Christmas In Mustang Creek

Charlotte laughed. “I love you,” she said.

“Not as much as I love you,” Aunt Geneva retorted on cue. It was an old game. “Now, tell me what’s been going on with you. How’s what’s-his-name? The veterinarian.”

“You know perfectly well that we broke up a long time ago. And you also know his name is Jaxon.”

“I was so sure he was the one,” she mused sadly.

Charlotte sighed. “He’s actually here in Mustang Creek.”

Aunt Geneva looked delighted. “I knew it! Oh, I am so going to win that bet with Millicent Klozz.”

What?

“You two bet on my love life?” Charlotte was laughing again, but still chagrined. “Or lack thereof? No wonder Millicent knew his name.”

Aunt Geneva waved a frail hand. “So he’s in town. What happens next?”

There was only one answer. “I have no idea.”

* * *

IF THE CHOICE was either to share a couch with a bloodhound or move into a Christmas-card house like this one, well, no contest. Unfortunately, things weren’t that simple.

The complication? Charlie.

Despite the cold, Jax paused on the snowy sidewalk to take it all in.

He’d seen pictures of the old place, of course, and Charlie had told him dozens of stories, but this was his first actual, real-time visit.

So he savored the moment, admired the wraparound porch, the ornate front door, the shutters, the gables and arches. A picket fence surrounded the spacious—make that huge—front yard, and Jax knew there was even more room around back. He knew about the big garden plot and the clotheslines and a couple of gnarled old apple trees, still producing fruit every summer.

Jax sighed, suddenly wistful, opened the gate and started up the recently shoveled walk.

Getting closer, he could see that the paint was peeling in a few places and the roof over the porch sagged.

His knock was answered by an elderly woman who flung the door open wide and beamed at him.

“Jaxon?”

“Yes.”

She wiped both hands on her apron and offered one that seemed to hold a slight dusting of flour. “I’m Millicent Klozz,” she said.

“Yes,” he answered. “Hello.” Of course you are.

Her smile was welcoming, and she stepped back, making a sweeping gesture with one arm. “Don’t stand out there in the cold,” she said cheerfully, raising her voice to be heard over the happy barking of the dog at her feet. “Come on in. You can choose your room.”

He was being steamrollered, and he was letting it happen. Enjoying it, even. But he also knew he was playing along, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. He couldn’t just move in; Charlie, who couldn’t possibly know what was happening on the home front at the moment, would freak when she found out.

And he wouldn’t blame her.

Come on in. You can choose your room.

Indeed.

If he’d known Millicent better, and if she’d been about a hundred years younger, he would’ve quipped, “That’s easy. I’ll take Charlotte’s room.”

He didn’t say that, of course.

But he might as well have, because the sweet old lady answered as if he had. “Behave yourself, you rascal,” she mock-scolded, with a twinkle and a little ringing laugh. Then she bustled up the stairs, which looked like solid walnut and, with some refinishing, would amount to a showpiece.

Jax recovered quickly, deciding he must’ve imagined at least part of the exchange. “Maybe we ought to wait,” he called after her, hesitating at the foot of the stairs. “Talk this over with Charlotte.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine with the idea,” Mrs. Klozz said merrily, standing on the landing and gazing back at him with an expression of mild and totally benevolent impatience.

Well, that confirmed his suspicions anyway. Charlotte had no clue what was going on. The situation was downright odd—and kind of funny, too. Like something that might happen in a Christmas movie.

“She doesn’t know,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Not yet,” Mrs. Klozz told him, still blithe. “I’ll handle it. Now, if I were you, I’d take the larger one on the east side of the house, but then, I’m an early riser and I like a good dose of sunlight first thing.” She paused, regarded him with a smile. “Come along, dear. I don’t have all day.”

Despite his reservations, Jax climbed the stairs.

When he reached the top, Mrs. Klozz led him down a long, well-lit hallway. There was more fine woodwork, all of it intricately carved, and a huge stained-glass skylight cast beams of dancing color everywhere.

The place was almost magical, and Jax knew Charlotte loved every plank and pane and peg of it.

Then, why had she left? Meanwhile, Millicent launched into the tour. “Wouldn’t this house make an excellent B and B?” she said with an expansive gesture and a contented sigh. “That’s the bathroom door,” she informed him, pointing. “It doesn’t latch properly, so you might find Mutley in there once in a while. He likes to sleep next to the register. He’s a darling, but he sheds. You don’t mind pets, do you?”

