The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (7 page)

What good would it do to harass a nobody like her?

She couldn’t believe a few measly hundreds of dollars could make that much of a difference to a man who wore a Rolex.

Unless it was a fake.

Jared must have wondered that, too.

He laid Rachel down on the tiny sofa, checked to make sure she was okay, and then turned to face the banker.
Uh-oh
, Kristen didn’t like this. He opened his fist and closed it tightly. He clenched his teeth and she swore he looked like he could tear the banker apart with his eyes closed.

“When I was in Afghanistan, my unit picked up a tribal leader who had a big mouth like yours, Mr. Carey. He tried to trade a Rolex for arms, but I know a phony when I see one,” Jared said, indicating the man’s gold watch. “I’d get it checked out if I were you. Unless you want to get your hide fleeced.”

“You don’t scare me, soldier.”

“Like I said, it’s
sergeant
,” Jared repeated hotly.

Kristen was dying by inches, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it was louder than the thunder booming overhead. Mr. Carey sensed trouble and mumbled he’d be back. Then he ran out the door.

Kristen jumped in front of the sergeant and closed the front door before he could go after him. Snow flurries flew in and landed on the hardwood floor. It was cold out there and the temperature was dropping by the minute. It would be close to freezing tonight.

She leaned against the door and heard the banker take off like a jackrabbit with his tail on fire down the ice-slicked road.
Damn him
. Something smelled to high heaven about this whole mess. Like why he showed up here today, thinking it was just Rachel and her. Easy pickings in his mind. Mr. Carey thought he could bully everyone in town. Not her. She wouldn’t leave here without a fight.

But it wasn’t the banker’s threats that made her pulse race and her body break out in a cold sweat. She looked over at the tall military man willing to go to bat for a woman he barely knew. His deep, velvety voice apologizing for butting into her affairs, but he couldn’t stand by and let that tyrant take advantage of her. His eyes, which were fierce before, were now tender when they looked at her, waiting.

She smiled, and then thanked him for his help.

Was she okay
? he wanted to know.

She’d be fine, she insisted, just fine. They couldn’t throw her out without giving her a chance to have her day before the mortgage board, she said. Silently, Kristen hoped that was true. That Mr. Carey was bluffing, had to be, using scare tactics. She wasn’t afraid of him.

But she
was
afraid of the sergeant. Not that he’d hurt her or Rachel. No, never, she was sure of it. Some things you just knew about a man.

It was something else, something so righteous and good she never dreamed she could feel this way again about someone. Like a red holiday candle that burst into a blue-yellow flame when you lit it. Glowing bright for a little while.

Then it flickered and went out.

Leaving you in the dark.

No, what she feared more than being homeless was having her heart broken.

“Why didn’t you tell me you lost your job because of me?” Jared asked, the shockwaves still reeling through him.

When he’d heard Kristen blurt out the news to that no-good banker, it was all he could do from busting the guy’s jaw. Somehow, his gut told him everything was connected. Mr. Carey showing up today demanding the back payments. The robbery. The bank trying to foreclose on her cottage. It was too coincidental for them
not
to have a common thread somewhere.

Like the time he’d heard chatter about a possible strike on a military compound hidden in the mountains. Then the “lost” Afghan refugees showing up the next day at their base hungry and looking for food. Intel was more like it. He’d baited them with a little honey and then he and Scott and his unit followed them right back to their nest of insurgents and took them out.

Jesus, Scott, back then whoever thought it would end up like this?

But I made you a promise, old buddy, and I’ll die keeping it. Kristen is in a big mess, but she trusts me. I’ll get her out of it somehow. You can bet on that.

Damn, it wasn’t fair. He was sitting here in this cozy cottage with this pretty lady and Scott wasn’t. He had to something about it. Kristen had already suffered enough. How could that woman at the school be so cruel-hearted? Tossing her out because she cared about the veterans. Putting together leftovers for a hot meal for men who were often lost in an endless dialogue with their Maker, questioning why they survived and their best buddy didn’t.

It didn’t get any easier. Folks soon forgot that a veteran with wounds, both seen and unseen, needed more than a pill to get better. After the parades and church services were over, few people hung around to offer a smile and a hug along with a helping hand to the vets like she did.

Kristen didn’t forget.

God damn, she was an angel.

But she could never be his.

Not while Scott was still alive in her heart. And he would never do anything to change that, never take advantage of her. He owed it to his best friend.

“I didn’t want to add to your troubles,” Kristen said honestly. She looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. It was clear to him by her slumped shoulders and quiet voice that she didn’t want to talk about losing her job. He respected that. He turned his attention to what had caught her eye. Outside the sky was filled with heavy, dark clouds gathering over the small town. He didn’t have much time left to fulfill his mission.

