The Matchmaker's Mistletoe Mission (Boots and Bouquets novella) Read online

  Even women were hovering nearby, hoping to catch his eye. She wasn’t even going to be mad about that. In jeans and a flannel shirt, he was so hot. Dressed up in a dark suit and cowboy boots, his thick dark blond hair slicked back looking like he’d just graced the cover of Hot Rancher Monthly. He was magnificent. If she’d been single at this wedding, she’d have likely hit on him, too.

  But while he was single, he wasn’t single at this wedding. Tonight he belonged to her, and all these other women could just keep their hands off of her man.

  Okay, where had this possessive streak come from?

  Isn’t it time to back off from Clay, Alice? You’re leaving tomorrow. You’re leaving him tomorrow. Forever.

  Her stomach clenched, and she lifted her chin. She wasn’t going to think about that right now. Not when music started playing and Clay stood and held his hand out to her.

  She rose and he led her out to the dance floor for some close-body slow dancing. She laid her cheek against his chest and absorbed the warmth of his body, the feel of every inch of him so close to her, his arm around her waist and her hand in his.

  She wanted to memorize this moment, to permanently etch it in her mind so she’d never forget what it felt like to be held in his arms. Because she had a feeling she was never going to feel this way again.

  Tears pricked her eyes, and when he leaned back to smile at her, his smile turned into a look of concern.

  “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just . . . going to miss you.”

  He inhaled and let it out. “Dammit.”

  He took her hand and led her off the dance floor, out of the main room and into a room labeled Groom’s Dressing Area. He turned on the light and locked the door behind him.

  She sat in a chair.

  “We can’t end things like this, Alice. I don’t want to end things with you.” He paced for a few seconds, then stopped and turned to look at her. “I’m in love with you.”

  Her heart slammed against her chest. The words she’d wanted to hear were right there in front of her. And they hurt her more than anything.

  “I’m in love with you, too, Clay.”

  He knelt in front of her. “Then let’s figure out a way to make this work.”

  She shook her head. “We can’t. It won’t. There’s no possible way. I’m in LA. You’re here. Your life—your entire livelihood is here. Mine is there. You’re not going to move for me and—”

  “You’re not going to move for me.” He stood and raked his fingers through his hair.

  She fought back the tears of frustration at once again being in this position. Only this time it was so much worse. Because she was in love, and that made it agonizing. She didn’t know what to do, and the room felt like it was closing in on her. “I’m sorry. We’re just not meant to be. We’ll have to look at this as a fun holiday interlude, and we’ll have some amazing memories.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Is that what we were, Alice? A fun holiday interlude? That’s it?”

  “No. I mean . . . I don’t know. I can’t make it more than it is.” She had to let him down easy, let herself down easy. Any more and it would crush her. And him.

  But she was lying. Because it was more. So much more.

  But she was also confused, and this wasn’t the right time to be having this conversation. This was her best friend’s wedding, and it wasn’t supposed to be about her. Not tonight.

  “Okay, then. That’s what it was. Something fun for the holidays.” He pulled her up and drew her against him. “But I don’t say the words I love you lightly, Alice Weatherford. And I do love you. I don’t know how or when it happened, but it damn well happened. I. Love. You. And if you think I’m going to walk away from you and forget how I feel, you’re wrong. And I think you’re wrong about us being just a temporary holiday thing, too.”

  He cupped the side of her neck and kissed her, a long, soul-searing kiss that branded his heart to hers forever.

  When he pulled away, she saw the hurt in his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Alice.”

  And then she let him walk away from her, because she didn’t know what else to do.

  As she sat there and cried, she knew one thing for certain.

  She was never going to get over him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was three days until Christmas, and Clay had been going through the motions for the past four days. It had been four days since he’d walked out on Alice, hoping he was wrong about her, that the two of them could somehow find a way to work this out together.

  But she’d let him walk away, and the next day she’d left Oklahoma to go back to California. And he hadn’t heard a word from her since then.

  So maybe he had been wrong about her, about her feelings for him. The one thing he was sure about was that he was damn tired of thinking about it. Fortunately, he had ranch work to keep him busy. Cattle had to be fed, moved to new pastures, inoculated and checked for pregnancies. So he dove into work and tried not to think about Alice.

  And that had lasted for the past four days until he had to stop off at Red Moss Vineyards. Johnny Bellini needed some tack supplies, and Clay had extras, so he offered to drop them off. He met with Johnny in the barn, and while he was out there chatting with Johnny, Erin stopped in.

  Johnny kissed Erin’s temple. “I don’t get to see my daughter out in the barn very often.”

  “Oh, you know, mainly because it smells out here, Dad.”

  Johnny laughed. “City girl living in the country.”

  “I’d like to talk to Clay for a minute, Dad.”

  “Sure. Thank you for the tack, Clay.”

