Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (33 page)

He needed to see her, talk to her and apologize. How could he have been such an ass?

Before he could shove Dave's stuff back into the bag and head downstairs, Mallory knocked on the doorjamb and poked her head in. “There's a call for you. It's a Mr. McDougall.”

She handed him the cordless phone, and he took the call.

“Is this Joe Wilcox?” the man asked.

Joe wondered how he knew where to find him. “Yes, it is.”

“I'm the attorney handling David Cummings's estate. I'm not sure if Chloe Dawson mentioned me or told you I would call, but she gave me your contact number.”

Chloe had said something about talking to an attorney. At the time, he'd thought that she'd been trying to stake her claim. But in reality, she'd probably been as overwhelmed with the situation as he'd been. And she'd merely wanted to hand over the reins to the ranch and get on with her life.

“She mentioned it,” Joe said, “but I don't really know the details.”

The attorney spoke of the probate process and filing paperwork as Joe's mind drifted to how he could apologize to Chloe for all of the horrible things he'd said.

What would he do if she refused to forgive him?

“So,” McDougall said, “as dual beneficiaries, you might want to consider working together to make a go of the ranch.”

“Excuse me?” Joe didn't want to admit that he hadn't been paying attention, but it was the truth. “I missed the last part.”

“I said, if the will you told Chloe about holds up, she'll inherit the ranch. It's in debt, but it has a lot of potential, and I know that the Cummings family would have wanted Dave's legacy to continue on. So you might want to consider using a portion of the life insurance benefits you're going to receive and offer her a loan so she can make a go of it.”

“I'm sorry. Did you say benefits
I
would receive?”

“Yes, Mr. Wilcox. You're the sole beneficiary of Dave Cummings's five-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy.”

Joe almost collapsed on top of the stuff littering the bed. “But his death was... I mean, won't you need a death certificate?”

“I've already checked into that. The coroner ruled it an accidental overdose, which is a real shame.” McDougall went on to explain that it would take some time to file everything properly and again suggested Joe work with Chloe to get the ranch back up and running.

“But does she even want the ranch?” Joe asked.

“Who's to say? I don't know many people who would take on that kind of responsibility even if it was forced on them. But Chloe Dawson is a sweet girl, and Teresa thought the world of her. It'll be hard for her to keep it, though. You definitely got the better end of the deal.”

After the call ended, Joe's mind reeled with everything the attorney had disclosed. He reached for the picture of him and Dave, a somewhat goofy-looking guy who'd never stood a chance with Chloe.

Yet just hours ago, Joe had stood a damn good chance with the most kindhearted and beautiful woman in the world, and he'd thrown it away.

But he wasn't about to let her go without a fight. And he wasn't going to waste another minute in preparing for battle.

* * *

After checking on Ethel at the Brighton Valley Medical Center and having a chat with Dr. Nielson, Chloe had pulled into the parking lot of the Sheltering Arms and braced herself for a confrontation with the administrator. She was done hiding from arguments and was going to give him a piece of her mind.

So she marched right into Anthony J. Peabody's office and demanded to speak to him.

The slightly balding man looked up from his desk, rolled back his chair and crossed his arms. “Is this about losing your job?”

“No, it's about yours, Mr. Peabody—and Sarah Poston's. I warned you about her unprofessional behavior and her disregard for most of the patients, but you wouldn't listen to me. Instead, you got rid of me for being a squeaky wheel. But you won't get rid of me so easily this time.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, it's a promise. Ethel Furman is in the ICU right now, and it's all Sarah's fault.”

“That's a pretty strong accusation. Ethel has pneumonia.”

“Yes, and she also had a severe allergic reaction to the penicillin they gave her in the E.R. I warned Sarah about Ethel's allergy on several occasions and insisted that she order a new medical alert bracelet and that she note it in the chart.”

“What did she say?” Mr. Peabody asked.

“That the bracelet was on order. And that her allergy was already noted in her chart. But rather than double-check to make sure, she refused to do so.”

