Burke's Christmas Surprise

She stopped suddenly in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder, bravely meeting his eyes. Her lips trembled. Although she didn’t smile, a look passed between them. He swallowed, but it only made him aware of the pulsing sensation in his throat and the growing pressure much lower.

Burke could feel all eyes on him, and he knew that this wasn’t the time or the place to say what he’d come here to say. Meeting her serious expression with a serious expression of his own, he said, “We’ll talk later.”

Her throat convulsed on a swallow. Neither nodding nor shaking her head, she allowed the other women to lead her away.

“For a doctor, you have lousy timing.”

Burke glanced at the man who had spoken. Wes Stryker looked the way a person would expect an ex-rodeo champion to look, all cheekbones and squint lines and stiff joints, rugged and haggard at the same time. Burke wondered if Lily was in love with the man. While he was at it, he wondered if it was possible that she was still in love with him. Releasing a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, Burke squared off opposite the other man. “Maybe, but I’m told I have a good bedside manner.”

Stryker’s eyes narrowed. “I’m more concerned about your in-bed manner.”

“Sorry. I don’t kiss and tell.”

The other man’s eyebrows rose slightly, and Burke sensed a grudging respect in Wes Stryker’s expression.

“You gonna step aside, Wes,” somebody called from behind, “and let the new doctor run roughshod over you?”

Wes shook his head. “It looks like Boomer was right. My competin’ days aren’t over after all.”

Burke accepted the challenge, along with the hand Wes held out to him. Wes’s knuckles were bony, his palm callused, his grip bordering on painful. Squaring his jaw, Burke squeezed the other man’s hand in return.

Wes grunted. “May the best man win.”

Burke nodded stiffly, tightening his own grip. “Believe me,” he said, wondering whose bones would crack first, “I intend to.”

Bets were made among the other men. The old biddy who’d helped Lily earlier insisted that this was exactly the kind of thing the Ladies Aid Society had been afraid would happen. A few old-timers grumbled that folks needed a little fun and excitement now and then, and the meeting was finally adjourned. Burke and Wes might have gone on shaking hands all night if Doc Masey and another old man with white whiskers and tattered suspenders hadn’t broken them up.

The man on the right snapped one suspender and rocked back on the heels of worn cowboy boots. “Name’s Cletus McCully. Looks like you and Wes are evenly matched. That’s gonna make things more interesting, that’s for sure. Tell us, boy, where are you from?”

Refusing to give in to the impulse to cradle his right hand in his left one, Burke met the old codger’s inquisitive stare. “I grew up in northern Washington. My practice was in Seattle.”

“Ah, you must have met our Louetta when she went with her mother to that cancer research hospital last year. Didn’t do much good. Opal died right on schedule. She raised Louetta by herself, you know.”

No, Burke hadn’t known. And that wasn’t where he’d met Louetta. Since Cletus McCully didn’t need to know that, Burke held the old man’s piercing stare a few seconds longer, then strode out to the sidewalk with the country doctor.

The snowflakes were getting bigger, the air colder. Several men jaywalked across the street and disappeared inside what appeared to be the town’s only bar. Burke glanced up at the lighted window in the small apartment over the diner.

Following the course of Burke’s gaze, Doc Masey said, “Looks like you have more reasons than one for taking this job.”

Burke nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

The ensuing silence didn’t deter Doc Masey in the least. “No matter what the boys say, I don’t like the looks of this. It has trouble written all over it. Two men. One woman. Nope. Don’t like the looks of it one bit.”

“She’s not just any woman,” Burke said quietly.

“You love her.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Burke found himself nodding anyway. “Until I met her, I didn’t know I was capable. But yes, I love her. I have since the day I met her.”

“There’ll be hell to pay if you hurt her.”

Inhaling a deep breath of cold November air, Burke could hardly blame the old doctor for the warning. Miles Masey wasn’t stupid. Everyone had seen how Lily had reacted to Burke’s arrival. A person didn’t faint for no reason. Although they obviously didn’t know the circumstances, Burke had already hurt her. Oh, he’d had good reasons. The question was, would she be able to forgive him?

