Somebody like Santa

Book 5: Christmas Tree Ranch

by Janet Dailey

Genres: Holiday Romance; Western Romance

Synopsis

A rugged Western setting, small-town neighbors, and the uplifting magic of the holidays combine for a season to remember—and maybe even a Texas-sized love—in New York Times bestselling author Janet Dailey’s latest Christmas Tree Ranch novel …
For Cooper Chapman, moving next door to his newlywed sister in Branding Iron, Texas, is the biggest gift he could ask for this Christmas. The divorced single dad knows his troubled teenaged son only needs the healing balm of big skies and family ties. But soon after settling
into their new home, Trevor falls in with some wild friends at his new school, leaving Cooper leaning hard on youth counselor Jess Graver. With grace and wisdom, Jess soothes Cooper’s worries over his son, even as the elusive beauty stirs romantic feelings to life …
With the holiday growing closer, young Trevor finds an unexpected mentor in a local farmer, helping him build a horse-drawn sleigh for the Christmas parade.
Now the only thing that could make Cooper’s New Year brighter would be making warm-hearted Jess his own. But when he stumbles upon a secret from her past, it will take more than mistletoe to bring them back together and keep her at his side for all the sweet seasons to come …

Release date: September 27, 2022

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 400

Reader says this book is...: entertaining story (1)

Sample

Branding Iron, Texas, October 1997

Cooper Chapman stood in the parlor of the eighty-year-old house, surrounded by a forest of stacked moving boxes. He’d tried to convince himself that this move, to a sleepy Texas town, would be good for his troubled teenage son. Now he wasn’t sure. They had barely started unpacking when Trevor had announced that he hated this place and stormed outside to sulk on the front porch.

At thirteen, Trevor already had a juvenile arrest record for several acts of vandalism he’d pulled with his friends. Moving from Seattle to Branding Iron, with the court’s permission, had been a last-ditch effort to give the boy a new start. But would it be enough?

Something told Cooper that even with the support of his married sister, Grace, who lived next door, he was going to need all the help he could get.

Trevor Chapman sat on the top step of the low-slung bungalow house that was his new home. His dark brown eyes scanned the quiet residential street. Even the trees in full autumn color, their reds and golds blindingly bright against the sunlit sky, made him feel like a prisoner, brought here against his will.

He missed the cool grays and greens of Seattle, the smell of the harbor, the sound of boat whistles. He missed his friends, who understood and accepted him. But a thirteen-year-old didn’t have anything to say about where he lived. His mom had made a new marriage to a man who didn’t want him, so he’d been dumped on his dad, who’d decided to move to the redneck hell of Branding Iron, Texas.

The place reminded Trevor of that corny old TV show, Mayberry R.F.D., and not in a good way. He could imagine Andy, Goober, Aunt Bee, and the rest of the gang strolling around the corner to give him a neighborly howdy and invite him to set a spell. The thought of it made him feel sick.

From inside the house came the sound of his dad sliding a heavy desk toward the spare bedroom that would be his office. Cooper, Trevor’s dad, was okay. But his decision to move to Texas to be near the married sister who was his only family just plain sucked. As a freelance magazine writer, he could live and work anywhere. So why did it have to be here, in the middle of nowhere?

The worst of it was Trevor would be starting school on Monday—as the new boy in eighth grade. The other kids would probably be cowboys, riding around in pickups with the radios blaring country crap instead of cool bands like Nirvana and Rage Against the Machine. He could count on being bullied, and if he fought back, he’d end up in the principal’s office, just like he had in Seattle.

Through the jagged bangs that screened his eyes, he could see someone coming out of the house next door. He watched with mild interest as a little girl in blue jeans, whom he guessed to be about seven or eight, came skipping down the sidewalk. She was trailed by a shaggy brown mutt that looked as big as a grizzly bear. With her bouncy auburn curls, she reminded him of Little Orphan Annie, dog and all, and she was headed straight for him.

Stopping at the foot of the steps, she smiled, showing a missing front tooth. “Hi, cousin,” she chirped.

“I’m not your cousin,” Trevor said. “I don’t even know you.”

“You are so my cousin,” she insisted. “My dad is married to your Aunt Grace, so that makes us cousins.” She thrust out her hand, which Trevor pretended not to notice. “You must be Trevor. I’m Maggie Delaney, and this is my dog, Banjo. Go ahead and pet him. He won’t bite you.”