“Maybe someone in the E.R. didn't look at the chart that accompanied her in the ambulance.”

Chloe crossed her arms. “I'm not sure what relationship you have with Sarah—familial or romantic—but you'd better stop trying to defend her without checking the facts. I spoke to Dr. Betsy Nielson just a few minutes ago, and she told me her allergy to penicillin definitely
wasn't
noted in the chart. Then she showed me herself. Sarah is guilty of lying or negligence. I suggest you figure out which one it is and deal with it—before Ethel's attorney contacts you about a lawsuit.”

Mr. Peabody blanched, then swallowed—hard. “Ms. Poston and I aren't related in any way, shape or form. And I assure you that I'll check into your allegation.”

“See that you do.” Then Chloe turned on her heel and strode out of the admin office. Her steps didn't slow until she reached the lobby and spotted Joe chatting with several of the elderly patients who'd gathered near the Christmas tree in their wheelchairs or seated with their canes and walkers nearby.

She had no idea what Joe was doing here, but he'd better duck for cover because she was feeling pretty cocky after her last confrontation. And she wasn't the least bit concerned about having another blowup—even here in the lobby.

As she neared the older men, all of whom were military vets, she realized Joe was holding court and sharing war stories. Or so it seemed.

Sam Darnell was one of them, and while he looked especially lively seated with the other vets, she couldn't help her snippy tone when she addressed Joe. “What are you doing here?”

He got to his feet, but not with any of the bluster he'd had earlier. “I came to find you and apologize.”

The wind should have died in her sails, but she was too angry and primed for battle to back down now. No simple apology would be enough to assuage the hurt she'd felt at being called a gold digger and being blamed for Dave's suicide.

“You're going to need to do a lot more than hang out with some of my friends, trading battlefield gossip to make up for the things you said.”

“Battlefield gossip?” Sam swore under his breath. “I'll have you know that a war zone is no beauty parlor, missy.”

She turned to the old cowboy, arms crossed. “I realize that. But Sergeant Wilcox shot a bazooka through my heart. Did he tell you about that?”

Sam aimed a furrowed gaze at Joe. “That true, son?”

Oh, how the tide was shifting. While these silver-haired vets might want to support a fellow marine, Chloe was the one who brought them their magazines and their favorite bakery treats.

Semper fi
or not, if Joe didn't watch his step, he'd be facing a possible mutiny from his new cohorts.

“Yes,” he admitted. “It's true. I said things out of misplaced anger and an emotion I'd never had to deal with before.”

Ralph Mason, who refused to wash his WWII hat or replace it with a new one, leaned toward Joe. “You know, son, they have those PTSD programs over at the VA clinic. My nephew runs one of the support groups. You'd probably get a lot out of it.”

“Thanks,” Joe told him. “But I'm not talking about PTSD emotions, Ralph. I'm talking about love.”

Chloe sucked in her breath. Did he just say what she thought he did?

Cliff Hawkins, a Korean War vet, chimed in. “My daughter joined one of those dating websites when her cheating ex-husband left her for that waitress over at that new cafeteria in Wexler. I'll bet they could help you find the right match.”

Joe patted the wheelchair-bound vet on the knee. “That won't be necessary, Cliff. I already found the woman I love, although I have a whole lot of apologizing to do.”

As he made his way toward Chloe, those amazing blue eyes zeroing in on her, turning her spine to mush and setting her heart on end, her anger dissolved. Only her wobbly knees supported her now.

Joe was within arm's reach when he said, “I just have to convince her that she needs me just as much as I need her. And if she'll just give me a chance, I'll prove it.”

“Ah hell,” Ralph said. “Women don't need a man these days, son. What you gotta do is convince her that you'll love her no matter what and always buy her new dresses and promise to let her mother live with you, even when you hate the old biddy.”

As much as Chloe wanted to scowl, she couldn't help smiling at the advice Joe's new cronies were giving him.

Nor could she tear her eyes away from the intensity and sincerity in his gaze.

