It's In His Christmas Wish (A Red River Valley Novel Book 7) Read online

  Contents

  Also by Shelly Alexander

  A personal message from Shelly:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  More titles by Shelly:

  About the Author

  Also by Shelly Alexander

  Shelly’s titles with a little less steam (still sexy, though!):

  The Red River Valley Series

  It’s In His Heart – Coop & Ella’s Story

  It’s In His Touch – Blake & Angelique’s Story

  It’s In His Smile – Talmadge & Miranda’s Story

  It’s In His Arms – Mitchell & Lorenda’s Story

  It’s In His Forever - Langston & His Secret Love’s Story

  It’s In His Song - Dylan & Hailey’s Story

  It’s In His Christmas Wish - Ross & Kimberly’s Story

  The Angel Fire Falls Series

  Dare Me Once — Trace & Lily’s Story

  Dare Me Again — Elliott & Rebel’s Story

  Dare Me Now - TBA

  Dare Me Always - TBA

  Shelly’s sizzling titles (with a lot of steam):

  The Checkmate Inc. Series

  ForePlay – Leo & Chloe’s Story

  Rookie Moves – Dex & Ava’s Story

  Get Wilde – Ethan & Adeline’s Story

  Sinful Games – Oz & Kendall’s Story

  Wilde Rush - Jacob & Grace’s Story TBA

  A personal message from Shelly:

  Hello, my lovelies,

  As this — my first published series — comes to a close, I'm both excited to start new books set in a different location and sad that the wonderfully quirky characters who make up the heart of Red River will no longer be my focus when I sit down to write every day.

  Thank you for following this series from start to finish. It's been a fantastic journey, and just like the characters in the books, there has been ups and there has been downs. But you all have stayed with me every step of the way, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

  So, enjoy Ross and Kimberly's heartwarming holiday story, and savor the journey through Red River, one last time.

  Dedication

  I’d like to dedicate this book to my sister-in-law, Lisa. When Kimberly’s character came to life on the page as a secondary in book 2, her personality and looks were yours to a T. As we spend your last days with you, my imagination has given you the happy ending you deserved. We’ll see you in Heaven some day when our time comes.

  And as always, for my family:

  Blair Sr., Blair Jr., Elliott, and Nicki.

  You never let me give up, no matter what you had to sacrifice so that I could pursue my dream.

  I love all of you more than you’ll ever know.

  Chapter One

  “Wow. Those are some really big balls,” Kimberly Perez deadpanned, studying the examples of new, giant Christmas ornaments that would decorate Red River if the town council voted to purchase them.

  Ms. Francine—head of the Christmas decorations committee for at least the last forty years—was in the process of lining up the visual aids on easels in front of the long bar at Cotton Eyed Joe’s so the town council could study her selections. The proposed holiday décor would trim Main Street, the park, and the gazebo, which sat smack in the middle of Red River.

  Squinting behind glasses as thick as a soda bottle, Ms. Francine set up one enlarged picture after another to illustrate the decorations. Her mysterious purse, which she guarded with her life and was the size of a moving truck, dangled from the notch of her elbow.

  Now that took talent.

  Clickity, click, click. Kimberly drummed a set of bright blue painted nails against the table and waited her turn to speak at the emergency council meeting.

  On a cold Friday morning in early December, dozens of residents had braved the bitter weather just to vote on new decorations, and most of those were older church-going folks who wanted to make sure a Nativity scene was included.

  Kimberly stopped the nail drumming. A baby with no crib for a bed was something she could understand. The gazillion foster homes she’d lived in while growing up didn’t always have comfy beds, either.

  She formed a large circle with her arms, as though she was dancing to a Village People song. “Those are mammoth sized balls, actually.”

  A few of the meeting attendees chuckled. The rest sniffed at her, then looked down their noses.

  Sheesh. Some folks had no sense of humor.

  “Thank you, Kimberly,” Ms. Francine cooed, as though it had been a compliment. On the last easel, she placed a picture of a pyramid as tall as a house and constructed of gigantic red and green ornamental balls. The pyramid matched the decorations on the other pictures—clusters of gigantic round ornaments hanging from light poles and strung around the gazebo. “When I searched the catalogues for commercial decorations, I really liked the big balls theme,” she said innocently. “They just jumped out at me.”

  Kimberly snorted with laughter, which drew more censuring looks.

  Since the meeting was taking place at Red River’s favorite watering hole, so Chairperson Clydelle and her sister, Ms. Francine, could have endless refills of heavily spiked coffee at their disposal, Kimberly waved over the new owner. “Dylan, the next round of coffee is on me.” She tilted her head toward the group, which didn’t seem to appreciate her humor, and whispered, “Sneak the hard stuff into theirs. They need to loosen up.”

  “Anything for you, Kimberly,” he said with a wink.

  She looked up at him from under shuttered lashes. “Sure you’re taken?”

