Big Sky Christmas

A Holiday For Healing

Jackson Stone will always be grateful to the Lamberts, who took him in when he was just a kid. But since the accident that killed his foster brother, Brock, he stays away from the family at Coffee Creek Ranch. Especially now that Brock’s former fiancée, Winnie Hays, is back in town with her little boy.

The simmering attraction between them may surprise Winnie, but Jackson fell for her at first sight years ago. Loyalty and guilt require he keep his distance…even as their feelings blossom into love. In the end, it’s his own conscience Jackson must master. But with the help of the Lamberts, can this Christmas be a time of healing and a new beginning?

Jackson went to open the driver’s side door for her, but she didn’t get in. Instead, she surprised him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you were at the dinner tonight. I wasn’t sure you would be.”

“I didn’t want to be,” he admitted. “Corb pretty much twisted my arm.”

“Was it because of Olive that you didn’t want to come? Or me?”

“A little of both.”

“Ouch. Brutally honest, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t say that to hurt your feelings.”

“Oh. So it was a compliment then?”

“Damn it, Winnie. It’s complicated.” She couldn’t know how hard this was for him. If only he could see her the way he saw Laurel, or Cassidy, or even B.J.’s new wife, Savannah. They were all beautiful women, too.

But only Winnie set his blood on fire. And it was so, so wrong. It had been wrong when Brock was alive. And it was just as wrong now that he was gone.

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Coffee Creek, Montana, where the Lamberts—a family of ranchers and cowboys—own the largest spread in Bitterroot County, all controlled by matriarch Olive Lambert. Winnie Hays and her new baby have just returned to town and they’re about to attend the double wedding of Cassidy Lambert and Dan Farley (Her Cowboy Dilemma) and B. J. Lambert and Savannah Moody (Promise Me, Cowboy).

Eighteen months ago Winnie’s fiancé was killed in a car crash while he was on his way to their wedding. Winnie has spent a year and a half grieving, but now it’s time for her to resume her life in Coffee Creek—and to introduce her son to his father’s side of the family.

Dreading Winnie’s return is the Lamberts’ foster brother, Jackson Stone. He’s never told anyone about his secret passion for his deceased brother’s woman—a passion that makes him feel all the more guilty for having been the driver during the accident that killed him.

This is the last of my four-book Coffee Creek, Montana series. As a writer it’s always difficult to leave behind a community of families and friends who’ve begun to feel so real you want to send them cards at Christmas! But with the latest developments between Olive and her estranged sister Maddie, it just feels like the right time to close the door on the Lambert family…and await the next writing adventure.

If you’d like to see the pictures that inspired my Coffee Creek, Montana books, visit my boards on Pinterest—my account is named CJ_Carmichael. To find out what I’m working on next, check my blog on my website: www.cjcarmichael.com. I’ve posted a map of Coffee Creek there, too.

Happy reading,

C.J. Carmichael

Big Sky Christmas

C.J. Carmichael

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty-eight novels for Harlequin and invites you to learn more about her books, see photos of her hiking exploits and enter her surprise contests at www.cjcarmichael.com.

With love to Mike for sharing in

all my Montana adventures

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

Chapter Sixteen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Winnie Hays looked up at the white church and hesitated. She couldn’t believe she was here, back in Coffee Creek, Montana. This was her last chance to back out. Everyone would understand if she did.

Since when is wimping out your style? Is that the kind of woman Bobby needs as his mother?

Since the death of her fiancé, that was how she had found the strength to go on. By thinking of their son. And putting his needs before hers.

Still, it was impossible not to recall the last time she’d been here. Wearing a long white gown. Expecting to leave a married woman.

Eighteen months had passed since then, a relatively short period of time marked by the most major events of Winnie’s life: the death of her fiancé and the birth of their son seven months later.

She checked her cell phone, making sure it was set to vibrate so she’d know if Bobby’s babysitter called. Not that she was worried. Eugenia Fox had raised a son of her own, and had worked for Winnie at the Cinnamon Stick Café since it had opened several years ago.

