The Christmas Wish

THE CHRISTMAS WISH

Katy Regnery

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

THE CHRISTMAS WISH
Copyright © 2013 Katharine Gilliam Regnery

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

Digital edition created by Maureen Cutajar
www.gopublished.com

ISBN 978-1-938876-50-9

To Jill, who suggested it in the first place.

And to Kathy, for believing in me.

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

THE CHRISTMAS WISH

THE HEART OF MONTANA Series

Author Bio

THE CHRISTMAS WISH

Lucas Flynn looked up as Tess Branson stormed into the kitchen of the Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon holding an empty water pitcher. Without stopping, she slammed the pitcher down on the metal counter under the heating lamps then continued through the kitchen and out the back door. He could hear loud cursing and guffawing coming from the western-themed dining room. The Blue Moon, located in Gardiner, Montana, marketed itself as “The Best Chow North of Yellowstone.”
With the rudest customers.

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. He’d seen this happen before. Peeking through the order-up window, he saw three idiots in the corner under the moose head strung with winking Christmas lights sporting varying degrees of wet hair and clothes. They looked like a trio of asshole frat guys. The café’s two other waitresses, Starla and Rose, hovered over them with extra napkins, and Stu offered drinks on the house.

Lucas rolled his eyes. God only knew what the trio had said. From what he’d observed, it took a lot—a ridiculous amount of mean-spirited teasing and outright abuse—to get a rise out of Tess. Since taking the job as short-order cook at Stu’s Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon after he was paroled in September Lucas had kept his head down and his opinions to himself. He wasn’t interested in getting into any trouble, and he certainly wasn’t aiming for any more time inside. But his lip curled as he wondered about the three guys. What had they said to upset Tess so much?

He looked over to make sure Del, the head cook, had his back turned, then glanced down at the grill where their burgers sizzled. Bringing the spatula close to his lips, he gathered a good bit of saliva on his tongue and quietly spat on it. He rubbed each of the burgers with a little clear goop before flipping them.

He flicked his glance toward the outside door, wondering when Tess was coming back. It was cold and dark out and she wasn’t wearing a coat. Wasn’t wearing anything but that obscene joke of a waitress uniform. He knew full well the excuse Stu gave her was bullshit. Stu could’ve gotten her one that fit better as she requested, but the dirty old bastard liked the way it strained over her chest, just like all the other asshole patrons who treated her like dirt. It made Lucas shake his head with disgust.

He was grateful that businesses like Stu’s restaurant participated in the prison release program, giving jobs to guys like him who’d done their time and come out with a good behavior record, but all things considered Stu was kind of a douche bag. Tess Branson didn’t deserve to be treated like garbage. There were plenty of people he’d met that
did
deserve it, but not her. And yeah, he got the picture. He knew her reputation wasn’t lily white. Heck, from what he could gather it was probably closer to a dark gray. But Lucas Flynn didn’t care if Tess had bedded half the town. It didn’t change the fact that she was one of the prettiest, nicest people he’d ever met.

He took toasted buns off the grill and slid the extra-special hamburgers off the griddle. He added lettuce and tomato on the side, and three large handfuls of chips to the plates before ringing the call-bell for Rose. “Order up. Twelve.”

Using the spatula to scrape the tidbits into the front bin, Lucas turned to Del. “Okay if I take my fifteen minutes now, sir?” he asked.

“Been more’n three months, Flynn. Don’t gotta call me sir.”

“Yes, sir.” He rubbed his forehead, giving the large Native American cook a lopsided smile. “Old habits…
Del.”

Del looked at the back door, then back at Lucas, raising one eyebrow. “Think with your head,” he cautioned, glancing at Lucas’s crotch meaningfully with big, brown, world-weary eyes.

“Yes, s—Del. Good advice.”

Del shrugged, tilting his head toward the back door. “Have at it.”

Lucas grabbed Tess’s jacket before slipping outside.

***

Tess Branson was sure there was a tattoo on her forehead only visible to the meanest, most idiotic men who passed through Gardiner that read in blaring, neon ink: AVAILABLE.

She shouldn’t have dumped that pitcher of water over those three boys, but mercy, that was a mean trick. One of them had asked for her phone number only so he could compare it to the digits he’d gotten off the men’s room wall. As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, his friend had muttered “Slut” as they high-fived, snickering. Tess’s cheeks had burned and her body felt tingly from a sudden burst of adrenaline. She could cry or she could get mad. She had looked at the tray balanced in her left hand, and without thinking she yanked the full pitcher of icy water off the tray, drew back her arm and let loose, drenching all three men and yelling “Cool off!” before bee-lining to the loading dock.

Goodness gracious, but men could be cruel. What would it be like to be treated—just for once—like a nice girl instead of a dirty joke?

Sniffling and drying her eyes with the backs of her hands, she turned when she heard the kitchen door open behind her. She caught sight of Lucas Flynn before looking away.
Great. Alone in the dark with an ex-con.

