Maybe This Christmas: A Sweet Historical Western Holiday Romance Novella (Holidays in Mountain Home Book 2) (6 page)

Gus’s lopsided smile had once won her over completely. Now it just irritated her, so she kept her focus on her task. She zipped through another six inches before he spoke.

“You’ve got to eat sometime.”

“I will eat.”
Whack.
“I’ll stop for a bite once I’m done with this process.”

He grabbed the mallet from her hand.

She squawked in protest.
“Give that back.”

Nudging her out of the way, he set to work pinking the cut edge with astonishing accuracy. She couldn’t fault his skill.

He glanced at her. “I’m a man of many skills.”

She snagged Mayor Abbott’s suit coat from the stool and found needle and thread. She’d keep busy, dig into another waiting project. If she couldn’t persuade Gus to believe she didn’t have time to dine out with him tonight with words, then she’d show him with action.

She sat at her machine where the light was best and threaded a sewing needle. She whipped a basting stitch into the cap of the sleeve and watched Gus turn the nightgown’s front panel around and continued pinking the cut edge.

“I think a hot meal would do you good. I worry you’re not eating right.”

She glared at him.

He chuckled. “All you eat is bread and cold meat. What about vegetables? Potatoes and gravy?”

“If you haven’t noticed,” she told him, offering what she hoped was a stern expression, “I don’t live a life of ease, Mr. Rose. I haven’t a kitchen of my own nor time to cook so I eat simply.”

The rhythmic pounding of the mallet against pinking iron fell into an easy cadence. “Aren’t you hungry for good food?”

“No.” She decided to change the subject. “Where did you learn to pink that well?”

“Necessity, dear Effie. Necessity.”

“Did you work as a tailor’s assistant?”

He chuckled, dropping the finished panel onto the cutting table and picking up its companion. “Nope.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“I will, over dinner. Put on your cloak. I’m starving.”

She thrust the needle in and out of the seam allowance in a precise running stitch. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“You’re grumpy.”

She glared at him, again.

He grinned, as if blind to her frustration. “You know, if you’d take an hour here and there for yourself, rest a bit throughout your work day, you wouldn’t be so stressed.”

“I don’t have the luxury of taking an hour off, not at this time of year. If I want to sleep seven or eight hours tonight, I have to put in a full day’s work.”

“If I help you, you’ll have time to break for dinner. Look, I’m already done with all these edges. Not a one will fray. Even and beautiful, too.” He swept the yellow scraps into a cupped hand and dropped them into the waste basket.

“Thank you.” Gus was right, she was a grump.

“Come to dinner with me.” He offered her his hand, his tone softer and more of a question than a command. Perhaps the man could be taught.

She lowered the suit sleeve to her lap. She gestured helplessly at the stack of garments in various stages of completion.

“We’ll eat, and I promise we won’t linger. When your stomach’s full and you’re feeling less irritable,” he winked at her, his happy disposition shining through, “we’ll come right back here and get to work. I’m mighty good at pinning things together—could hand them off to you ready to sew.”

Her stomach rumbled and the mere thought of a sit-down dinner with hot food nearly had her giving in.

“How ‘bout it?”

She knew what was behind his dinner invitation—what was behind his presence in the shop this late afternoon. And she couldn’t allow him to misconstrue anything. She had to ensure he understood. “You do realize sharing a meal doesn’t mean anything has changed. We’re friends…and that’s all we can ever be.”

“I’ll get your cloak.”

On Thursday, Luke delegated every responsibility on the ranch and informed the crew and his family he’d spend the day in town with Effie.

Five long days had dragged by since she’d confided her past and he’d told her it didn’t make him think less of her. He intended to court her, win her heart, and wed her. Nothing had changed. But if he didn’t get into town and act like it, Effie would doubt his sincerity…and August Rose would have the greater advantage.

He hadn’t stayed away intentionally, and wasn’t a man to play games. But his dedication to the ranch and his family had interrupted his courting plans—everything from a heavy snowfall to illness among the hired hands that left them four men down.

First thing, he’d bathed, shaved, put on his best clothes, selected a book from the shelf in the parlor, and hitched up the sleigh to take Noelle in to work.

