PS: It is nobody’s fault that our father died. We don’t blame anyone and know you tried your best to save us all.
The carefully written letter had been sweetly horrible and he had carried it around in his wallet for years to remind him that navy SEALs couldn’t afford even the smallest error in judgment.
Hope—the annoying grammarian with the ancient pickup truck—had been the middle daughter, he remembered, all tangled blond hair and big, frightened blue eyes. She had screamed when her father had been shot, and the echo of that terrified, despairing scream had haunted him for a long, long time.
He let out a breath. And now she was here, just a few miles away from him, and he would have to interact with her at least one more time.
Had she recognized him today? He couldn’t be sure. She had given him a strange look a few times, as if she thought she knew him, but she hadn’t said anything.
Why hadn’t he identified himself and explained their old history?
He wasn’t sure—maybe because the opportunity hadn’t really come up. How does a guy say, Hey, I know this is a strange coincidence but I was there the day your family was rescued from terrorists nearly two decades ago. Oh, and by the way, my inexperience contributed to your father’s death. Sorry about that and your broken window, too.
He let out a breath, marveling again at the strange, twisting corkscrews of fate that had brought him to Pine Gulch, in such proximity to the Nichols sisters. When Cami called him in tears and explained that she had been arrested and that Joey had gone into emergency foster care, he had known immediately he had to help his nephew, whatever it took.
The fact that his path would bring him to Pine Gulch, where the Nichols sisters had landed after the tragedy of that Christmas day so long ago, hadn’t really hit home until he drove into the city limits two weeks ago.
In the midst of trying to settle into a routine with his nephew, he had wondered during those two weeks whether they were still in town and if he should try to contact any of them—and now that decision had been taken out of his hands by Hope.
That seemed to be a common theme to his life the past month—being in a position that left him few choices.
His life had changed dramatically in the past month. He had left the only career he had ever known in order to take on the responsibility for a troubled seven-year-old who wanted nothing to do with him.
He was determined to do his best for Joey. The poor kid hadn’t been given very many breaks in life.
Rafe still couldn’t quite believe how far his sister had fallen, from an honor student in high school to being tangled up with a man who had seduced her into coming to Idaho and had then dragged her into a life of drugs and crime.
He had done his best for his sister, had joined the navy the day he turned eighteen so he could support her and had sent money for her care to their aunt, who had taken her in—but apparently that effort hadn’t been enough to provide the future he always wanted for her.
He had failed with Cami. Now he had to see if he could do a better job with her son.
He opened the door to the short-term rental he had found in Pine Gulch after Cami begged him to let Joey stay here until she was sentenced, which at this point was only a few weeks away.
Joey was sitting on the bench in the foyer with his boots and coat still on, as if he were bracing himself for the punishment he fully expected.
Rafe’s heart, grizzled and tough from years of combat, couldn’t help but soften just a little at his forlorn posture and expression.
“I didn’t mean to break the mean lady’s window,” his nephew said again, his voice small.
The kid needed consequences in order to learn how his choices could have impact in others’ lives. Rafe knew that, but sometimes this parenting thing sucked big-time when what he really wanted was to gather him close and tell him everything would be okay.
“You might not have meant to cause harm, but you saw what happened. You messed up, kid.”
The irony of those words seemed to reach out and grab him by the throat. Joey’s actions might have cost Hope Nichols a car window, something that easily could be replaced.
His actions toward her and her sisters had far more long-reaching consequences.
If his reflexes had been half a second faster, he could have taken out that jacked-up, trigger-happy rebel before the bastard squeezed off the shot that took her father forever.
“Will I have to pay for the window?” Joey asked. “I have eight dollars in my piggy bank. Will it be more than that?”
“We’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll pay her and then you can work to pay me back.”
The boy looked out the window. “I can shovel the snow.”
“Hate to break it to you, but I was going to make you do that anyway. That’s going to be one of your regular chores, helping me with that. We’ll have to figure out how to pay back Ms. Nichols some other way.”
As for the debt he owed her, Rafe knew there was no way he could repay her or her sisters.
Something was very, very wrong.
Hope wanted to think she was only upset from the encounter with Rafe Santiago and his very cute but troublesome nephew. Perhaps she was overwrought as a natural by-product from first having her window shattered in such a shocking manner and then coming face-to-face with a big, dangerous-looking man.
But as she approached the Star N and especially The Christmas Ranch—her family’s holiday-themed attraction that covered fifteen acres of the cattle ranch—she couldn’t seem to shake the edgy, unsettled feeling.
Where was everyone? As she approached, she could see the parking lot in front of the charming and rustic St. Nicholas Lodge and it was completely empty, which made absolutely no sense.
There should at least be a maintenance crew getting ready for the season. It usually took several weeks before opening day—which traditionally happened with a grand lighting ceremony at dusk on the Friday after Thanksgiving—to spruce things up, touch up the paint, repair any damage done throughout the summer.
Instead, the place looked like a ghost town. All it needed were a few tumbleweeds blowing through to complete the picture.
Maybe everybody had simply gone home for the day, but she suddenly realized the reindeer enclosure was missing slats and reindeer, nor did it look like any of the colored lights had been hung on the fence or in the shrubs lining the road.
She drove farther down the road with cold air whistling in from the shattered window. As she approached the parking lot entrance, her stomach suddenly dropped and she hit the brakes.
A banner obscured the sign that usually read Welcome to The Christmas Ranch, where your holiday dreams come true.
In huge red letters on a white background, it read simply, Closed Indefinitely.
Closed. Indefinitely.
Shock rocketed through her faster than a speeding sleigh. Impossible! She couldn’t believe it. Surely her sisters wouldn’t have closed down The Christmas Ranch without telling her! This was a tradition, a gift from the Nichols family to the rest of Pine Gulch and this entire area of southeastern Idaho.
Families came from miles around to partake of the holiday spirit. All of it. The horse-drawn sleigh rides. The sledding hill. Visits with Santa Claus. The reindeer herd in the petting zoo and the gift shop filled with local handicrafts and the huge collection of Nativities, many which had been sent from around the world by her