No, Eugenia and Bobby were going to be fine.

It was herself she was worried about.

If she hadn’t been so late, she wouldn’t be forced to enter the church alone. Her best friend, Laurel, and her new husband, Corb Lambert—the brother of Winnie’s late fiancé—had planned to be by her side for moral support. But they must have given up on her. Decided she’d chickened out.

And she still could. There was no one around to see if she just about-faced and scurried home to the sweet toddler who was the center of her universe.

She sighed.

It was precisely because of Bobby that she needed to attend this wedding. This was his father’s family. Her son’s family. And it was time she faced them.

Still, she paused one last time before entering the church, glancing over her shoulder at the small town of Coffee Creek.

The November day was sunny, crisp and cold. A dusting of snow had decorated the day nicely for the wedding party, the silvery-white crystals contrasting vividly with the blue Montana sky. Olive Lambert, control freak that she was, would be pleased.

Be nice, Winnie. No catty comments about Bobby’s grandmother, please.

She grasped the handle, took a deep breath then pulled open the door.

The sound of the organ music almost did her in.

At least it was a different song than the one that had played a year and a half ago. Beethoven was a genius, but she never wanted to hear “Ode to Joy” again.

She peeled off her gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her red wool coat. An usher appeared then, a young man in a cheap suit that didn’t fit him well. Winnie remembered him as a cousin on the Lambert side.

“Hi, Adam. Sorry I’m late.”

His eyes went wide as he realized who she was. “No problem.” He hung her coat for her, then offered his arm. “Come on, I’ll show you to your seat.”

Winnie schooled herself to look only straight ahead as she walked the length of the aisle. Oh, why had she arrived so late? Now everyone was watching her and there were so many people. Of course there were. The Lamberts owned the largest ranch in the county. They mattered. And her son was one of them. So she couldn’t break down and cry, she just couldn’t. Not even one little tear.

Adam stopped and gestured for her to take a seat in a pew that already seemed to be full. But room was made and she slid onto the wooden bench, not taking note of the person beside her until after she was in position, purse tucked at her feet, tissue palmed discreetly...just in case.

Only then did she notice the masculine thigh pressed next to hers. Looking up, she met Jackson Stone’s dark blue eyes. Jackson had lived with the Lamberts since he was thirteen, so he’d been like a brother to Brock, Corb, B.J. and Cassidy. If she’d married Brock, he would have been a de facto brother-in-law to her.

But that didn’t mean she knew him well.

Compared to his foster siblings, Jackson was quiet and reserved. Brock had speculated that hardships from Jackson’s childhood and early teens had left scars that time might never heal.

And that may well be the case. But at least the man was handsome, with thick dark hair and bone structure good enough to be a model. Weathered skin and the rough look of his hands made it plain, though, that he was a working man.

According to Laurel, Jackson blamed himself for the accident, since he’d been driving, with Brock in the front seat next to him and Corb in the rear. One of the missions Winnie had set for herself on returning to Coffee Creek was to help Jackson see that there was no rational reason for him to feel guilty, and that she, certainly, bore him no malice.

But this wasn’t the place for that conversation.

“Hi, Jackson.” She smiled and gave him a one-armed hug, which he awkwardly returned.

“Winnie.”

He’d never been a big talker. “Big day, isn’t it? Double wedding and all.”

“Yup.”

“Can hardly contain your excitement, huh?”

Jackson’s lips curved up a little. “Weddings aren’t my thing.”

Not hers, either. At least, not anymore. She scanned the line of attractive men standing at the front of the church. There was the local vet, Dan Farley, a solid, muscular guy with sharp cheekbones and dark, almost black eyes. Farley was marrying Cassidy Lambert today.

Cassidy’s brother B.J. stood next to Farley. Taller, thinner, he was the only Lambert who didn’t share the blond hair and green eyes that Brock had had.

