Holiday Serenade, The (13 page)

She laughed out loud as she searched for her black heels. She was clearly demented.

Abigail Maven was thinking about having sex in a car.

Oh, happy day!

Humming her song—
her own song!
—she strode into her bathroom and slowly applied her makeup, knowing the one thing women have known since the beginning of time: a woman can take all the time in the world when the man waiting for her wants her badly enough.

Smiling to herself, she added a spritz of Rhett’s favorite perfume. She hadn’t used it since she’d broken off their relationship. And she’d never before worn it in public.

It had been too exotic for Abbie Maven’s image. Well, not anymore!

She threw her old conservative scent, the “cold stranger” one, in the trash can and gave the new one the place of honor on the counter. What did people say around Christmas? Out with the old, in with the new. Or was it a New Year’s saying?
Who cares?
she decided.

They were words to live by.

Taking a last glance in the mirror, she fingered the V of her red silk blouse. Showtime.

She detoured to the kitchen, trying to walk softly in her three–inch heels. Impossible. Still, she hoped they would let her make an entrance. She wanted to set the stage.

“I’m in the
den,”
Rhett called out like they were playing hide–and–go–seek.

“Okay,”
she volleyed back, her pulse thrumming.

She didn’t hurry to leave the room, and after another moment, he yelled back, “You don’t want me to propose in the kitchen, do you?”

It was her favorite room in the house, but no. “Be out in a sec.”

“What are you
doing
in there?” Rhett asked like he was completely exasperated.

She selected a full–bodied Temperanillo from Spain from the wine rack and two Vera Wang glasses from the china cabinet with shaking hands. Okay, so she was a bit nervous. It wasn’t every day a girl received a marriage proposal. She took a deep breath. It was normal to be nervous.

Straightening her spine, she walked in the direction of the den. Then she remembered Rhett liked beer, not wine. Well, too bad. This was her proposal too.

He was pacing by the Christmas tree when she emerged—something he never did. Rhett sauntered or strolled; he never paced.

“I thought you were hiding from me.”

“No,” she said, giving a nervous laugh. The glasses clinked against the wine bottle when she held them up. “I was getting us a drink.”

The tense lines around his mouth and eyes relaxed. “Good idea.”

She squeezed the neck of the wine bottle, moved by his blatant vulnerability. “I hope wine is okay.”

“At this moment, it could be dishwater, and I wouldn’t care.” Then he kicked at something invisible on the woven Southwestern area rug. “Sorry, that’s not very romantic.”

But somehow it was sweeter for it.

“Where’s the crew?” she asked, looking around.

He stuck out his thumb. “I told them to take a hike. The last thing you want is an audience. I learned that at the party. The guys are staying at my house tonight.” And then his eyes finally lifted to hers. “If that’s not presuming too much.”

He was always a few steps ahead of her. Her lips twitched. “I was considering having sex with you in your car since Dustin was around.”

He bit his lip as if to keep from laughing. “Why, you little vixen.”

And using that word, the stage name for one of his poker babes, reminded her of what he’d done for her.

“Rhett, you don’t have to get rid of the poker babes. I’ll come to terms with them somehow. I know how important they are to your image.”

His golden eyes looked liquid in the soft light from the Christmas tree. “Images can change. Aren’t I going to be a husband and a father? Or is that putting the cart before the horse?”

She’d never understood what that phrase meant, so she just shook her head. “Can we sit down?” It suddenly seemed silly that she was still standing across the room, holding the wine and glasses. Plus, her legs were trembling in her heels.

He walked toward her, the power and size of him stealing her breath away. She realized he’d dressed up for her, in black pants and a navy button–up shirt.

“Why don’t we?” he said, taking everything from her hands.

He unscrewed the cap off the wine bottle and poured them drinks with the same fumbling earnestness with which he’d sung. The Christmas tree lights spilled a magical glow over the den. The intimacy of the moment flooded her senses. There was romance here, just liked she’d always wanted. She rubbed her arms briskly as a shiver ran through her.

“You cold?” he asked, coming closer to her and handing her a glass.

She shook her head.

He gave that secret, sexy smile of his and raised his glass to her. “To the most beautiful woman in the world.”