He took her by the hand, and while her damaged ego and frail heart urged her to pull away, she didn't move a muscle.

“I love you,” he said. “And I was a fool to think those awful things about you. And I was a real ass for saying them out loud. My amnesia was no excuse, but when all those memories came rushing back to me, I was overcome with all those old emotions I'd kept locked away. I didn't know who I was, but I do now. And I want to share that man with you—and let you know that he'll always stand beside you and always have your back.”

Emotion clogged Chloe's throat, and she wasn't sure she could get the words out, even if she tried.

But the truth was, she'd seen the man Joe was talking about. She'd known he was there all along. And she wanted to trust him, to believe him.

But could she?

“Okay,” Sam said, “Don't make the devil dog grovel, missy. Can't you just give him a second chance? If he lets you down again, he'll have to answer to me.”

“He'll have to answer to all of us,” Ralph said.

She almost choked on a laugh before George Eggleston added, “If Joe says he's sorry, you can believe it. Now go on and prove it to her, boy.”

Before Chloe could respond, Joe followed the old man's advice and did just that, lifting her in his arms and kissing her with all the love he'd said he felt.

When they came up for air, she asked, “What about the ranch?”

“What about it? You can sell it or keep it—whatever you want. I now realize that you never really wanted it. Just know that I'll stand by whatever you decide to do. If you want to go back to nursing school, I'll even volunteer to let you practice poking me with hypodermic needles. I just want to be with you. I love you, Chloe Dawson.”

Then he kissed her a second time while the men behind him erupted in cheers as if it was V-day all over again.

And that gave her pause—and the courage to broach the dream she'd kept hidden from him before.

“What about these guys?” she asked. “What if I wanted them to all come home and live on the ranch with us?”

Joe merely smiled, his eyes bright. “I've got the money to make that dream happen for you. Come to find out, I got an inheritance, too. So all you have to do is say the word.”

“The word is I love you, too, Joe Martinez Wilcox.” Then she kissed him again with all the love in her heart.

Epilogue

W
hen Joe and Chloe arrived at Rick and Mallory's house for Christmas, their hosts opened the front door before they could even get out of the new truck Joe purchased to replace Ol' Greenie.

Just two weeks ago, he didn't even know he had a family. And now he was spending the holidays with his brother and sister-in-law, his nephew, and his soon-to-be fiancée—assuming Chloe said yes when she opened her Christmas gift.

As Joe reached into the back of the truck for their presents, Chloe carried a foil-covered pan up the sidewalk.

“What do you have there?” Mallory asked. “You didn't need to bring anything.”

“Rick will want these,” Joe said. “I used Tía Rosa's recipe. It won't be Christmas without them.”

“You brought tamales?” Rick asked as he ushered them inside. His eyes lit up as he breathed in the spicy scent from the still-warm pan.

“I sure did.”

Neither man mentioned the fact that most Christmases after their parents died hadn't been merry or bright. They'd often been ruined by their uncle's drunken escapades or alcoholic rants. But one thing they could always count on having were
Tía
's tamales.

From what Joe had heard, their aunt and uncle's home was a happy one these days. So he planned to visit them sometime next week.

“I'd planned to bring some of my cranberry orange scones,” Chloe told Mallory, “But Joe ate them all.”

“Don't worry. Megan, Clay's wife, has been baking up a storm and brought a ton of desserts. Come on, I'll show you. She's in the kitchen, setting them out.”

Joe had been looking forward to seeing Clay, his old high school buddy. He was also eager to meet Megan. He'd heard she was not only a fabulous cook, but had just launched her own line of homemade jams and preserves. There was talk of her opening a bakery, too.

“Did you hear what happened to drunk Larry?” Rick asked.

That was the driver of the Silverado that had hit Joe outside the Stagecoach Inn. “I knew his wife talked him into turning himself in right before Sheriff Hollister was going to make an arrest. And that he's out on bail.”

“Apparently he decided to celebrate his freedom at a bar in Wexler two nights ago and was involved in another accident.”

