Merry Christmas, Baby Maverick!

Chapter Two

Trey Strickland had been happily living near and working at the Thunder Canyon Resort for several years now, but he never passed up an opportunity to visit his grandparents in Rust Creek Falls. His family had lived in the small town for nearly a decade while he was growing up, and he still had good friends there and always enjoyed catching up with them again.

Now it was December and he hadn’t been back since the summer. And whenever he thought of that visit, he thought of Kayla Dalton. Truth be told, he thought of Kayla at other times, too—and that was one of the reasons he’d forced himself to stay away for so long.

He’d slept with his best friend’s little sister.

And he didn’t regret it.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could say the same about Kayla based on her demeanor toward him the next day. She’d pretended nothing had happened between them, so he’d followed her lead.

He suspected that they’d both acted out of character as a result of being under the influence of the wedding punch. According to his grandmother, the police now believed the fruity concoction had been spiked and were trying to determine who had done so and why.

Trey’s initial reaction to the news had been shock, followed quickly by relief that there was a credible explanation for his own reckless behavior that night. But whatever had been in the punch, the remnants of it had long since been purged from his system, yet thoughts and memories of Kayla continued to tease his mind.

As he navigated the familiar route from Thunder Canyon to Rust Creek Falls, his mind wandered. He was looking forward to spending the holidays with his grandparents, but he was mostly focused on the anticipation of seeing Kayla again, and the closer he got to his destination, the more prominent she figured in his thoughts.

He’d had a great time with her at the wedding. Prior to that night, they hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen words over the past several years, so he’d been surprised to discover that she was smart and witty and fun. She was the kind of woman he enjoyed spending time with, and he hoped he would get to spend more time with her when he was in town.

But first he owed her an apology, which he would have delivered the very next morning except that his brain had still been enveloped in some kind of fog that had prevented him from remembering exactly what had happened after the wedding.

He didn’t usually drink to excess. Sure, he enjoyed hanging out with his buddies and having a few beers, but he’d long outgrown the desire to get drunk and suffer the consequences the next morning. But whatever had been in that wedding punch, it hadn’t given any hint of its incredible potency...

It was morning.

The bright sunlight slipping past the edges of the curtains told him that much. The only other fact that registered in his brain was that he was dying. Or at least he felt as if he was. The pain in his head was so absolutely excruciating, he was certain it was going to fall right off his body—and there was a part of him that wished it would.

In a desperate attempt to numb the torturous agony, he downed a handful of aspirin with a half gallon of water then managed to sit upright without wincing.

The quiet knock on his door echoed like a thunderclap in his head before his grandmother entered. She clucked her tongue in disapproval when she came into his room and threw the curtains wide, the sunlight stabbing through his eyeballs like hot knives.

“Get up and out of bed,” she told him. “It’s laundry day and I need your sheets.”

He pulled the covers up over his head. “My sheets are busy right now.”

“You should be, too. Your grandfather could use a hand cleaning out the shed.”

He tried to nod, but even that was painful. “Give me half an hour.”

He showered and dressed then turned his attention to the bed because, as his grandmother was fond of reminding him, it wasn’t a hotel and she wasn’t his maid. So he untucked one corner and pulled them off the bed. There was a quiet clunk as something fell free of the sheet and onto the floor.

An earring?

He slowly bent down to retrieve the sparkly teardrop, his mind immediately flashing back to the night before, when he’d stood beside Kayla Dalton on the edge of the dance floor and noticed the pretty earrings that hung from her ears.

Kayla Dalton?

He curled his fingers around the delicate bauble and sank onto the edge of the mattress as other images flashed through his mind, like snapshots with no real connection to any particular time and place. He rubbed his fingers against his temples as he tried to recall what had happened, but his brain refused to cooperate. He’d danced with Kayla—he was sure he remembered dancing with her. And then...

He frowned as he struggled to put the disjointed pieces together. She’d looked so beautiful in the moonlight, and she’d smelled really good. And her lips had looked so temptingly soft. He’d wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t think he would have made that kind of move. Because as beautiful and tempting as she was, she was still Derek’s sister.

