It's a Christmas Thing Page 3

  “Really?” Her stunning hazel eyes widened. “But you came, you took the time. You even gave the cat some worm medicine. There must be some way I can repay you.”

  Was that an invitation to ask her out?

  For an instant Rush was tempted. But no, this was a professional visit. And she’d made it clear that her heart belonged to her late husband. Rush wouldn’t have minded the challenge of a human rival but competing with a ghost was out of his league.

  Still, he could hardly leave the lady to fix a plugged drain on her own.

  “If you want to repay me, you can let me fix your sink before I go,” he said.

  “No need. I can do it myself. I have the tools, and I’ve seen it done. Besides, unless you’re moonlighting, you’re a vet, not a plumber.”

  “Maybe so. But with that bump on your head, I’m not taking responsibility for letting you crawl under the sink again. Go sit down. This won’t take a minute.”

  Still wearing his latex gloves, he walked into the kitchen, retrieved the bucket and wrench, and worked his way, on his back, into the shadowy darkness under the sink.

  “Watch out for the mouse.” Tracy pulled a kitchen chair close to the sink and sat down.

  “I’m guessing you gave that mouse a good scare,” he said. “He probably won’t come out again until things quiet down. And once your cat gets wind of him, he’ll be a goner.”

  “She’s not my cat. I’m just giving her shelter while she has her babies. And I still don’t know how I’m going to manage the kittens.”

  “Kittens can be fun,” Rush said. “With Christmas coming in a couple of months, you should have no trouble finding homes for them. But after they’re weaned, you’ll need to get the mother spayed, so she won’t have any more. There are too many homeless cats in the world.”

  “If I keep her.”

  “Or even if you don’t.” Rush positioned the bucket under the trap, used the wrench to loosen the connections, removed the trap, and dumped the messy-looking contents into the bucket. “That should do it,” he said. “When I’ve hooked it up again, you can turn on the water.”

  “Thanks,” Tracy said. “I could’ve done it, but it would have taken me a lot longer. We inherited this house from Steve’s mother. When we moved in, I wanted to install a garbage disposal. I found out I couldn’t use one here because the septic tank is as old as the house and we have to be careful what goes into it.”

  “I know what you mean.” Rush held the empty trap in place and tightened the connections. “The septic tank we have at the ranch is the same way.”

  “The ranch?” Her eyebrows arched slightly.

  “My partners and I run the Christmas Tree Ranch south of town.”

  “Oh!” She laughed, a surprising sound. “Now I remember where I’ve seen you. Last year in court—you showed up to dispute that littering citation against the ranch.”

  “That’s right. And you were nice enough to reduce the charges.”

  “Niceness had nothing to do with it. I may be just a small-town judge, but I take my duties seriously. I did what I felt was fair.”

  “So, my charm had nothing to do with it?” Rush slid out from under the sink and sat up.

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  “And afterward, you didn’t even remember me?” He stood, stripped off his gloves, and glanced around for someplace to dispose of them.

  “Not until now.” Tracy pointed to the trash receptacle at the end of the counter. “Thanks for checking the cat and dog, and for fixing my sink. Don’t worry about the tools and the bucket. I can clean up.”

  “You’d be better off resting.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m feeling steadier already. And you must have better things to do with your time than play handyman. Go on. Get out of here before I start feeling guilty.”

  Rush tossed his gloves in the trash and picked up his bag, which he’d left on the counter. Last year, when he’d faced Tracy in court, he could’ve sworn he’d felt a spark of connection between them. But he’d been mistaken. Today, the beautiful judge had barely remembered him.

  It was time to cut his losses and cross the lady off his imaginary list—even though hers was the only name on it.

  “You’re sure I can’t pay you for your trouble?” she asked.

  “I’m sure. I was glad to help out.” Rush picked up his bag, which he’d left on the counter. “If you need anything, call me anytime. I mean it.”

  Crossing the front room, he stepped around Murphy, who was snoring in his sleep. In the open doorway, he paused and looked back toward the kitchen. Tracy was bent over, gathering up the tools.

