Holiday Serenade, The (3 page)

“So, how’s it looking downtown these days?” he asked. “I was thinking about taking Abbie ice skating.”

“It’s like Happy Town down there, minus Santa and the elves,” Jane said, a terse edge in her voice.

Since Rhett knew she was from a small town herself—and had wanted to get as far from her dysfunctional childhood as possible—he patted her hand. “Try and look for the charm. The people here are real nice.”

“Yes, they are,” Elizabeth agreed, propping her boots onto the coffee table. “Jane is only cranky because she’s got a thing for Arthur Hale’s great nephew, Matthew, who’s moving here to open a law practice. He’s been looking for a place to live on the weekends. She can’t stand lawyers on principal after her dad, so she’s ticked off that she’s attracted to one.”

Right. Her dad was the kind of ambition–hungry, asshole type who made TV legal dramas popular. “I’ve heard Matthew’s moving here from Denver,” Rhett commented. “With his brother, Andy, right?”

Arthur had bragged about it at their weekly poker night, announcing that the younger generation was finally getting a lick of sense and ditching city living to move back to Dare Valley, just like his granddaughter, Meredith, had done over a year ago.

“Someone needs to shut her mouth, Eliz–a–beth, or I’ll dish on you,” Jane said, pulling a handful of candy canes from her purse and dropping them on the coffee table. She ripped the wrapper off one and started sucking it in a way that would tear Arthur’s nephew in two.

“Girls, girls. I tell you, all I hear is bicker, bicker, bicker.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Jane joked half–heartedly. “So let’s talk about the tourney.”

And they did, each one outlining their files on the competition. Since most of the high rollers announced their tournament appearances on social media, Rhett didn’t have to press Mac for a guest list. He didn’t like to trade on their friendship, except when it came to Abbie.

His mind wandered. Would she agree to be with him, marry him if he got rid of the poker babes? Part of him wasn’t sure. The other part was a bit pissed that she was insisting he ditch the best damn act in the business, especially when it wasn’t hurting anyone. Dustin knew the ladies dressed for show, even though he didn’t mind looking at them. Heck, the kid was a teenager, raging on hormones.

Abbie was only using Jane and Elizabeth as an excuse to stop from doing what she really wanted.

She loved him.

He’d literally bet his life on it by moving here.

Maybe it was time for him to call her bluff.

“What would y’all say if I changed your job descriptions?” he suddenly interrupted, reaching for one of the candy canes Jane had set on the coffee table.

“To
what?”
Jane asked, ever suspicious, something he’d always liked about her.

Elizabeth sauntered over to the mini fridge and grabbed a Diet Coke. “This is about Abbie, isn’t it?”

“What else?” he asked with a gusty sigh.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re wasting your time here?” Jane asked. “I mean, what if she doesn’t agree to be with you, Rhett? I hate watching her break your heart like this.”

Jane had a heart of gold. He wished Abbie knew her like he did, but he’d never introduced the two of them. She was just about as likely to get chummy with his poker babes as she was to wear sequins for him, something he kinda wanted to see someday. Preferably red sequins.

“It’s
my
heart,” he told Jane. “But thank you kindly for the thought. Now, seriously, what kind of act could we come up with that would be just as eccentric but more family friendly?”

“You could get a dog like Jane,” Elizabeth said. “That’s what all the well adjusted people do around here, and you can get pretty eccentric with your pets. I saw someone walking their schnauzer on Main Street all dressed up like a reindeer. With the red nose and antlers and everything.”

That poor dog
, Rhett thought.

“Rufus isn’t like that. He’s a chocolate lab.” Jane stopped sucking her candy cane and crunched what was left of it.

Rhett rubbed his chin. “You could be my dog walker, Jane, and Elizabeth, you could be my assistant or publicist or something. You already do most of the social media stuff anyway.”

Elizabeth set her soft drink aside. “Let me tell you, I wouldn’t miss the heels. I consider myself a lucky woman to have never taken a swan dive in those six–inch pumps.”

“My physical therapist said they’re terrible for my feet,” Jane added.

“And all the makeup clogs my pores,” Elizabeth said.