The shaggy monster mounted the steps, sniffed Trevor’s sneakers, and yawned, showing fangs that looked as long as a Bengal tiger’s.

“Scratch him behind the ears,” Maggie said. “He likes that.”

Trevor hesitated. His mother was allergic to dogs and cats, so he’d never been allowed to have a pet. A couple of his Seattle friends had owned small dogs—little yappers. At least he hadn’t been afraid of them, but this behemoth looked big enough to eat him alive.

“Don’t be scared,” Maggie said. “Banjo’s just a puppy. He’s not even full-grown yet.”

Trevor steeled himself. He couldn’t let this pint-sized girl know how scared he was. Heart pounding, he reached out. Banjo’s bushy tail wagged in anticipation.

Just then the front door opened. Trevor’s dad stepped out onto the front porch. “You must be Maggie,” he said, giving the little girl a smile. “I’d know you anywhere. Grace has been going on and on about you in her phone calls. I’m your Uncle Cooper.”

“Pleased to meet you, Uncle Cooper.” She gave Trevor a glance that clearly said, See, I told you we were cousins.

“And who’s this?” Cooper held out his hand to Banjo. “Come here, boy.”

The bear-sized dog ambled across the porch and leaned against Cooper’s legs. When Cooper scratched the furry head, Banjo went into ecstasies of wagging and wiggling, even rolling onto his back for a belly rub.

“My mom—your sister—sent me over here to invite you to dinner tonight,” Maggie said. “One of her old housemates will be coming, too. She works for the schools. You’ll like her. We’ll be eating about six, Mom said, but you can come sooner and visit if you want. I’ve gotta go now. Mom’s letting me make a chocolate cake for dessert.” She whistled to the dog. “Come on, Banjo. See you around, Trevor.”

Cooper watched the little girl skip back down the sidewalk with the dog trotting behind her. Grace had hit the jackpot with her new, ready-made family. Sam was the former sheriff, now running for mayor of Branding Iron. And his daughter, little Maggie, would win anyone’s heart.

He was grateful that Grace had forgiven him for missing her wedding last summer. He’d planned to walk her down the aisle. But that was the week when Trevor had been in a wreck with a friend who was joyriding in his mother’s Corvette. Trevor had been hospitalized. His injuries hadn’t been serious, thank heaven. However, he’d ended up in juvenile detention for being in a stolen car with an underage driver. This after he was already on probation for spray-painting the front door of the middle school he attended. Cooper had had little choice except to stay in Seattle and deal with the situation.

Not long after that, Cooper had decided it was time to give his son a new start, in a new place. When Grace had let him know that her neighbors’ house was for rent and emailed him some photos, Cooper had contracted to rent it sight unseen. Selling his Seattle condo had taken longer than he’d counted on, but at last, here they were. He could only hope the change would be good for Trevor.

They’d arrived with the movers this morning, which was a Friday. Grace, who taught first grade, hadn’t been here to welcome them. Neither had Sam, who worked for the county planning commission and was busy with his mayoral campaign. But Grace had mailed Cooper the key and made sure the utilities were on, so they could start moving in.

Grace had popped in after school, apologizing for the parent conference that had kept her late. She’d hugged him, then raced off to shop before dinner. At least the family would be together tonight.

But what was it Maggie had said about Grace’s former housemate being invited? You’ll like her. Those words were a red flag if he’d ever heard one. Was Grace already trying to set him up with a needy friend? He pictured a dowdy schoolmarm in tweeds and Birkenstocks who talked in four-syllable words. No thanks, Grace, he thought. I came here to raise my son, not to find a woman. And if I feel the need, I can find my own.

Trevor was looking up at him with the usual scowl on his narrow face. “Hey, Trevor,” he said. “I could use a hand with unpacking the books. How about it?”

Without a word, Trevor stood and, feet dragging, followed him into the house.

Jessica Graver kicked off her low-heeled pumps, popped the tab on a Diet Pepsi, and sank into a cushiony chair. Most Fridays, after a long, busy week, she’d be looking forward to pulling on her sweats, doing a few yoga stretches, and settling back to watch a rented video.

But tonight she’d been invited to dinner at her friends’ house, so the sweats and the movie would have to wait. Jess was tired and not feeling very sociable. But she was lucky to have good friends like Grace and Sam, she reminded herself. Besides, she’d be meeting a young man—a very young man—at dinner.