  He smiled. “Yup,” he said, then headed back to the bar.

  She knew he was, which was the only reason she teased him with such innuendo. Several months back, he’d discovered he had a kid he’d never known about with an old flame. They’d managed to work it out and fall in love in the process. The wedding was set for next summer.

  A rush of air slipped through Kimberly’s lips and her shoulders slumped.

  Weddings. Cribs and high chairs. Love that lasted a lifetime.

  Experiences Kimberly would never have.

  She’d accepted a long time ago that she was broken on the inside and always would be. Growing up in foster care did that to a person.

  She filled her lungs with a deep breath and sat straighter.

  Self-pity was her enemy.

  Instead, she’d devoted her life and her legal career to helping at-risk children and abused women. Didn’t pay much, but she slept like a baby at night because her conscience was clear. Unlike it would’ve been if she’d pulled down six figures a year—four times over—by representing drug dealers, pimps, gangsters, or any number of other shady characters.

  No thank you. She’d keep her thrifty wardrobe, pieced together from resale shops, before she’d sell her soul to defend exactly the kind of people who’d turned both of her parents into addicts.

  Ms. Francine stepped back to admire her display, and chitter chatter buzzed through the room. Some wanted a traditional green and red color scheme. Others wanted to try something new, like silver and blue.

  Kimberly’s nails clicked against the scarred table again. It was almost her turn to plead her persuasive case … her oral argument … her courtroom summation to convin
ce the town council to put the money to better use than wasting it on unnecessary materialism and frivolous holiday decorations. Using the money to deliver gifts to kids, who otherwise wouldn’t get a single present, seemed more like the true spirit of Christmas. The town was already a winter wonderland during the holiday season, and most businesses along Main Street decorated their storefronts on their own with lights, garland, and Santa with his elves painted on their shop windows. Couldn’t that suffice for the sake of impoverished kids?

  “They sure are nice balls,” said Chairperson Clydelle. “I’d like to thank my sister, Francine, for coming up with the idea on such short notice. I knew I could trust her to do Red River proud after a family of raccoons and at least one skunk got into the storage unit where our usual decorations were stored. There was nothing left of them.” She wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t eat for a week because of the smell.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Ms. Francine’s eyes and batting lashes were magnified by her thick glasses. “With just three weeks until Christmas, a lot of companies were low on inventory, but they’ve got plenty of big balls.” She touched an index finger to her wrinkled lips. “I’ve always appreciated a nice set of balls.”

  Kimberly almost lost it.

  So did some of the other attendees, because either muffled laughter or sniffs of disapproval rounded the room.

  When Ms. Francine opened a large box and pulled out two huge Christmas ornamental balls strung together with a long, thick icicle hanging between them and put it on display alongside the easels, the entire room went quiet. When she added a clump of holly between the balls, the church contingency gasped in horror. Everyone else nearly fell out of their chairs, unable to hide their laughter.

  Good to know some of the locals could find humor in life. Her bestie, Angelique Barbetta-Holloway, had all but brow-beaten Kimberly into finally joining their legal minds right there in Red River, swearing it was a win-win. Kimberly would hate to think she’d finally uprooted her practice in Taos, forty-five minutes away, only to discover her misfit ways were too much for small town culture.

  One of the council members—an older man wearing a winter duck hunting hat with flaps covering his ears—stood. “As the council treasurer, I’ll go over the costs and the budget we’ll need to purchase the new decorations.” He started spitting out numbers quicker than a lottery ticket dispenser.

  The front door of Joe’s swung open and in walked Ross Armstrong. He was a hulking guy with thick, sandy blond hair, and just enough scruff on his jaw to give him a tough but lovable look. His usual ball cap, which he always wore backward, was replaced with a black knit beanie to accommodate the winter weather. His standard insulated coveralls weren’t greased up yet, since he likely stopped at the early morning meeting before opening his mechanic shop for the day.

  Kimberly’s insides sighed.

  His last name fit him as nicely as his coveralls, and that was saying something. Not many men could make coveralls look sexy as hell.

  They’d been pals ever since she first started hanging out in Red River with Angelique a few years before, and Ross had led her around the dance floor at Joe’s in a country and western two-step many, many times.

  So she knew how strong his arms really were. Yes indeedy.

  When he glanced around the room, and his gaze landed on her, the sigh whispering through her body turned to a hum. When he headed in her direction with a friendly smile on his face, the hum turned to an electric buzz.

  Without thinking, she smoothed a hand over her cropped hair, caught herself, then dropped her hand to her lap.

  You look exactly the way you should, dummy.

  The platinum-white hair she created with a do-it-yourself dye kit and the outlandish clothes had started years ago when she was a rebellious teenager bouncing around the foster system. Vices that were less harmful than, say, drugs.

  When she was working three jobs and relying on financial aid to put herself through undergrad and law school, she’d realized the unusual choice of hair and clothing could also serve as a repellent to keep away the right kind of men. So she’d kept that style—if one could call it that—going, making it her trademark.

