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

  Dot smiled at me, her hand never leaving her horse's muzzle. "I know."

  "So think about it," I said. "Navicular disease is serious, but so is depression. I treated the first one, but it would be much harder to treat the second."

  "I just want to do what's best for her," the older woman said, dropping her hand and turning to join me in the aisle between the boxes. "And for you, love. How are you?"

  I was much better off talking about the well-being of Dottie's horse than about myself. "I'm good," I said. "Just trying to get my head around the winter festival this year."

  "I told you I'd handle the cookie decorating. Don't you lift a finger on that," she scolded.

  "I hope I can still come and eat some," I said, remembering the perfect melt of Dottie's Christmas sugar cookies.

  "You'd better." She laughed.

  We were just walking from the stables back toward my office when Tuck's green Tahoe pulled into the small lot in front. The tall Aussie hopped out of the driver's seat and shook long strands of blond hair from his face, looking around him with a smile. The sun wove through the tousled gold of his hair. And, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, he was the perfect representation of the California mountain man. My stomach gave a nervous jump.

  "And who is this?" Dottie whispered, admiration evident in those four words.

  "That's Tuck."

  "Where did that come from?" She asked, turning to me with a grin.

  "Hollywood, actually," I said. "He's been here a couple months, a friend of Cam Turner's."

  She squinted her eyes and tilted her head at me. "Oh, yes. I saw him at Maddie’s wedding, I think." She watched as he strode across the lot toward us, his smile broadening with every sure step.

  "Ladies," Tuck said in greeting, his thick accent making his a sound like an i.

  "Hi, Tuck," I said. "This is Dottie West. She owns the stables up here."

  Dottie stuck out her hand and stepped close to Tuck, the wide smile never fading from her face. "It's a pleasure," she said to him, and I felt my own blush grow. "And I'm only half-owner of the stables, by the way. Annie here does all the work."

  "Not hardly," I said, though I'd been doing a lot more since Dot had gotten older. Luckily, we had a full staff during the summer months.

  "Well, I'm going to see if I can keep her from working too hard on this festival," Tuck said. "I've been recruited to help with tree trimming today."

  "I can see why," Dot said admiringly. "You're just a mountain of a man, aren't you?"

  My cheeks burned madly as Tuck laughed.

  "You know, half the time that's exactly how I introduce myself, Miss Dot." His eyes danced as he looked between us. "Will I be interrupting anything if I steal Annie's attention for a while?"

  Dot raised her hands and shook her head. "No, no. By all means. Annie's been needing her attention stolen for a long while if you ask me."

  "No one did," I whispered under my breath. "The stuff for the tree is all up in here." I turned and led Tuck to the shed next to the stables. "I just hope there aren't spiders crawling in it." I hated pulling boxes from the shed. Anything that sat for more than a month became home to creatures I preferred not to interact with.

  "I'll handle all spider duties," Tuck assured me. "We've got more than our fair share of deadly spiders in Australia. I've got skills that should come in handy."

  I didn't know why, but that simple assurance warmed something deep in me. It wasn't that I couldn't handle a spider or two—I certainly had in the past. But Tuck assuring me that he'd take care of it felt like he was saying that he'd take care of me.

  Fifteen minutes later we were in his car, headed for the giant tree by the inn. Sitting next to him in the relative privacy of the car was strange—mostly because it felt so comfortable. I found myself wanting to be alone with Tuck, wanting his attention. Maybe he'd only agreed to help to be nice, but there was no denying my attraction to the guy. It was for the best if the crush wasn't mutual, though. I had enough on my plate without adding the expectations and complications of a potential relationship.

  But for a few minutes, I lost myself in the fantasy of sitting side by side with a handsome, capable man, and it felt nice, letting him drive, letting him be in charge for a bit.

  We pulled into the parking lot at the inn, and I was surprised to find Chance Palmer waiting there, sitting astride a large piece of machinery with an arm that was clearly made to lift a person up and down. There were also four other guys I'd seen working on Palmer's various job sites.