Tucking his chin inside the collar of his black overcoat, he accepted the key from Doc Masey’s outstretched hand and turned down the old man’s offer to escort him to his new residence. He was perfectly capable of getting settled into his new place by himself. Once he was settled, he would find Lily, or Louetta, or whatever folks around here called her. And he would try to explain.

Chapter Two

“Were those footsteps I heard on the stairs?”

Louetta pushed the cool cloth off her forehead and swung her feet over the side of her flowered sofa. Sitting up, she pretended not to notice the looks Lisa McCully and Melody and Jillian Carson cast one another.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Melody said, taking her turn checking the stairs.

“Me, neither,” Lisa agreed, trying to find a comfortable position on the rocking chair across the room.

Jillian simply smiled encouragingly at Louetta, who dropped her face into her hands in defeat. In her defense, there had been footsteps on the stairs when Isabell, Doc Masey and a few of the members of the Ladies Aid Society had come up to check on her. The last visitor had left more than an hour ago, and Louetta was beginning to worry she was hearing things.

“Goodness gracious, I’m a wreck. Worse, I’m probably the talk of the town.”

“Everyone’s the talk of Jasper Gulch,” Melody said, toying with a strand of shoulder-length blond hair as she dropped onto a cushion on the floor. “Folks still talk about the time I dressed up in platform shoes, a skirt up to here and a shirt down to there to teach Clayt a lesson.”

Brown eyes flashing, Lisa declared, “And after word got out that Wyatt and I were trying to have a baby, folks stopped me on the street to ask if I was pregnant yet. You wouldn’t believe some of the advice I got. Why, Mertyl Gentry, of all people, told me to try standing on my head in a corner, after, well, you get the picture.”

Jillian Carson brushed her wispy red hair off her forehead and leaned ahead in her chair. “Is that how junior here came about?”

Laughing, Lisa said, “Junior here came to be because of her daddy’s philosophy. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.’”

Even Louetta forgot about her discomfiture long enough to laugh at that one. Some people took friendships for granted. Not her. Until Jillian and Lisa had moved to Jasper Gulch, Louetta’s only friends had been the members of the Ladies Aid Society, women who were closer to her mother’s age than hers. Although Melody had been three or four years behind Louetta in school, she was one of the few people in town who had always made it a point to give Louetta more than a nod in passing. Still, they hadn’t become good friends until a few years ago when Louetta had gotten up her courage and had taken that first painful step out of her shell.

Lisa, Melody and Jillian had all brought laughter into Louetta’s life, but Melody was the one Louetta felt closest to. The two of them had grown up right here in a town chock-full of rugged cowboys and ranchers. And the two of them had been overlooked by each and every one of those cowboys and ranchers for years. Melody had finally snagged the man she’d been in love with all her life. Now she and Clayt Carson had eleven-year-old Haley, and two little boys, twenty-two-month-old Jordan and newborn Slade.

When Louetta had first decided it was up to her to fill the lonely gaps in her own life, she’d been convinced that a few wonderful friends was the most she could hope for. It was certainly more than she’d dreamed she’d have. And then Burke had driven into town. She’d heard stories and whispers about a kind of magic that could sweep a woman right off her feet when the right man came along. Burke had swept into her apartment to use her phone. To this day she couldn’t remember how she’d gone from fixing a pot of tea to helping him out of his clothes. Lord, she still blushed when she thought of how totally out of character her behavior had been.

There hadn’t been a doubt in her mind that she’d fallen in love. At the time, she’d thought he’d felt the same....

“Earth to Louetta.”

“She’s either thinking about a man or—”

“Sex. She’s thinking about sex.”

Once Louetta’s vision cleared, the expressions on her friends’ faces were enough to send a blush to her cheeks. Melody, Jillian and Lisa were a godsend. No doubt about that. At the moment they were all far too perceptive for her peace of mind.

“Were those footsteps I heard on the stairs?” Louetta asked again, straining to hear.

After Lisa had taken her turn checking, Louetta said, “I’m really sorry about this. And I appreciate everything the three of you have done. I’m fine now, and I think you should go home to your husbands and—” she looked at Melody and Jillian “—your children.”

