Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
the family room. "By the way. Don't let Alex's legal stuff get
to you. He means well."
Satisfied he'd done everything he could to make Keeley's
homecoming more comfortable, he mounted the stairs to
retrieve his wallet. Now, if his evening with Jesse would go so
smoothly, today might not turn out half-bad.
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Jesse smoothed her hair with her hands and stepped
through her dinner in her head. Stuffed pork chops cooking,
asparagus frying, and in the fridge waited a Tippins coconut
cream pie that she'd picked up on her way home—Clint's
favorite. Hers too, for that matter.
She glanced at the clock. 5:20. He ought to be here soon.
Surveying her childhood home, she took in the bright
lights, the colorful decorations, and the small armful of
presents she'd tucked beneath the tree. Would Clint still
rummage under her tree in search of what lay there for him
and his brothers? She giggled to herself. He wouldn't find his
there. Not this year. The horse he needed wouldn't fit.
Restless, she milled about, alternately straightening
pillows, rearranging magazines, and checking on their dinner.
When she stopped to turn the asparagus, the door opened.
Her heart jumped to life. A smile broke free.
She turned around to say hello, and that moment, as she
watched him strip off his coat, something deep inside her did
a long slow roll. He wore a deep green sweater that hugged
his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Khaki trousers left
plenty of room in the leg for comfort, but accented tight
buttocks. There was nothing outlandish, nothing particularly
special about his clothes. The man knew how to dress.
"Hey there."
His low greeting snapped her out of her trance. She
blinked, refocused, and noted the boots he held in his hand.
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Catching the path of her wandering eyes, he lifted the heavy
lace-ups higher. "I need to check on Angel. Do I have time
before we eat?"
"Of course."
He crossed the room, a bottle of chilled wine in hand. As
he pressed it into hers, he bent over and kissed her softly. "It
smells good. I'll hurry back."
"Wait. Let me put this in the fridge. I'd like to help." She
hesitated with a slight frown. "If you'll teach me."
"There's not a lot I can easily explain in this short trip, but
I'll give it a shot."
Jesse hurried to put the wine away. Boots donned, Clint
waited. She shrugged into her coat, fitted her hand into his
larger one and followed him out the door.
Clint met Jesse's gaze over his mare's back. "Now fit that
tab into the closure on the back."
When she did, she brought her hands up and smoothed
out Angel's winter blanket. "That was easy enough." She
worked her fingertips through Angel's mane, tipped her head
as she ran a palm down the mare's wide blaze.
"Horses are easy once you figure out the basics. At least
the management aspect."
Ducking under Angel's neck, Jesse snuggled into his side.
He draped an arm around her, dipped his head to breathe in
the flowery aroma of her shampoo. Jesse learned fast. She
didn't fear the horses, didn't hesitate to step up and just do.
"How'd the test come out?"
He shook his head. "No change. Still in the same spot we
were yesterday, thank God."
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"Good. Maybe she'll hold on until New Year's." Rising to
tiptoe, Jesse kissed him softly. "Let's eat. I'm sure dinner's
ready by now."
"I can't think of a better idea." Well, he could. But that
would come later. No need to rush things now. Jesse put work
into a meal, and he damn sure intended to enjoy the whole
evening, not just the blissful moments between her sheets.
She linked her elbow through his and nudged him toward
the house. All too anxious to get in out of the cold, he hurried
back inside. While Jesse hurried to the kitchen, he bent over
to exchange them for his more comfortable loafers. Rising, he
surveyed the room.
Every decorated wall, every unadorned corner, breathed
the subtle life that came with family. Jesse had taken her
childhood home and made it hers. Where the pictures of her
had hung on the wall near the stairs, she'd replaced them
with shots of Ethan. She incorporated a few of her mother's
treasures, like the color scheme, the oil painting of an English
countryside estate.
This was her home. A solid monument to everything that
mattered in her world and a testament to the futility of their
relationship. He couldn't return to Missouri, and she'd never
leave here. Hell, he couldn't even consider asking. Knowing
her, she would, and that would only build resentment as time
passed.
Tendrils of melancholy fingered at his mind, and Clint
shoved them away with force. To block their undesirable
return, he crossed to Jesse's stereo and flipped through the
stations, settling on the local Holiday station. A little caroling
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would put him in the mood. Remind him this was Christmas,
and whatever else came after didn't matter.
When he turned around, Jesse had dinner waiting on the
table and a pair of tall red tapers lit. She extended the
corkscrew, motioned at the bottle of wine. "Will you?"
He did.
He filled their glasses, then sat down at her side. "Jesse,
this looks amazing."
"It was pretty simple. But I do have dessert."
He cut off a portion of his pork chop and chewed. Rich
flavor soaked into his tongue, fringed with a touch of fragrant
rosemary. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. Man, Jesse
could cook. He'd never again find himself staring into the
freezer, debating over pizza rolls or Hot Pockets with her in
the house.
Flinching, he stopped the thought. What the heck was
wrong with him? He knew damn good and well there would be
no Jesse in his house. His brain just refused to listen to
reason.
"So what do you think of Keeley?" she asked.
Good. A safe subject. He let go of the misplaced fantasies
in his head and focused on a rational conversation. "You
know, I hate to say it, but I like her."
Delicate dark eyebrows shot skyward. "Really?"
"Yeah. She's smart. Funny. You two would get along real
well."