He decided to greet Effie before he took care of the horse and sleigh. He grinned broadly as he ushered his sister through Pettingill’s front door.

The door was unlocked, though the shop wasn’t officially open and no customers were inside.

“Good morning, Noelle.” Effie sounded good. Like herself. It was so good to see the anxiety and fear of last week gone.

“Morning, Miss Noelle. Luke.”
August.
There he was, behind the counter, sitting on a stool…sewing buttons on a crisp white shirt?

Gus grinned. Widely. He looked absurd, a rough-and-tough lawman
sewing
. He swept the needle through the eye on the back of the button and as if he’d done the chore a thousand times before.

He sewed with the same ease Luke’s sisters, mother, and Effie displayed.

For some reason, Luke detested the idea that Gus possessed a skill Effie appreciated.

He should’ve known the competition would already be here, though he’d had Effie to himself for five days. He felt like booting Gus into the street and claiming the next five days for himself.

Noelle hung up her coat and immediately set to work.

Luke noticed August’s gaze followed Noelle to the cutting table where she picked up scissors.

Luke used the distraction to approach Effie. Her dimpled smile was all the encouragement he needed. He clasped her elbow and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I missed you.”

“It’s a surprise to see you here.” Gus said.

Luke ignored the interloper. The man knew exactly why Luke was here. They’d made themselves clear last they met.

“I’m glad to see you.” Effie’s dimples deepened.

His heart kicked. When she looked at him like that he felt ten feet tall.

“What brings you in?” she asked, but the light dancing in her eyes made it evident she already knew.

He couldn’t help but grin. Why had he waited so long to declare himself? He liked the awareness in her eyes.

“I’m here to spend the day with you.”

“Good thing,” Gus interrupted. “Effie has three packages ready for delivery. Don’t unhitch your sleigh just yet.”

Luke glared at Gus, but the agitator’s attention was on his sewing and missed it.

“Oh, would you?” Effie spared Luke another smile and collected the precisely wrapped bundles from the counter. “That would help me ever so much. I’d thought I’d have to hire a Murphy boy to deliver them for me
if
he could get away from the store.”

Now
Gus looked up and smirked.

How long had it taken August Rose, U.S. Marshal to come up with this plan to get Luke out of the way for a few hours?

Luke’s jaw ached from clenching his jaw. He intentionally relaxed and determined to play this to his advantage. “For you, Effie, I’m glad to.” He slipped an arm about her middle and gave her a little squeeze.

“Wonderful.”

“Where to?” He searched the crisp paper wrapping for Effie’s pencil script with the owner’s name and her notation of amount due, if any, locating it just as she touched a finger to one corner.

“I’d go, but don’t have any idea where these customers live.” Gus knotted off his thread and snipped it with miniature embroidery scissors.

Luke had to admit the other man displayed a flair for finish work, and it was obvious by the lengthy list of projects detailed in Effie’s ledger, open on the counter, she needed the help.

Gus pulled a new length of white thread off a spool and threaded the needle with deft hands. “I’m of more help here.”

Must he point that out?
Luke might know where everyone lived, but Gus had the upper hand…he was useful
in
the shop.

Gus’s smile turned smug. “We’ll have another two or three packages ready to go by the he gets back, won’t we, Sweetheart?”

Luke’s guts clenched and he had the sudden urge to attack.
Sweetheart?

Effie didn’t seem to notice the term of endearment
or
Gus’s meddling.

There wasn’t enough room in this shop for two suitors.

One way or the other, he had to find a way to spend time with her, alone. On top of that, he still had to come up with viable ways to win her heart, one thread at a time.

Unfortunately, had absolutely no idea how to make that happen.

Chapter Five

By dusk, Luke had delivered nine packages, all around the valley. Each time he stopped back at the shop to give Effie the money he’d collected and report on the successful deliveries, Gus had presented him with one or more bundles.

If Effie hadn’t been so delighted with the help, he would’ve quit long ago.

But the time he spent out in the cold had proved effective, because now he had a plan he felt good about implementing.

He knocked on the Sheriff’s office door and let himself in. The space felt gloriously warm and the scent of strong coffee welcoming.