  “I’ll drop off those Cosequin samples,” he said.

  She stood, her hair tumbling over the bandage he’d put on her forehead. A ray of sunlight, shining through the kitchen window, seemed to light her from within. Even in her baggy sweatshirt and ragged jeans, she was a goddess.

  “Thanks, but there’s no need,” she said. “I can fill the prescription at Shop Mart today.”

  “It’s no trouble. I have to come into town anyway, for an appointment.” Rush stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. So much for his unrequited crush. His partners would tease him about striking out with the judge. For now, he would just have to grin and bear it. For the future, all he could do was call this a lesson learned and move on.

  * * *

  Clutching Steve’s old tools, Tracy stood at the front window and watched Rush walk out to the street. His long strides stirred the fallen leaves that covered the sidewalk. Caught by the breeze, they swirled around him in a shower of reds and golds.

  Even from behind, the vet was pure eye candy. He was also gentle and kind, and she could tell he liked her. If she’d given him any encouragement, he might have asked her out. But even if he had, she would have turned him down. She wasn’t ready yet. Maybe she never would be.

  The memory of that day, eighteen months ago, when she’d sat by Steve’s bed and watched him slip away, was as raw as if it had happened last week. And the fact that today would’ve been their wedding anniversary only deepened the pain.

  Turning away from the window, she glanced down at her bare finger. At Steve’s funeral, as she’d leaned over the casket to kiss him good-bye, she had impulsively taken off her gold wedding band and slipped it onto his little finger. Afterward, when it was too late, she’d regretted the loss. The ring had been a connection to the man she’d loved and the life they’d shared. Now it was gone forever.

  Tracy paused for a moment to gaze at the photo on the mantel, taken by a friend on a Galveston beach, not long after their wedding. She and Steve had met in law school. They’d fallen in love on their first date but waited until after graduation to marry. Steve had graduated at the top of his class, Tracy with honors that same year.

  They’d planned to work in Austin or the Dallas–Fort Worth area, but when Steve’s widowed mother had needed care and offered them clear title to the family home, they’d returned to Branding Iron, where Steve had grown up. Steve had joined a law firm in nearby Cottonwood Springs. Tracy had filled a vacancy in Branding Iron’s city court, ruling mostly on traffic tickets, petty crimes, domestics, small claims, and property disputes. It wasn’t the glamorous, big-city job she’d dreamed of, but being with Steve had made it all right. Now that he’d been gone for more than a year, Tracy had begun to imagine more challenging jobs in more interesting places. Maybe it was time to sell the house and move on.

  But long-range plans would have to wait. Right now, she needed to rush to Shop Mart, fill the prescription for the dog, and get a small truckload of supplies for the mom-to-be cat. It would be like helping out a little pregnant teenager, Tracy told herself. See to her needs, and when she’s ready, send her on her way.

  She finished cleaning up the kitchen mess and changed into clean jeans, a light blue hoodie, and sneakers. She could put on her court clothes later, when it was time to go to work.

  The big-box store was crowded w
ith people buying treats, costumes, and decorations for Halloween, which was just two days off. The aisles were festooned with orange and black crepe paper streamers. Fake skeletons, ghosts, witches, and spiderwebs dangled overhead.

  Tracy, whose house didn’t have so much as a pumpkin on the porch, grabbed an empty cart and tossed in a couple bags of miniature candy bars for the neighborhood kids. What did it matter? Three days from now, the Halloween decorations would come down and the Christmas displays would go up, along with that awful fake cinnamon smell and those cheesy Christmas carols blasting over the P.A.

  Christmas.

  Last Christmas, her first since Steve’s death, had been the most miserable holiday of her life. With the blinds closed, she’d sat alone in the darkened living room, hugging Murphy and watching the classic-movies channel on TV. There’d been no Christmas tree, no gifts, and no phone calls. She’d turned off her phone to make sure of that. This year wasn’t likely to be much better. Her only wish was to get through the holiday without sinking into a blue funk.

  Christmas! Scrooge was right. Bah! Humbug!