After ten minutes’ worth of reassurances from Louetta that she was really and truly over her fainting spell, the other three women finally left. Alone, Louetta wandered through the tiny apartment she’d been living in these past three years. Tilting the blinds, she peered down at Main Street. A handful of cars were parked in front of the Crazy Horse Saloon across the street, but not a soul was in sight.

Although the time of year had been different, the street had looked this way that night two and a half years ago, too. Arms folded at her waist, Louetta had been looking out the window when she’d noticed a man walking down the middle of the street. His gait was different from that of the ranchers and cowboys who lived around here. And yet, as she’d opened the window and leaned out, fear hadn’t crossed her mind.

“Can I help you?” she’d called.

He’d stopped and glanced around, slowly raising his head. Dressed in dark clothes, a long black coat and city shoes, his tall, broad-shouldered frame had cast a herculean shadow.

“I seem to have run out of gas near the village limits,” he’d said, the wind ruffling through his dark hair.

Something must have been in the air, or in his eyes, because suddenly Louetta had felt like Rapunzel or some other beautiful fairy-tale princess. “I don’t own a car, but I could go back to the wedding reception being held in the town hall and ask one of the local men to give you a lift and a can of gas if you’re sure that’s what’s wrong.”

He’d shrugged sheepishly, and had taken a few steps closer. Lowering his voice as if revealing a secret, he’d said, “I know men are supposed to be mechanically inclined, but I really hate engines. Could you just point me in the direction of the nearest gas station?”

Butterflies had fluttered in Louetta’s stomach. Not just a few, but an entire flock of them. It made her bold and daring and giddy. “Nothing’s open this time of night,” she’d answered. “But you can use my phone if you want to call a wrecker in Pierre.”

She’d directed him around to the back, and she’d let him in, taking the steps to her apartment ahead of him. She’d expected there to be long, tension-filled stretches of silence. After all, she was Louetta Graham, the shiest woman on the planet. But the smile he’d slanted her way had broken through her horrible timidness, and the butterflies in her stomach had moved over to make room for another sensation entirely. Some people would have called it attraction. She’d called it magic.

It had to be magic. It was the only explanation she’d been able to come up with for the way she’d been able to talk to him, and laugh with him, and make love with him. She’d fallen in love that night. There was no doubt about that. Her doubts had come later, when he’d failed to return.

She’d believed him when he’d promised to come back as soon as he’d taken care of business back home. “Two months, no more,” he’d whispered huskily, lingering over his goodbye kiss.

Ah, yes, she’d believed him, heart and soul. She’d waited patiently those two months, but as the days had turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, her heart had broken and her dreams had been lost.

She’d been naive for a thirty-three-year-old woman, and yet, after that one night with Burke, she’d never felt more like a woman in her life. A searing loneliness stabbed at her. She hadn’t felt that way again in all the time he’d been gone.

Staring at the lighted window of the Crazy Horse Saloon across the street, Louetta knew that seeing Burke again was what had brought so many dark emotions back to the surface. She hadn’t been able to help the tiny flicker of hope that had sprung to life when he’d said they would talk later. That had been three hours ago. He wasn’t going to come. When would she learn?

She had learned, she told herself. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been two and a half years ago. Thank heavens. Day by day, she’d replaced her quiet hopelessness with determination. Bit by bit, she’d realized she liked the new Louetta Graham. She might always be shy, but she was less introverted. And she’d finally struck out on her own. She’d purchased the diner and her apartment. She was slowly becoming an active member of the community. She had friends and she had goals. Some were far-reaching. Others pertained to today.

No more blushing every time she remembered how it had felt to be in Burke’s arms.

No more reliving every detail of the night they’d met.

No more silly daydreams about what might have been.

No more waiting on pins and needles and listening for footsteps on the stairs.

“Hello, Lily.”

