Opening His Holiday Heart, page 1
“Let’s get a few things straight, shall we?
“I made a promise to a little boy, and I never back out on a promise. Not. Ever. My word is solid. Golden. Unaffected by time, distance or a change in circumstances.”
Sutton sensed they weren’t talking about Toby or the Soap Box Derby anymore. Casey’s tone was too fierce, his expression too intense, his words too pointed.
“I like Toby. He’s a great kid. I also like building cars. I’m good at it. Your son and I are going to have a lot of fun. It’s really that simple, Sutton. Don’t make this more complicated than it needs to be.”
He was right. About all of it. She was overthinking the situation. But in this instance, she’d gone too far, and now she felt ridiculous and defensive. Should she apologize? Maybe lighten the mood?
Definitely the latter. “Well, I guess you told me.”
“I guess I did.” He cracked a smile, the boyish one that included the infamous head tilt, and just like that the tension between them was replaced by something far more potent.
Renee Ryan grew up in a Florida beach town where she learned to surf, sort of. With a degree from FSU, she explored career opportunities at a Florida theme park and a modeling agency and even taught high school economics. She currently lives with her husband in Wisconsin, and many have mistaken their overweight cat for a small bear. You may contact Renee at reneeryan.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @reneeryanbooks.
Books by Renee Ryan
Love Inspired
Thunder Ridge
Surprise Christmas Family
The Sheriff’s Promise
Opening His Holiday Heart
Village Green
Claiming the Doctor’s Heart
The Doctor’s Christmas Wish
Love Inspired Trade
The Widows of Champagne
Love Inspired Historical
Charity House
The Marshal Takes a Bride
Hannah’s Beau
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com for more titles.
OPENING HIS HOLIDAY HEART
Renee Ryan
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.
—Hebrews 11:1
For Bill and Sharon, my lifesavers, and two of the best people I know. I’m proud to call you brother and sister.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from A Small-Town Christmas Challenge by Susanne Dietze
Chapter One
Casey Evans sat in his vintage 1965 pickup truck, silently embracing the nickname his sister had given him—Ebenezer Grinch. Leave it to Remy to mix her metaphors with supreme accuracy. Casey did have issues with Christmas. Not that he would admit it out loud. To do so would lead to questions, which would require answers, and...nope. A man should be allowed his secrets, even from his family.
Especially from his family.
Apparently, Casey was the lone Ebenezer Grinch in town.
The sun had barely risen, the sky a faded pink against pale gray, but on this, the busiest shopping day of the year, Main Street was teeming with activity. As a business owner, he knew this was a good thing. In fact, Casey’s coffee shop already had a line snaking out of the building.
Yet he couldn’t quite make the leap from irritation to gratitude. It was the impromptu singing. All that paying homage to a Christmas tree and the fa-la-la-la-ing. Or maybe it was the miles of decorations his fellow business owners had already put up.
Stubbornly setting his jaw, he climbed out of his truck and, with an audible gulp, confronted the festive chaos. Hands on hips, feet spread, he took a good long look at what had once been a pleasant small town nestled in the Colorado Rockies. Not anymore. Thunder Ridge had turned itself into a Norman Rockwell painting. Literally. The town’s new mayor had recreated one of the painter’s famous Christmas scenes in the center of town. A virtual winter wonderland of lights, vintage cars and, of course, snow.
Ebenezer Grinch did not approve.
Time to get moving. Casey had a business to run. Employees to assist. “Bah, humbugs” to swallow. With his booted feet crunching on the freshly fallen snow, he elbowed his way through the crowded sidewalk, mumbling a series of “Mornin’s” and “Excuse mes,” while also fielding a barrage of return salutations. He got at least seven greetings of “Morning, Casey.” A good ten shouts of “Merry Christmas, Casey.” And a dozen variations of “Doesn’t our town look festive?” along with “We’re going to win that magazine contest, no question.”
Sprinkled among all these cheerful predictions was the inevitable “Hey, Casey, how come you haven’t decorated your coffee shop yet?”
He gave his stock response with a practiced shrug. “Too busy.”
Not a complete lie. He was a busy man. Cargo Coffee wasn’t the only business he owned. He had another location in a neighboring town and his fledgling airfreight company was, in a word, booming. Still, it was with great relief that he stepped into the scent of brewing coffee, yeasty baked goods, and...more singing.
It was going to be A. Day.
He spent the next few minutes settling in and trying to determine where he’d be the most useful. Seeing the frazzled duo at the espresso machine, he joined the mayhem there. The morning flew by. During a lull between the breakfast and lunch crowds, he restocked the bakery cases and then moved on to the display tables near the wall of windows overlooking the town square.
That was when he saw her.