  Pushing the thought from her mind, Tracy wheeled her cart to the pharmacy counter, dropped off the Cosequin prescription, and headed for the pet aisle. There she picked up a set of bowls, some canned food that was similar to the samples Rush had given her, and a plastic litter pan with a cover. The two sections came in a cardboard box that would do nicely for the cat’s bed.

  She was looking at bags of litter, wondering whether to go cheap or pamper her pet with a deluxe product, when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Tracy, what are you doing in the cat aisle? Have you got a new pet, or did you just take a wrong turn?”

  Tracy turned to find Maggie Delaney, Branding Iron’s statuesque, redheaded mayor, standing next to her. Tracy hadn’t made many friends in Branding Iron. Her early life here had revolved around Steve. And after Steve’s death, grief had built a wall around her. But she knew Maggie from work. The two women were casual friends—the only kind of friends Tracy had.

  “What do you know about kitty litter?” Tracy asked.

  “Not much. The little darlings poop in it, and their human slaves have to scoop it out every day.”

  “You must have cats.”

  “No,” Maggie said, “I’m more of a dog person myself. Didn’t you once mention that you have a dog?”

  “Yes,” Tracy said. “Murphy’s an old sweetheart. But this little pregnant cat showed up on my doorstep, and when the vet came by—”

  “The vet?” Maggie grinned. “You mean Dr. Rushford? Tall, dark, and drop-dead gorgeous?”

  “Evidently, he’s the only vet in town.” Tracy paused, suddenly puzzled. “What’s the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Maggie’s grin broadened. “Because the man’s had a crush on you for almost as long as I’ve known him.”

  Hot color flooded Tracy’s cheeks. “You’re joking! How on earth would you know that?”

  “Because his partner, Travis, is my boyfriend. Rush asked him if I could get your phone number. But when he found out you’d recently lost your husband, he decided to wait.” Maggie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, did he ask you out?”

  Still blushing, Tracy shook her head. “No, he was all business. But he did fix my clogged sink, and he refused to let me pay him.”

  Maggie laughed out loud, causing an older woman with a loaded cart to frown in their direction. “All business, my aunt Sadie’s bloomers! Rush is quiet. He doesn’t reveal much about himself. But I’d say that’s a sure sign he’s interested. I’ll tell you what.” She leaned closer to Tracy. “The partners are having a three-night Halloween celebration at the ranch next week—marshmallow roasting, pumpkin carving, hayrides, the works. It’s mostly to drum up business for the Christmas season, but it’ll be lots of fun. I promised Travis I’d show up to help out. Why don’t you come with me? If you want, you could even bring cookies or something to thank Rush for his help.”

  Tracy felt a door slam shut inside her—a door driven by grief, uncertainty, and guilt. “Thanks for the invitation,” she said. “It does sound like fun, but—I’m sorry—something inside me is still saying no.”

  “I understand.” Maggie gave her a sympathetic smile. “And here’s hoping that one of these days something inside of you will start saying yes. Call me if you change your mind.”

  After parting from Maggie, Tracy picked out a bag of cat litter, along with a scoop, and headed back to the pharmacy counter to pick up the prescription for Murphy. As she tucked the small white bag into her purse, she remembered Rush’s thinly veiled suggestion that soon she would have to deal with the end of her old friend’s life. Even the thought brought tears to her eyes. Rush was right, of course. Dogs didn’t live forever. All too soon, they grew old and feeble until it became an act of kindness to put them out of their misery. Still . . .

  This Christmas could be her last with the old dog Steve had loved. She would find ways to make it special. But she couldn’t think about it now, or she’d be a blubbering mess by the time she got to work.

  She paid for her purchases at the checkout stand and loaded them into the back of her car. Maybe she should have accepted Maggie’s invitation. Rush had been kind and helpful, and she was truly grateful. Perhaps . . . But no, showing up at the ranch would send the wrong message. She would have to show her gratitude some other way.