That did it. She turned, put her glass down on the coffee table, and pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, Rhett.”

“Abbie,” he said, rubbing her back in even strokes. “How does one simple compliment reduce you to tears?”

“You’ve been so good to me, and I’ve given you nothing in return.” A gold star winked at her from the treetop. “I’m sorry I ran out on you the other morning. And then how you’ve helped with this horrible thing with Dustin…”

“Hey! There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up, Abbie.” He pulled her into his arms, the wine forgotten. “I want you happy, not sad.”

She wanted that to. “Rhett, I’ve been so scared of this, of you.”

His large, warm palm cupped the back of her neck, and the comfort of his touch began to soothe her. “How about you try something new and stop fighting what you feel? We need each other, Abbie. Look at me.”

His command brooked no refusal. She pressed back and met his golden gaze.

His head tilted to the side as he studied her. And then he lowered to one knee by the couch, reached inside his pocket, and pulled out a black box. With the flip of a finger, he popped it open. The antique square–cut setting of the diamond made her eyes tear. It was exactly the ring she would have picked out. It showed her how well he knew her.

“Abigail Anne Maven, I can’t live without you, and don’t ever want to try again. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Moment of truth time. Looking into his beloved face, the words came easily. “Yes, Rhett, for better or for worse.”

“There will be a lot of the better variety, trust me.” The glimmer of a smile played across his face. “I thought you’d
never
say yes.”

He rose and fitted his mouth to hers in a long, drugging kiss after putting the ring on her finger. Her tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and her heart burst with joy before settling back into place with a warm fire–like glow. She kissed his cheeks, eyes, and neck, reacquainting herself with all the parts of him she’d denied herself.

“Ah, Abs,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he pressed her closer to him. “There’s no one but you.”

“Don’t go away.” She inhaled his spicy cologne, her senses awash in him.

“Haven’t you been listening? We’re getting married. I’m never leaving.”

“Good,” she decreed, finally giving herself permission to curl into him, love him. “Dustin’s over the moon about us.”

His hand made a gentle slide up and down her back. “Me too. I love that kid, Abbie, and I promise to do right by him.”

“I know you will, Rhett.” And it was true.

“Rhett, would you play the song you wrote for me and just dance with me?”

“So long as I don’t have to sing again, I’d be happy to, sweetheart,” he said, reaching for his phone and punching in the keys until the opening melody spilled out.

“I love you, Rhett,” she said when he took her right hand and guided her left to his shoulder, the perfect frame. “Wait. You took cotillion?”

“My mama insisted.”

“I do like to dance,” she confessed, especially when it involved brushing her highly sensitive body against his.

“Then we’ll do it often. I’ll even teach the kid if you want. The girls love it.” He coughed and then gave her a wink. “Not that I’d know anything about that.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes.

For a long moment they were quiet, just swaying in time with the music. Then he peered into her eyes. “I love you, Abbie. Thanks for being my Christmas dream come true,” he said, his feet not missing a beat.

She tunneled herself into him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Thanks for being mine.”

And as she looked at the Christmas tree, she was sure the angel on top winked at her.

Epilogue

T
he brown–sugar ham filled the house with a delightful smell on Christmas day. Meredith Hale had agreed to host everyone for dinner since she and her husband had the biggest house. But she’d made her brother–in–law, Brian, swear on his twin baby daughters that he’d help her cook the meat for the whole crew.

Abbie sat on the couch next to Rhett. Rye Crenshaw was singing Christmas carols as Peggy played the piano, something Mac had encouraged her to pursue. She was really good at it too, or so Abbie thought. Even if she hadn’t been, Rye’s toffee–smooth voice would have coated over any missed notes. Heavens that man could sing.

Mac and Dustin were sitting on the adjoining loveseat, smiling like two crazy people at her and Rhett.

“So, now that Rhett’s going to be my stepdad, you’re not going to be able to ground me anymore, right?” Dustin said to his uncle.

Mac put his arm around Dustin. “You think Rhett’s going to be a softy, huh? Sorry to ruin your fantasy. The ones who run wild tend to be the toughest.”

Rhett leaned across her. “I’m creating a new image for myself, kid,” he said, “so let’s make a deal. Don’t do anything stupid, and I won’t have to show you how tough I can be.”

