Coming Home for Christmas
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Synopsis
A B&B owner and her sexy cowboy high-school crush meet again—just in time for a snowstorm and a Christmas romance, in this holiday tale from the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. Perfect for fans of Linda Lael Miller, Jill Shalvis, and Maisey Yates.
Lucy Smith thinks Santa has outdone himself when Caleb Erickson shows up at her B&B. In high school, Caleb was oblivious to her crush. But times may have changed . . .
While the two wait out a snowstorm, Caleb is discovering that Lucy may be the gift he didn’t realize he was wishing for all along . . .
Release date: September 26, 2023
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 96
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Coming Home for Christmas
Kate Pearce
Caleb Erickson gripped the steering wheel as his truck gave another death howl and veered to the side of the snowy highway as if looking for a place to die.
“Don’t you fricking dare,” he growled as he wrestled for control on the ice. “Just eight more miles and we’re home!”
Home . . . that wasn’t the right word anymore for the place he’d been born and raised, especially not since his mother had passed away. Now he was an occasional and reluctant visitor to a man who barely bothered to acknowledge his existence. He breathed a sigh of relief as the lights of the town appeared ahead of him. He could stop at the Gonzaleses’ place and see if Mike could take a look at his truck and get him out to the ranch. Even as he had the thought, the engine gave a death rattle and gave up on him. Caleb steered toward the snow-banked pavement so he wasn’t blocking the through street before he gave in to the inevitable. The sudden silence after the horrendous clanking of the past few miles was almost a relief. Snow fell around the cab, blurring the holiday lights strung along the shop fronts as it melted on the windscreen.
Caleb got out of the cab and tried to orientate himself in the biting wind. Most of the shops were dark or boarded up for the winter, which wasn’t encouraging. There were lights on in the coffee shop, but when he trudged over to try the door, it was locked. He got out his cell phone only to realize he’d forgotten to charge it during his all-night drive down from Seattle and it was as dead as the town.
“Dammit,” Caleb muttered as he shoved it back in his pocket. Now he’d have to walk to the mechanic’s shed at the end of the street and see if Mike was around. He pulled his knitted hat further down over his ears, zipped up his collar, and headed down the center of the deserted street because it was easier to walk on than the sidewalk. Even before he reached the premises, he realized he was on a fool’s errand. The huge barn doors were closed, and all the lights were off. He turned a slow circle, his teeth chattering as he viewed his hometown. He had no phone so he couldn’t call anyone and no truck to get anywhere anyway. He couldn’t even turn and run because he’d end up dead in the snow.
His glance passed over and then came back to a familiar old-fashioned house opposite the coffee shop. It was double fronted and four stories high with a wide covered porch all the way around it. He squinted through the snow. There were lights on and it looked almost welcoming. Caleb sighed, his breath frosting in the freezing air.
He retraced his steps past the hulking shadow of his truck. There was no one else out, but that wasn’t surprising. In conditions like this the best thing to do was hunker down at home and wait for the worst of it to pass. He opened the gate of the white picket fence and approached the steps up to the porch, where a lighted sign next to a brightly lit Christmas tree proclaimed:
Caleb grunted as he ascended the creaking steps. If Mrs. Smith had been here that long it might explain why she was always so cranky. She’d never liked the local kids and had chased them out of her yard and away from her fruit trees with a dedication and speed that had defied her age.
The front door opened just as he was about to knock, and he was confronted by a smiling vision in a ruffled pink apron covered in blobs of chocolate.
“Good evening!” she trilled. “I’m so happy you are here!”
Caleb almost took a step backward. He wasn’t used to being met with such enthusiasm, being broad, well over six feet tall, and having a natural disinclination to smile.
“I was expecting Mrs. Smith,” Caleb said.
Her smile dimmed. “I’m afraid she passed away last year.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Caleb half turned away. “And I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Don’t you want to come in?” He frowned as she pushed the door open even wider. “Do you need something?”
“I need somewhere with a phone so I can call Mike about my truck.” He gestured behind him. “It’s broken down.”