B.J. was marrying Bitterroot County’s sheriff, Savannah Moody. Dark haired, sultry-eyed Savannah had been the one who had come to the church to let them know about the accident.

She’d been on duty then. Though she’d been B.J.’s high school sweetheart, she hadn’t been invited to the wedding, due to a longstanding rift between them.

But with the solving of an old case involving arson, theft and murder, they’d resolved their differences. And now they were getting married.

It was an amazing story, and one Winnie had heard secondhand from her friend Laurel as Winnie had still been living in Highwood with her parents at that time.

Moving back to Coffee Creek had been a recent development. So much was the same. And yet so much had changed...

Winnie squeezed the tissue, suddenly wishing she’d brought more. She didn’t know how she was going to handle watching Savannah walk down the aisle today. But she had to.

“This must be difficult,” Jackson whispered.

Had he noticed her nerves? She nodded.

“Imagine you’re at the rodeo.” She could feel his breath on her hair as he leaned in to whisper, “Everyone’s in regular clothes. The guys are in the chutes, waiting for their ride.”

“And the organ music?”

“That’s just the fans cheering.”

He was being silly. But it was working. She could feel her muscles relaxing. She closed her eyes, picturing the scene that Jackson was laying out for her. She’d been to countless rodeos over the years; in fact, that was how she’d met—

Brock.

Her eyes flashed open. Her heart began to race and her body went rigid. If he hadn’t died in that crash on his way to the church, he would be sitting beside her right now. They’d be man and wife and—

The music changed then, became a march. Everyone shifted in their seats, and after a second, so did Winnie.

“Rodeo princesses are making their entrance,” Jackson said softly as the crowd gasped. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

Her nerves calmed at his words, his touch.

“Imagine they’re on horses,” he added.

Not hard to do, since the first bride was Cassidy, and she was never happier than when she was riding. The golden-haired woman with her sunshine smile had a degree from the University of Montana but she worked at Monahan’s Equestrian Center now, doing what she’d been born and raised to do—train horses.

The normally taciturn Farley beamed as his bride—no, rodeo princess—gave him her hand. The look they shared was so sweet that Winnie’s heart tumbled a little, but she set it right again by turning to look at the second bride.

Fortunately, Savannah didn’t look anything like a sheriff today in her fitted white dress and delicate shoes, her long dark hair falling in gentle waves down her shoulders. The crowd gave her a second appreciative gasp, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her smile and gaze were just for B.J.

As the congregation settled down, Winnie focused on her hands clasped in her lap.

“Family and friends,” intoned the minister, “We are gathered today to celebrate the marriages of two very special couples—”

A tear dropped onto her hand. She hadn’t even realized that she’d started to cry. She blinked, and a second one followed.

Suddenly a large hand covered both of hers. She felt the rough calluses first. The warmth second.

She glanced up and saw such a tender look in Jackson’s eyes that she almost started crying again. Thank goodness she’d been smart enough to forgo eye makeup. She had to get a grip here. Listening to the minister had been a mistake. She had to take Jackson’s lead and pretend she was somewhere else.

In her mind Winnie started going over all of Bobby’s milestones. The first time he rolled over. His first smile. His first tooth. Gradually she could feel her muscles relaxing, and Jackson must have felt the same, because he gave her hands a pat, then returned his hand to his own thigh.

The fact that he was being so kind to her made her feel even worse about the suffering she knew he’d been going through this past year and a half. She should have called him sooner. Maybe they could have helped one another through their grief, rather than dealing with the sadness and loss on their own.

Once the ceremony was over, they would talk. She’d invite him for coffee. Make things right.

* * *

JACKSON STONE WAS in agony. Of all the people in this church, why had that damn kid sat Winnie Hays next to him?

If only they weren’t squished in so tightly that he could feel her warm thigh up against his. The contact was the sweetest form of torture he could imagine. There were at least a dozen reasons why he shouldn’t find her so attractive, but he did.

And he had from the first time Brock had brought her home to meet the family.