  "You brought a whole crew?" I asked Tuck.

  "Didn't intend to," he said, sounding as surprised as I felt.

  "Figured you could use a hand," Chance said, hopping down to hold the door of the Tahoe open for me. "And Tuck's a great guy, but I have no idea if he knows how to operate the lift.”

  "Coulda figured it out," Tuck said, coming around the front of the car. "But I appreciate the vote of confidence."

  "This is Dean," Chance said, waving me over toward the group of men standing around. "And this is Jacob, Adam, and Pace."

  "Hi, guys," I said. "Wow, thanks for coming to help." Suddenly I had not just one big, strong guy to help carry some of my burden—I had five.

  5

  Tuck

  I might not have been one hundred percent on board when Annie first asked me to help her with the festival. It meant I couldn’t keep avoiding her as planned. Though it had still seemed possible to keep my attraction in check. But now? The caveman part of me wasn’t happy to share her with four other dudes. I wanted her to myself, even if heartbreak was the only possible result.

  "What's the plan, doc?" Dean asked, joining Annie and I to move boxes from the back of the Tahoe to the base of the towering tree.

  "Lights first, I guess?" Annie said. "That's how I usually do it."

  "I like it," Chance said, pulling a string of lights from one of the boxes. The lights clung together in a complicated tangle, and he and Dean got to work untangling it while Jacob, Adam, and Pace pulled out another. I leaned over the box and began to extricate the final clump of tangled lights, glancing up at Annie.

  "Shall we see if we can find our way through this mess?" I asked her.

  "That's my plan most days, really," she said, and I wondered what might be complicated about Annie's life. On the surface, she seemed to have it all together, and as far as I knew, it was just her. That couldn't be too hard, could it?

  We worked side by side, untwisting and untangling the messy gnarl of little lights. Our fingers and shoulders brushed occasionally as we worked. My breath caught a little each time I touched her, my blood pumping just a little hotter through my veins. I might've made it happen on purpose a couple times. And as we neared the end of the tangle, I caught her fingers in mine as we both reached to untwist the same little knot.

  I heard Annie gasp lightly, felt her fingers tense under my own, and I knew I should let go, pretend it was just an accident. But the feel of her soft, silky skin under my own, the cool reality of her fingers—it was something I wanted to hold, to keep. I held her small hand in mine and turned to look at her, admiring her profile for a long second. She didn't meet my gaze, and part of me thought she'd actually held her breath. And then the moment passed. I let her go, and picked up the end of the lights. "I think we've done it," I said.

  She laughed lightly and picked up the other end. "We have."

  "How did these things get so tangled in the first place?" Pace asked over his shoulder.

  Annie stiffened, and a protective instinct rose inside me. "Makes no difference," I told him. "We've got 'em fixed now." I glanced back at Annie and found her looking at me, a grateful warmth in her eyes.

  "My brother was here last year," she said quietly, fixing those eyes on me. "He took them down."

  I nodded, unsure how to respond. I felt like she was telling me something important, but I didn't have the context to understand. Still, I took the information and tucked it away. Annie had a brother, an
d there was something sensitive there. Maybe her life wasn't quite as simple as it looked.

  Once the lights were straightened out, Chance took over directing, though I insisted on climbing onto the boom lift platform to drape them around the top of the tree. There was no way Annie was going up there, and I'd be damned if I was going to let one of these other guys look brave and capable instead.

  "Tuck?" She called up to me as I set the last strand up on a high branch, tucking it in so it would stay, even if we got some high winds.

  I looked down, stunned by the way the sun lit up her dark curls like a halo around her pretty face. "What's up, doc?"

  She shook her head, laughing at the unintended Looney Toons reference.

  "That was a lot less Bugs Bunny in my head," I added.

  The other guys were all laughing, but Annie smiled up at me in a way that made my heart stutter, and I decided I was fine with everyone laughing at me as long as she looked happy.

  "Can you put on the topper while you're up there?" She lifted a huge star out of a box and held it in front of her.