“Somehow I think I’m getting the raw end of that deal,” Dustin complained. He jumped off the couch when Keith came into the room, gleefully waving around his new remote–controlled airplane.

“We’re going outside to fly this baby,” Keith said.

His Uncle Tanner had the remote, so the boys crowded him.

Mac strolled over. “Let’s show them how this is done.”

As they headed outside, Abbie lowered her head to Rhett’s shoulder. “He’s going to get through this, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” he assured her. “There’s no doubt in my mind. And if there’s a few dips in the road, we’ll help him out of them.”

“I thought this was going to be the worst Christmas ever, and then everything changed.” She turned her engagement ring in the soft light, loving the way the diamond sparkled.

“Rhett, why don’t you come on over and sing Abbie her song?” Rye called out when “White Christmas” came to an end. “Jill wants to hear the rendition you performed the other night.”

“So do I,” Peggy said, cracking her knuckles over the black–and–white piano keys.

Abbie started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. “Go on,” she said with a playful jab to his chest. “Your audience awaits.”

“Audience my ass,” he said, but he stood and strolled over to his friend, planting his fingers in his belt loops. “Just you wait. When you fall hard for a woman, I’m going to remind you of this day.”

“Never going to happen,” Rye said, picking up his glass of bourbon, raising it to Abbie in a toast.

“I recall saying something similar.”

“I have better genes.”

“And tighter ones,” Jill added from her position beside the piano, eyeing his black jeans. “If only I wasn’t married.”

“And the mother of my baby twin girls,” Brian called out from the doorway, wiping his hands on his apron. “Get over here, Red.”

She did, and he dipped her and kissed her until she finally gave him a shove.

Arthur smacked his cane on the floor from his seat near the fire. “Now that’s how they did it in my day.”

All of them burst out laughing.

“Abbie,” Mac called from the doorway, staying out of sight.

She bit her lip to hide a smile. “Be right back,” she told Rhett and then walked out of the family room to join her brother. “Is it here?”

“Yes, be glad for rush jobs.” The crate in his hand dipped as the inhabitant shifted.

Crouching on her knees, Abbie looked inside the metal grate. The cutest Chinese Crested puppy peeked out at her, its pointy muzzle bobbing up and down curiously. With a dark brown hairless body dotted with white spots and streaks, it had fine white hair that resembled a Japanese Anime character’s bob and matching hair on its feet, making it look like it was wearing legwarmers. Its alert, sparkling brown eyes melted her heart.

“Oh, she’s perfect!” Abbie said. “This dog will be a great part of Rhett’s new act.”

Rhett wasn’t backing down on giving up the poker babes, and she wasn’t about to fight him on it. They really were embarrassing.

“I hope this is a good idea,” Mac said. He put a finger to his lips when Keith and Dustin ambled into the foyer and found them conspiring.

“Oh my gosh,” Keith said.

“Is that a—”

“Shhh, Dustin,” Abbie whispered, taking the crate from Mac. “Time to get this show on the road, as Rhett would say.”

Thankfully the dog didn’t bark when she walked into the room, and she shook her head when Jill’s mouth dropped open. As she approached the couch, Rhett leaned back, stretching his feet out.

“And what might that be, Abs?” he asked, an intimate tenor in his voice that never failed to light a fire in her belly.

“This is my Christmas present to you. For your new act. Sans the poker babes.”

His eyebrow winged up when she placed the crate on the couch. Fiddling with the door, she drew out the pint–sized puppy. And she’d added to the act, hadn’t she, by purchasing the dog a green Christmas sweater and red bow for its hair?

Rye barked out a laugh. “Dear God, that’s the strangest looking dog I’ve ever seen.”

Everyone else started chuckling with him.

“Isn’t that the dog from
How To Lose A Guy In Ten Days
?” Meredith asked from the doorway.

“It’s like you’re part of a chick flick,” Rye called out.

Thrusting the dog out at Rhett, Abbie grabbed the crate, clenching the handle tight from nerves. “You
said
you wanted an exotic dog, and that’s what a Chinese Crested is. They’re a really playful breed and don’t bark much, which will be an advantage since you play in casinos. Plus, they don’t pant.”