“You can do that here,” she offered. “I really don’t mind. It’s not as if I have any actual guests to look after right now.”
There was something disconsolate behind the brightness of her tone, but that wasn’t his problem. He needed to get to a phone and if she was willing to let him in, he’d accept her offer.
“Okay, thanks.” He wiped his boots on the mat and stepped into the wide hallway. From what he could see nothing had changed in the place since he was a kid. There was a glass chandelier in the center of the ceiling and the wide planked flooring was good local redwood that was probably original to the house. The only difference was that the whole place was decked up like a Christmas wonderland with blinking lights, holly, and at least two more fully decorated trees.
She directed him toward the reception desk to the left side of the hall.
“The landline is there.” She paused, her blond hair illuminated by the light from the chandelier. “Can I get you some coffee? On the house, obviously.”
“That would be great.” He walked over to the desk. There was a list of local numbers right beside the phone, including the one and only taxi service, the hair salon, and the mechanic’s shop.
He called the number, and when no one answered he left a message about his truck and hung up. His gaze swept the ornate furnishings in the front parlor and the heavy fringed drapes that blocked the view of Main Street. It was deadly quiet inside the house, apart from the sound of someone humming as they approached his space.
Little Miss Sunshine smiled brightly as she set the mug of coffee on the desk in front of him.
“Did you get what you needed?”
Now that he thought about it, there was something naggingly familiar about her.
“Nope. My truck stopped running and I can’t get hold of Mike.”
She sighed. “That’s terrible. How are you going to get home?”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course, I do, Caleb.” She looked slightly hurt. “Didn’t you remember me?”
He studied her face and frowned. “Uh, yeah, I guess . . .”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Her smile dimmed. “I suppose I’ve changed quite a bit, although we have met several times over the years when you came back to visit your parents and I was here with Gran. Obviously, I’m quite forgettable.” She drew herself up. “I’m Lucy Smith.”
This wasn’t quite how Lucy had envisioned meeting Caleb Erickson again. She’d had dreams—many dreams of how he’d see her walking through town, and he’d be struck dumb by her beauty, fall to his knees, and kiss her feet for being such a little shit to her when he was a teenager. Not that he’d been any worse than the other boys, she’d just cared more because she’d always had a horrendous crush on him.
“Lucy Smith?” His brow creased as he considered her. She knew exactly when he remembered her because his expression changed to one of horror. “Little Lucy?”
“I’m five foot four. Just because you’re overgrown doesn’t make me short.”
He angled his head, his gaze dropping from her face to her toes and then back up again.
“Nice apron.”
Her cheeks heated. “It’s one of Gran’s. I borrowed it while I was baking my holiday cookies.”
In fact, she’d hoped some of her grandmother’s legendary cooking magic would rub off on her while she attempted to replicate her recipes. It was Lucy’s first holiday season without her gran, and she was missing her badly.
“Oh!” She pressed her hand to her cheek. “I forgot to put the timer on.”
She ran back toward the kitchen, where the smell of burning already permeated the room. “Darn it!” She grabbed a towel and opened the oven door to discover she’d rolled her gingerbread too thin, and the edges had started to scorch. She set the cookie tray on the side and went to open the window.
“I’ve got it,” Caleb said as he reached right over her head and released the catch on the frame.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” Lucy pointed out as she hastily removed the failed batch of gingerbread people from the tray before they engraved themselves on the surface forever.
“I’m not a guest.” Caleb was looking around the kitchen as he leaned against the sink. “Not a lot has changed in here.”
“Why change things when they still work?” Lucy asked as she quickly rolled out a new batch of dough and cut the shapes. She couldn’t afford to do anything to the place anyway.
He shrugged his wide shoulders, his cool gaze now on her. “I remember you at school.”
“Yup, I was that annoying little kid who followed you and my brother Dan around all the time.”
“Yeah, you were definitely annoying.”
Lucy tried not to roll the dough too hard or accidentally throw the rolling pin in his general direction. Caleb had always been a straight talker, so why was she surprised that he spoke the truth?
“We’d do anything to get away from you.”