Considering his vocation, he should hope not. “Um, no, ma’am.”

Her smile was back on high beam. “Of course you wouldn’t, you’re a veterinarian. I swear, sometimes I don’t think my memory is any better than Geneva’s, bless her heart. You’ll want to watch out for Can-Can—the cat—because she finds men irresistible and likes to lounge on the window seat in your room in the morning. It’s the eastern exposure, you know.”

His room. Right.

Until Charlotte came home.

“Naturally, Mutley will adore you,” the lady prattled on. “He’s a sweet soul, like most dogs. Still, enough can be enough, and if you forget to close your door at night, you might find him in bed with you. Can-Can, too.” Before Jax could wedge in a comment—he was still playing along, humoring the old woman—she continued. The merriment was gone, and she looked just plain sad. “They miss Geneva. And so do I.”

Jax opened his mouth to say something kind—he hadn’t decided what—but he missed his chance.

Millicent had brightened again. “Come to think of it,” she said, “Mutley could use a walk. Would you mind once you’ve got a minute? I worry about icy sidewalks at my age.”

Jax replied that he’d be glad to walk the dog. He looked down at their furry escort and smiled.

Mrs. Klozz stopped in front of a door and opened it, gesturing for Jax to step inside. The early riser’s bedroom, he assumed.

He went in. The room was big, the floor hardwood, and instead of the flowery wallpaper he might have expected in a house inhabited by women, there was just paint. No frilly curtains at the bay window, either, and the cushions on the built-in seat underneath were plain, too. The bed was antique, a brass four-poster, covered with a colorful homemade quilt. An old hope chest sat at the foot, and he saw a sturdy desk and chair on the far side of the room.

Jax could imagine living here, sleeping in this room, working at the desk, surveying the snowy landscape from the window seat.

This game, he thought, was getting out of hand. Charlotte would never agree to Millicent Klozz’s plan.

But he found himself wishing she would.

Once again Millicent seemed to be reading his mind. “Don’t you worry about a thing, young man,” she said quietly. “Charlotte is a sensible woman, and she will see reason.” A confident sigh followed. “She’ll be gone a while longer, though, handing out cookies and catching up with Geneva. In the meantime, would you mind taking Mutley out for that walk?”

Jax, still bewitched and bewildered, was grateful for the distraction. “No,” he said. “Not at all.”

They went downstairs, closely followed by Mutley. He was aging—at least ten, Jax figured—and obviously going deaf. The name suited him, since he was of no discernible breed. Millicent produced a leash, attaching it deftly to the dog’s collar.

“When you get back,” Millicent said, “you can have a look at that bathroom door.”

“Er—right.”

“Wonderful!” Millicent trilled. “Now, I have something in the oven, so please excuse me. I don’t want it to burn. It’s for the church bake sale.”

Mutley was waiting eagerly, tail sweeping back and forth.

Jax smiled and bent to ruffle the dog’s ears. “I guess we’re out of here,” he said.

Mutley all but dragged Jax to the front door. There was some terrier in the little guy, he decided. Maybe some spaniel. Could be some border collie in there, too. He was probably too small to be part Airedale...

Jax was like that. He analyzed.

By then, Mutley was definitely ready to roll; he was high-jumping at the door.

“Whoa, slow down,” Jax said with a grin. Good thing he’d never gotten around to taking off his coat. “The great out of doors isn’t going anywhere, buddy.”

It was snowing again, not blizzard-style like last night, but in fat, showy flakes, drifting lazily from a heavy sky.

It all looked perfect. Too perfect.

For a short while, though, he could pretend that walking Mutley was his job. Ditto, fixing the latch on the upstairs bathroom door.

Yep. He could do that.

That and a whole lot more, if Charlotte gave him half a chance.

What he had to do now was relax, trust, let things unfold.

Easier said than done. After all, he’d made a huge emotional investment, moving to Mustang Creek, pretty much staking the rest of his life on a relationship that might be one-sided.

Still, he thought, watching Mutley trot through the snow at the end of his leash, it hadn’t seemed one-sided last night. He was hardly a player, but he knew when a woman was thinking about sex, especially when that woman was Charlie. She’d been...well, thinking.

