Linda Miller - A Snow Country Christmas

Not that someone like Mr. Hollywood Executive Mick Branson, who probably lived in a mansion in Beverly Hills, would be impressed with her small and eclectic house anyway, no matter how tidy. Wait until he got a look at her Christmas tree. There was no theme to the ornaments; if something caught her eye, she bought and it put it up. There were owls, glittery reindeer, a glass shrimp with wings wearing a boa, all right alongside her grandmother’s collection of English traditional antique glass orbs in brilliant colors. Those heirlooms were hung up high thanks to Mr. Bojangles, her enormous Maine coon cat. He was somewhat of a reclusive character, but he became positively playful when the Christmas tree went up. Walking past it usually meant an unexpected guerilla attack on your ankles because he considered it his covert hiding place every December. Therefore the ornaments on the bottom were soft stuffed squirrels and bunnies with a few fake pine cones he could bat around. Add in Daisy’s giant dog, Samson, who accidentally knocked an ornament off every time he walked by, and her tree had no hope.

“Definitely not a designer tree, unless a deranged leprechaun arranged it” was how Daisy described it.

Raine loved it.

It was exactly her style. There was nothing wrong with being quirky. She went and switched off the lights and headed off to bed, wondering how she’d gotten roped into this situation.

Hollywood Hotshot Mick Branson eating hamburgers at her house on Christmas Eve?

Slater Carson was going to laugh himself into a fit.

* * *

The plane had touched down on a snowy runway and Mick had said a small prayer of thanks for an experienced pilot and maybe some luck of the season as the snow continued to pile up. It had been a bumpy ride and he wasn’t at all a nervous flyer, but coming over the mountains he’d had a moment or two.

He’d been everywhere. Asia, Africa, South America, Australia, Europe...he lived in Los Angeles, but he liked Wyoming. It felt like being on vacation and he could really, really use a vacation.

It wouldn’t be a hardship to see Raine McCall again, either.

The thought surprised him because she was so not his type. Frothy skirts, and as far as he could tell she thought makeup was optional, or maybe forgot it altogether, and if she owned a pair of heels he’d be surprised. Her artistic temperament was the antithesis of his rigidly corporate lifestyle, but he somehow found it intriguing. She was naturally beautiful without trying. Maybe that was it. There was no artifice to Raine—what you saw was what you got. Not to mention he had a feeling she could care less how much money he made. Material things, he guessed, to her, were little more than a necessity now and then.

Anyway, he had planned this trip with a dual purpose.

He wanted to surprise Slater, who was not just a colleague but a friend, with the television premier of the documentary of Wild West...Still Wild—and he wanted to see Raine. Two separate goals but also intertwined, since Slater and Raine had a past and shared a daughter. Slater was now happily married to someone else, but through a few very casual questions, Mick knew Raine wasn’t seeing anyone.

This might get complicated and he hated complications. Business deals were a dance back and forth but he kept his personal life as simple as possible.

Raine was far from simple. Her art was exemplary and over the top, and the vivid mermaid label she’d created for the Carson winery’s sparkling wine had resulted in more bottles sold in one day upon release than were sold of all their other wines combined, and they had been doing quite well before. Somehow he doubted Raine even registered the triumph.

But he wasn’t interested in her for her talent—well, he was impressed, but that wasn’t first and foremost in his mind. Maybe opposites did attract, though if you’d told him that before he’d met her through the Carson family, he’d have laughed it off.

He wasn’t laughing now. It wasn’t that he didn’t have a good reason to be in Wyoming at the moment anyway, but he was essentially there because of a certain woman he couldn’t seem to get off his mind.

Grace Carson met him in the dining room of the Bliss River Resort and Spa, her eyes sparkling, and gave him a welcoming hug. Slater really did have good taste in women because his wife was a stunning redhead with a confident air. She also apparently had a good memory, because almost immediately a waiter came over with coffee and a rack of rye toast, which was his favorite.

She joined him, pouring coffee for them both. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to not tell Slater about Christmas Day?”

“I’ve actually struggled with it myself, so maybe I do.” He admired the view of the snow-capped mountains out the huge windows as he sipped his coffee and thought about all the strings he’d pulled. Considerable was the answer. He looked back at Grace, which was also a pleasure. “The time slot was the hardest part. But everyone is pretty much home, and hopefully by then Christmas dinner will be over and there will be a worldwide desire to watch something other than the old classics.”

She added cream to her coffee. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. You do realize you just usurped my gift to him, which was a new saddle. He’ll probably kiss you under the mistletoe instead of me.”

Mick chuckled. “I doubt it, but if it happens, let’s not catch that on film.” Not knowing remote cameras were taking footage, Slater’s younger brother Drake had gotten caught in a romantic moment with his now wife, Luce, and was none too happy about it being used in the film, but had grudgingly signed the release.

“Maybe Raine will kiss you instead.” Grace took a sip from her silver-rimmed cup, a knowing look in her eyes.

He’d never understood how women had magical powers when it came to sensing a possible romance. Men just blundered on, unaware, and females were like wolves sniffing the air. He was a man who played angles, so he admitted noncommittally, “I can’t imagine any man minding that. How is the resort business these days?”

She caught on to that just as easily. “Subject changed. I can take a hint. It’s going well. Ski season is in full swing. We’re packed. The spa is booked out two months. The owner is pleased and it keeps me busy and, well, I’m expecting again. Luce is also in baby mode. We’re just waiting for the same kind of announcement from Mace and Kelly. Then all the cousins can grow up together.”

Mick pictured a bunch of toddlers running wild around the sprawling Carson ranch. To his surprise, the image was immensely appealing. He hadn’t had much exposure to babies; his only brother was childless by choice even though he’d been married a long time. He and his wife tended to spend the winter in France or at their house in the Caribbean, and as an investment banker, Ran could work from anywhere, so their attitude reflected their sophisticated lifestyle.

Prior to his business association with Slater, he hadn’t thought about it much, but Mick had to acknowledge that his upbringing had left a hole in his life. Warm family gatherings had just never happened. His parents traveled widely when his father was alive and now it was tradition to meet his mother at the country club for Christmas dinner.

Elegant, but not exactly cozy. He’d been to celebrations at the Carson ranch before and they were usually quite the boisterous experience. He said, “Congratulations. Slater is a lucky man all the way around.”

“He’ll certainly be one tomorrow,” Grace replied with a smile. “I haven’t said a word to anyone—although Blythe knows, which means Harry knows.”

“Raine knows I’m in town.” He gave what he hoped was a casual shrug. “We have a business meeting tonight and she said no restaurants would be open, so she invited me over.”