The Maverick's Christmas Homecoming Page 14

  “It was that way for Jackie and Frank, too? In high school?”

  Her mother nodded. “I worried some about them getting married right after graduation because they were so young. But I didn’t try to stop her.”

  “Because of you and Dad?”

  “Yes.” Concern put creases in her mother’s forehead. “Is there something with you and Shane?”

  “No. Yes—” The first time she’d met him there’d been a room full of busboys, waitstaff and restaurant employees when Grant Clifton introduced them to the new chef. She’d felt the “wow” thing her mother just described. “Maybe.”

  Susan took the glass from her and put it in the cupboard. “Sweetheart, I know you’ve had disappointments. But you’ll know when it’s right.”

  “I guess.”

  Disappointment was a word designed to sugarcoat her catastrophe of a love life. She realized now that time invested didn’t make a man less selfish or more right for her. She envied her sister and mother, getting it right the first time.

  She wanted a solid relationship like her parents had. She wanted a guy like her brother-in-law. Six months ago she’d met Shane and had a crush on him from afar. Now she knew him, a man who thought of others first. The kind of man who would let the explosive information about who he really was eat him up inside rather than make trouble for the family he believed was his, one that had already been through a lot.

  She’d felt that certain something the first time she saw him but...how could she trust her judgment after so much failure?

  And more important, could Shane put the missing parts of himself together and find the peace he needed to settle down? That question might be answered after Presents for Patriots tomorrow night. He’d decided to talk to D.J. about his suspicions when the event was over.

  * * *

  Gianna looked around the Rib Shack’s main dining room and hardly recognized it. The same historical town mural and sepia-toned pictures were on the walls, but all the tables usually scattered around in the center of the room had been pushed together for work space. People crowded around them and had an assembly line going. At several workstations, volunteers wrapped small electronics and toiletries in red, green, silver and gold Christmas paper, then passed it down for whoever was doing the ribbon.

  Piles of presents waited for a volunteer to pick them up for delivery to where brown shipping boxes waited to be filled, addressed and stacked for transport.

  Everyone who’d signed up for the event performed a function that utilized their talents as much as possible and her job was to circulate with hors d’oeuvres. She moved back and forth from where the volunteers were working and D.J.’s kitchen, where Shane was deftly balancing an assembly of ingredients, cooking and keeping things warm.

  She pushed through the kitchen’s double doors where he was working. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.”

  Stainless-steel bowls were in front of him, one with a tomato mixture, the other looked like cheese. Trays of sliced, toasted French bread marched up the long counter.

  “Are you holding up okay?”

  His expression was hooded but tension in his body said he knew she wasn’t talking about food preparation, but what was coming after. “I’m made of stern stuff.”

  “Yes, you are.” The only problem was some of that same stuff made up D.J. and Dax Traub. They didn’t know yet that their world was going to turn upside down. She hated this and could only imagine how Shane felt. Stiff upper lip. “Everyone is raving about those little pastry things.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s a new recipe.”

  “Talk about a spectacular debut.” Chalk up one good thing. “I’ll just refill my tray. Hang in there.”

  She saw him nod and the way the muscle in his cheek moved. He was strung pretty tight and there was nothing to do but wait until this event was over.

  After refilling her tray with napkins and food, she moved back out into the big room. The high ceiling held in the hum of voices and laughter. In one corner, the Thunder Canyon radio station was broadcasting Christmas music and live updates from the affair. On the opposite side of the room a TV reporter from a local affiliate was interviewing D. J. Traub, who looked happy, excited and intense. That was probably a family trait because she saw a lot of it in Shane.

  She stopped at a table where Angie Anderson and Forrest Traub were working together. Holding out the tray, she said, “Care for a snack?”

  “Wow, those look good. What is it?” Angie looked up from the MP3 player and paper she was lining up.

  “Crab puffs.”

  Forrest put a piece of tape on the seam to hold the paper together. He shifted his weight to take the strain off his leg, still healing from the wound he’d sustained in Afghanistan. Better than anyone in the room, this former soldier understood what presents would mean to service personnel stationed in a foreign land at Christmas. He met her gaze and there was a twinkle in his light brown eyes. “You could just leave that whole tray right here if you want.”

  Angie laughed. “That’s the spirit. Pig out for Patriots.”

  “I have to keep up my strength in order to help out my brothers in arms,” he defended.

  “Uh-huh. You’re a giver, Forrest Traub.” Angie put several of the puffs on a napkin. “Thanks, Gianna.”

  “You’re welcome. And, Forrest?” She grinned at the former soldier. “If there are any of these babies left over, they’re yours. I’ll do my best.”

  He saluted. “If I wasn’t already head over heels in love with Angie...”

  “But you are,” she reminded him, her voice teasing.

  “I definitely am.” He met her gaze and there was absolute sincerity in his own.

