Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 3)

Walk away, that was the sensible answer. She would end things with Conner before they got any more complicated. At the Christmas Ball, she could perform as Lacy and disappear before Conner had a chance to get close and recognize her. Her friends in the band would help her make a clean getaway. No ugly questions, no lies, and no regrets—except for never knowing what might have been.

* * *

The evening ended early, with the understanding that the three partners would need to be up before dawn. As Megan said her good nights to Maggie and Tracy, she felt the pang of impending loss. Breaking off with Conner would mean losing these two delightful women as her friends. But some things couldn’t be helped, she reminded herself as Conner lent his arm to balance her on the icy sidewalk.

She wasn’t looking forward to the ride home. Conner, she sensed, was more accustomed to rejecting women than being rejected. Maybe he’d be angry. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t even care. Either way would be painful—but like pulling out a splinter or setting a broken bone, it had to be done.

As he helped her into his Jeep and went around to the driver’s side, Megan rehearsed her farewell speech.

It’s like this, Conner. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and . . . No, that sounds like a lame excuse.

I’ve got this boyfriend in Nashville—we’re practically engaged, so I’m afraid this will have to be good-bye . . .

That might work, even if it was only a half-truth. She wasn’t engaged to Derek—not even practically. But the little white lie might at least help her out of an awkward spot.

“What did I tell you about those ladies?” Conner flashed her a grin as he started the vehicle. “I’d say you’ve got yourself two new friends. You’ll like them even more as you get to know them.”

“They were very nice,” Megan said. “But I won’t be around long enough to get to know them. I have a job in Nashville—and a life.”

That was a good beginnin

g, Megan thought. All Conner needed to do now was ask her about her life in Nashville. From there, she could steer the conversation to her alleged reason for not seeing him again.

But Conner, it seemed, wasn’t about to make that easy for her. “I’m still puzzling about one thing,” he said, changing the subject. “That powwow in the kitchen, the three of you with the door closed. What was that all about?”

“Girl talk. If we’d wanted you to know, we wouldn’t have closed the door.”

“Understood.” Conner drove in silence for a couple of blocks, then spoke again. “But when you came out, I could tell that something was bothering you—and I had a feeling that it might be me.”

“You were imagining things. Everything was—is—fine.” Megan stumbled through her fudged reply. She hadn’t expected him to be so intuitive, or so direct.

“Is it?” he asked. “If you’ll pardon the metaphor, I’m a man who believes in ‘taking the bull by the horns.’ If you heard something about me in that kitchen, I’d like an equal chance to explain myself.”

Megan sighed. She was cornered. There was only one way out—tell the truth. But she wasn’t about to tell him everything.

“It doesn’t matter, not really,” she said. “After all, we agreed to be just friends and have a good time.”

“So tell me, Megan,” he said.

“All right.” She shifted in the seat, turning slightly to face him. “I was told that you’d fallen head over heels for that singer at the Christmas Ball, and you were stacking all your hopes on the chance that she’d show up again, so you could meet her.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Not that I care. I don’t own you, Conner. If you’ve fallen for another woman, that’s none of my business. It’s just that . . .” She groped for the right words.

“ ‘Just that,’ what?” He turned onto Main Street. Twinkling Christmas lights shed glowing colors through the windshield.

“Just that it’s so . . . so stupid! You don’t even know her. Just because she’s pretty and can sing, that doesn’t mean she’s a nice person.”

“You sound as if you know something I don’t. You’re from Nashville. Do you know her?”

Megan winced. The question had hit close to home. “I know the type, that’s all,” she said. “Some women will do anything to get ahead in the business, even pretend to be someone they’re not. And they don’t care who they hurt. Sorry, I don’t mean to be judgmental. It’s just that you’re a nice guy. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”

“Thanks for your concern. I mean it.” He swung the Jeep around the corner, onto a narrow, unlit side street. “But it’s my heart. It’s been broken and mended before. And if it happens again, at least I’ll be able to say that I took a chance.”

And that’s the reason why I don’t want to see you again. Megan was about to speak the words, when he pulled over to the curb and turned to face her.

“I believe in taking chances,” he said. “I took a chance every time I climbed onto a bucking bull. Taking chances got me to a championship. It also got me damn near killed. That’s the luck of the draw. And it’s the same with relationships. Sometimes you get hurt. Once in a while, you win the grand prize. But if you’re too scared to take a chance, nothing happens.”