“I remember.” Lucy put the new cookies in the oven. “You tied me to a tree in the backyard with my jump rope once.”
Caleb frowned. “That wasn’t nice.”
“No, it wasn’t, especially as it started raining.”
He shoved his hand through thick reddish-brown hair that matched his tight beard. “I guess I should apologize.”
“It wa. . .
“Don’t you fricking dare,” he growled as he wrestled for control on the ice. “Just eight more miles and we’re home!”
Home . . . that wasn’t the right word anymore for the place he’d been born and raised, especially not since his mother had passed away. Now he was an occasional and reluctant visitor to a man who barely bothered to acknowledge his existence. He breathed a sigh of relief as the lights of the town appeared ahead of him. He could stop at the Gonzaleses’ place and see if Mike could take a look at his truck and get him out to the ranch. Even as he had the thought, the engine gave a death rattle and gave up on him. Caleb steered toward the snow-banked pavement so he wasn’t blocking the through street before he gave in to the inevitable. The sudden silence after the horrendous clanking of the past few miles was almost a relief. Snow fell around the cab, blurring the holiday lights strung along the shop fronts as it melted on the windscreen.
Caleb got out of the cab and tried to orientate himself in the biting wind. Most of the shops were dark or boarded up for the winter, which wasn’t encouraging. There were lights on in the coffee shop, but when he trudged over to try the door, it was locked. He got out his cell phone only to realize he’d forgotten to charge it during his all-night drive down from Seattle and it was as dead as the town.
“Dammit,” Caleb muttered as he shoved it back in his pocket. Now he’d have to walk to the mechanic’s shed at the end of the street and see if Mike was around. He pulled his knitted hat further down over his ears, zipped up his collar, and headed down the center of the deserted street because it was easier to walk on than the sidewalk. Even before he reached the premises, he realized he was on a fool’s errand. The huge barn doors were closed, and all the lights were off. He turned a slow circle, his teeth chattering as he viewed his hometown. He had no phone so he couldn’t call anyone and no truck to get anywhere anyway. He couldn’t even turn and run because he’d end up dead in the snow.
His glance passed over and then came back to a familiar old-fashioned house opposite the coffee shop. It was double fronted and four stories high with a wide covered porch all the way around it. He squinted through the snow. There were lights on and it looked almost welcoming. Caleb sighed, his breath frosting in the freezing air.
He retraced his steps past the hulking shadow of his truck. There was no one else out, but that wasn’t surprising. In conditions like this the best thing to do was hunker down at home and wait for the worst of it to pass. He opened the gate of the white picket fence and approached the steps up to the porch, where a lighted sign next to a brightly lit Christmas tree proclaimed:
Caleb grunted as he ascended the creaking steps. If Mrs. Smith had been here that long it might explain why she was always so cranky. She’d never liked the local kids and had chased them out of her yard and away from her fruit trees with a dedication and speed that had defied her age.
The front door opened just as he was about to knock, and he was confronted by a smiling vision in a ruffled pink apron covered in blobs of chocolate.
“Good evening!” she trilled. “I’m so happy you are here!”
Caleb almost took a step backward. He wasn’t used to being met with such enthusiasm, being broad, well over six feet tall, and having a natural disinclination to smile.
“I was expecting Mrs. Smith,” Caleb said.
Her smile dimmed. “I’m afraid she passed away last year.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Caleb half turned away. “And I apologize for disturbing you.”
“Don’t you want to come in?” He frowned as she pushed the door open even wider. “Do you need something?”
“I need somewhere with a phone so I can call Mike about my truck.” He gestured behind him. “It’s broken down.”
“You can do that here,” she offered. “I really don’t mind. It’s not as if I have any actual guests to look after right now.”
There was something disconsolate behind the brightness of her tone, but that wasn’t his problem. He needed to get to a phone and if she was willing to let him in, he’d accept her offer.
