Michelle Major

Sleigh Bells In Crimson


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her a chance,” his father coaxed. “It makes me feel better to know you won’t be out here all alone.”

      “Chad’s here,” Caden said, referring to the young bull rider who worked winters on the ranch. “He’s company.”

      “Chad’s too busy in town chasing women.” Garrett wagged a finger. “You could stand to go in with him a time or two. It’s amazing what a difference it makes having a woman in your bed at—”

      Caden held up both hands. “Stop before you make my ears bleed. I don’t want to hear about my dad’s romantic escapades.”

      Garrett chuckled. “You could learn something, young man. Be nice to Lucy. She’s important to Maureen which makes her important to me.”

      Caden’s jaw tightened at the thought of spending any more time than necessary with Lucy Renner, but he nodded. He’d learned from a young age there was no point in arguing with Garrett Sharpe when the man had his mind set on something. Caden was just going to have to prove what a mistake marrying Maureen would be. And he had two weeks to do it.

      * * *

      Later that afternoon, Lucy stood looking out the main house’s big picture window, taking in the snow-covered peak of the mountain looming in the distance and the expanse of open fields that surrounded the property. She’d lived in Indiana until the age of eleven when Maureen had transplanted them to Florida for husband number two.

      Lucy liked the change of seasons, but the thick white snow that blanketed everything for miles was a revelation. It was difficult to believe animals could survive outdoors in this climate, although the serenity of the scenery spoke to something deep in her soul. Colorado felt fresh, clean and full of new promises, which she assumed was part of the allure for her mother.

      Maureen loved nothing more than to reinvent herself with each new adventure that came along. Lucy found herself reluctantly smiling at the thought of her mom herding cattle or churning butter or whatever it was ranch wives did these days.

      It had been hours since the happy couple had driven off toward the regional airport, where they’d board a private plane to take them into Denver to catch a commercial flight to New York City.

      “First-class,” her mother had whispered into Lucy’s ear as they stood in the driveway earlier, saying their goodbyes. “I haven’t flown first-class since Jerry.” Maureen’s marriage to husband number two, Jerry Murphy, had lasted only a few months, but Maureen had made the most of her time with the wealthy restaurateur from Naples, Florida.

      Lucy had seen Caden’s shoulders stiffen and guessed that he’d overheard Maureen. Great. One more reason for Caden to mistrust them. How could Lucy explain her mother’s childlike immaturity when half the time Lucy didn’t understand it herself?

      Garrett seemed to take it all in stride, and Lucy got the impression he tried to be purposely over-the-top to illicit a reaction from Maureen. There was something inherently magnanimous about the older rancher, as if he enjoyed having someone with whom to share the trappings of his wealth.

      As soon as the truck had disappeared down the long, winding drive that led to the highway, Caden turned and stalked away.

      Lucy returned to the main house and wandered from room to room, imagining life here before the force of nature that was her mother descended. How did a father and son, a widower and a bachelor surrounded by the memories of a beloved wife and brother, spend their evenings?

      From Garrett’s effusive compliments about her mother’s cooking, he wasn’t accustomed to home-cooked meals. Lucy could relate to that. The only time her mother had ever cooked when Lucy was growing up was when Maureen was trying to impress a new boyfriend.

      She moved toward the bookshelves in the family room, which were filled with volumes on outdoor life and classics she’d expect a man like Garrett to read—Hemingway and Twain—with the occasional modern thriller thrown in for good measure. A collection of framed photos took up an entire shelf, and she could piece together the Sharpe family history from the faces smiling out at her.

      There was one of a beautiful young woman holding a toddler, who grinned widely and wore cowboy boots a size too big for him. The woman’s hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and she wore no makeup, but she didn’t need any. She stood in front of a split-rail fence with a dozen cattle grazing behind her.

      The next photo showed the same boy, who Lucy assumed was Tyson Sharpe, as a gangly adolescent with his arm slung around Caden’s shoulder. Lucy could easily recognize his mutinous scowl, although in the photo he was all gangly arms and skinny shoulders. He was glaring at the camera, a fact that his brother seemed to enjoy immensely.

      Another photo showed both Tyson and Caden wearing graduation gowns and caps, Garrett with an arm wrapped around each of them. Caden had started to grow into his body by that point, and Tyson had also become a wildly handsome young man with thick blond hair and a careless grin so different from that of his brother’s tight smile.

      Lucy’s breath caught at the final photo. It showed Tyson and Caden at the base of a sheer cliff, both wearing climbing gear. Caden was a few inches taller than his brother, but what punched at Lucy’s chest was the pure joy displayed in the photo.

      Caden’s head was thrown back in laughter, and Tyson was grinning and looking at Caden with a good bit of love and adoration. The bond between the brothers had clearly been solidified at that point. At least in the second the photo was snapped, Caden had dropped his defenses to revel in whatever moment they were having.

      She couldn’t help but be curious as to the circumstances of Tyson’s death and why Caden seemed to take the blame for it. She wished she’d asked her mother for more details, although there was a good chance Maureen wouldn’t be aware of the situation since it didn’t affect her directly.

      The sound of the front door opening and male voices coming closer interrupted her musings. She whirled away from the bookcase and took two hurried steps toward the middle of the room, feeling somehow like she’d been spying on Caden by looking at the photos.

      He appeared in the hall a moment later, and color rushed to Lucy’s cheeks as his stark gaze landed on her. She cursed her pathetic and weak body, which reacted to the way he was studying her with an involuntary shiver.

      How was she supposed to keep her distance from this man when she could almost feel the current of attraction pulsing between them?

      “Are you casing the place now that my dad’s away?” he asked drily, offering an acute reminder of why it would be easy to stay away from him.

      Because he was a jerk.

      “You must be Maureen’s daughter,” the other man said and strode forward to take Lucy’s hand. She guessed he was younger than Caden by at least five years. His light blond hair fell over hazel eyes that were wide and welcoming. “Your mom is awesome. She’s pretty hot, too. A real MILF—”

      “Chad.” Caden’s voice was like a slap, cutting off Chad midsentence. Lucy had to admit she was grateful. She should have been used to how men both young and old reacted to her mother. Yet it still made her as uncomfortable now as it had when she was a kid. There were many years she’d lied to her mother about school activities just to avoid Maureen showing up in her plunging necklines and thigh-grazing hems to flirt with unsuspecting teachers or the fathers of Lucy’s few friends.

      The younger man chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “But, sweetheart, you clearly inherited your looks from your mama.”

      “I’m not your sweetheart,” Lucy said softly, earning another chuckle from the man.

      “Not yet, anyway,” he said with a wink.

      Lucy rolled her eyes but felt the corners of her mouth curve up. There was something so inherently charismatic about Chad, not to mention how handsome he was. In his tight jeans, cowboy boots and fitted flannel shirt, he reminded Lucy of a young Brad Pitt circa Thelma and Louise.

      Not