  "Sure," I called, and Chance began lowering the lift. When I was within reaching distance, Annie approached and held the star out to me. As I reached for it, I noticed the spider on her shoulder, which must have come out of the box with the topper. "Just a sec," I said, and leapt out of the boom lift to stand beside her.

  Annie frowned at me, lowering her arms, and I gently took the topper from her and set it down beside me. Then in one swift motion, I flicked a hand over her shoulder, sending the black spider flying. It landed on the ground a few feet away. Annie squinted at me, confused, then she turned her head and saw the spider, realizing what had just happened, and screamed a little high-pitched squeal.

  "Oh my gosh! Was that on me? Please tell me that wasn't actually on me!" She grabbed my biceps and stared up at me, abject terror on her face.

  It was pure instinct that led me to pull her into my arms and wrap them around her back, holding her against me. But once she was there, pressed against my chest, shaking, my mind began to actively consider a wide variety of things that had nothing to do with spiders. After a minute, I forced myself to let her go. "Sorry, I . . ." I rubbed a hand through my hair.

  Annie's brown eyes found mine, and something passed between us in that second, something that made me want to pull her close again and hold her forever.

  "Thanks," Annie breathed, and the word seemed to echo inside me, skittering through my veins and finding a home somewhere near my heart.

  "Got it," Dean said, breaking the moment and lifting up the boot he'd just stomped the spider with.

  "You didn't . . . did you kill it?" Now Annie sounded horrified.

  "Well, I'm not going to keep it as a pet," Dean said.

  "You didn't have to kill it though." She sounded sad.

  He shrugged and picked up the tree topper. "Should we get this bad boy up there?"

  I waved my hand, welcoming him to do the honors. I was content to stay by Annie's side.

  We spent another hour attaching the remaining ornaments to the tree, Chance maneuvering the boom lift around the base so we could distribute the decorations evenly through the dark branches.

  "It's perfect," Annie said when all the boxes were empty. "Thanks, guys."

  Chance and the other guys waved their farewells, and Annie turned back to me. "Do you mind taking me back over to the stables?"

  I would have driven her anywhere. I drove her back to the stables across the highway, neither of us saying a word. When I parked, she sat a moment in the car, and then turned to smile at me. "Thanks for all your help, Tuck," she said. "And for saving me from the spider."

  I grinned at her. "Any time, doc."

  She opened the door, and I found myself wanting to keep her near, to find an excuse to prevent her leaving.

  "What's next?" I asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "To get ready for the festival. What else can I do?"

  "There's not a lot else to do really—Dot says she's handling the cookie decorating contest. Could you plan to film though? The tree lighting, and the cookie decorating? And I guess I need to get the outdoor games set up."

  "When's all that happening?"

  " Cookies are Wednesday afternoon. Tree lighting's Friday at seven."

  "Perfect," I said. "I'll be at both."

  Annie nodded and started to close the door.

  "Doc?" I said, determined to stop her. "My dogs aren't going to train themselves."

  She laughed. "That's pretty clear."

  "Got any more time for lessons?"

  "Tomorrow? Ten?"

  "It's a date," I said, and immediately regretted it when I saw Annie's eyes go wide. "A training date, I mean. Not a date date. You know . . .”

  "Okay, Tuck," she said, sounding uncertain. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  She closed the door, and I took a deep breath. Annie did something to me, made me want things I hadn't wanted in a long time—someone to share things with, someone to love. The thing was, no matter how much I wanted those things, I wasn't sure I was willing to risk the pain that came when things didn't work out. A memory of my ex-girlfriend Camille’s face popped unbidden into my head, as she explained to me how I wanted too much, how things would never work out for us. The heartbreak was over a year old and four hundred miles away from here, but the lingering scar on my heart was a good reminder. I'd been there before, and I didn't know if I'd survive it again.