  Gianna sighed as she moved to the next table. Antonia and Clay Traub were doing ribbon duty. She was surprised to see them. “Hey, what are you two doing here?”

  Antonia pushed a long, wavy strand of brown hair behind her ear. Green eyes glowed with good humor, but looked a little tired around the edges. “What you really want to know is what have we done with the kids.”

  “No,” Gianna said. “What I really want to know is how you can possibly look so beautiful and slim after giving birth less than two months ago.”

  Clay gazed at his wife and the love there was clear for everyone to see. A boyishly handsome man with brown eyes, he’d been raising his own six-month-old son when he rented a room at Wright’s Way, Antonia’s boarding house, when she was in the third trimester of pregnancy. Her plan was to be a single mom, but they fell for each other and got married. Now they were mom and dad to two babies.

  “She’s an amazing mother,” Clay said, then kissed his wife’s cheek, “and an even more amazing woman.”

  “And that’s my secret,” she said, sending the love right back to her husband. “A man who thinks everything I do is perfect.”

  Gianna held back a sigh. “Okay. Now I want to know what you’ve done with the kids.”

  “It’s a wonderful invention called grandparents.” Clay laughed. “My folks are here from Rust Creek and will stay on through the holidays.”

  “Ellie and Bob are really good with the babies,” Antonia gushed.

  “They should be,” Clay told her, “after having so many kids of their own.”

  “Maybe they should hire out,” Gianna said, giving them some crab puffs.

  If she had babies, her folks would be there for her. They were fantastic
grandparents to Jackie’s kids but it was looking like that would be it for Susan and Ed Garrison, thanks to the failure of their older daughter to provide any. Envy seemed to be Gianna’s new best friend these days. She was jealous of everyone. Everywhere she turned people were deliriously happy and sappy with romance. Was she the only person in the room who had the love carrot dangling in front of her just out of reach?

  She moved past more tables where she saw her landlady and husband, Cody Overton. After that came Joss and Jason Traub, who had renovated and updated The Hitching Post. They’d pretended to be a couple and ended up falling in love. Gianna was pretending to be full of holiday spirit but was falling into a funk.

  Envy was nothing given the fact that she just wanted to be with Shane. But when she looked at the road ahead for her, all she could see were speed bumps. His biological parents were like a cloud hanging over him and he might not stay in Thunder Canyon.

  She had a few hors d’oeuvres left on the tray when she stopped at the place where Dax and D. J. Traub were filling the brown packing boxes with gifts and sealing them with heavy duty tape. Apparently D.J. had finished his interview. Both men straightened and towered over her.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  Dax took a napkin and popped one of the seafood-filled pastries into his mouth. “Mmm. What is this?”

  “Crab puff,” she said without much enthusiasm.

  “Good,” Dax said after chewing and swallowing. He took another. “Have you been scarfing these down?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Because you are what you eat and you look crabby.”

  “He meant thoughtful,” D.J. said, glaring at his brother. “Maybe preoccupied. Or pensive.”

  “No.” Dax folded his arms over his chest. “I meant crabby. Where’s your Christmas spirit? What’s up, G?”

  The words yanked Gianna out of her funk with an almost audible snap. She was selfish, shallow and self-centered. These two brothers had no idea that their world was about to tilt. That when the evening ended everything they believed about their mother would be changed forever and not in a good way.

  She didn’t want to talk about what was bugging her. “Speaking of Christmas, it’s only about two weeks away. Will these boxes get to Afghanistan in time?”

  “The Air Force National Guard is on Operation Santa Claus,” D.J. explained. “They’ve got transport aircraft standing by to take everything, and staff in place to get it distributed by Christmas.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said.

  D.J.’s expression was curious. “Nice try, G. But you didn’t answer the question. How come your Christmas spirit is missing in action?”

  She forced herself to look them in the eyes. “We’re here to do our part to make Christmas merrier for the men and women halfway around the world who are protecting our freedom. Please don’t make me feel as shallow as a cookie sheet and admit out loud, here of all places, that I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

  “Is there a guy involved?” D.J. took the last of the hors d’oeuvres on her tray.

  Of course he’d go there. Since she’d been working at the resort restaurant, she’d stopped in the Rib Shack from time to time and D.J. took her under his wing. She’d confessed her pathetic and unfortunate relationship history and his advice was to pick better guys. Talking to him had helped, but now she wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure he wouldn’t see through whatever lie she pitched him.

  “Oh, you know—”

  “The classic non-answer,” he said nodding. “That’s okay. It’s not necessary for me to know details. But you don’t have a big brother so I’ll do the honors and beat him up for you if necessary.”

  Oh, God, don’t say that, she prayed. She didn’t want Shane hit. Not for her and especially not by the man who was his half brother.

