the month of December. Every event seemed to begin and end at Dream Weaver Inn. There had even been a time when Bella had Travis convinced that Santa himself began his long night of deliveries with a stop at the inn for a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of her dad’s chunky-fudgy cookies, the absolute best cookies ever.
He didn’t know much about her business life out there in Chicago. He’d heard she lived in some fancy condo on north Michigan Avenue, worked 24/7 and rarely took a vacation, probably due to the expense of that high-priced condo. Knowing sweet little Bella, he was dang sure she had to be missing Christmas in Briggs, Idaho. Or why else would she be coming home just days before the main event? He knew her mom had passed away within the last year, and he figured she must be returning to spend the holidays with her dad to soak up some family comfort.
Dream Weaver Inn had hit on some hard times in the past few years with occupancy going down to barely enough to keep the lights on. Travis and his family were trying to change all that, and so far the inn had been coming around with most of the rooms reserved for December and well into January. He was hoping that trend would continue after the holidays, especially now that Bella might be taking an interest. He wanted to try to keep her around for a while and get to know her again.
As soon as he’d heard about her return he dropped everything else going on in his life to complete the Christmas decorations for her homecoming. He wanted the inn to look exactly as it had before she’d left. It had to be perfect for her arrival that evening, and both he and Nick had worked extra hard to accomplish that goal. If she’d given her dad a few days warning instead of twenty-four hours he probably could have gotten all the repairs to the inn done in time. But as it was, the repairs had to be overlooked in favor of more important things—decorations. He’d even enlisted his dad, his brother Colt, plus his wife, Helen, and their four children, to help in the mad dash to make the inn glow like it had when Bella lived there.
“She’s on her way in,” Nick hollered up from somewhere below.
Travis couldn’t see him as he straddled the roof next to the chimney securing the string of lights around it. Earlier that morning he’d set up the life-size Santa sitting in his sleigh and holding the reins to his reindeer, and once he secured the chimney lights the roof would look exactly as it had when Bella lived there. All he needed were a few more hours and everything would be perfect.
“How close?” Travis called down, as he scratched his chin. He always grew a short beard this time of year, but he never seemed to get used to it. The dang thing itched whenever his nerves got the best of him, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to shave the thing clean off.
“Said she can see the inn.”
Evidently, he didn’t have a few more hours.
Travis called back to Nick. “But she’s not supposed to arrive until late tonight.”
Nick now stood in the front yard out far enough for Travis to see him. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at Travis. Even though there was a thick layer of clouds hanging over Briggs, the sky, combined with the newly fallen snow, made everything glisten a pearly shade of white. “My girl never was one for clocks. I’m thinking that’s her headed our way.” He turned slightly and pointed out to the road heading into Briggs.
“Darn it all,” Travis cursed. “She always liked to show up early. Be the first one to arrive at a party or an event. I should’ve remembered that.”
His gaze shot across the roof and settled on the road, what he could see of it, and sure enough, a single blue, heavy-duty truck sped its way doing at least seventy-five, with no regard to road conditions or speed limits.
He figured it had to be Bella—she always liked to ride a fast horse. The girl he’d known had been addicted to speed, the acceleration type, not the drug.
A thick blanket of snow had recently covered the valley for as far as Travis could see, turning everything into a white wonderland, exactly the way Travis liked it. The Teton mountain range that spanned the eastern part of the town was shrouded with low-hanging clouds giving the impression they were hills rather than some of the highest peaks in the country. And the normally bustling business section was barely coming to life as a few shopkeepers shoveled the snow off their front sidewalks before their stores opened for business.
“Inn looks good,” his brother Colt shouted as he looked up to the roof from the six-foot high N-O-E-L letters on the massive front lawn. He’d secured them to the ground making sure they wouldn’t come tumbling down in the middle of the night, using stakes that Travis had crafted especially for the task. The inn sat at least seventy-five feet back from the street, so any decorations in the front yard had to be larger than life in order for anyone to see them. “Come on down here, little brother, and greet the girl you’ve been waitin’ on for most of your adult life.”
Travis hurried to finish up, then he plugged the end of the string into the rest of the lights that surrounded Santa’s sleigh. They instantly lit up, assuring him the roof was complete. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get down before she arrived without killing himself, a task that might take some time considering more snow had fallen since he’d first crawled up there. He’d worn a safety harness, and had secured a rope to the ring he’d attached to the roof several years ago, but he sure as heck didn’t want to make use of his precaution, especially now when Bella was only minutes away.
He wished he’d have listened to his dad an hour ago when he’d urged him to come on down before the snow got too thick.
But did he listen?
Not this cowboy.
He knew he had to take his time, but adrenaline shot through his veins as the truck quickly approached. Travis could no more slow down his actions than a young boy could stop himself from opening a gift on Christmas morning. Colt was right. Ever since Bella had moved away he’d been anxiously waiting for her permanent return. She was part of Briggs, Idaho, just like he was, and despite her long absence, he knew deep in her heart she could never settle anywhere else. Nothing could get him to admit any of this, at least not to his two older brothers who would have razzed him without mercy.
“She has her own life in Chicago and I have mine right here. I’m excited to see an old friend, is all,” he said, knowing darn well his brother knew the truth.
Travis took in a deep breath of the crisp air before he slid his butt down the front side of the roof, his tool belt skidding across the snowy gray shingles as he headed for his ladder at the far end. His hands were about frozen despite his wool gloves and if it wasn’t for his new black, genuine beaver cattleman’s hat he surely would have frozen into another roof ornament standing next to Santa.
“Whatever you say, little brother, but that old friend just pulled up to the front curb. You better get your hustle on or you’re going to miss the smile on her pretty little face when she sees the inn all decked out like it used to be.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can, considering all the snow that’s up here,” Travis yelled just as his foot slid out from under him and the only thing that kept him from falling right on his backside was his tight hold on that thick rope.
The sound of small feet running across the wooden porch floor below echoed up to Travis. “Maybe we should’ve brought that old trampoline, Uncle Travis,” Joey, Colt’s youngest boy, called up. He’d jumped off the homestead barn roof onto a trampoline on his fourth birthday. Fortunately, Travis had caught him in midair as he’d taken a leap of faith and the two of them had glided down together.
The trampoline might have been a good idea considering Travis couldn’t seem to keep his footing on the slick roof.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the kind to admit his shortcomings.
“No need,” Travis yelled back. “I’ve got it all under control.” Then he slid another few inches, causing his heart to jump against his chest. His rubber-soled boots took hold on a dry spot on the roof and he let out the breath he’d been holding.
“You best be careful, son,” Dodge, his white-haired father, called up to