“Don’t even get me started about the eye infection I got from the fake eyelashes,” Mary continued.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Rhett joked, even though he sympathized. He’d heard any number of their horror stories over the years, and seeing them soak their feet in his hot tub after a long day of standing by his side at the tables was a regular occurrence. “You work hard for your money.”

Elizabeth starting singing the song, making them all grin.

“We need to keep your image edgy, though,” Jane said when Elizabeth trailed off. “You’re pretty established now, so I think most hotels will let you in with your dog, especially if it’s part of the new act. They want the media attention and fan interest as much as we do.”

“A slight change to your image probably wouldn’t hurt your game now,” Elizabeth added. “Everyone knows you come prepared, even if your off–the–table antics are a bit unusual. We just need to find another way to captivate the audience. But you need to see what Abbie says. However much I hate those wigs and heels, there’s no use in messing with perfection if it isn’t going to change her mind.”

That’s what he was afraid of. “Right,” he agreed. “This is the ante I’ve been looking for. Research some eccentric dogs. A little one would be a good contrast to my enormous size. Maybe one of those Taco Bell dogs.”

Elizabeth—ever the daring one—snickered. Jane simply rolled her eyes.

“We can get you a man purse too. What about matching outfits? Or an itty bitty cowboy hat?” Elizabeth said, enough glee in her voice for him to know she was enjoying this.

He almost cringed. As a man’s man, he loved having two beautiful, sexy women hovering around him as he worked, but a small animal dressed like him in matching snakeskin attire? People might laugh…or think he was losing it. Poker players needed to know who the Alpha was at the table. He wasn’t sure this change would convey that.

“Okay, let’s mock it up and see what we think. Jane, since you know dogs, you can do that research.”

“She sure does,” Elizabeth snickered.

“Bitch,” her friend responded without much heat.

Rhett bit into another candy cane. They were everywhere this time of year, and as irresistible as holiday crack. His dentist was going to have a field day with him after all the sweets he’d consumed. “Elizabeth, find some celebrity’s eccentric publicist or assistant or something to model yourself after. We can change your look, and few will be the wiser.”

“Except for her figure. That won’t change,” Jane said with a sigh. “Now me?” She gestured toward her less than ample chest. “There’s another story.”

“Maybe my skin will finally clear up,” Elizabeth said. “And think of all the extra time we’ll have,
not
putting on the stage make–up. It takes forever to put that crap on.”

Rhett took another bite of his candy. “I say the same thing every morning when I do my face.”

They both snorted out a laugh.

“Okay, I think we have a plan. Thanks, girls. We’re done for today.”

They gathered up their files, and he led them out to the front porch.

“This will make our cover easier in town, too,” Jane said. “It isn’t always fun telling everyone we meet that we take reservations for the hotel.”

Mac was kind enough to help the poker babes maintain their cover. Jane and Elizabeth came and went to the hotel as normal employees and changed into their costumes in a special suite Rhett rented under an anonymous name. It had worked, so far.

“Okay, off with you both. And try and have some fun. You watch more poker games than I do. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” they agreed in union and took off in their SUVs, snow crunching under the tires.

The mountains were dotted with white, almost like they’d been topped with whipped cream. Deep inside, he had a sudden urge to pack up his skis and head out for some dangerous trails at The Grand Mountain Hotel’s newly renovated slopes.

So, he was going to try and go even more respectable, just like Abbie wanted. Who would have guessed? His friend, Rye, wouldn’t believe it. A year ago, Rhett wouldn’t have believed it either. Then he’d realized the depth of his love for Abbie and vowed to do whatever it took to fill the hole in his heart he’d walked around with since she’d dumped him.

Being part of this new extended family meant the world to him, but some days the bond felt like a button dangling from a thin piece of thread. He and Abbie needed a stronger piece of thread between them.

God, he hoped this new act would do the trick.

He was running out of ideas.

Chapter 3

R
hett’s chortling laughter was booming from the family room when Abbie came home, making her nerves stretch like bungee cords. So, he was here…again. Well, he pretty much came and went from their house as he pleased—after all, he was Mac’s best friend and Dustin saw him as an adopted uncle. But deep down, he always came for
her.
That General Patton thing again. He’d circle the embankment she was on, avoiding a direct approach until she was almost sure he wasn’t going to charge. And then he did.