Even before Grace had called about her nephew, Jess had known about Trevor Chapman. As the youth counselor for the Branding Iron School District, she’d gotten a heads-up from the records office that an incoming student had an arrest record and was on probation. It was part of Jess’s job to be aware of such students, keep an eye out for any sign of trouble, and, where called for, to intervene as best she could.

It had been Grace’s hope that meeting Jess early, in a non-school setting, would make the boy aware of an adult on his team, someone he could go to if he needed help or just to talk.

Jess was more than happy to oblige. If she could save just one kid from a future tragedy . . .

She closed her eyes. She’d only meant to rest them. But she was tired, and she found herself sinking into the black place that would never leave her—the dark night, the pop of exploding gunfire, the scream of sirens, the blinding flash of press cameras in her face, and the frenzied wails of grief.

“Hey, Jess, aren’t you going to Grace and Sam’s tonight?” It was Wynette, her pretty blond housemate, who woke her. She’d just come in the front door, one hand balancing a pink box of leftover pastries from the bakery she managed.

Blast, I must’ve dozed. Jess blinked herself awake. The clock on the mantel said 5:40. She had just enough time to freshen up and get to Grace and Sam’s.

She found her shoes and made a quick dash to the bathroom. The mirror above the basin showed deep brown eyes in a pale oval face, framed by dark hair upswept into a twist and showing the first few threads of gray. She was thirty-eight, unmarried, with a past that was nobody’s business but her own.

When she returned to the living room, Wynette was hanging her jacket on the rack by the door. “I don’t suppose I can offer you a donut,” she said.

“No. Save them for Buck. I’m sure you’ll be seeing him later.”

Wynette’s smile sparkled. “We’ll be driving to Cottonwood Springs for dinner and a movie. After that we’ll probably go to Buck’s place. So don’t wait up.”

Jess chuckled. “I never do. Oh—I almost forgot. The package with your wedding invitations is on the kitchen table. It was on the porch when I got home.”

“Great. Wow, this is getting real.” Wynette was planning a Christmastime wedding to Buck Winston, Branding Iron’s handsome young sheriff. She’d been walking on clouds ever since he’d proposed last spring.

“So you’re going to meet Grace’s brother,” Wynette said. “Lois Harper told me she saw him in town this afternoon. She described him as a smokin’ hottie. And he looks to be about your age.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not looking for a man—especially if he’s hot. They’re the kind you can’t trust.” Jess slipped on her coat, picked up her purse and keys, and hurried out to her car.

When she’d said she wasn’t looking for a man, she’d meant it. So what was she looking for?

After Wynette’s wedding, she would be alone in the small three-bedroom house she’d bought two years ago. Maybe she should wait to advertise for new housemates. The money wasn’t an issue, and some time to herself might be just what she needed to clear her head and reset her goals. Maybe she could even get back to the master’s thesis she’d never finished.

An autumn wind had sprung out of the west, bringing a chill to the October air. As Jess drove across town, the first fall leaves blew against the windshield. Where had the year gone? Halloween was barely a week away. Then the candy and jack-o’-lanterns would be gone from the stores, and the Christmas glitter would go up.

Jess had never been a fan of Christmas. Too many memories, most of them unhappy. Maybe she should start thinking about a trip to someplace warm and sunny—like Cancún or Hawaii. But of course, she couldn’t miss Wynette’s wedding, which was set for December 27, the Saturday after Christmas.

She pulled up in front of Grace and Sam’s. In the house next door, the porch light was on and an older model Jeep SUV stood in the driveway. But there was no sign of activity. Grace’s brother and nephew must be at her house by now.

A smokin’ hottie. That was how Cooper Chapman had been described. But it didn’t matter how hot he might be. She was here to meet young Trevor.

When she rang the bell, it was Maggie who answered the door. She was grinning. “Look, I lost my other front tooth! Now they’re both gone. My mom taught me an old song. It’s called ‘All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth.’ Listen.” She sang it with a lisp, stopping after the first line. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready. While you’re waiting, you can meet my Uncle Cooper and my cousin, Trevor.”

“I hear rumors that you baked a chocolate cake, Maggie.”

“Uh-huh. But it was just a mix this time. Come on.”

Jess felt her stomach flutter as the little girl led her into the parlor and a tall man rose to greet her.

“This is my Uncle Cooper,” Maggie said. “Uncle Cooper, this is Miss Graver. She helps out with the kids at school.”