He had no choice but to let his anger go and when he did, his body relaxed and the tension in him subsided. A twilight time descended upon him, but like so many times before, his emotions wouldn’t shut off. Instead, they went into overdrive. The docs said it happened that way to some patients with PTSD, especially guys like him who’d experienced the horror of brutal combat.

That was when the headaches raged in his brain.

Jared fought hard to control the painful throbbing in his head coming straight at him, the gray light that dulled his world. His face felt hot, sweaty. Not surprising, he was exhausted from his long trip, changing buses more than once so the doctors at the VA hospital couldn’t track him. He didn’t want anybody interfering with his mission.

He tried to kick the pain in his head. Concentrate on why he was here. Forget his own needs. He was here to help
her
. But the mission was incomplete.

Worse, he was up against an enemy he couldn’t fight. Time. He had less than a few hours to tell her what needed to be said, what Scott’s last words were, the secret he wanted him to tell her, but he couldn’t remember. Now she was out of work because of him. If he hadn’t been so insistent on hanging around, it wouldn’t have happened. Knowing what pain he’d caused her drained him further.

That all changed when she turned and smiled at him. As if she knew what he was thinking and she forgave him for that. He shut down his gaze, stared at the floor. She wouldn’t be so quick to forgive if she knew he was keeping something from her. Another thing that had his brain wired and ready to explode was how long he’d be able to keep his hands off her. To hold her, comfort her. Heat surged through him. A sudden urge came over him to take her in his arms here, now.

No, don’t do it. You promised…remember
?

He stared at her. It took all his energy not to touch her, hold her.

“Weather’s changing,” she said, looking again out the window. “I imagine Kissing Creek is iced over by now and covered with snow.”

“You mean there
is
such a creek?” he asked.

She nodded. “Back in the early days, the first settlers came upon two creeks running side by side through the woods,” Kristen said as if she knew the story well. “The creeks come together down at the old mill. Legend says two lovers from feuding families sealed a peace treaty in that spot with a kiss.” Her warm, emotional voice led him to believe the place had special meaning for her.

Did she go there with Scott? Two kids madly in love with each other, hankering for warm embraces and stolen kisses.

That did it. No way was he going to stay around and mess up her life any more than he already had. He’d been wrong to come here, even more so for not telling her the truth about why he’d made the trek so close to Christmas. Now he didn’t know how. He’d dug himself in so deep, he’d never get out.

“I’d better be moving on,” Jared said, grabbing his duffel bag and turning to leave. He couldn’t stay any longer, didn’t know if he could control his feelings. She was too tempting to a man who thought she was everything he ever wanted in a wife. If he ever remembered what Scott told him, and that was a big
if
according to the doctors, he’d make sure she received the message through official channels. It was the only way. He couldn’t bear to see her again and not tell her how he felt.

Until then, he had some money saved. He’d get back to the base and wire enough to her bank to make her back mortgage payments. She’d never have to know it came from him.

“What about the home-cooked meal I promised you?” Kristen said, disappointment darkening her eyes.

“Don’t worry about me,” Jared assured her. “I’ll grab a peanut butter sandwich out of the vending machine down at the bus station.”

“No, please stay. For Rachel’s sake,” Kristen said, covering his hand with hers. “And mine.”

Again she touched him, but this time the effect was even more electrifying. Personal, downright sexy. He pulled in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe the effect her gesture had on him. Riveted him to the spot. He couldn’t move. The warmth of her hand set off a powerful need in him too long denied.

The warmth of a woman’s touch.

How many nights had he been holed up in a deep, dark cave with the only the night enchantress to stroke his face?

The wind.

She was a fickle lover, coming and going at her own pleasure, but seductive. She told him when the enemy was near, their strong scent floating by on a breeze. She told him when the great winds would assemble into a tempest and threaten their position with her swirling sands, but even when her touch was warm, it was never like this.

The feeling of Kristen’s hand on his played with his heart, set his groin on fire, and soothed his soul. Being with her settled him, eased the tension in his chest brought on by those lost moments when he couldn’t focus. He still had so much to say to her, things he wanted her to know about her husband. How much he loved her, missed her. Rachel, too.

Hell with his damned pride.

He had to finish what he started no matter what. And, he had to admit, he had a hankering to be here when that conniving banker showed up again. He’d get his money—Jared would see to that—but he’d also get a lesson in how to treat a lady. A few words in private and he’d put him in his place.
Fast
.