  “Anytime, Johnny.”

  Johnny left the barn, and Clay raised a questioning brow at Erin. “What’s up?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question. What’s up with you and Alice Weatherford?”

  “Oh. Well, that’s over. She went back to LA after the wedding, you know.”

  “Uh-huh. And that’s it? You just give up because of where you both live?”

  “I guess.”

  She rolled her eyes and then punched Clay in the arm. “Come on, doofus. Go fight for her.”

  “She apparently didn’t want me to.”

  “Or maybe she does, and she thinks you don’t care.”

  “I told her I loved her, dammit,” he said, raising his voice.

  Erin was unfazed by his raised voice. “And then you didn’t fight for her. So go fight for her.”

  “You’re infuriating.”

  She quirked a smile. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

  “Because you’re a giant pain in the ass and everyone knows it.”

  Jason Callum came in. Jason was one of Clay’s best friends, one of his ride-or-die buddies. He’d been friends with the Bellini sisters, with Erin’s fiancé, Owen, and with Clay for as long as Clay could remember.

  “Well, one pain in the ass recognizes another, don’t we, Jason?” Erin asked.

  Jason leaned against the pole. “I guess. What are you two gossiping about?”

  “About Clay being in love with our former houseguest Alice Weatherford.”

  Jason arched a brow. “Yeah? How come we haven’t talked about this over a few beers? And that happened kind of fast, didn’t it?”

  “Kind of. And I don’t know what to do about it. She lives in LA.”

  Jason shrugged. “So? What does that have to do with being in love with a woman?”

  Clay skirted his gaze to Erin, who held out her hands and said, “See?”

  Clay rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”

  Jason just shrugged. “That’s what I do. I come in, I solve everyone’s life problems and then I leave. But, really, I just came in for a two-by-four.”

 
Erin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re a real lifesaver.”

  Clay laughed. “Thanks, Jason.”

  “Anytime.”

  After he left the Bellinis’, Clay thought about Alice. One thing was clear. Her abrupt departure had devastated him. So Erin and Jason were right. He had to do something. He had to see her. They’d left everything unfinished, so one way or another, they were going to wrap things up.

  He had no idea what he was going to say, but he was miserable without her. So he’d talk to her. And maybe they could figure this out.

  If she even wanted to.

  Alice fought back tears as she finished up her phone call with her new client, Stefan.

  “Love is a wonderful thing, Stefan. I’m sure we’ll be able to find the perfect match for you.”

  “Do you have a cold or something, Alice? You sound sniffly.”

  She grabbed a tissue from the box, swiped her nose and prepared to lie to her client. “Yes. I’ve been fighting a cold all week. I apologize.”

  “No apologies necessary. I’m very confident in your ability to find me the love of my life.”

  She nearly burst into full-blown sobs. “Of course. We’ll talk soon, Stefan. Good-bye.”

  She disconnected the call and hiccupped out a sob, reaching for another tissue to wipe her eyes.

  Get over yourself, Alice. You’re the one who walked away.

  She was really beginning to hate Inner Voice.

  What was she supposed to do? Tell Clay she was in love with him and wanted to make a life with him, knowing it was doomed to fail from the start? There was no way they could make it work. She knew that long-distance relationships never worked. It was proven fact.

  The one fact she couldn’t get away from was that she was desperately lonely without Clay. She missed him. She missed Homer. She missed Clay’s house. She missed the snow and the cold. She missed snuggling with Clay on his sofa in front of a roaring fire. She missed talking to him and laughing and sharing looks. She missed touching and kissing him and running her hands over his body. She missed the feel of his lips on hers.

  She heaved a shaky sigh and fought back another bout of tears, got up from her desk and went into the kitchen to make herself another cup of coffee.

  She was fine. She was a strong, independent woman, and her fling with Clay had just been that—a fling. She’d get over it soon enough.

  But as she grabbed her cup and walked past the living room and saw her tiny Christmas tree staring at her, all she could think about was Clay’s tree, and the way the two of them had decorated it together, and how beautiful it was and how she’d felt such a part of his home. A part of his life.

  She wanted to be there with him for Christmas.

  Her mother had called and asked her to fly up for Christmas. She felt so sad that all she wanted to do was be alone and wait for the holidays to be over, so she’d lied and told her mom that she was slammed with work and wouldn’t be able to make it.

  Which had made her feel even worse. If it was possible to feel worse at this point.

  She went back into her office and sat at her desk, finishing up some of her accounting work.

  Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, her heart flipping when she saw a message from Clay.

  I need to see you.

  Just those few words from him sent her breathing into rapid overdrive. What did that mean?

  With shaky hands she typed out a response.

  When?

  His reply came right away: Now.

  She blinked, then frowned and replied with: Where are you?

  Again, his reply came immediately: Outside your condo.