But when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the yielding of her sweet mouth beneath his, the softness of her feminine curves against his body. Since he’d never had a very good imagination, he could only conclude that the kiss had really happened.

And in order for her earring to end up in his bed—well, he had to assume that Kayla had been there, too.

And what did it say about him that he didn’t even remember? Of course, it was entirely possible that they’d gotten into bed together and both passed out. Not something to be particularly proud of but, under the circumstances, probably the best possible scenario.

He tucked the earring in his pocket and finished stripping the bed, shaking out the sheets and pillowcases to ensure there weren’t any other hidden treasures inside. Thankfully, there were not. Then he saw the corner of something peeking out from beneath the bed—and scooped up an empty condom wrapper.

He closed his eyes and swore.

The idea that he’d slept with Kayla Dalton had barely sunk into his brain when he saw her later that day.

She’d been polite and friendly, if a little reserved, and she’d given absolutely no indication that anything had happened between them, making him doubt all of his own conclusions about the night before.

It had taken a long time for his memories of that night to come into focus, for him to remember.

And now that those memories were clear, he was determined to talk to Kayla about what happened that night—and where they would go from here.

* * *

Kayla was on her way to the newspaper office when she spotted Trey’s truck parked outside the community center.

She’d heard that he was coming back to Rust Creek Falls for the holidays, but she wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. There were still three weeks until Christmas. Why was he here already? She needed more time to plan and prepare, to figure out what to say, how to share the news that she knew would turn his whole world upside down.

The back of his truck was filled with boxes and the doors to the building were open. She’d heard that last year’s gift drive for the troops was being affiliated with Thunder Canyon’s Presents for Patriots this year, and she suspected that the boxes were linked to that effort.

“Kayla—hi.”

She didn’t need to look up to know it was Trey who was speaking. It wasn’t just that she’d recognized his voice, it was that her heart was racing the way it always did whenever she was near him.

But she glanced up, her gaze skimming at least six feet from his well-worn cowboy boots to his deep green eyes, and managed a smile. “Hi, Trey.”

“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, flashing an easy grin that suggested he was genuinely happy to see her.

Which didn’t really make any sense. She not only hadn’t seen the guy in four months, she hadn’t spoken a single word to him in that time, either. There had been no exchange of emails or text messages or any communication at all. Not that she’d expected any, but her infatuated heart had dared to hope—and been sorely wounded as a result of that silly hope.

“How have you been?” he asked.

Pregnant.

The word was on the tip of her tongue because, of course, that reality had been at the forefront of her mind since she’d seen the little plus sign in the window of the test. But she didn’t dare say it aloud, because she knew he couldn’t understand the relevance of the information when he didn’t even remember sleeping with her.

“Fine,” she said instead. “And you?”

“Fine,” he echoed.

She nodded.

An awkward silence followed, which they both tried to break at the same time.

“Well, I should—”

“Maybe I could—”

Then they both stopped talking again.

“What were you going to say?” Trey asked her.

“Just that I should be going—I’m on my way to the newspaper office.”

“Do you work there?”

She nodded. “I’m a copy editor.”

“Oh.”

And that seemed to exhaust that topic of conversation.

“It was good to see you, Trey.”

“You, too.”

She started past him, relieved that this first and undeniably awkward encounter was over. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was a mass of knots, but she’d managed to exchange a few words with him without bursting into tears or otherwise falling to pieces. A good first step, she decided.

“Kayla—wait.”

And with those two words, her opportunity to flee with her dignity intact was threatened.

Since she hadn’t moved far enough away to be able to pretend that she hadn’t heard him, she reluctantly turned back.

He took a step closer.

“I wanted to call you,” he said, dropping his voice to ensure that his words wouldn’t be overheard by any passersby. “There were so many times I thought about picking up the phone, just because I was thinking about you.”

Her heart, already racing, accelerated even more. “You were thinking about me?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we danced at the wedding.”

Since we danced?

That was what he remembered about that night?