  “I appreciate the offer, D.J., but I can take care of myself.” At that moment she saw Shane nearby with a tray of bruscetta. Her heart boomeranged in her chest as he took out his reality TV smile and worked everyone over with it. She wasn’t immune.

  Dax’s voice penetrated her haze with a comment that sounded as if he’d just remembered. “You and Shane were out shopping together.”

  “That’s right.” D.J. followed her gaze. “You and Shane? What’s up, G?”

  Good question. One she didn’t want to answer. So she asked the first thing that popped into her mind. “What do you think of him?”

  The brothers stared at each other for several moments, then Dax said, “His crab puffs are really good.”

  “Better than the ribs here at the shack?” D.J. challenged.

  “Tomato, tomahto.” Dax shrugged. “Just saying...”

  “Seriously?” Gianna was aware that she was pushing, but this was important. The answer could make a big difference in how they received the news he planned to give them. “You do know I wasn’t talking about his cooking skill, right?”

  “Well,” Dax mused, “he’s stepped up every time someone asked him to pitch in. Thunder Canyon is lucky to have a celebrity who’s also not a jerk.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “He spent his day off making all the hors d’oeuvres. And tonight The Gallatin Room only took a few reservations from people staying here at the resort so that the staff would be free to volunteer for your event. Shane figured most everyone from town would be here and not going out to dinner, anyway.”

  Dax nodded his approval. “Above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “I hate to admit my brother is right about anything.” D.J. grinned. “But Shane’s willingness to be a part of this town goes a long way toward earning my loyalty. He and I have talked some and he seems like a great guy.”

  “He is. Really, really is.”

  Gianna knew her tone was more enthusiastic than necessary when the brothers exchanged a questioning look. This felt a lot like watching an air-disaster movie where she wanted to shout, “Don’t get on the plane!”

  There was nothing she could do and that was frustrating when she wanted so badly to help everyone involved because she liked, respected and cared about all of them. Shane was going to drop a very big bomb on this family tonight and she didn’t want Dax and D. J. Traub to hate him for it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Gianna had left the Rib Shack a while ago after giving Shane a kiss and hug that went on so long he’d hated to let her go. She’d offered to stay, but this was something he had to do alone. He’d given her the key to his condo when she said sleeping wasn’t likely until she knew what happened, and he was grateful to her yet again. If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure how he’d have gotten this far without her.

  Shane took his place in a line of volunteers who passed the brown cardboard boxes filled with presents into trucks for the next part of the journey to soldiers overseas. After that he pitched in with D.J. and a half dozen other men to move tables and chairs, put the Rib Shack’s main dining room back the way it was before being taken over by patriotic holiday elves. At least he was doing something good while killing time waiting to do something not so good.

  D.J. inspected the room after he and Shane moved the last table and settled the two chairs on either side. He nodded with satisfaction and announced, “Okay, everyone, I think that does it. Thanks for all your help. I literally could not have done this without you.”

  Shane watched D.J. shake hands with the men who left through the restaurant doors that led to the public parking lot just outside, which was nearly empty now. H
e locked up and wearily rubbed the back of his neck.

  D.J. turned and seemed to realize he wasn’t alone. He looked tired. “Shane— Sorry—I’ll unlock the doors if you’re going this way.”

  He was going to hell, but not through those doors. The Rib Shack had a rear entrance just like The Gallatin Room. “No. I’ll head out through your kitchen, if that’s okay.”

  “No problem. Would you like a beer? I could sure use one. And a little company would be welcome if you’re not too tired.”

  “I’m used to these hours. Kind of goes with a food-service career,” he said. “A beer sounds good.”

  “Follow me.” The other man turned and led the way.

  As they walked toward the kitchen, D.J. detoured into the bar and came out with two longnecks. He handed one to Shane, then continued to the back of the restaurant, turning off lights as he went.

  He pushed through the double doors and glanced around. Shane knew that look, the one a chef used to make sure there’s nothing out of place. To make sure heat sources are shut down, food put away, everything clean. Shane had been the last one in here and followed the other man’s gaze.

  The long, stainless-steel counter was spotless. Mixing bowls were nested and stacked on shelves. Recently washed pots and pans hung on overhead racks and different size knives back where he’d found them. After doing his volunteer part with the food, Shane had made sure this room was locked down.

  “Looks good in here, too. Thanks.” D.J. twisted the cap off his beer, then held it out for a toast. “Another successful Presents for Patriots. Here’s to pulling it off.”

  “A job well done, thanks to you.” Shane tapped the other man’s bottle with his own.

  “By the way,” D.J. said, “my brother liked the crab puffs.”

  He’s my brother, too, Shane thought. And so are you.

  He hated this. They were good guys and he was tempted to walk away now, keeping the scandal to himself. But he couldn’t fault Gianna’s point. If the situation were reversed, he’d want to know. It was the right thing to do.