A Thunder Canyon Christmas (10 page)

The anger was wholly justified. But she had no business entertaining even for a moment this yawning sense of betrayal, of loss.

Matt had never been hers. Not a half hour ago, she had bluntly told him she wasn't interested in a relationship. How pathetic must that had sounded to him, when he obviously wasn't interested in anything so formal, anyway?

She had a lucky escape, she reminded herself. Some wise part of her had warned her not to let herself be
swept away by the moment, by the seductive magic of being in his arms.

Good thing she had listened to it and hadn't done something supremely foolish like allow her heart to get tangled up with his.

Right?

“Y
ou're sure everything will be ready by the end of the week so we can bring in the decorators?” Connor McFarlane surveyed the kitchen where Matt was currently installing the knobs and handles on the custom cabinetry.

“That's the plan,” Matt answered, carefully setting another hole. “Everything is on schedule. The carpet layers will be here tomorrow and we'll do the floor trim and hang the closet systems the day after that, and that should wrap it all up.”

“Good. Excellent. I've got a team of designers coming in from McFarlane House hotels to finish up and they've informed me they need at least four days.”

“We should be good,” Matt said again. Better than
good. He loved a job well done. Finishing that job ahead of schedule was icing on the cake.

Connor ran a hand over the Italian marble counter-tops. “Cates Construction has gone above and beyond to bring the work in early. I want you to know I won't forget the work you've done here.”

“It's been a pleasure.” The words might seem polite but Matt sincerely meant them and he hoped Connor knew it.

He was proud to have his name associated with this particular construction project. McFarlane Lodge would be a showpiece in Thunder Canyon, tasteful and well-crafted. More than that, it would be warm and comfortable, a home for Connor, his son CJ and his wife to be, Tori Jones.

The only thing he loved more than setting the last tile and hammering the final nail was the other side of any building project: that first scoop of dirt in the backhoe, those heady days of pouring the foundation and framing the first few walls, when everything was still only possibilities.

He was particularly pleased about the chance to be part of building McFarlane Lodge, with its expansive views and the massive river-rock fireplace that served as the focal point in the open floor plan.

“I've got other irons in the fire around Thunder Canyon,” Connor said with a significant look. “I'm going to need a dependable contractor. I'd love to keep Cates Construction at the top of that list.”

Matt experienced a sharp burst of pride and a not inconsiderable degree of elation. He didn't doubt that the
hotel magnate had various projects underway. Connor always seemed to be cooking up something and in this economy, anything that allowed Cates Construction to keep its workers swinging a hammer was a blessing.

“If we can fit in the job with our other commitments, we'll be happy to consider whatever work you send our way,” he said, moving on to the next cabinet.

Connor smiled and patted the countertop. “I'm sure we can work something out. I'll be in touch.”

“Sure thing.”

After McFarlane left the kitchen a moment later, Matt glanced toward the adjacent laundry room. A grizzled gray buzz cut bobbed there and he could see his father lurking, pretending not to listen.

“You catch all that, Dad?” he asked with a grin.

Frank walked into the kitchen. “I heard. He's right. You've done a hell of a job with the place.”

“This isn't a one-man show. The whole crew worked their tails off to get 'er done by Christmas.”

“Don't be humble, son.” Frank gave him a stern look. “It doesn't fit you. You're the one who made it happen on time and under budget and every single man on the crew knows it.”

Matt flushed at the unexpected accolades. Frank was a good man and a wonderful father but he wasn't one for outright praise—his style was more like subtle encouragement. Matt didn't know quite how to respond.

“You've done so well the last few years, you're starting to put ideas in your mother's head.”

Matt looked up and found his father looking remarkably ill at ease. “Oh? What sort of ideas?”

“Crazy ones.” Frank sighed. “She's talking about taking a cruise. Maybe even a couple of them. She's even brought up maybe heading somewhere warm for the winter. Southern Utah, maybe, or Arizona. You know how the cold bothers her.”

The idea of a Thunder Canyon without his parents was just too strange to contemplate. “What do you think about her ideas?”