There was a chance, a good one. If he’d believed there wasn’t, he wouldn’t be here, walking Charlotte’s aunt’s dog through mountains of snow. Wouldn’t be looking forward to starting the new job, finding a place to live, any of that.

There he went, analyzing again.

Time to shake it off. “So what do you think, Mut? Am I wrong? Stupid? A stalker?”

The dog didn’t even look at him, just pitched his ears forward, sniffed the sidewalk and wagged his tail.

No help there.

He was on a conversational roll, though, so he went right on talking. “Let me ask you something else. What should I get her as a gift? Charlotte, I mean.”

Mutley turned, spotted a dog across the street and tried to make a break for it, barking excitedly.

Jax had to laugh. The other dog looked like a beagle mix to him.

A sign?

Okay, part of his shopping list was done.

Charlotte was getting a puppy for Christmas.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE FIRST THING Charlotte saw when she got back to the house was Jax’s truck parked at the curb.

Now, that was interesting.

Charlotte pulled into the driveway and marched up the steps. She’d forgotten her phone, unheard of for a businesswoman, especially one who worked in advertising. Or used to. She acknowledged grudgingly that if he’d called, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. Usually that phone was her constant companion; she’d carried it everywhere for the past seven years.

Strange how she’d left the thing behind and never missed it. At least, not until she’d decided to call and ask Millicent if she needed anything from the store.

There was a certain freedom in her new circumstances and she knew that, but she mustn’t lose perspective. She’d just arrived, and there was a lot of important stuff on her personal agenda.

Now was probably not the best time to embark on a relationship with an all-too-attractive veterinarian. She needed to get the house in order; she needed to get her life in order, look after her aunt and Mutley and Can-Can, too.

She got out of her rental car—which needed to be returned and replaced with a vehicle of her own. As she did, she heard that familiar woof and turned around to look. What was Millicent thinking, going out with the dog when the sidewalks were still icy in some places and totally impassible in others? She could break a hip, for heaven’s sake!

Only it wasn’t Mrs. Klozz.

No, it was Jax, coming her way.

Mutley was with him, straining at his leash, wagging his tail in welcome, eyes luminous with joy at the sight of Charlotte, as if she’d been gone for years, not an hour and a half. Jax’s boots crunched the snow, and the hint of a smile curved his lips. He drawled in what he must imagine was a cowboy accent, “Howdy, Miz Morgan. Shore is a fine day, ain’t it?”

It was, actually, now that the blizzard had passed, replaced by a gentle snowfall.

The mountains were gorgeous in their glistening blanket of white against the softened sky—a sky that would be the same piercing shade of blue as Jax’s eyes, once the clouds parted.

She wished she hadn’t thought of that but, when it came to Dr. Locke, her mind, normally so well organized and reasonable, tended to run wild.

“Um, yes, it is.” She frowned. Why was he here? “Did I leave something at the hotel?”

“No.” He leaned down and caught the dog by the collar just in time to keep Mutley from flinging himself at Charlotte in his exuberance and covering her in slushy paw prints. When he straightened, Jax asked seriously, “How was your aunt?”

“Fine.” Charlotte eyed him suspiciously. “It’s nice of you to walk Mutley, but what are you doing here?”

“Can we discuss this inside?” he asked. “The storm of the century might be over, but it’s still pretty chilly out here.”

The expression on Jax’s handsome face was a touch too innocent, Charlotte felt as she opened the door moments later, but he had a point. As festive as that feathery snowfall was, the temperature was probably in the single digits.

Besides, he’d been a total gentleman the night before, hadn’t he? And now he’d taken Mutley for a much-needed walk. It wasn’t his fault, after all, that she was overly susceptible to his smile.

The least she could do was be courteous.

As they stepped inside, into the warmth and the enticing aromas of whatever was baking in the oven or cooling on the kitchen counter, or both, Charlotte’s thoughts jumped the curb again.

What would’ve happened if he’d had a condom?

Nothing, she told herself firmly.

Liar. You were tempted. You would’ve given in and you know it.

Mrs. Klozz was belting out a rendition of “Jingle Bells” from the kitchen, and the cheery sound was comforting. Charlotte couldn’t imagine walking into the house and finding it empty and quiet, like her former apartment back in the city.

