Merry Christmas, Baby Maverick!. Brenda Harlen
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of Kayla Dalton. Truth be told, he thought of Kayla at other times, too—and that was one of the reasons he’d forced himself to stay away for so long.
He’d slept with his best friend’s little sister.
And he didn’t regret it.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure he could say the same about Kayla based on her demeanor toward him the next day. She’d pretended nothing had happened between them, so he’d followed her lead.
He suspected that they’d both acted out of character as a result of being under the influence of the wedding punch. According to his grandmother, the police now believed the fruity concoction had been spiked and were trying to determine who had done so and why.
Trey’s initial reaction to the news had been shock, followed quickly by relief that there was a credible explanation for his own reckless behavior that night. But whatever had been in the punch, the remnants of it had long since been purged from his system, yet thoughts and memories of Kayla continued to tease his mind.
As he navigated the familiar route from Thunder Canyon to Rust Creek Falls, his mind wandered. He was looking forward to spending the holidays with his grandparents, but he was mostly focused on the anticipation of seeing Kayla again, and the closer he got to his destination, the more prominent she figured in his thoughts.
He’d had a great time with her at the wedding. Prior to that night, they hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen words over the past several years, so he’d been surprised to discover that she was smart and witty and fun. She was the kind of woman he enjoyed spending time with, and he hoped he would get to spend more time with her when he was in town.
But first he owed her an apology, which he would have delivered the very next morning except that his brain had still been enveloped in some kind of fog that had prevented him from remembering exactly what had happened after the wedding.
He didn’t usually drink to excess. Sure, he enjoyed hanging out with his buddies and having a few beers, but he’d long outgrown the desire to get drunk and suffer the consequences the next morning. But whatever had been in that wedding punch, it hadn’t given any hint of its incredible potency...
It was morning.
The bright sunlight slipping past the edges of the curtains told him that much. The only other fact that registered in his brain was that he was dying. Or at least he felt as if he was. The pain in his head was so absolutely excruciating, he was certain it was going to fall right off his body—and there was a part of him that wished it would.
In a desperate attempt to numb the torturous agony, he downed a handful of aspirin with a half gallon of water then managed to sit upright without wincing.
The quiet knock on his door echoed like a thunderclap in his head before his grandmother entered. She clucked her tongue in disapproval when she came into his room and threw the curtains wide, the sunlight stabbing through his eyeballs like hot knives.
“Get up and out of bed,” she told him. “It’s laundry day and I need your sheets.”
He pulled the covers up over his head. “My sheets are busy right now.”
“You should be, too. Your grandfather could use a hand cleaning out the shed.”
He tried to nod, but even that was painful. “Give me half an hour.”
He showered and dressed then turned his attention to the bed because, as his grandmother was fond of reminding him, it wasn’t a hotel and she wasn’t his maid. So he untucked one corner and pulled them off the bed. There was a quiet clunk as something fell free of the sheet and onto the floor.
An earring?
He slowly bent down to retrieve the sparkly teardrop, his mind immediately flashing back to the night before, when he’d stood beside Kayla Dalton on the edge of the dance floor and noticed the pretty earrings that hung from her ears.
Kayla Dalton?
He curled his fingers around the delicate bauble and sank onto the edge of the mattress as other images flashed through his mind, like snapshots with no real connection to any particular time and place. He rubbed his fingers against his temples as he tried to recall what had happened, but his brain refused to cooperate. He’d danced with Kayla—he was sure he remembered dancing with her. And then...
He frowned as he struggled to put the disjointed pieces together. She’d looked so beautiful in the moonlight, and she’d smelled really good. And her lips had looked so temptingly soft. He’d wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t think he would have made that kind of move. Because as beautiful and tempting as she was, she was still Derek’s sister.
But when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the yielding of her sweet mouth beneath his, the softness of her feminine curves against his body. Since he’d never had a very good imagination, he could only conclude that the kiss had really happened.
And in order for her earring to end up in his bed—well, he had to assume that Kayla had been there, too.
And what did it say about him that he didn’t even remember? Of course, it was entirely possible that they’d gotten into bed together and both passed out. Not something to be particularly proud of but, under the circumstances, probably the best possible scenario.
He tucked the earring in his pocket and finished stripping the bed, shaking out the sheets and pillowcases to ensure there weren’t any other hidden treasures inside. Thankfully, there were not. Then he saw the corner of something peeking out from beneath the bed—and scooped up an empty condom wrapper.
He closed his eyes and swore.
The idea that he’d slept with Kayla Dalton had barely sunk into his brain when he saw her later that day.
She’d been polite and friendly, if a little reserved, and she’d given absolutely no indication that anything had happened between them, making him doubt all of his own conclusions about the night before.
It had taken a long time for his memories of that night to come into focus, for him to remember.
And now that those memories were clear, he was determined to talk to Kayla about what happened that night—and where they would go from here.
* * *
Kayla was on her way to the newspaper office when she spotted Trey’s truck parked outside the community center.
She’d heard that he was coming back to Rust Creek Falls for the holidays, but she wasn’t ready to face him. Not yet. There were still three weeks until Christmas. Why was he here already? She needed more time to plan and prepare, to figure out what to say, how to share the news that she knew would turn his whole world upside down.
The back of his truck was filled with boxes and the doors to the building were open. She’d heard that last year’s gift drive for the troops was being affiliated with Thunder Canyon’s Presents for Patriots this year, and she suspected that the boxes were linked to that effort.
“Kayla—hi.”
She didn’t need to look up to know it was Trey who was speaking. It wasn’t just that she’d recognized his voice, it was that her heart was racing the way it always did whenever she was near him.
But she glanced up, her gaze skimming at least six feet from his well-worn cowboy boots to his deep green eyes, and managed a smile. “Hi, Trey.”
“This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, flashing an easy grin that suggested he was genuinely happy to see her.
Which didn’t really make any sense. She not only hadn’t seen the guy in four months, she hadn’t spoken a single word to him in that time, either. There