttered, shaking his head as a smile teased the sides of his mouth.

  "I know, I'm a crap worker." I pulled my hammer from the toolbox I'd brought.

  "Just happy you'd come help on a Saturday at all," he said, clapping me on the back. "What's going on later?"

  We picked up a plank and laid it adjacent to the last, kneeling down to pound it into place. "Helping Dr. Gish get the tree set up for the winter festival."

  "Oh yeah," Sam said. "The lighting is next Friday, right?"

  "Mike's been working herself up about the ceremony," Chance nodded. "I think she's got Harper running around like crazy, trying to make it great now that the inn is hosting."

  Mike—Michaela—was the manager and owner of the Kings Grove Inn. She and Chance had built the place together, gotten married there, and now she ran it, with Harper handling the events.

  "It's my first," I reminded them, "so I'm just taking orders."

  "A Kings Grove Winterfest virgin," Sam said slowly, as if looking for the joke. I waited, but he seemed fully engaged in hammering, so I continued.

  "Yeah, Annie—Dr. Gish, I mean—needed some help. She's helping me train the girls, so I figured it's a fair trade. I wondered if I could borrow the boom lift, actually. To get the topper on the tree." I noticed—too late—that my voice softened a bit when I talked about Annie.

  Chance looked up at me and raised an eyebrow, no doubt hearing the shift. "Sure," he said, that one word revealing his understanding of my attraction to the good doctor. He was chivalrous enough to leave it at that.

  Once we got rolling on the deck, the conversation died to occasional banter, and I was glad for the monotony of the work. It freed my mind to consider other things, and I found myself looking forward to seeing Annie again. When it was time to go, I sprang to my feet and bid the guys goodbye.

  "We're closing up shop anyway," Chance said. "Miranda's got Sam taking some kind of dance classes down in the valley."

  "Seriously?" I stared at Sam, whose cheeks were turning red. Evidently that hadn't been common knowledge.

  "Yeah. Ballroom," Sam confirmed, his voice dark. "And we scheduled them right next door to Chance's waxing appointment. He can't be late—his manscaping is very intense."

  "Funny," Chance said, his voice flat.

  "If I leave you, you won't beat the crap out of each other, right?" I looked between them.

  "We've survived this many years," Chance said.

  "No thanks to you," Sam told him.

  "Okay," I said, backing away. "I'm gonna go."

  "I'll have the boom lift over by the tree for you," Chance said. "Sam won't mind driving it over."

  "I won't, huh?" Sam asked, a laugh in his voice.

  "Thanks!" I hopped down off the platform and headed over to my truck, turning it toward the stables with more excitement than I wanted to acknowledge.

  4

  Annie

  I'm not sure if it was from living in a town as tiny as Kings Grove, or if it was the nature of my job as a veterinarian, but I'd never kept regular hours and Saturdays were often my busiest days. My office, a small, two-room, flat-roofed structure next to the stables across the highway from the main center of town, was a kind of menagerie. Folks would come in with their dogs—almost everyone in the mountains seemed to have a dog—but I also visited with a good number of cats, birds, guinea pigs, hedgehogs, pigs, and chinchillas. And then there were the horses, of course.

  My parents had owned the stables once upon a time, and I was still a half-owner. The place catered mostly to tourists, and we organized trail rides using the fourteen horses who called Kings Grove home in the warmer months. Once the weather turned, usually after Christmas, we'd truck them down to the ranch in the valley where they grazed the flat, open pastures and rested until the tourists returned to visit the big trees again.

  "Hello, Blaze." I laughed, as the velvety nose of one of my favorite patients brushed my face the second I walked into the stables. His box was nearest the door, so Blaze usually gre
eted me, but his enthusiasm still made me laugh every time. I lifted my hands to smooth the warm, soft skin of his face and neck, and pulled one of the carrots I always brought with me from my pocket. "You looking for a treat today?" I held up the carrot and smiled as he ate it with horsey glee.

  The big horse chuffed as I continued on, greeting the rest of the horses and offering them each a treat.

  "Hey, doc." a familiar voice came from the farthest box, and a moment later it was followed by a face I knew almost as well as that of my own parents. Dottie West had been as present in my life as my mom and dad when I was a kid, and since my family had left, she'd been a trusted friend and confidant—an adopted mother of sorts.

  "Hey, Dot," I said, joining her to look into the box where Dottie's pride and joy, a Chestnut American Quarter Horse named Sky, was recuperating from a recent surgery. "How's the patient?"

  "She's doing just fine," Dot said, rubbing a fond hand over her old friend's nose. Sky lifted her head and gave me a little nod—she was the most expressive horse I'd ever met, and I swear she understood every word she heard. "I'm just enjoying a little more time with her up here. It's going to be hard for us both next season, leaving her down at the ranch."

  I put a hand on the horse’s neck and let it run down her side as I knelt to inspect the foot we'd worked on. "This is healing perfectly," I said. "But you might rethink keeping her here with you," I said. "Her foot will always be numb, since we removed the nerves, so we'll have to be extra careful about terrain and shoeing."

  "Right, so no more trail riding."

  I stood. “But we can keep her on smooth ground up here and keep a closer eye on her if she's with us. Plus, you can't underestimate the role your relationship plays in her overall health." I smiled at my old friend. "And her in yours."