She spun around, the hand that had flown to her throat slowly falling to her side. Burke stood in her doorway, the light in the hallway throwing his shadow into the room. She closed her eyes. When he was still there when she opened them again, she willed her heart to settle back into its rightful place. Darn him for unraveling so many of her vows in the blink of an eye. Darn him, dam him, darn him.

“May I come in?”

She found herself nodding, but she couldn’t force any words past the knot in her throat.

“The place looks good,” he said, folding his overcoat over the back of a chair. “Different. It suits you better now.”

Darn him, dam him, dam him for saying the one thing in all the world that could soften her resolve. She’d been living in this apartment for three years, but she’d purchased it only a year ago, after Melody had learned that she and Clayt were expecting a second child close on the heels of their first. Louetta had welcomed the opportunity to buy the diner, using the money her dear mother had left her after she’d died. At first, painting and wallpapering had been something to do to fill Louetta’s time now that her mother was gone. Nobody had been more surprised than Louetta when she’d discovered she had a flair for decorating. And nobody was more proud of their home.

“How are you feeling?”

He was probably referring to her fainting episode, but at the moment she didn’t care. “Fine, and you? I mean, you look pretty good for somebody who just woke up from a coma or was released from prison in some third-world country.”

He nodded stiffly. “I deserved that. I thought about calling. Writing. I’m afraid it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”

Louetta held very still, grappling with her conscience. Asking him to sit down would have been the polite thing to do. The old Louetta had been nothing if not polite. Folding the afghan Lisa had used earlier, Louetta reminded herself that the old Louetta was gone. Thank God. And although few people could put their finger on exactly what had changed, she was aware of the differences.

“Yes, well, the easy way isn’t always the right way,” she said stoically.

He’d strolled to the other side of the room, where a shelf held several photographs. He turned slowly, and she couldn’t help noticing how easily he moved. There was an air of efficiency about him. It was there in the way he shortened the distance between them, in the way he spoke, in the way he looked at her.

“No matter what you think, I didn’t take the easy way out two years ago.” He started to continue, stopped and tried again. “I know this is awkward,” he said quietly.

She nodded again. Strangely, there hadn’t been any awkwardness between them the first time they’d met. Of course, two and a half years of soul-searching, of waiting and hoping and not knowing hadn’t been between them then.

“What are you doing here, Burke?”

Burke opened his mouth to speak, but his gaze flicked over her, and he forgot what he was going to say. She’d been wearing a simple cotton dress, prim and proper in every way, the first time they’d met. Although the skirt and sweater she was wearing tonight weren’t blatantly sexy, they fit her body perfectly, accentuating instead of hiding. “You’re as pretty as a picture.”

For a moment he thought she was going to smile. Instead, she tucked a wavy strand of hair behind her ear and made a disparaging sound. “You and Wes could both use a lesson in originality.”

For a moment, Burke’s brow furrowed. But then he noticed the poinsettia plant sitting on the low table in front of him, and understanding dawned. “Stryker’s already sent you flowers?”

She shrugged. “It has all the markings of the Crazy Horse crowd.”

“Mind if I read the card?”

“Be my guest.”

It took Burke longer to reach for the card than it did to read the poem written in a man’s messy scrawl. “Roses are red, violets are like paint. I got you these flowers, but a poet I ain’t.”

Burke made a derisive sound. “You’re considering marrying a man who writes poetry like that?”

Louetta’s head came up, vexation flashing in her eyes. “Wes is a rodeo rider, not a writer.”

Shaking his head, Burke couldn’t help remembering the summer his stepbrother had spent reciting “There Once Was a Man from Oklahoma.” Glancing at the card, he said, “I suppose it contains a certain sincerity.”

“Wes Stryker is very sincere.”

Burke didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. He’d come here to try to explain. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Lily’s relationship with another man.

But Lily was pacing on the other side of the room, talking as she went. “Wes was one of the few people who didn’t tease the living daylights out of me when we were kids. He always had an easygoing smile and a kind disposition.”

“How long have you and Stryker been an item?”

“I’ve been seeing him for several weeks now.”

“Do you love him?” Burke caught a whiff of her perfume, and the question he wanted to ask—Do you love me?—went unsaid.

“That’s none of your business, Burke.”