  Her eyes widened. Outside her condo? Clay was here? She looked around at all the discarded heartbreak tissues, then dashed into her bathroom and turned on the light. Her reflection said it all. Swollen, red eyes from all the crying, and her hair looked like—she didn’t even have a description for her hair right now, but it wasn’t pretty. She’d showered this morning, had let it air-dry and had run her fingers through it in despair about a million times.

  She was not ready to see Clay, and at the same time wanted it more than anything. And she couldn’t very well let him stand outside her door.

  She splashed cold water on her face—not that it would do any good—and brushed her hair, which only made it stand out all over as if she’d just stuck her finger in an electrical socket. She looked down at herself. She had on yoga pants, a tank top and a light cardigan, and her toes needed a pedicure.

  Whatever. If he’d wanted her pretty, he should have let her know a few days ahead of time.

  She turned off the light, went to the front door, paused with her hand on the knob, sucked in a breath and opened the door.

  And there he stood, wearing jeans, a button-down blue shirt, a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. He was everything she’d ever wanted but hadn’t known she so desperately needed.

  “How do you even know where I live?” she blurted.

  “Lainie. Through Jeff.”

  She blinked. “You called them on their honeymoon?”

  He shrugged. “Desperate times.”

  She shuddered out a sigh. He did all that to find her.

  “So, can I come in?”

  “Oh. Sure.” She moved away from the door, and he stepped inside. She’d forgotten how incredibly big he was. Normally, only Lainie came over, not impossibly tall men who took up all the space in her tiny condo.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, moving into the kitchen.

  “Water?”

  She pulled a glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice and water, then handed it to him.

  “Thanks.” He started to take the glass, then set it on the counter and swept his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve been crying.”

  She tried to downplay it by lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “Maybe a little.”

  “I’m sorry I ever let you walk away without talking to you.”

  He was the one apologizing? Why? She finally lifted her gaze to his, saw the pain reflected in his eyes. “But I was the one who left. And I’ve been miserable ever since. I miss you, Clay.”

  And here came the tears again, despite her best efforts to stop them.

  He drew her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “I miss you, too, Alice.”

  She absorbed Clay’s warmth, that feeling of rightness she had always felt when she was in his arms. When he slipped his fingers under her chin to tilt her head back and brush his lips across hers, she felt at home, like this was where she belonged—in his arms, with him kissing her.

  He pulled back. “We have to figure out a way to be together.”

  She shook her head. “I tried. I thought about it constantly, but I couldn’t figure out how to make it work no matter how many different scenarios I came up with.”

  “I’ve thought about it, too, and I think I might have a solution—if you’re willing to go along with it.”

  She was willing to consider anything. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  He took her hand, and they went into the living room. He shrugged out of his jacket, and they sat together on the sofa.

  “If I had any other job, I’d happily move here with you,” he said.

  She loved that he’d made that offer. “But you don’t have any other job. It’s not like you can move your cattle ranch to LA County.”

  “No. I can’t. And your clientele base is here in LA.”

  “Yes. I mean, I do have a few clients in other parts of the country, including the East Coast. So I travel, but the majority of my clients are here.”

  “I understand. Your job is important. You need to be able to do it wherever it suits you. So . . . what if I set you up with a really nice office space here, plus the condo you already have, and a private jet for you to
fly everywhere you need to go? With my house—our house—as your home base when you’re not working. There’s plenty of space at the house for you to set up an office there as well.”

  She blinked then frowned. Office space in LA? Private jet? “What are you talking about? I can’t afford all of that.”

  “I can.”

  She didn’t understand. And then it hit her. “The multimillionaire comment you made to Vin. That wasn’t a lie.”

  “No.”

  “But . . . how?”

  He crooked a smile. “Oil and gas leases, babe.”

  She didn’t exactly know what that meant, but she believed him. “Wow. So you’re . . .”

  “Rich? Yes.”

  Holy shit. “I never asked.”

  “I know you didn’t. That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

  She’d process that later. “Still, I could never ask you to do that for me.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing it just for you, Alice. I’d be doing it for us. I want you in my life. I need you in my life. I’ll be damned if I let you walk away from me because of geography. I’m not losing you.”

  Her heart ached for this man, for what she could have missed out on, because she couldn’t see a way to make it work. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, that I just left because I was selfish.”

  “You weren’t selfish. You were afraid.”

  She inhaled, then sighed, realizing he was right. “I was afraid. Afraid of screwing up again, afraid of hurting you.” She paused. “Mostly afraid of getting hurt. Of screwing up another relationship because of something stupid like geography. I wasn’t thinking straight. But I was—am—in love with you. That much I knew. I’m sorry I didn’t stay and figure out a way to make it work. Instead, I ran. And I’ve been miserable ever since. How can you even care about me?”