“No kidding? You'd think he would have learned his lesson.”

“This time he hit a squad car driven by one of Wexler's finest,” Rick said. “So it looks like he won't be driving or drinking for a while.”

Joe was glad to hear that.

“Come on.” Rick placed a hand on Joe's back. “Let's go find Clay.”

“Good idea.”

The reunion between the men—once three of Brighton Valley's most notorious outcasts—was soon filled with good-natured teasing and laughter. They didn't do much reminiscing, since none of them had the kind of past that had made Christmas special. But in true holiday spirit, they focused on the new blessings life had brought their way.

As Joe glanced around the crowded house, he saw that the kids were having a good time, too. His nephew Lucas, who actually did look a whole lot like him, had hit it off with Tyler, Clay and Megan's son. The boys sat near the tree, checking out their new video games and trying to decide which one to play first. And Lisa, Tyler's sister, was begging to go outside and try out her new soccer ball.

As Mallory passed out the eggnog, Rick stopped her long enough to pat her baby bump. A warm and tender moment passed between the obviously happy couple, which was enough to make Joe both grateful and envious at the same time. Maybe, if things went the way he hoped they would, he and Chloe would be adding to the Martinez clan one of these days.

“With the way the family is growing,” Rick said, “we may have to move this party to the ranch next Christmas.”

“I'd love that,” Chloe said as she joined Rick near the hearth.

“Speaking of the ranch,” Mallory said, “is the probate going okay?”

“Mr. McDougall seems to think it should move along without any snags. And once that's done, we should be able to start making changes to the ranch house and open the Brighton Valley Retired Cowboys' Home. We hope to welcome our first residents by spring.”

“Actually,” Joe said, “Sam Darnell, our first cowboy, will be moving in next week. He's a great guy. You'll have to come meet him. He'll be helping me learn the ins and outs of ranching.”

“I never expected you to grow up to be a cowboy, Joey.” Rick chuckled and gave him a brotherly nudge. “Of course, I never expected you to be a soldier, either.”

“Why's that?” Joe asked.

“Because I wouldn't have thought you'd make it through boot camp.”

“Well, I did. And if you think that was unbelievable, you're about to see a real miracle.” He grabbed the wrapped box from beneath the tree and headed toward Chloe, who was seated on the sofa, talking to both Megan and Mallory.

Joe handed her the large gift with a bright red bow. “Merry Christmas, Chloe.”

She looked at it in confusion, probably wondering when he'd had a chance to buy her anything. Then her gaze lifted to his. “But, Joe, I thought we weren't exchanging gifts until tomorrow morning.”

Well, some of the things he'd bought her, like the black lace nightie he'd picked up at The Cowboy Connection in Houston, would have to wait until they were alone. But this was one he wanted to give her in front of his family and friends.

“I know,” he said, “but indulge me and open this tonight.” He stood before her and waited as she slowly removed the ribbon and unwrapped the box.

When she lifted the lid and spotted the red cowboy boots she'd admired, her breath caught and a smile burst across her pretty face. “Joe, you remembered!”

He grinned, his heart swelling until he felt like the hero the military claimed he was.

“Try them on,” he said.

“I'm sure they'll fit. Besides, I'd rather try them on at home.”

“Please. Do it for me. I'd like to see how they look on you.”

She balked one more time, but at his gentle urging, she removed her shoes. Then she slipped her foot partway into the right boot and frowned. “There must be cardboard or something shoved in there to keep the shape.”

After removing her foot, she reached into the boot to retrieve whatever was stuffed inside, only to find a small, black velvet box. She gasped, then studied it in awe before realizing Joe had placed it there and had intended for her to find it.

By the time she flipped open the lid and spotted the sparkling diamond ring, Joe was down on one knee. “I love you, Chloe Dawson. Will you marry me?”

Her eyes sparkled, and she broke into a happy smile. “Yes!”

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, making a Christmas memory neither of them would ever forget.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from A CELEBRATION CHRISTMAS by Nancy Robards Thompson