Big Sky Christmas

Since when is wimping out your style? Is that the kind of woman Bobby needs as his mother?

Since the death of her fiancé, that was how she had found the strength to go on. By thinking of their son. And putting his needs before hers.

Still, it was impossible not to recall the last time she’d been here. Wearing a long white gown. Expecting to leave a married woman.

Eighteen months had passed since then, a relatively short period of time marked by the most major events of Winnie’s life: the death of her fiancé and the birth of their son seven months later.

She checked her cell phone, making sure it was set to vibrate so she’d know if Bobby’s babysitter called. Not that she was worried. Eugenia Fox had raised a son of her own, and had worked for Winnie at the Cinnamon Stick Café since it had opened several years ago.

No, Eugenia and Bobby were going to be fine.

It was herself she was worried about.

If she hadn’t been so late, she wouldn’t be forced to enter the church alone. Her best friend, Laurel, and her new husband, Corb Lambert—the brother of Winnie’s late fiancé—had planned to be by her side for moral support. But they must have given up on her. Decided she’d chickened out.

And she still could. There was no one around to see if she just about-faced and scurried home to the sweet toddler who was the center of her universe.

She sighed.

It was precisely because of Bobby that she needed to attend this wedding. This was his father’s family. Her son’s family. And it was time she faced them.

Still, she paused one last time before entering the church, glancing over her shoulder at the small town of Coffee Creek.

The November day was sunny, crisp and cold. A dusting of snow had decorated the day nicely for the wedding party, the silvery-white crystals contrasting vividly with the blue Montana sky. Olive Lambert, control freak that she was, would be pleased.

Be nice, Winnie. No catty comments about Bobby’s grandmother, please.

She grasped the handle, took a deep breath then pulled open the door.

The sound of the organ music almost did her in.

At least it was a different song than the one that had played a year and a half ago. Beethoven was a genius, but she never wanted to hear “Ode to Joy” again.

She peeled off her gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her red wool coat. An usher appeared then, a young man in a cheap suit that didn’t fit him well. Winnie remembered him as a cousin on the Lambert side.

“Hi, Adam. Sorry I’m late.”

His eyes went wide as he realized who she was. “No problem.” He hung her coat for her, then offered his arm. “Come on, I’ll show you to your seat.”

Winnie schooled herself to look only straight ahead as she walked the length of the aisle. Oh, why had she arrived so late? Now everyone was watching her and there were so many people. Of course there were. The Lamberts owned the largest ranch in the county. They mattered. And her son was one of them. So she couldn’t break down and cry, she just couldn’t. Not even one little tear.

Adam stopped and gestured for her to take a seat in a pew that already seemed to be full. But room was made and she slid onto the wooden bench, not taking note of the person beside her until after she was in position, purse tucked at her feet, tissue palmed discreetly...just in case.

Only then did she notice the masculine thigh pressed next to hers. Looking up, she met Jackson Stone’s dark blue eyes. Jackson had lived with the Lamberts since he was thirteen, so he’d been like a brother to Brock, Corb, B.J. and Cassidy. If she’d married Brock, he would have been a de facto brother-in-law to her.

But that didn’t mean she knew him well.

Compared to his foster siblings, Jackson was quiet and reserved. Brock had speculated that hardships from Jackson’s childhood and early teens had left scars that time might never heal.

And that may well be the case. But at least the man was handsome, with thick dark hair and bone structure good enough to be a model. Weathered skin and the rough look of his hands made it plain, though, that he was a working man.

According to Laurel, Jackson blamed himself for the accident, since he’d been driving, with Brock in the front seat next to him and Corb in the rear. One of the missions Winnie had set for herself on returning to Coffee Creek was to help Jackson see that there was no rational reason for him to feel guilty, and that she, certainly, bore him no malice.

But this wasn’t the place for that conversation.

“Hi, Jackson.” She smiled and gave him a one-armed hug, which he awkwardly returned.

“Winnie.”

He’d never been a big talker. “Big day, isn’t it? Double wedding and all.”

“Yup.”

“Can hardly contain your excitement, huh?”

Jackson’s lips curved up a little. “Weddings aren’t my thing.”

Not hers, either. At least, not anymore. She scanned the line of attractive men standing at the front of the church. There was the local vet, Dan Farley, a solid, muscular guy with sharp cheekbones and dark, almost black eyes. Farley was marrying Cassidy Lambert today.

Cassidy’s brother B.J. stood next to Farley. Taller, thinner, he was the only Lambert who didn’t share the blond hair and green eyes that Brock had had.

B.J. was marrying Bitterroot County’s sheriff, Savannah Moody. Dark haired, sultry-eyed Savannah had been the one who had come to the church to let them know about the accident.

She’d been on duty then. Though she’d been B.J.’s high school sweetheart, she hadn’t been invited to the wedding, due to a longstanding rift between them.

But with the solving of an old case involving arson, theft and murder, they’d resolved their differences. And now they were getting married.

It was an amazing story, and one Winnie had heard secondhand from her friend Laurel as Winnie had still been living in Highwood with her parents at that time.

Moving back to Coffee Creek had been a recent development. So much was the same. And yet so much had changed...

Winnie squeezed the tissue, suddenly wishing she’d brought more. She didn’t know how she was going to handle watching Savannah walk down the aisle today. But she had to.

“This must be difficult,” Jackson whispered.

Had he noticed her nerves? She nodded.

“Imagine you’re at the rodeo.” She could feel his breath on her hair as he leaned in to whisper, “Everyone’s in regular clothes. The guys are in the chutes, waiting for their ride.”

“And the organ music?”

“That’s just the fans cheering.”

He was being silly. But it was working. She could feel her muscles relaxing. She closed her eyes, picturing the scene that Jackson was laying out for her. She’d been to countless rodeos over the years; in fact, that was how she’d met—

Brock.

Her eyes flashed open. Her heart began to race and her body went rigid. If he hadn’t died in that crash on his way to the church, he would be sitting beside her right now. They’d be man and wife and—