  6

  Annie

  I finished up at the stables and found myself walking in a kind of dream state, returning again and again to that moment when I'd stood inside the warm shelter of Tuck's arms, our hearts beating against one another in tandem. I was almost thankful for that little spider that had leapt onto my shoulder, and still felt sorry its life had been ended so unceremoniously by Dean's boot.

  The moment had been unplanned and totally unexpected, and maybe that's what made it so sweet. Tuck had been looking out for me, protecting me. Again.

  It had been a long time since anyone had done that. My older brother had once been my protector, but he'd chosen to leave Kings Grove after high school, and unlike me, he didn't return after college. He went away, literally and figuratively, and I doubted he'd ever really come back. Johnny had gotten distracted. He'd gotten lost. And I couldn’t tell if he was trying to lose himself even more irrevocably or find himself in some unknown place. Either way, he hadn’t had time for me in years.

  And that was okay—not that my brother was struggling, but that I was on my own. I was strong and capable, and I prided myself in not needing anyone else.

  But I couldn’t deny that it had felt good to be held for a while.

  My house was calm and quiet when I got home. Hattie was waiting for me at the door as she always did.

  "Hey, girl." I laughed as she pressed her body against my legs, turning her head to receive the petting and rubs I lavished on her whenever I came home. "You wanna go for a quick walk?" I asked her.

  Hattie never needed to be asked twice. We pushed out the screen door and walked to the road. I lived on the edge of the meadow, on the little lane that looped all the way around it. The meadow was a favorite Kings Grove stroll for folks who lived in the village. The verdant green of grass and wildflowers, ringed by big trees and little houses, was a great spot to see deer grazing, watch birds take flight, and soak up a good dose of the quiet Kings Grove life.

  Hattie and I had a regular habit of making a loop whenever I returned home, and she pranced out ahead of me, happy to be back in our usual routine. We strolled around the meadow, breathing in the cool air and enjoying the relative quiet of the village now that the summer visitor season had ended.

  December was when the mountains settled down for a long rest, and I loved Kings Grove most during these quiet, cold months. The Giant Sequoia trees stood watch over the wintering world, holding strong while everyone else shivered and sheltered from the cold.

  I walke
d, thinking more than I wanted to about Tuck, about the way it felt to stand near him and how it made my insides flip to have those sea-blue eyes on me. My crush was serious—the question was, did it make any sense to pursue it? My life worked relatively well as it was, even though I was a little lonely.

  But if Tuck seemed interested—and he kind of did, didn't he?—maybe it would be fun to be a little less lonely.

  I felt almost giddy as I told myself I could pursue Tuck since he had definitely been flirting with me today. That warm happiness faded to a chill as we turned the last curve of the meadow and my house came into view. There was a car I didn't recognize parked in front of the house, and a man I did recognize leaning against it.

  "Johnny," I breathed, more to myself than to him, though he clearly heard me.

  "Hey, sis," he said, uncrossing his arms and walking toward me. "Good to see you."

  He looked okay, I thought. Maybe a little disheveled, but his eyes were focused and he didn't appear to be drunk or high. I hated that I had to assess that every time I saw my brother, but years of necessity had made it a regular practice. "Hey yourself," I said, relieved to see him safe and sober.

  "I hope you don't mind me just showing up," he said, as Hattie sniffed around him and then pushed her head beneath his hand, demanding attention. "I just needed some clear air, some simplicity."

  I nodded, not sure how I felt about him being here. He was supposed to be in rehab. I'd made the mistake of thinking I could help him before, made the mistake of believing he could help himself. "Johnny, you're supposed to be in treatment."

  "I was," he said, turning to walk with me back toward my house. "But I needed to see you. Needed to be somewhere I could think, away from all the distraction. The temptations."

  "I don't know—"

  "Annie, I'm better, I promise. I just . . . I just want to be home for a while, okay? Live quietly, maybe go work for Chance again, maybe . . ." He trailed off, and I wondered if he was thinking about the last time he'd come home. He'd worked for Chance then, and it hadn't gone well. He'd arrived drunk for work several times, and Chance had finally had to fire him, worried he'd cause an accident.