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Under other circumstances, it might have been flattering to think that a few minutes in his arms had made such a lasting impression. Under her current circumstances, the lack of any impression of what had come afterward was hurtful and humiliating.

“I really do have to go. My boss is expecting me.”

“What are you doing later?”

She frowned. “Tonight?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to the movies with Natalie Crawford.”

“Oh.”

He sounded so sincerely disappointed, she wanted to cancel her plans and agree to anything he wanted. Except that kind of thinking was responsible for her current predicament.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” she said.

He held her gaze for another minute before he nodded. “Count on it.”

She walked away, knowing that she already did and cursing the traitorous yearning of her heart.

* * *

Trey helped finish unloading the truck, then headed over to the boarding house. He arrived just as his grandmother was slicing into an enormous roast, and the tantalizing aroma made his mouth water.

“Mmm, something smells good.”

Melba set down her utensils and wiped her hands on a towel before she crossed the room to envelop him in a warm hug. “I was hoping you’d be here in time for dinner.”

“I’d tell you that I ignored the speed limit to make sure of it, but my grandmother would probably disapprove,” he teased.

“She certainly would,” Melba agreed sternly.

“In time for dinner but not in time to mash the potatoes,” Claire said, as she finished her assigned task.

His grandmother let him go and turned him over to his cousin, who hugged him tight.

He tipped her chin up to look into her brown eyes. “Everything good?”

“Everything’s great,” she assured him, her radiant smile confirming the words.

“Levi?” he prompted, referring to the husband she’d briefly separated from in the summer.

“In the front parlor, playing with Bekka.”

“It’s so much fun to have a child in the house again,” their grandmother said. “I can’t wait for there to be a dozen more.”

“Don’t count on me to add another dozen,” Claire warned. “I have my hands full with one.”

“At least you’ve given me one,” Melba noted, with a pointed glance in Trey’s direction.

He moved to the sink and washed his hands. “What can I do to help with dinner?” he asked, desperate to change the topic of conversation.

“You can get down the pitcher for the gravy.” Melba gestured to a cupboard far over her head. “Then round up the rest of the family.”

Trey retrieved the pitcher, then gratefully escaped from the kitchen. Of course, he should have expected the conversation would circle back to the topic of marriage and babies during the meal.

“So what’s been going on in town since I’ve been gone?” he asked, scooping up a forkful of the potatoes Claire had mashed.

“Goodness, I don’t know where to begin,” his grandmother said. “Oh—the Santa Claus parade was last weekend and the Dalton girl got engaged.”

The potatoes he’d just swallowed dropped to the bottom of his stomach like a ball of lead. “Kayla?”

His grandmother shook her head. “Her sister, Kristen.”

Trey exhaled slowly.

He didn’t know why he’d immediately assumed Kayla, maybe because he’d seen her so recently and had been thinking about her for so long, but the thought of her with another man—engaged to another man—had hit him like a physical jab.

He’d been away from Rust Creek Falls for months—it wasn’t just possible but likely that Kayla had gone out with other guys during that time. And why shouldn’t she? They’d spent one night together—they didn’t have a relationship.

And even if they did, he wasn’t looking to fall in love and get married. So why did the idea of her being with another man make him a little bit crazy?

“Who’d she get engaged to?” he asked, picking up the thread of the conversation again.

“Maggie Roarke’s brother, Ryan,” Claire said.

Trey didn’t know Ryan Roarke, but he worked with his brother, Shane, at the Thunder Canyon Resort. And he knew that their sister had moved to Rust Creek Falls the previous year. “Maggie’s the new lawyer in town—the one married to Jesse Crawford?”

His grandmother nodded. “She gave up her fancy office in LA to make a life here with Jesse, because they were in love.”

“I thought it was because he knocked her up,” Gene interjected.

Melba wagged her fork at her husband. “They were in love,” she insisted.

“And five months after they got married, they had a baby,” Gene told him.

His wife sniffed—likely as much in disapproval of the fact as her husband’s recitation of gossip. “What matters is that they’re together now and a family with their little girl.”