Liam Talmadge glanced up from the newspaper on his desk. “Well, I’ll be. I hear you’re working as Mrs. O’Leary’s delivery boy.”

If Liam weren’t as old as dirt, Luke might take offense. “That’s actually why I’m here. I need your help.”

All traces of jesting melted from the sheriff’s lined face. “You see somethin’ while you were out?”

“No. Things are peaceful.”

Liam relaxed. “Coffee?”

“Sounds good. I’m froze clear through.”

Once cups were poured and Liam reclaimed his seat, he asked, “What kind of help do you need?”

“You’ve met the stranger in town, I suppose.”

“The U.S. Marshal. O’course.”

“He’s not here in official capacity. His name’s August Rose.”

Talmadge nodded, apparently conceding the point.

“He’s also making a nuisance of himself. Underfoot constantly, won’t give Mrs. O’Leary five minutes to herself. He’s attracting so many curious folk, her shop’s crowded and she’s got plenty to do as it is.”

Liam sipped, holding Luke’s gaze over the rim of his cup.

“Looks to me like the problem’s a simple one.”

“I want your help with a simple solution—we’ve got to put August to work. Somewhere besides Mrs. O’Leary’s shop.”

“You’re sweet on her. That’s the simple problem.”

Luke had no trouble admitting it. “I am. I’m courting her, just spoke to her about it last weekend.”

Talmadge’s smile twinkled with a bit too much enjoyment. “Mr. August Rose, it seems, believes he’s courting her, too.”

“She refused him. Won’t even consider him, thank God.” The old man’s gaze had Luke fidgeting. “It makes sense you deputize him or something.”

“You lookin’ for a fighting chance with her, son?”

That question didn’t need an answer. The sheriff knew Luke couldn’t court his gal with the interloper constantly underfoot.

Talmadge nodded. “I got an idea or two.”

“I’ve got plenty of suggestions: snow removal, street patrol, cover your hours here. Tell him you’re sick and need the next three weeks off.”

He chuckled. “When do you want him to start?”

“Right now.”

“Do you have another lamp?” Luke set aside the book he’d read aloud for the past hour. “You need more light and so do I.”

The fine tale—
A Cricket on the Hearth—
had helped pass the time. She’d enjoyed it more for the resonance, cadence, and rhythm of Luke’s voice. The quality of his reading caught her by surprise. After all, he was a rancher, not a schoolteacher, not a writer like Dickens himself, not an actor upon a stage.

“One. On the table in the back room.” She turned the balance wheel, sank the needle, and lifted the presser foot to exact a crisp turn at the collar’s point.

Luke soon had the lamp filled and wick lit. He lifted it high. “How is this?”

“Better, but you can’t stand there holding it indefinitely.”

Luke set the lamp on the counter. “You can’t work in such meager light.” He shrugged into his coat and pulled on his gloves. “I’ve an idea. Give me five minutes.”

He returned quickly. Snow, ice, and bitter wind swirled inside with him, though he’d had the door open mere seconds. Another gust rattled the window panes. A damp chill cut through her heavy winter petticoats and lined wool suit.

Luke plunked a small paper-wrapped bundle onto the counter top and shed his coat. “Brackets to hold your lamps on the wall.”

“Brackets?” Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Yes. I can’t have you losing your eyesight when it’s preventable.”

He noticed her needs, acted in kindness, attended to her comfort. How could she not adore him? “I can see.”

“I’ll go blind if I have to read another page in the dark.”

She chuckled. “I didn’t ask you to stay.” She knew he wouldn’t go, not until she retired for the night. He’d been a constant fixture for the past two days, since he’d worked hard all day making her deliveries.

She’d heard talk of Gus working with Sheriff Talmadge, but didn’t know what to think of it.

“You didn’t need to ask. I’m here ‘cause I want to be.”

He measured each side of the window, from floor on up, and marked a spot with pencil. He’d chosen well. The lamps would be out of the way and yet shed maximum light on her work.

“It’s far too cold to head home tonight. Domino is bedded down in the livery, and I’ll take a room at the boarding house. I’ll head home once the sun is up. Can’t risk Domino on a night like this.”