“You can call me Jess.” Her gaze traveled upward from the denim shirt that covered a broad-shouldered torso and muscular arms, to a crown of thick dark hair with a touch of gray at the temples, framing a face that would draw any woman’s gaze.

Smokin’ hot. Gerard Butler hot.

Not that she was foolish enough to be impressed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jess.” Even though she was five-foot-eight, he loomed above her. His startlingly blue eyes shifted to the boy who sat slumped on the sofa, absorbed in a basketball game on TV. Dark-eyed and slight of build, the young man looked nothing like his father.

“Trevor, say hello to Miss Graver,” Cooper said.

“Hullo.” The boy raised his head, then went back to watching the game. Was Cooper aware of the reason Grace had invited her here? Surely the man’s sister would have told him.

“I’m happy to meet you, Trevor,” she said. “I suppose it’s too soon to ask how you like Branding Iron.”

Trevor didn’t respond. His attention was fixed on the game.

Cooper motioned her aside. “Getting him used to living in a small town is going to take a while,” he said. “For now, I’m just trying to give him time and space.”

“That sounds very wise.”

Maggie came prancing in from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced. “I made place cards so everybody will know where to sit.”

“After you.” Cooper stepped aside for Jess to go ahead of him. “Trevor, turn off the TV and come with me.”

“Aw, Dad, the score’s tied with ten minutes on the clock. Can’t we at least turn the sound up so I can hear the game at the table?”

“That’s not how it works, son. Now switch off that remote and get off that couch.”

“Mom always let me listen.”

Jess saw him flinch. “That’s enough, Trevor. I mean it,” he said.

Scowling, the boy trailed his father to the table. This kind of parent-child interaction was nothing new to Jess. All the same, as they took their seats, she felt as if she’d walked on stage, without a script or rehearsal, into a drama that was not of her making. If this was typical of Trevor’s attitude, she was going to have her work cut out for her.

Maggie had made jack-o’-lantern place cards from orange construction paper. Cooper was seated across from Jess, with Trevor on his right.

He did his best not to stare at her, but since she was sitting right across the table, he could hardly avoid taking her in with his eyes. She had a classic air about her—like a Renaissance Madonna or maybe a French fashion model. With her dark hair in a simple twist, a baby-blue sweater set, minimal makeup, and no jewelry except modest pearl earrings that were undoubtedly real, she made most of the women he’d seen in Branding Iron look tacky.

You’ll like her. Maggie’s words came back to him. Yes, so he did like her. He hadn’t come to Branding Iron for romance, but if Grace was setting him up with the lady, he owed his sister a surprising vote of thanks.

Then as he studied Jess, a more subtle response stirred in him. Something about that unforgettable face was vaguely familiar. Cooper could swear he’d seen her somewhere before. Maybe by the end of the evening, the memory would come back to him.

“I hear you’re a journalist, Cooper.” Jess speared a bite-sized piece of lasagna with her fork.

He took time to butter a slice of sourdough bread. “That depends on your definition,” he said. “I used to be a sports reporter for the Seattle Times. But I quit to freelance. Writing my own articles, mostly for magazines, gives me the freedom to choose any subject and to live wherever I like.”

Trevor’s sullen look spoke volumes. Jess could almost read his thoughts. Of all the places in the country, why did his father have to choose a nowhere town like Branding Iron? And what about his freedom?

Maggie spoke up. “Mom says that Uncle Cooper played football in high school, just like my dad did.”

“Did you play in college?” Sam had been set to go pro, but he’d blown out his knee in the last game of his senior year.

Cooper smiled, showing a sexy dimple in his left cheek. Jess’s pulse skipped. The man was getting to her. Blast him!

“I played second string quarterback,” he said. “But I wasn’t fast enough to be a starter. And I only did it for the scholarship. What I really wanted to do was write.”

“Do you like sports, Trevor?” Jess tried to draw the boy out. “I noticed you watching the game on TV.”

Trevor shrugged. “I just like to watch. My dad was an athlete, but I take after my mom’s family. They only play chess.”

“So do you play chess?” At least he’d given her an opening.

“No. It’s a stupid game. You win or you don’t. I hate it. So I guess that makes me a disappointment to both sides of the family.”

“Trevor—” His father’s tone carried a warning.

“Well, it’s true,” the boy said. “Dad, do I have to be in here? Can’t I take my plate into the other room to watch the end of the game?”

“No, you may not,” Cooper said. “You’re a guest. Behave like one.”

The boy didn. . .