He’d never met a woman before with such sparkle in her eyes, such sass in her smile. He’d watched her shake hands with Olive, Cassidy, Corb and B.J. and when it came time for his turn, he’d half expected sparks to ignite when her palm met his.

And they had.

But only for him.

That was when he knew that he had to keep as much distance between himself and Brock’s girlfriend as possible.

And he’d done it.

But it hadn’t made his life easy. And it had become a true nightmare on the day of their wedding.

Jackson still had terrible dreams about the crash. He hadn’t seen the moose in time to avoid a collision. There had been a curve in the road, then the stand of aspen and willows.

And suddenly the huge body of a bull moose coming up from the right...

No. He couldn’t let himself go there. Not now. If this was hard for him, it had to be four times more difficult for Winnie. Last night at the rehearsal dinner Laurel had confided to him that she expected her friend to bail out of the ceremony.

“She’ll come to the reception,” Corb’s redheaded wife had said. “But not to the church.”

“Yeah. That’s probably the best thing,” he’d said.

He’d wished he could skip the ceremony, too. But he’d lived with the Lamberts since he was thirteen, and B.J. and Cassidy were like his own siblings. He didn’t want to miss their special day because of his own weakness. And he did see it as a weakness—that he couldn’t seem to get past that day.

Diversions helped. Things like work, Maddie Turner’s illness and the financial challenge of turning around the fortunes of the Silver Creek Ranch.

But occasionally a guy had to stop and just be.

And that was when the bad memories would sneak in. Sometimes he envied Corb, who’d sustained serious brain trauma in the accident and remembered nothing.

He wished he could have been unconscious, too. Then he wouldn’t have the pictures of the awful aftermath in his head.

The split second when he’d seen the moose. Then the crash and the screams. Followed by silence.

The moose had taken out the roof of the truck and sunshine had beamed directly on his head. He’d been pinned to his seat by the airbag at first. Stunned.

The first thing he noticed was the sunshine, warm on his head. Birds were singing. He said a prayer before turning his head.

But the prayer hadn’t been answered. Because all he’d seen was blood. And when he’d called out to the others, to Brock and to Corb—no one had responded.

Chapter Two

Olive Lambert was making a toast, welcoming her new son- and daughter-in-law into the Lambert family. All the wedding guests were gathered in the dining hall of Monahan’s Equestrian Center. The room was spacious and well-appointed, with windows looking out at rolling hills and distant mountains, a huge river-rock fireplace and a large dance floor next to the bar.

Winnie was enjoying her glass of champagne, which she’d already raised three times for earlier speeches. First Dan had toasted his bride, then B.J. had done the same for Savannah.

Corb, as best man, had spoken next.

And now, Olive.

Winnie tried to remember the last time she’d had champagne. It must have been at her and Brock’s engagement party. Unknown to her at the time, that had been when Corb had fallen in love with her best friend, Laurel Sheridan, who’d flown in from New York so she could be Winnie’s maid of honor.

The visit had been planned to last one week.

But after Brock’s accident, Laurel had extended her stay so she could look after the Cinnamon Stick while Winnie recuperated on her parents’ farm in Highwood.

“...I remember when you were just a boy, hanging out with B.J., Corb and Brock,” Olive was saying, her gaze on Dan Farley, who had taken over his father’s vet practice several years earlier. “You were over so often, it was like you were a member of the family. Now it’s official, and I couldn’t be more delighted.”

“To Dan.” Winnie raised the delicate crystal flute and took another sip.

“And of course I want to welcome Savannah to the family, as well,” Olive concluded.

Thud. Winnie glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed Olive’s lack of enthusiasm toward her new daughter-in-law. Laurel caught her eye, then winked.

Winnie struggled not to laugh. She finished her champagne, set down the glass then moved closer to her friend.

“I guess Olive was hoping B.J. would do better?” asked Winnie. Which, in Olive’s mind, meant marrying a local ranching girl whose father owned lots of land.