Sutton Wentworth. Thunder Ridge’s illustrious mayor. Widow, single mother, and Casey’s personal nemesis since the “incident” back in high school. The one that had changed the direction of his life, that of his best friend, and, by default, Sutton’s, as well. A thirty-four-year-old man did not hold grudges. And so Casey didn’t. Most days. Really. Almost never.
He could not say the same about Sutton.
Ever since she’d moved back to Thunder Ridge a year and a half ago she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Except when she was giving him unreasonable deadlines and reminding him of his civic duty. Yeah, well, he wasn’t in the military anymore. He took orders from no one but himself.
Glancing back out the window, he couldn’t help but watch Sutton watching him through a massive pair of sunglasses that covered half her face. She did not look happy. Casey frowned.
“What’s wrong, Boss?” asked his newest employee. Isabella—Isadora—he couldn’t remember, exactly. Understandable, considering his manager had hired the teenager and today was her first day on the job.
She was still wiping down a nearby table, wearing curiosity on her face, and clearly waiting for an answer to her question. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you made a sound deep in your throat, kind of like a cross between a groan and a grunt.”
“I do that sometimes. You’ll get used to me.”
“Yeah, okay.” She looked about to say more.
He cut her off. “Run into the stockroom and grab more bags of coffee beans and cookie tins. When you come back, see if you can make these displays look more appealing.”
“Yeah, okay.” She nodded and hurried away.
Alone again, Casey ventured another glance out the window.
Sutton was on the move, pushing through the crowd, her steps determined, her lips twisted in disapproval. He made that sound in his throat again.
As if hearing him, which was physically impossible, Sutton yanked off the sunglasses. The gesture revealed ice-blue eyes that sought, found and then hooked on him. Casey continued rearranging the table display while simultaneously pretending he hadn’t seen her. Tricky, since he was currently sharing some pretty significant eye contact with the woman.
He was just about to turn away when a flash of movement caught his attention. Casey instantly dropped his gaze. A hard pang shot through his chest. Sutton wasn’t alone. Of course she wasn’t alone. No school today, which meant she had her seven-year-old son with her. Now Casey had to swallow back a wave of grief and sorrow.
The sensation dug deeper when Sutton leaned down and said something to the little boy.
Toby lowered his head. She continued talking. The kid continued staring at his feet. When she tugged affectionately on a lock of his dark brown hair, Toby lifted one shoulder in a move so reminiscent of his father, a different kind of grief and sorrow moved through Casey. It was like being given a glimpse into someone else’s loss. Though the pain was all his.
He blamed the sting in his eyes on the overwhelming variety of scents assaulting him. Not the sight of a little boy and his mother, neither of whom belonged to him.
Turning away, he retreated to a spot behind the counter and got busy filling orders. With his hands expertly working the espresso machine, Casey tried not to notice Sutton and Toby entering the shop. He tried not to notice Sutton’s determined footsteps, or the way Toby reluctantly followed after her, looking bored and miserable. Problem was, Casey’s attention was always captured by the tall, willowy blonde and the little boy who looked so much like his dad.
Casey wasn’t the only one watching the mayor marching toward him like a five-star general on the eve of an important battle. A table full of women not only noticed Sutton bearing down on him, but they also had a few things to say.
“...she’s going to read him the riot act...”
“...serves him right for not decorating...”
“...I remember when the two of them were an item...”
“...she married that other boy, his best friend...”
Those were only a few of the snippets Casey caught. He tuned out the rest and braced for another lecture from Sutton as mayor. The one he probably—possibly—okay, definitely—deserved.
She stopped at the counter. He ignored her. Preferring, instead, to work the espresso machine with the same single-minded focus he’d once applied to the controls in the cockpit of his F-22 Raptor.
Sutton was having none of it. “Nice try, Casey. We both know you see me.”
He did not sigh. Although, he may have indulged in the guy equivalent. Hard to know for certain with the steamer barreling along full speed ahead.
Undeterred by his lack of communication, or the busybodies leaning in their direction, Sutton slapped a piece of glossy paper on the counter between them.
That, too, he ignored.
She cleared her throat. Twice. Then, with a perfectly manicured fingertip, slid the Christmas flyer a few inches closer to him.
More ignoring on his part. A man could do a lot of that while steaming milk.
“I assume you have an explanation for me,” she said over the din. “Perhaps a natural disaster, or grave personal illness? Maybe an emergency in the foothills of the Alaskan mountains, something along those lines?”
He so enjoyed being patronized. Although, to be fair, he had used each of the above excuses in the past week, whenever she pushed him to get busy decorating the exterior of his shop. At least one of them being true...ish.
“Well?”
Abandoning his post, Casey handed off the half-finished latte to a waiting employee and stared at Sutton. “Well, what?”
She drew in an audible breath. “Why isn’t the outside of your shop decorated for Christmas? The deadline was, as you well know—” she tapped the flyer “—two days ago.”
He had no defense. None she’d accept, at any rate.