“Okay, thanks.” He wiped his boots on the mat and stepped into the wide hallway. From what he could see nothing had changed in the place since he was a kid. There was a glass chandelier in the center of the ceiling and the wide planked flooring was good local redwood that was probably original to the house. The only difference was that the whole place was decked up like a Christmas wonderland with blinking lights, holly, and at least two more fully decorated trees.
She directed him toward the reception desk to the left side of the hall.
“The landline is there.” She paused, her blond hair illuminated by the light from the chandelier. “Can I get you some coffee? On the house, obviously.”
“That would be great.” He walked over to the desk. There was a list of local numbers right beside the phone, including the one and only taxi service, the hair salon, and the mechanic’s shop.
He called the number, and when no one answered he left a message about his truck and hung up. His gaze swept the ornate furnishings in the front parlor and the heavy fringed drapes that blocked the view of Main Street. It was deadly quiet inside the house, apart from the sound of someone humming as they approached his space.
Little Miss Sunshine smiled brightly as she set the mug of coffee on the desk in front of him.
“Did you get what you needed?”
Now that he thought about it, there was something naggingly familiar about her.
“Nope. My truck stopped running and I can’t get hold of Mike.”
She sighed. “That’s terrible. How are you going to get home?”
“You know who I am?”
“Of course, I do, Caleb.” She looked slightly hurt. “Didn’t you remember me?”
He studied her face and frowned. “Uh, yeah, I guess . . .”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Her smile dimmed. “I suppose I’ve changed quite a bit, although we have met several times over the years when you came back to visit your parents and I was here with Gran. Obviously, I’m quite forgettable.” She drew herself up. “I’m Lucy Smith.”
This wasn’t quite how Lucy had envisioned meeting Caleb Erickson again. She’d had dreams—many dreams of how he’d see her walking through town, and he’d be struck dumb by her beauty, fall to his knees, and kiss her feet for being such a little shit to her when he was a teenager. Not that he’d been any worse than the other boys, she’d just cared more because she’d always had a horrendous crush on him.
“Lucy Smith?” His brow creased as he considered her. She knew exactly when he remembered her because his expression changed to one of horror. “Little Lucy?”
“I’m five foot four. Just because you’re overgrown doesn’t make me short.”
He angled his head, his gaze dropping from her face to her toes and then back up again.
“Nice apron.”
Her cheeks heated. “It’s one of Gran’s. I borrowed it while I was baking my holiday cookies.”
In fact, she’d hoped some of her grandmother’s legendary cooking magic would rub off on her while she attempted to replicate her recipes. It was Lucy’s first holiday season without her gran, and she was missing her badly.
“Oh!” She pressed her hand to her cheek. “I forgot to put the timer on.”
She ran back toward the kitchen, where the smell of burning already permeated the room. “Darn it!” She grabbed a towel and opened the oven door to discover she’d rolled her gingerbread too thin, and the edges had started to scorch. She set the cookie tray on the side and went to open the window.
“I’ve got it,” Caleb said as he reached right over her head and released the catch on the frame.
“You’re not supposed to be back here,” Lucy pointed out as she hastily removed the failed batch of gingerbread people from the tray before they engraved themselves on the surface forever.
“I’m not a guest.” Caleb was looking around the kitchen as he leaned against the sink. “Not a lot has changed in here.”
“Why change things when they still work?” Lucy asked as she quickly rolled out a new batch of dough and cut the shapes. She couldn’t afford to do anything to the place anyway.
He shrugged his wide shoulders, his cool gaze now on her. “I remember you at school.”
“Yup, I was that annoying little kid who followed you and my brother Dan around all the time.”
“Yeah, you were definitely annoying.”
Lucy tried not to roll the dough too hard or accidentally throw the rolling pin in his general direction. Caleb had always been a straight talker, so why was she surprised that he spoke the truth?
“We’d do anything to get away from you.”
“I remember.” Lucy put the new cookies in the oven. “You tied me to a tree in the backyard with my jump rope once.”
Caleb frowned. “That wasn’t nice.”
“No, it wasn’t, especially as it started raining.”
He shoved his hand through thick reddish-brown hair that matched his tight beard. “I guess I should apologize.”
“It wa. . .
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