His father was silent for a long moment. “I'm considering them. I've been in this business a long time. I've got old habits, old ways. Maybe it's time somebody else shook some new life into Cates Construction.”

“Dad—”

“Your brothers aren't much interested in construction, son. Marshall's busy at the hospital and Mitch and Marlon both have their own companies. I don't suppose it's a surprise to you or any of them that I would like you to take over for me. Hell, you're doing most of the work, anyway. I'd just like to make it more official.”

Excitement pulsed through him. This was what he wanted, he realized. Taking over the operations of Cates Construction fit him much better than law school ever could.

“I would have asked you before but I didn't want you to feel tied down to Thunder Canyon. You're still young. Your mother and I have always wanted you boys to feel free to experience the world on your own terms, not ours. But now that it looks like you're settling down, I figured this would be a good time to get things out in the open.”

Matt stared. “Now that I'm what?”

His father looked uncomfortable. “Your mother's got some crazy idea you're getting married.”

“Where did you hear that?” he asked.

“Apparently Edie heard a rumor last night at her bunco club about you,” he answered. “A couple different people dropped a bug in her ear that you and Christine are talking about tying the knot.”

The hammer suddenly slipped out of his fingers and he barely managed to snag it before it would have clattered onto the Italian tile floor.

He mentally hissed an expletive he wouldn't dare say aloud in front of his father. He should have known his impulsive gesture Sunday at The Gallatin Room would come back to bite him in the rear one day. He hadn't been thinking clearly or he never would have started the charade.

What the hell was he supposed to say to his father now?

“Um, don't believe everything you hear, Dad. Christine and I aren't getting married.”

Frank narrowed his gaze. “What are you up to, son?”

“Nothing. This is all a big misunderstanding.”

“I thought I taught you boys better than to mess around when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“You did. I haven't been messing around.”

Frank cleared his throat, looking ill at ease. “A woman's heart is a fragile thing, son. It's like that tile down there. If you'd dropped your hammer a minute ago, you might have chipped one of them fancy tiles. We might have repaired it, filled it in a bit. On the surface, it might
look good as new, but there would always be a weakness there.”

His father gave him a stern look. “Christine is a nice girl. If you're not serious about her, you need to cut her loose so she can find somebody who will be.” He did
not
want to be having this conversation with his father right now. “I hear you, Dad. Thanks for the advice.”

“So you're going to do the right thing by Christine?”

“If by doing the right thing you mean marry her, then no. Trust me, Dad. Christine is not expecting an engagement ring from me. We're good friends, that's all.”

His father continued to study him. “I hope you're right. I guess I need to tell your mother she won't be planning another wedding anytime soon.”

For one insane moment, Matt pictured Elise in a white dress, something feminine and lovely, flowers in her blond hair and her face bright and joyful.

Whoa. Slow down.
He drew in a sharp breath, astonished at the yearning trickling through him.

He wasn't at all ready to go there yet. Even if
he
was—which he clearly wasn't, right?—Elise certainly had made it apparent the night before that she didn't want to have anything with him beyond friendship.

That seductive image faded like an old photograph under a hard western sun. He had his work cut out for him to convince her he wanted more. But Matt had never been the sort to back down from a challenge.

 

Three hours later, Matt drove through town on his way to drop off a bid at a restaurant in Old Town Thunder Canyon that was planning a big remodeling project.

If the restaurant just happened to be on the same street as ROOTS, well, that was a happy coincidence. It would give him a chance to implement his new strategy for winning Elise over.

She claimed she didn't want to lose their friendship. Great. Fine. He had decided he would be the best damn friend she'd ever had. He would offer a sympathetic ear, a helping hand, a shoulder—whatever part of his anatomy she needed, until she discovered she didn't know how she could survive without him.

Though it was a weekday afternoon, Christmas shoppers were out in force in town. He happened to spy Bo Clifton and his very pregnant wife Holly heading into a clothing store, and Tori Jones and Allaire Traub coming out of the florists with their arms full of what looked like poinsettias and evergreen branches.