Instead of answering, he turned his attention to her miniature companion, who was watching their conversation with interest. Those big round eyes and gloomy expression punched through Casey’s resolve to remain neutral when it came to other people’s kids. Particularly this one. Toby Wentworth got to him, every time. “Hey, little man, why the sad face?”
“My mom is making me shop with her.” The boy heaved a dramatic sigh. “Like all day.”
The kid made this announcement as if he were facing a den of angry rattlesnakes. Casey could sympathize. Back in the day, his own mom had dragged him from one store to the next in her attempt to take advantage of every Black Friday sale in town. “Fate worse than death,” he said with no small amount of fervor.
“I know! What’s even worse...” Toby gave his mom the side-eye “... I can’t go sledding with my best friend, Samson, because I have to, you know, shop.”
Casey knew better than to insert himself in the situation. Not your kid. Not your place to interfere. And yet, he did it anyway. “I have it on good authority there will be more sledding tomorrow at my sister’s house.” It was only one of many Evans family traditions that occurred every Thanksgiving weekend. A way to kick off the rest of the holiday season. “Quinn and her husband do it up right. There will be pizza, cake, snowman building and all kinds of kid-sized activities.”
Toby gave him a smile that conveyed pure little-boy hope. “Will Samson be there?”
“You better believe it.” Now that Casey’s other sister, Remy, and her new husband had full custody of the boy, Samson was included in all the Evans family functions. Deciding he could endure a few hours of Christmas cheer, for Toby’s sake, Casey added, “I’ll be there, too, after I work the morning shift here. Consider this your official invitation.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. Sutton was already scowling, her mind working frantically behind her narrowed gaze. She’d made it clear on several occasions he was never—not ever—to overstep when it came to Toby.
Casey was pretty sure inviting the boy to his sister’s house fell into that category. “You’re invited,” he amended, holding first Toby’s stare then Sutton’s then Toby’s again. “If your mother says it’s okay.”
The boy swung his gaze up to the woman in question. “Can I, Mom? Can I go sledding and eat pizza and stuff with Mr. Casey and Samson and the rest of their family?”
It was Sutton’s turn to sigh. Casey felt her struggle and wasn’t surprised when she gave the granddaddy of all noncommittal answers. “We’ll see.”
Toby’s shoulders hunched forward. “That means no.”
Casey dropped his own shoulders. It was his fault, he knew, this desire of Sutton’s to avoid him and his family. It was a shame, really. She’d once been close with his sister Quinn. She’d once been close with everyone in his family, closest of all to him.
That had ended when Casey made the decision to protect a friend, at the cost of his relationship with Sutton. His heart caught at the memory and his head filled with regret.
He had a lot of regrets when it came to this woman. At one time, he’d considered her his soul mate, his confidante. His future, once they were old enough to speak wedding vows in front of a preacher.
She’d married Jeremy instead, and had given the man a son that looked just like him, all the way down to the unruly dark hair and chocolate brown eyes. “Look, Sutton, I’m sorry. I should have run this by you first. I overstepped.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Won’t happen again.”
“I’m sure it won’t.” She stared at him.
He stared back. Time stuttered to a standstill for a single heartbeat. Then—wonder of wonders—she slowly, tentatively, smiled at him.
He smiled back, feeling it then. The yearning. The ache. “So...” he ventured. “About tomorrow...”
She sighed, breaking their momentary connection with her reluctance.
Toby vaulted into the conversational void. “Come on, Mom. If you say yes, I promise to go shopping with you on the day after Thanksgiving every year until I’m ten.”
Sutton hunkered before her son and stroked a lock of hair from his face. There was genuine affection in the move, in her eyes, in the soft smile she gave the boy. And there went that pang in Casey’s chest again. “Ten, huh?”
“Maybe even eleven.”
She laughed. “We’ll discuss it later. In the meantime...” She rose, tossed her shoulders back, and set her body language to Annoyed Female. “I’d like for you to join us outside, Casey.”
“Now?”
“It won’t take long.”
“If you haven’t noticed...” He gestured to the lunch crowd currently filing into the shop and growing larger by the second. “I’m a little busy at the moment.”
Their eyes locked and held. Blue on blue. One stubborn will against another. “Make yourself unbusy.”
“No can do.”
“I mean it, Casey. Outside.” Her voice held all the annoyance he saw swimming in her gaze earlier. “Now.”
The woman was relentless, and clearly not giving up. He knew when he was beat. To quote his newest employee, “Yeah, okay.”
He swung a bar towel over his shoulder, rounded the counter and gestured for Sutton to lead the way. When she just stood there, he cocked a brow and added with mock patience, “After you, Ms. Mayor.”
With a huff, she spun on her heel and paraded toward the exit, head held high.
Casey attempted to follow, but Toby tugged on his arm. “I should probably warn you. My mom was using her irritated voice just now. That means—” the boy looked left, then right “—you’re in big trouble.”