“I never could resist a pretty girl,” Jared said finally, tossing down his bag. He stood still, his decision made. He waited for Kristen to make the next move.

“Thank you” was all she said, but her face glowed. Her eyes told him she was grateful for his company.

Rachel yawned, just waking up from her nap. “I’m hungry, Mommy.”

Jared hoisted the little girl up on his shoulders. The familiar game he played with his brothers made him feel like he was home. “Saddle up, Rachel, I’m taking you for a pony ride while your mom whips us up some chow.”

“Oh, goody!” The little girl licked her lips. “Can we have French fries, Mommy?”

“Why not?” Kristen said, laughing. “Not every little girl has Santa Claus come to dinner.”

* * * * *

Jared could see her hands shaking as she went about making the meal, and then setting the table for three instead of two. She rearranged the plates one way, then another, and then back again. He’d catch her watching him with a strange look on her face, smile, and then look away as if she couldn’t make up her mind about something.

By the time she had the frying pan sizzling and the microwave humming, her eyes glistened with tears. She dabbed her cheeks with her apron, turning away so he couldn’t see her. As if the simple ritual of preparing a meal and setting the table brought back memories she wasn’t ready to deal with yet. He could imagine the roiling emotions inside her when she found herself doing a familiar task and it felt strange, awkward. The questions, the answers she didn’t have. That why, after months of being alone, she was feeding a strange man in her kitchen instead of her husband.

Scott
.

He conjured up the image of his buddy sitting in his place, bouncing Rachel on his knee. Grabbing a French fry and smacking his lips and calling himself the luckiest guy in the Army. Giving Kristen a teasing look that said he couldn’t wait to cuddle up with her in bed later and—

No way, pal. Don’t go there. She feels sorry for you. That’s all.

That was what he hated the most. Folks feeling sorry for him. They meant well, but they didn’t understand that war robbed a man of his soul. Only by the grace of God could he get it back.

And with the help of an angel like her.

Enjoy it while you can. You’ll soon be on your way.

While Kristen finished preparing the meal, Jared lit a log in the fireplace and then laid down the iron poker near the piano. He was filled with a sudden weariness that caught him by surprise. Made him relive the crushing pain of losing his best friend to an insurgent’s bomb, trying to decide just how much
do
you tell a buddy’s wife about his last moments? She’d want to know, but
should
she know? Would it make her pain worse or give her some closure?

Tough questions and he wanted to mull them over in his mind before he approached her. But that was no reason not to tell her that Scott really
was
his best friend. Better ‘fess up before supper. The terrible strain of keeping her in the dark was killing him.

Funny, how life changed on a moment.

Before he could get up the courage to tell her what was on his mind, the tempting smell of grilled seasoned meat and hot flaky rolls made him remember he hadn’t eaten all day. Suddenly Jared was as hungry as a wolf when he sat down at the small, wooden table covered with a white lacy cloth. Reminded him of his mom’s house. He couldn’t get enough of it. The kitchen was bright and filled with knickknacks sitting on scalloped-edged shelves. Shiny copper pots hung above the old gas stove. Tied-back curtains embroidered with tiny blue and yellow flowers gave the room a cheery look.

Juicy cheeseburgers with homemade buns made him smack his lips, though Kristen lamented over the soggy, frozen French fries, even if they
were
Rachel’s favorite. Jared was only half listening. How could he bring up anything to do with war and pain during a meal like this? It didn’t seem right somehow.

So he kept Kristen and her little girl laughing with his stories about Christmases with his family. How he and his brothers would dress up like elves and go door-to-door singing carols. Then on Christmas Eve they’d all sit in front of the fireplace and take turns grabbing wrapped gifts out of the big, blue ceramic spaghetti bowl his grandmother had brought over from Italy. A family keepsake no one was allowed to touch but her.

The minute the boys saw her bringing it out of the closet, he said, they’d whoop and holler like wild cowboys and fight each other for the best place to sit while Grandma Sophia poked through the presents, picking out the perfect one for each little boy.

“Why didn’t Santa leave your presents under the Christmas tree?” Rachel asked, curious. A lone French fry dangled from her mouth. “We
always
have a tree,” she went on, making a face. “Except this year.”

Jared sensed this was a loaded question, and from a little girl who couldn’t weigh more than forty-five pounds. He looked at Kristen, teetering on the edge of frustration
and
embarrassment. Guilt made her lower her eyes about not having a tree, her long lashes resting on her cheeks. She was no doubt mortified the child would bring it up in front of a stranger. Funny, he didn’t feel like a stranger, but that was another story. For a moment there was just silence, and then another bang of thunder.