“Speaking of little girls,” Trey said, looking at his cousin’s daughter seated across from him in her high chair. “I can’t get over how much this one has grown in the past few months.”

“Like a weed,” Levi confirmed, ruffling the soft hair on the top of his daughter’s head.

Bekka looked up at him, her big blue eyes wide and adoring.

“No doubt that one’s a daddy’s girl,” Claire noted.

Her husband just grinned.

“Speaking of Kayla Dalton,” his grandmother said.

“Who was speaking of Kayla Dalton?” Gene asked.

“Trey was,” Melba said.

“We were talking about Bekka.”

“Earlier,” Melba clarified. “When I mentioned the Dalton girl got engaged, he asked if it was Kayla.”

“Hers was just the first name that came to mind,” Trey hastened to explain.

“And I wonder why that was,” his grandmother mused.

“Probably because he was up close and personal with her at Braden and Jennifer’s wedding,” Claire teased.

“Anyway,” Melba interjected. “I was wondering if you were going to see Kayla while you’re in town.”

“I already did,” he admitted. “She walked by the community center when we were unloading the truck.”

His grandmother shook her head as she began to stack the empty plates. “I meant, are you going to go out with her?”

“Melba,” her husband said warningly.

“What? Is there something wrong with wanting my grandson to spend time with a nice girl?”

Claire pushed away from the table to help clear it.

“Kayla is a nice girl,” Trey confirmed. “But if you’ve got matchmaking on your mind, you’re going to be disappointed—I’m not looking to settle down yet, not with anybody.”

“And even if he was, Kayla is hardly his type,” Claire noted.

Levi’s brows lifted. “Trey has a type?”

“Well, if he did, it wouldn’t be the shy wallflower type,” his wife said.

“Still waters run deep,” their grandmother noted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Trey asked warily.

“It means that there’s a lot more to that girl than most people realize,” Melba said, setting an enormous apple pie on the table.

Claire brought in the dessert plates and forks.

“And ice cream,” her grandmother said. “Bekka’s going to want some ice cream.”

“I think Bekka wants her bath and bed more than she wants ice cream,” Claire said, noting her daughter’s drooping eyelids.

“Goodness, she’s falling asleep in her chair.”

“My fault,” Levi said, pushing his chair away from the table and lifting his daughter from hers. “She missed her nap today when I took her to story time at the library.”

“Didn’t I tell you to put her down as soon as you got back?” Claire asked.

“You did,” he confirmed. “But every time I put her in her crib, she started to fuss.”

“Why don’t you give in to me whenever I fuss?” his wife wanted to know.

He kissed her softly. “Are you saying I don’t?”

“Not all the time,” she said, a small smile on her lips as they headed out of the dining room.

“I guess they’ve worked things out,” Trey mused, stabbing his fork into the generous slab of pie his grandmother set in front of him.

“I really think they have,” Melba confirmed. “There will still be bumps in the road—no relationship is ever without them—but over the past few months, they’ve proven that they are committed to one another and their family.”

“If the kid doesn’t want ice cream, no one else gets ice cream?” Gene grumbled, frowning at his naked pie.

“You don’t need ice cream,” his wife told him.

“You didn’t need those new gloves you came home with when you were out Christmas shopping last week, but you bought them anyway.”

Trey fought against a smile as he got up to get the ice cream. His grandparents’ bickering was as familiar to him as the boarding house. They were both strong-willed and stubborn but, even after almost sixty years of marriage, there was an obvious affection between them that warmed his heart.

After they’d finished dessert, his grandmother asked, “So what are your plans for the evening?”

“Do they still show movies at the high school on Fridays?” Trey had spent more than a few evenings in the gymnasium, hanging with his friends or snuggling up to a pretty girl beneath banners that declared, “Go Grizzlies!” and had some fond memories of movie nights at the high school.

“Friday and Saturday nights now,” she told him.

“Two movie nights a week?” he teased. “And people say there’s nothing to do in Rust Creek Falls.”

His grandmother narrowed her gaze. “We might not have all the fancy shops and services like Thunder Canyon, but we’ve got everything we need.”