"I doubt that." Her indigo eyes flashed as they narrowed.
Resisting the urge to chuckle at her obvious jealousy, Clint
reached into her lap and plucked up her hand. He brought it
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to his mouth. "Sweetheart, I think your position in this family
is pretty unshakeable."
Telltale crimson stained her cheeks as she tugged her
fingers free. "Oh, all right. So I'll admit it—I don't want her
around because you three are mine."
"We'll always be yours, Jesse. You've got thirty-five years
on Keeley."
"True," she agreed sulkily. With a perturbed mutter, she
tried to hide a smile. It pulled at the corners of her eyes,
however, and made one side of her mouth twitch. "I should
have anticipated you'd like her."
"Why? I certainly didn't expect to."
Jesse gave him a look that said she questioned his sanity.
"Because you're a King. Because you're just like your dad,
Clint."
His bite of asparagus lodged in his throat. He grabbed at
his wine, forcing the bite down with a long swallow. She had
to quit saying things like that. If she didn't, he'd start to
believe it. And he was so far removed from being the man his
father had been, it was shameful.
"He didn't know a stranger. Always made room in his heart
for others. If they were family...he'd have gladly died for any
one of you."
He frowned at Jesse, not at all pleased with her all too
correct assessment. Damn it, he couldn't hide from her. She
knew him too well. Even when he tried, he failed miserably.
Like yesterday. He'd tried to disguise the emotion that
clogged up his heart. She saw through him, drew it out, and
turned it into something beautiful.
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Keeley was another instance of how well Jesse understood
him. Alex and Heath would give him a ration of grief over
warming up to their half-sister. Heath was suspicious of her
motives, Alex hadn't yet accepted Keeley was blood, period.
But Jesse didn't scold. Didn't lecture on the reasons he ought
to keep the woman at bay. She accepted his decision.
It was almost terrifying how she believed in him. If her
support didn't fill him with such incredible feeling, he'd have
run far away. Though he hadn't bolted yet, the emotions she
stirred were enough to leave his breath a bit shaky. Strangely
pleasant. A little like looking up at a roller coaster's hill and
knowing the rapid descent would churn a stomach, but at the
same time unable to stop climbing onboard.
"So anyway," he steered the conversation back around. "I
think you'd like Keeley."
"Probably. Just not ready to meet her yet. I will, I'm sure."
Jesse leaned back in her chair and sipped from her
wineglass. Coconut cream pie was a hit, as anticipated, and
Clint picked at the last of the crumbs from his second slice.
She'd forgotten how cozy it could feel to cook for a man. A
good eight years had passed since she'd enjoyed a private
dinner for two. Clint, however, had her seeing a string of
many dinners just like this.
What she'd give for that fantasy to come true.
"That was delicious, Jesse. Want me to help with the
dishes?"
She glanced at the stack of dishes near the sink. Then,
with a shake of her head, put them off until tomorrow. It'd
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give her something to do in between Clint's departure and
Ethan's arrival.
His eyes held hers as he drank from his glass. "How did
you decide to foster parent?"
Jesse chuckled. "It was completely accidental." Sitting
forward she set her glass down and folded her elbows on the
table. "I went to lunch with a friend on a Saturday—you
remember Meghan Burke?" At Clint's nod, Jesse continued.
"Well, I don't really remember how the conversation started,
but I was bemoaning Mom and Dad leaving the house, its
emptiness, and my state of singlehood. She commiserated
with me and made the sarcastic remark,
Adopt. Your house
won't be empty and kids are a hell of a lot easier than men. It
got me thinking."
"Easier than men, huh?"
Jesse laughed again. "Yeah well. I never thought it would
be easy. But I was in a place to help someone out. I've saved
well, my job at Bellborne Marketing is secure, Lord knows I
have the time. I signed up to foster to see how well I could
handle kids with issues. I knew I wasn't prepared for a young
child, so I looked at kids ten or older."
"And found Ethan."
"Actually no."
Clint's eyebrows lifted with surprise.
"I had another child here to begin with. Another young
man. He was easy compared to Ethan. But he was
transitioning back into his birth home. His foster situation fell
apart when the husband took a job out of state. So he stayed
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with me about four months. When he left, the social worker
for his case approached me about Ethan."
Clint reached across the table for her hand and slid his
fingers through hers. At the brush of his roughened palm, a
shiver skittered up her arm. Resisting the pleasant sensation
and the heartwarming admiration that reflected in his amber
gaze, she let her mind wander back to that spring afternoon
where she'd been sad over saying goodbye to Matthew.
"She warned me Ethan wouldn't be easy. Even with the
warning, I was completely unprepared. Let's just say I knew
within the first month that if Ethan were to have a chance to
succeed, it would require permanency. He's got some real
issues, and he's just now starting to move beyond them."
Sorrow bubbled as the failed Christmas adoption drifted
into her mind. She let out a sigh, glanced at the Christmas
tree. "That's why I was so upset the other day."
"Have you talked to him about it?"
She shook her head and brought her gaze back to his
probing eyes. "I'm putting it off. He hasn't mentioned it. Until
Christmas actually gets here, it probably won't even occur to
him we didn't go to court. I'm hoping with all the other good
things that day, it won't be so bad when I have to tell him
we're waiting again."
Clint rose to his feet. With a gentle pull, he coaxed her out