He was across the room in a flash, the coffee table with its scraggly red plant and hand-written card the only thing separating them. “Maybe not,” he said, his voice deceptively low. “That doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Have you ever awakened him in the middle of the night with a whisper and a strategically placed kiss?”

Everything inside Louetta went perfectly still. Her cheeks were probably flaming. For once, she didn’t care. Darn him for reminding her of how wanton she’d been that night. Darn him for stretching her emotions tighter with every passing second. Darn him for making her aware of a warming sensation low in her belly. Darn him, darn him, dam him.

“This may come as a surprise to you,” she said, turning her back to Burke as she stared unseeing out the window. “But I don’t hop into bed with every man who leaves a five-dollar tip.”

“I never said you did, dammit.”

She turned slowly, her skirt swishing around her knees, a lock of hair falling onto her forehead. There was a quiver in her fingertips as she smoothed the tresses out of her eyes. She’s changed, Burke thought. Her voice was as soft as always, her eyes the same gray he remembered. The blame in them, however, was brand-new.

He’d hurt her. And she’d found him guilty without hearing his explanation, his reasons. He didn’t really blame her. Two and a half years was a long time. No one knew that better than he did.

There was no excuse for the need running through him, no excuse for the determination to change her mind. No excuse except he wanted her. No matter what she thought, what had happened between them hadn’t been all his doing. Two and a half years ago she’d changed his plans for the evening with one heart-stopping smile. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to see her smile at him like that again.

“Would you tell me something?” he asked.

It probably took a lot of courage to meet his gaze the way she did. It required a lot of strength on his part to keep his feet planted where they were. “Would you have said yes to Stryker’s proposal if I hadn’t shown up tonight?”

Her shoulders stiffened, her back straightened. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but I was thinking about telling Wes ‘maybe.’ He would have made a joke out of that in front of everyone. He’s very patient, and very funny.” She stopped, gazing into the distance. “And very honest. I don’t believe he’s ever told a real lie.”

Burke felt something he didn’t much like uncoil deep inside him. Jealousy, anger and finally, grim acceptance. “Sounds like a hell of a guy,” he declared. “Lily.”

Reaching for his coat, he turned on his heel.

The door closed just short of a slam, Burke’s footsteps on the stairs echoing through Louetta’s small apartment. Lowering her hands from her cheeks, she stared at the door, wondering how she could have failed to hear the thud of footsteps when Burke had arrived.

Up until the moment he’d uttered that last word, she’d thought the meeting was going quite well, all things considered. The conversation may have been a little stilted, but at least she’d kept from blurting out how she’d waited for him during those first months when she’d believed he would return, how she’d died a little more inside with every passing week. She’d kept her feelings inside, remaining strong throughout the entire conversation.

And then he’d gone and called her Lily.

Her feet carried her to the window as if they had a mind of their own. She didn’t want to watch Burke walk away, but she couldn’t help herself. She remembered how he’d looked up at her from the middle of the street that long-ago April night. Tonight he used the sidewalk, his strides long and powerful. He’d put on his coat, but he hadn’t bothered to button it, the wind billowing the dark fabric behind him. Tonight he didn’t look back.

“Lily, ”she’d whispered the night they’d met. “My name is Lily Graham.”

He’d shaken her hand, his smile one of wonder, his touch simple, natural, undemanding and just firm enough to let her know he was glad to be with her. Simple or not, it had started a fire in her, and had caused her to do and say things she’d never done and said before.

She would never forget how deep his voice had dipped when he’d told her the name suited her. She would never forget how it had sounded when he’d murmured it in the dark of night and in the wee hours of the morning.

Lily hadn’t been a painfully shy woman who’d been voted “the girl most likely not to” by the boys in her graduating class. They’d thought it was funny, but it had hurt, just as a thousand other small things had hurt. Her shyness had been a handicap most of her life, one that Louetta had learned to endure, just as she’d learned to hold her head high. Lily had been all woman, sure of herself and her rightful place in the universe.

Oh, Burke. Why did you have to come back and remind me of everything I’ve been missing all these years?