Laurel was in a forest-green sheath that showcased both her slender figure and her gleaming red hair. “Yes. Savannah is an amazing woman and a terrific sheriff. But her parents had some troubles—financial and otherwise—and Olive doesn’t approve.”

“Bad bloodlines, huh?”

“Yup. Olive thinks she should be able to control the breeding lines of her children, the same way she does the quarter horses.”

Winnie chuckled. Laurel was great at seeing the humorous side of almost any situation. When she was in the early stages of her romance with Corb, Olive had actually invited one of Corb’s old girlfriends to dinner, hoping to divert his attention. Winnie would have exploded in a similar situation, but Laurel had somehow dealt with it.

“It’s crazy, but I guess Olive gets her way sometimes. Witness Cassidy and Dan Farley.”

“That almost backfired on her,” Laurel whispered back. “Didn’t I tell you about the ranch getting quarantined?”

“Probably. I’ve been so sleep deprived lately, my memory is shot.” She searched the crowds until she found Jackson. He was talking with a couple of local ranchers, but as soon as she spotted him, his gaze met hers.

She felt the oddest warmth steal over her. Quickly she glanced away. “What’s up with Jackson? Why didn’t he bring a date?”

“Who would he bring? He’s been all work, no play since—”

Laurel didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.

“Do you think it would help if I talked to him?”

“You can try. Most everyone else has. Except Olive, of course. She’s the only one in all of Coffee Creek who really does seem to blame him for what happened.” Laurel rolled her eyes at the unfairness of it all.

Before Winnie had a chance to reply, the band started playing and Corb claimed his wife for a dance.

Winnie watched the pair walk off, hand in hand. They were so good together. Would she and Brock have been as well suited? She’d never know.

Winnie turned and headed to the bar to get a glass of cranberry and soda. There were still a few people she ought to talk to, then she’d go home. She’d told Eugenia that she wouldn’t be out very late.

Once she had her drink, she swiveled back toward the dance floor—and found herself face-to-face with Olive.

The matriarch of the Lambert family was looking her best tonight. Her silver hair was beautifully styled and her trim figure looked sharp in a vintage Chanel suit. Olive always managed to look like a lady—even when she didn’t act that way.

“I haven’t had a chance to welcome you back to Coffee Creek.” The words were nice, but Olive’s eyes were cold.

Winnie accepted the tepid hug Olive offered, catching a hint of classic Chanel No. 5 perfume as she did so. “Thanks, Olive. I was wondering if you’d like to pop in at the café next week to meet Bobby.”

“My grandson, you mean.” Olive’s green eyes glittered with affront. “I must say I was surprised—and hurt—that you never sent us a birth announcement.”

Trust Olive to make an issue of this, here, in public. “I did call,” Winnie said.

“Your message said nothing about having a baby! We had no idea you were even pregnant.”

Winnie pulled every inch she could out of her spine. This woman had intimidated her at one time, but no longer. “Well, you would have if you’d returned my earlier call, after Brock’s funeral.”

Olive’s eyes dulled. “That was a terrible time. I wasn’t up to talking on the phone.”

“It wasn’t a great time for me, either.” And yet she’d made the effort to get in touch with her fiancé’s mother, even though she knew Olive didn’t like her. She’d hoped they could come together in their shared grief over Brock’s death. And she’d wanted to break the news about her pregnancy in a more personal way, not through a generic birth announcement.

But Olive hadn’t called back. And a month later Winnie had tried again, with a similar result.

“You could have written. Or sent word via Corb or Laurel.”

“I could have,” Winnie agreed. “But you may have guessed by now that I have a stubborn streak.”

She met Olive’s glare without backing down. The honest truth was she still resented Olive for being so cold toward her. She knew—because Brock had told her—that Olive had tried to talk him out of marrying her. Olive had thought that her youngest, and favorite, son was making a mistake in marrying a simple farm girl from Highwood. Brock had laughed about it later, when they were alone.