Jax bent and unhooked Mutley’s collar and then hung the leash in exactly the right spot before unzipping his jacket. “Can I take your coat?”

Considering it was her house, Charlotte reflected, she should probably be the one offering to take his coat, but he’d already hung it on the antique coat tree. He seemed awfully...well, at home.

Not surprising, really. It was almost Christmas, and there was magic in the air. The house was cozy, despite its size; it seemed to enfold visitors, make them feel welcome.

Naturally, Jax was comfortable here. Everyone was.

He collected her coat as she unwound her knitted scarf, and he automatically took that from her, draping it over the hook that held her coat. “Thanks,” she said, a little awkwardly. “Can I get you something to drink before you explain why you’re here?”

There. She could be polite, too, and still get her point across.

He smiled, very much at ease. “Mrs. Klozz was making a fresh pot of coffee before Mutley and I took our walk. Let’s go sit in the kitchen. That’s the most beautiful trestle-style table I’ve ever seen, by the way.”

Charlotte blinked. Was she having an out-of-body experience or something?

Mutley might be deaf when it suited him, but he heard the word kitchen and trotted off in that direction to check on his bowl. Jax looked at her expectantly. She muttered, “I agree about the table.” She raised one eyebrow. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough for the grand tour. This is a great old house. Please tell me it always smells this good in here.”

That seemed an odd thing to say. The smell was fabulous, yes, but Jax was merely passing through. Why should he care about always? “I... Well... She likes to bake, apparently.”

He gestured, then bowed slightly. “After you.”

Gracious of him. Charlotte walked into the kitchen and not surprisingly, there was a plate of sugar cookies on the table, decorated with red and green icing, and what looked like banana muffins. Also a plate of chicken-salad sandwiches on homemade bread. Plus a carafe, two coffee cups, two plates, a small creamer and a sugar bowl...

Mrs. Klozz had switched her personal playlist from “Jingle Bells” to “Silent Night,” but stopped in midrefrain when they entered the room. “Oh, you’re back, I see, both of you. How was my dear Geneva?”

“Good. Much better than I expected her to be.” Charlotte wondered if this woman was more wizard than sweet little old lady. “They all said thank-you for the cookies.”

“Oh, my pleasure. Now sit down and help yourselves. I have the shameful habit of tasting everything as I cook, so you’ll rarely find me sitting down to a meal.”

Jax was invited to lunch. She wasn’t surprised, since Millicent seemed that sort of person, but there was an undertone she didn’t understand. Something was afoot.

Earlier, Mrs. Klozz had referred to Jax as Charlotte’s young man. How did she even know that?

Through Geneva, she assumed. Charlotte hadn’t given her aunt the details about their relationship; all she’d mentioned was that she’d met someone and they’d clicked immediately, but their lives were headed in different directions.

That didn’t explain how Mrs. Klozz had known Jax was in Mustang Creek.

Millicent had the good grace to blush slightly. “I invited him over,” she confessed. “You see, he called your cell phone, and I was worried it might be important, so I tried to answer, but I wasn’t fast enough. Then I started punching buttons, and lo and behold, that cunning little device just called him right back. He picked up and, well, here he is.”

Charlotte tilted her head to one side, wondering exactly where she’d lost track of the conversation.

“Okay,” she said.

“Such a modern world,” Mrs. Klozz went on, still talking about the phone. “I don’t mind technology, you understand, but change is always a challenge, especially for an older person. By some miracle, I managed.”

Charlotte was finding out for herself that change was a challenge, and she had the distinct impression that this sweet old lady could manage anything she wanted to. At least it explained why Jax was there.

Sort of.

Jax was focused on the food. “This looks fantastic.”

He was right; it did.

“The way to a man’s heart.” Mrs. Klozz glowed, either heedless of the timeworn cliché she’d uttered or not caring. Before meeting Millicent, Charlotte hadn’t been aware that people could actually glow, but here was proof.

Not standing on ceremony, Jax picked up the plate of sandwiches and offered it to her. “Ladies first.”

* * *

JAX KNEW HE’D have to come clean, and quickly, because Charlotte was intuitive; she’d guess that something was up. If she didn’t want him there—and he was sure she wouldn’t—he’d go dislodge Rufus and sleep on Nate’s old couch. The thought overwhelmed him with loneliness. And the old house really was homey.