While she waited for him to appear, she fiddled with the gingerbread house she was in the midst of decorating. Measured to within a millimeter of its life, the cookie walls had shrunk evenly. She was pretty happy about that since it made everything easier. She’d glued the three by three inch walls together a few hours ago onto the base cookie foundation. The foam padding she’d bought at the craft store had ensured that they’d set upright. Now that the frosting had dried, it was time to add the roof, a tricky business. When
that
frosting dried, she’d add the chimney. Assembling gingerbread houses was a testament to her patience and fearlessness. In cooking she had those traits. Life was another matter.

In the meantime, she arranged the decorations she was planning to use, everything from gumdrops to miniature candy canes. A candy Santa and reindeer would line the white, frosting–lined driveway. Then she’d add red and yellow frosting to the window frames and doors, alternating between colors for dramatic effect.

Dustin thought she had Christmas OCD. Well, he played World of Warcraft and Halo. She played Christmas.

Rhett wandered in, laughing with Dustin, their arms wrapped around each other like old pals. Dustin had loved Rhett since he was a kid, but now that she knew Rhett’s intentions, this proof of their camaraderie made her fist clench. She squeezed the gumdrops too hard and felt their sticky insides adhere to her hand. When she opened it, they looked like pulverized colored mushrooms. She hastily cleaned up with a wet paper towel.

“Looking pretty good there, Abbie,” Rhett drawled, taking a seat at the kitchen table where the gingerbread house was set up.

Of course, he wasn’t talking about the house…

“Yeah, Mom. The only problem is you need to change your gingerbread house rule and let us eat them.”

She arched her brow as her son leaned over her and swiped a gumdrop, one she hadn’t decimated. “After all of the hours I put into these,
no one
is eating them. Are we clear?” He’d eaten half of one when he was ten. She’d caught him with crumbs around his rosebud lips, the broken house in front of him. He’d gotten an awful tummy ache from the sugar overdose, so she hadn’t scolded him. Much.

“You’re the Grinch,” her son complained, reaching for one of the pecan sandies she’d set out on a plate.

“Ah, leave your mama alone,” Rhett chided, following Dustin’s lead and swiping a cookie. “She takes pride in her work, as she should. These houses are things of beauty. I’ve always loved seeing what new confections she’d whipped up when I visited y’all around Christmas.”

His eyes gleamed like the shiny gold wrapping she’d bought from her favorite online paper store. Gosh, she hadn’t unconsciously bought it because it reminded her of Rhett’s eyes, had she? Oh brother.

“Thank you, Rhett,” she managed to respond. “At least someone appreciates my efforts around here.”

Teenage sons sometimes didn’t. Hers was too busy eating her out of house and home with his hollow leg.

And then Dustin proved her right by bringing out a gallon of milk from the fridge—not a glass—and hefting over six containers of cookies. As if the plate she’d arranged wasn’t enough.

“Do you want to go up against me in a Cookie Eat–Off, Rhett?” Dustin asked, pouring milk into the largest glass from their cupboard.

Rhett snagged a piece of peanut brittle, cracking the candy in half with his teeth. “Nah, there’s someplace I want to take your mom, if she’s at a good stopping point.”

Abbie busied herself with rearranging the gumdrops in their bowl by color, red on the left, yellow on the right, and green in the center.

“Mom, you need a Christmas OCD support group.”

“Hey, man,” Rhett said before she could reproach him. “Be nice to your mama.”

The glass Dustin was raising to his lips paused before he nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Rhett winked. “That’s my boy.”

The whole scene made her wring her hands under the table.

Somehow Rhett had managed to become a respected disciplinarian without even asserting himself. Was Dustin doing this because he was trying to show her he approved of Rhett or did he really respect him? Something to think about.

When she glanced through the kitchen window above the sink, all she saw was a sea of darkness. “Rhett, it’s pitch black outside.”

“Mom, it’s only seven thirty,” Dustin muttered. “And Uncle Mac is still out there. In the pitch black. Oh no! Rhett, we might need to look for him. He could be in danger.”