  Ross kept ambling in her direction, his smooth confident gait commanding the room.

  Of course, it could’ve been that his presence had that effect only on her.

  His eyes stayed firmly planted on her, and that sexy half-cocked smile of his made her want to lick her lips. His hair, still slightly damp, curled around the bottom of his knit cap, and made her wish she’d been the one lathering it up under a hot shower.

  Gack!

  Maybe she should’ve shaved off all of her hair instead of just dying it. Maybe tattooing her entire face would’ve been more repulsive than her outrageous wardrobe. Now, that would’ve been an epic nice-guy repellant.

  He stopped to say hello to a table of council attendees two rows away, and she relaxed.

  After a few words, he strode in her direction again.

  No, no, no.

  She propped her feet in the empty chair next to her, crossing her purple sequined Uggs at the ankles.

  “Nice boots.” Ross stared at her feet.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a brief glance, then trained her eyes on the ornament samples at the front of the room. “I got them for cents on the dollar at a thrift shop.” No idea why she said that.

  “That’s nice.” He pushed her feet off the chair. “Now move ‘em,” he said in that friendly banter they always used with one another. He slid into the seat, angling his body toward her, as though they were intimately acquainted.

  She could do this. They were friends.

  Never mind that Ladyland had started going rogue several months back every time she saw him. She’d stopped dancing with him. Started avoiding him. And definitely did not continue the harmless flirting that used to make them both laugh over a beer at Joe’s.

  Because it wasn’t exactly harmless anymore. Somewhere along the line, she’d realized she cared about him. As in really, really cared about him.

  And she wouldn’t wish herself on her worst enemy, much less someone she cared about.

  Involuntarily, she breathed in his masculine soap and fresh shampoo that reminded her of soft rain on a warm summer day.

  Her skin prickled.

  He leaned close and whispered, “Or you can set your feet in my lap.”

  A shiver skated over her.

  She swallowed and pulled herself together. “No thanks.”

  She focused on Councilman Flaps, who had moved on from the cost of the actual decorations to postage and delivery fees.

  “Hey.” Ross kept his voice low so only she could hear. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “Hey, big guy.” She slugged his arm in the same friendly way that had been her usual greeting. He’d never ever have to know that she’d rather roll up his sleeve and trace the tattoo on his arm with her tongue. “I’ve been around. Just busy.”

  Chairperson Clydelle opened the floor for a discussion, at which point an argument broke out because Jesus wasn’t represented in the proposed décor. The church folks wanted it. Ms. Francine and her supporters didn’t, opting for the pyramid of giant balls to go in the park instead of a Nativity scene. The church folks said something about a lot of souls burning in hell.

  Kimberly couldn’t resist a pun that easy. “Holy smokes.”

  Ross belted out a deep rumbling laugh.

  Which made a kaleidoscope of butterflies take flight in her stomach.

  “Good one.” Ross returned her fake slug with a gentle tap to her arm.

  And the butterflies swarmed and swirled faster.

  One of the church elders pulled a pocket-sized Bible from his jacket, turned to a pre-marked page, and quoted scriptures about the fires of hell, which the council would all experience if Jesus was removed from Red River’s Christmas décor theme. At which point, Ms. Fr
ancine—with the politest tone—told them they could go to hell themselves.

  Kimberly rolled her eyes heavenward.

  She wasn’t a super religious person, but she did know enough to understand that Jesus probably didn’t care about superficial decorations any more than she did. It was the heart behind it all that mattered, especially during a holiday that was supposed to represent giving instead of receiving. Unity and peace instead of threats and division.

  So, she’d let them fight it out amongst themselves, priming the pump for her suggestion to use the money to help underprivileged kids instead. Court room arguments had taught her that going last was the best strategy, because it left the most impact on the judge or jury.

  She tried to make small talk with Ross, thankful her bouncing leg was hidden under the table. “What brings you to a town council meeting on this fine colder-than-a-witch’s-tata day?”

  Kimberly knew she was a lot of things. Smart. Studious. Self-sufficient.

  Tact was at the bottom of her list of endearing traits, right along with her fashion sense, and both could work in her favor when she wanted to chase away someone.

  Ross made a motion to Dylan, who was behind the bar. Dylan nodded, obviously knowing what Ross wanted without him actually having to place a verbal order.

  Ross shook his head in disgust. “I heard someone in town has gone full-on Grinch, and I came to stop them.”

  “Who?” The irony of Whoville in that age-old Christmas tale wasn’t lost on either of them, and they both snorted at the same time.

  Jeez, she cracked herself up.

  “Seriously, who?” She had no idea what he was talking about.

  He shrugged. “No idea. That’s what I’m here to find out, so they don’t ruin Christmas for the rest of us. I mean, what kind of person wouldn’t want Red River to be decked out for the holidays?”