After he dropped off the bid to the restaurant owner, he dodged holiday shoppers and slushy snow piles down the street a few storefronts to the ROOTS clubhouse.

Connor McFarlane's son CJ sat with Ryan Chilton and a couple of other boys at one of the tables with textbooks open in front of them, though they didn't seem to be paying them much attention. A couple of teen girls he didn't know looked bored as they leafed through magazines on the couch.

As he had hoped, Elise was at Haley's desk, the
phone pressed to her ear. Her gaze lifted at the sound of the bells on the door chiming, a ready smile on her features.

The moment she spied him coming through the door, her smile slid away and her expression turned stony, much to his consternation.

He eased into the chair across from the desk. By the time she finished her phone call, her eyes were the wintry blue of the Montana sky on a clear January afternoon and her jaw looked set in concrete.

She hung up the phone, a muscle twitching in her cheek. “Can I help you?”

Not a good sign, when her voice was even colder than her eyes.

“Um, I was in the neighborhood dropping off a bid and figured I'd walk down and see if you need help filling the gift bags.”

“They're done,” she said curtly. “I finished them today.”

This wasn't going at all as he'd hoped. “Okay, then. Any idea what my assignment might be for the Christmas party? Haley said something about needing some muscle for setting up tables, that sort of thing.”

“I don't know. You'll have to ask her that.”

“I'm assuming since you're here and she's not that she's still laid low with the flu,” he hazarded a guess.

Elise jerked her head in a nod. “She sounded better this morning when she called. She should be back tomorrow. I'm sure you can talk to her then.”

So much for his grand master plan. Elise was acting as if she didn't even want to share the same air space
with him. The night before, she had said she didn't want to lose their friendship. Had he screwed that up now?

“What's wrong?” he finally asked warily. “You seem upset.”

She made the same sort of sound his mother did when he tracked job-site mud on her mopped floors. “Do I?”

He looked around the ROOTS clubhouse to make sure none of the teens were paying attention to them, then he leaned forward. “Is this about last night?”

Her jaw hardened even more and for a long moment, he didn't think she would answer him. When she spoke, the chill in her voice was nearing arctic proportions.

“I suppose you could say that. You put me in a terrible position.”

He glanced at the teens, who seemed to be arguing about some super-hero movie and paying absolutely no attention to them.

“Why? Because I kissed you?” he asked in a low voice. “You weren't complaining at the time.”

Whoops. Wrong thing to say. The ice queen disappeared in an instant. Elise shoved her chair back and rose, her color high. He wouldn't have expected it, but apparently his quiet, sweet Elise could pack a pretty decent temper.

“You haven't changed a bit,” she snapped. “You're the same wild, irresponsible cowboy who thinks he can use his charm to get away with anything!”

Where did that come from? “Hold it right there,” he said, pitching his voice low. “What the hell did I do?”

“You kissed me!” she hissed.

That
drew the attention of the teens. A couple of them—the girls especially—cast sidelong looks in their direction. Maybe this conversation would be better in private, he thought, about five minutes too late.

He gestured with his head to the teens and then pointed to a back room. Mortification replaced some of the anger in her eyes but she gave a short nod and headed into the back room, closing the door behind them.

“I guess I haven't read the Thunder Canyon town ordinances closely enough,” Matt said when they had some measure of privacy. “I didn't realize kissing a beautiful woman had been outlawed when I wasn't looking.”

Two high spots of color flared on her cheeks. “It might not be a crime, but it's wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to start.”

“Why?”

“You're engaged to marry someone else!”

He stared at her for about twenty seconds. He closed his eyes, cursing his big mouth and the white knight syndrome he couldn't seem to shake.

“This is about Christine?”

“Of
course
it's about Christine! I can't believe you even have to ask! I always knew you were a player, I just never imagined you would take things this far.”

He had a feeling this was a disclaimer he was going to have to provide a few times before the rumors around Thunder Canyon started to fade. “I'm not engaged to Christine. I never was. We're only friends.”