He had to wonder what Charlotte was going to do with a place like this. She was used to sleek apartments, cabs and limos and subways. While the small-town girl with the crocheted hat might thrive living within these walls, he wasn’t so sure about Charlotte’s alter ego, the no-nonsense city woman. And right now he hadn’t figured out which Charlotte he was dealing with.

At Millicent’s urging, they took their places at the table.

In the next moment, Mrs. Klozz bustled off to some other part of the house, presumably to give them some time alone.

Charlotte immediately tucked into a sandwich. Well, that answered one question anyway. “I can’t believe how good this is.” Between bites, she dropped her voice and whispered to Jax, “She can’t stay. I’ll gain a thousand pounds.”

Jax smiled at the picture that arose in his mind. “I doubt that,” he said. “A hundred pounds, maybe. But a thousand?”

Charlotte was still fretful. “This is just too delicious.”

Jax agreed. “Best I’ve ever had.”

City Charlotte was back, as quickly as that. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”

“I...well... I’ve been invited to live here.”

For a few seconds, he really thought Charlotte was choking. He was this close to performing the Heimlich maneuver.

Then she recovered. “Oh, you mean in Mustang Creek. You’re joining Doc Cameron’s practice.” She hesitated and reached for a second sandwich.

“Well, it’s more than that,” he said solemnly. Might as well get this over with. “I called earlier, as Mrs. Klozz mentioned, to ask you where I should look for a place since you’re familiar with Mustang Creek. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, the woman was showing me the east bedroom, apparently convinced I’d be moving in right away. She even came up with a few odd jobs for me to do, starting with walking Mutley.”

“Here?” Charlotte paused midbite, her green eyes wide. “You mean, here here? In this house?”

This was how he’d pictured the conversation going, but it was little comfort. Against all reason, he’d already started thinking of the place as home. When had that happened?

“I wouldn’t be around much,” he heard himself say. “I’m good at fixing things. And I do need a place to stay, as I said before.” He studied Charlotte’s face; she seemed astonished, though not affronted. “But it wasn’t my idea, Charlie. I swear.”

“You can’t sleep down the hall from me.” She wasn’t looking at him; she seemed to be lost in thought.

He should have shut up, he knew that, but he couldn’t refrain from trying to make his case. “Charlie, I’m not going to ravish you, all right? Remember last night? We were in the same room and I didn’t so much as touch you, did I?”

Her response couldn’t have surprised him—or delighted him—more. “I’m not worried that you’ll ravish me, Jax. I’m worried I’ll ravish you.”

The instant the words were out of Charlotte’s mouth, she regretted them. She reddened, obviously horrified. She glared at him, but he could tell she was bluffing. “Forget I said that,” she ordered.

Never.

Things were already improving.

“I’ll lock my door,” he promised, taking a banana muffin. He was very careful not to smile, although he wanted to. God, how he wanted to. He cleared his throat and tried to look earnest. “Seriously, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ll find a room or apartment somewhere, and in the meantime... I’ve slept in worse places than Nate’s couch.”

Right on cue, Mutley came over and laid his head on Charlie’s leg, gazing up at her. She said curtly, “Mut, don’t take his side. Hasn’t anybody told you that dogs are supposed to be loyal?”

Jax sensed victory. “He loves you, that’s all,” he said in the animal’s defense.

And so do I.

“It’s a male conspiracy to make me say yes.”

Just before Jax took a bite out of a muffin, he asked hopefully, “Is it working?”

“Maybe. I’m fond of Mutley. He’s a hard guy to refuse.”

“Well, then, there you go.”

“Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have some money coming in.”

Jax allowed himself a grin. “I’ll pay double the going rate,” he said.

“Don’t push it,” Charlie warned. Then she sighed again. “If Mrs. Klozz is behind this, and of course she is, I might as well go with the flow. I’m powerless to resist.”

He felt the same way.

Jax took his time, using his napkin to wipe his mouth as an excuse not to respond immediately. “Let’s take this slowly. I’d appreciate the hospitality, at least for tonight, because the alternative is either the hotel—if they have a room available—or bedding down on Nate’s couch. With his bloodhound, Rufus by name. I’m as fond of bloodhounds as the next guy, but they’re heavy and they drool a lot. A bed here would certainly be preferable.”