She quickly chastised herself. That wasn’t fair. Some men were monsters, true, but Lucas Flynn had been nothing but polite to her since starting at the Blue Moon a few months back. Immune to her charms? Apparently. But nice enough. He didn’t deserve her unkind thoughts. Lord knew how she felt when unkindness was directed at her, and it sure happened often enough.

“Heya,” she murmured, making outward amends for her internal meanness.

He hung back, smelling of hamburgers and hot dogs and warmth.

“I, uh, brought your jacket,” he said softly.

She furrowed her brows, turning to face him. Because of the cold, she knew the tips of her breasts would be hard against her too-small uniform. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively, reaching out with one hand for her jacket.

Instead of handing it to her, Lucas stepped closer, opening it up and encircling her shoulders, placing it gingerly around her. He tugged at the collar gently, pulling it snug around her neck and ears before stepping back.

Tess stood speechless, touched beyond words for two simple reasons. The first? He hadn’t asked for anything in return. Not a kiss, not a touch, not a favor. And the second? His eyes hadn’t slid lower than her chin the entire time he wrapped her jacket around her. Not once. Not for an instant.

She looked at his face, not for the first time but maybe for the first time this close up. He had brown eyes, warm and dark, with a fringe of dark eyelashes. His cheekbones were high, his cheeks angular hollows. His olive-toned skin wasn’t smooth and perfect, but his lips were. They were bowed and full, and Tess stared at them for a moment, biting her own bottom lip before lifting her eyes to his nose.

His poor nose. Tess winced. Her second stepfather, a mean drunk prone to fights, had a nose like that. Lucas’s nose had been broken more than once.

“Ugly,” he whispered, dropping his hands and turning away.

“N-no,” she said softly, turning to him as he rested his elbows on the iron railing, staring out at the darkness. She wasn’t a small woman, but next to him, beside his tall, lean body, Tess
felt
small, and she liked that.

“I know what I look like, Miss Branson.”

Miss Branson.
Miss Branson?
If he didn’t stop being so nice to her, she’d start crying again. Or she’d have to kiss him.

“Huh,” she murmured, putting her arms through her jacket and zipping it up before propping her elbows on the bar beside his. “Haven’t said a word to me in four months and now here you are, all…‘Miss Branson’ with me.”

He stared up at the sky, running a finger back and forth across his lower lip, which pulled Tess’s eyes like a magnet. Her tongue darted out and she wet her lips.

“Lots of stars here,” he said.

She turned her attention to them. “I guess. Never really look at them.”

“Thought you might be out here wishing on a star,” he said, and she could almost feel him blush beside her as he shifted his weight awkwardly. “Stupid thing to say.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just…I don’t wish on stars.”

“I thought all women did that stuff.”

“Not me.”

“Why not? You don’t believe in wishes?”

Looking out across the Yellowstone River, she saw some twinkling Christmas lights in the distance, red and orange and green and blue, blinking cheerfully in the darkness. Festive and hopeful, but so very far away.

“They don’t come true,” she murmured, turning around to lean her back against the railing and face the grimy kitchen door.

“What’d those guys say to you?”

She shrugged, pushing her blond curls out of her face. She used the rubber band on her wrist to secure them into a perky ponytail. Didn’t he know who she was? Didn’t he know the things people said about her? To her?

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Three soaked guys eating spit in their burgers says it mattered to you.”

Her hands froze in her hair, a surprised smile spreading across her face as he turned around to face her, his brown eyes catching hers in the dim light.

“Did you spit—?”

“It was three to one. Nothing I hate more than a rigged fight.” He stared at her, leaning back against the railing, arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, yeah. Except one thing. I don’t like men who bully women. Ain’t so fond of that either.”

“What were you in jail for?” she blurted. Once the words were out, she wished she could take them back. She gave him a small smile, meant to reassure him that she wouldn’t judge him regardless of the answer.

“I cracked open the skull of a man who was bullying a woman.”

Tess held his eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. She didn’t know what to say; she just knew she couldn’t look away. “C-call me Tess,” she finally whispered.

He uncrossed his arms, moving his white apron aside to put his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Go out to dinner with me on Monday night, Tess.”

“What?”

“I’m asking you out on a date.”

“Why?” she murmured, brows knitted in confusion.

“Because I’d like to get to know you better.”

“You don’t have to take me to dinner to get to know me better,” she said softly, dropping her eyes.

“But that’s the way I’d like to do it,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up.

She looked at his hand then back up at his face. She’d kissed many men in her life. So many men, she couldn’t possibly even guess at how many. But she’d never wanted to kiss a man as desperately as she wanted to kiss Lucas Flynn.

She placed her hand in his and watched him lift it to his mouth, brush his lips softly against her cold skin. It sent a deluge of shivers up her arm, down her back, made her tingle before turning her insides hot. A small, breathy sound escaped her throat as she stared at the dark brown, lightly wavy hair on the head bent over her hand. Then he released her hand and turned, reaching for the doorknob.

“Make a wish on a star before you come in,” he said softly, without turning to face her. “It’s Christmastime. It might come true.”

He slipped inside, leaving her hot and alone under the starry sky.

***

Lucas hadn’t made enough money to buy a car yet, so he trudged the two miles home to the room he rented.