  She glanced at the dashboard clock. If she hurried home now, she’d have time to mix up a batch of brownies and get them in the oven before she changed her clothes for work. She could leave them with the receptionist, to be given to Rush when he dropped off the Cosequin samples. If he didn’t come by—well, that would be all right, too. The court staff could use a treat.

  At home, she took a few minutes in the laundry room to line the cardboard box with an old sweater for a cat bed. In one corner she set up the litter box and put out food and water. There was no sign of the cat, but when Tracy checked under her bed, the little calico peered back at her with eyes like two golden moons. Maybe later, when the house was quiet, she’d smell the food and come out, Tracy told herself. Right now, it was time to whip up some brownies for the handsome vet she didn’t plan to see again.

  * * *

  Rush had promised Noah Halverson, the farmer who owned the sick mare, that he’d come by and check on the animal that afternoon. Since the Halverson place was on the far side of Branding Iron, it wouldn’t be out of his way to drop by the court and leave the samples for Tracy’s old dog.

  Branding Iron’s courthouse was part of a complex that included the mayor’s office, the sheriff’s office, the police department and jail, and the library. When Rush pulled up outside the wing that housed the court, he saw Tracy’s Mercedes parked in one of the slots reserved for judges. She’d probably be on the bench now, but since he hadn’t planned to speak with her, that was all right. He would just leave the samples with the receptionist, as she’d suggested.

  Taking the sample packets in a ziplock bag, he walked into the reception area. The middle-aged woman at the desk gave him a knowing smile. “You must be Dr. Rushford. The judge told me you might be coming by.”

  “That’s right. I just wanted to drop off these medicine samples for her dog.” He laid the packet on the desk, next to a nameplate that said MAUREEN GRIMSHAW. “You must be Maureen,” he said. “Would you mind giving this to her? I don’t want to bother her when she’s working.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets it.” Rush could swear the woman winked at him. “And by the way, she asked me to give you something from her.” Maureen thrust a shoebox-sized plastic carton toward him. Through the transparent sides, the contents looked like sheer chocolate decadence. “She said she’d made them to thank you. But if you don’t mind my saying so . . .” She leaned closer across the desk. “That lady doesn’t make brownies for just anybody. Something tells me she thinks you’re pretty special.”

  “I’ll keep that in min
d. Tell her thanks.” Rush took the box and turned away. Looking past the desk and down the hall, he could see that the door to the courtroom was partway open. For a moment he was tempted to walk down the hall, slip inside, and sit in the back, filling his gaze with the judge as she ruled on traffic tickets, shoplifting, and other petty issues.

  But ogling Tracy in her courtroom would be a guaranteed way to give her the creeps. He would take the brownies home, share them with his partners, and help them get the ranch ready for tonight. With the Christmas season approaching fast, he’d have plenty to do in the weeks ahead. He could only hope the work would be enough to keep his mind off the little girl who was gone from his life and the woman who didn’t want anything to do with him.

  Chapter 3

  After a long, grinding afternoon, settling five traffic tickets, two trespassing charges, one restraining order, one dog bite, and a long-running dispute over the ownership of a pregnant cow’s unborn calf, Tracy swallowed a couple of ibuprofen tablets, hung her robe in her chamber, gathered up her purse and jacket, and prepared to leave for the day.

  As she passed the front desk, Maureen, the receptionist, hailed her. “Hey, don’t forget these!” She waved a ziplock bag containing what looked like small packets of medicine.

  “Oh, yes.” She turned back toward the desk. “I hope you thanked the good doctor for me.”

  “I did, and I gave him the brownies.” She sent Tracy a mischievous grin. “Good heavens, you didn’t tell me what a gorgeous hunk he was. By the time he walked out the door, I was drooling. I take it he’s single.”

  “As far as I know, for whatever that’s worth.”

  “Well, if you’re smart, you won’t let that one get away. If I were twenty years younger, girl, I’d get myself gussied up and give you a run for your money.”

  Tracy forced herself to laugh. “You’ve got the wrong idea, Maureen. Dr. Rushford and I are barely friends. He checked my animals and didn’t charge me for coming by. I made the brownies to thank him, but also because I didn’t want to be obligated.”