Bring Me A Maverick For Christmas!. Brenda Harlen

Of course, Brendan and Bailey had left all those details in the hands of the event planners, who had adorned the tables with evergreen branches and holly berries, with tea lights in clear glass bowls at the center of each grouping of four place settings. The result was both festive and rustic, perfect for the venue and the occasion.

      “I’ve never been here before,” Serena confided. “But this place is fabulous. You and Brendan did a great job.”

      Bailey immediately shook his head. “This was all Caroline Ruth and her crew. The only thing me and Brendan can take credit for is putting her in charge,” he said. “And picking the food.”

      “What will we be eating tonight?” she asked.

      He plucked a menu off a nearby table and read aloud: “Country biscuits with whipped butter, mixed greens with poached pears, candied walnuts and a honey vinaigrette, grilled hand-carved flat iron steak, red-skin mashed potatoes and blackened corn, with huckleberry pie or chocolate mousse for dessert.”

      “And that’s why I had salad for lunch,” she told him.

      He chuckled as he steered her toward the table where Luke and Eva were already seated, along with Brendan Tanner and his fiancée, Fiona O’Reilly, and Fiona’s sister Brenna and her husband, Travis Dalton.

      Conversation during dinner covered many and various topics—Presents for Patriots, of course, including the upcoming gift-wrapping at the community center—but Brendan and Fiona’s recent engagement was also a subject of much interest and discussion.

      “So how long have you and Serena been dating?” Brenna asked, as she dipped her spoon into her chocolate mousse.

      Bailey looked up, startled by the question. “What?”

      Serena paused with her wineglass halfway to her lips, obviously taken aback, as well.

      “I asked how long you’ve been dating,” Brenna repeated.

      “They’re not dating,” Eva responded to the question first. “But they’re married.”

      “Really?” Brenna sounded delighted and intrigued by this revelation.

      “Not really,” Serena said firmly.

      “I don’t know.” Eva spoke up again, winking at Bailey and Serena to let them know she was teasing. “There were a lot of people at the community center today who believe you are.”

      Serena rolled her eyes. “Only because we were dressed up as Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with a little role-playing to spice things up in the bedroom,” Brenna asserted.

      Serena shook her head, her cheeks redder than the dress she’d worn during their role-playing that afternoon. “I should have stayed home tonight.”

      “I’m just teasing you,” Brenna said, immediately contrite. “Although Travis and I fell in love for real while we were only pretending to be engaged.”

      “I cheered for both of you on The Great Roundup,” Serena admitted.

      “Then you saw me win the grand prize,” Travis chimed in.

      Bailey frowned. Though reality shows weren’t his thing, it would have been impossible to be in Rust Creek Falls the previous year and not follow the events that played out when two local residents were vying for the big money on the television show. “It was Brenna who won the million dollars.”

      “That’s true,” Travis confirmed, sliding an arm across his wife’s shoulders and drawing her into his embrace. “But I won Brenna.”

      She smiled up at him. “And I won you.”

      “And I need some air,” Bailey decided.

      “Me, too,” Serena said, pushing back her chair.

      They exited the main reception area but didn’t venture much farther than that. Leaving the building would require collecting their coats and bundling up against the frigid Montana night.

      “They don’t mean to be obnoxious,” Bailey said when he and Serena were alone. “At least, I don’t think they do.”

      She laughed softly. “I didn’t think they were obnoxious. I thought they were adorable.”

      “Really?”

      “Yeah. I mean, I watched The Great Roundup, but you never know how much of those reality shows is real, how much is staged, how much is selectively edited. It’s nice to see that they truly are head over heels in love with one another.”

      “For now,” Bailey remarked.

      Serena frowned. “You don’t think they’ll last?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t think the odds are in their favor.”

      “Love isn’t about odds,” she said. “It’s a leap of faith.”

      “A leap that frequently ends with one or both parties hitting the ground with a splat.”

      “Spoken like someone who has some experience with the splat,” she noted.

      He nodded. “Because I do.”

      “Of course, most people don’t make it through life without a few bumps and bruises.”

      “Bumps and bruises usually heal pretty easily,” he said.

      Bailey’s matter-of-fact statement told Serena that the heartbreak he’d experienced had left some pretty significant scars. She also suspected that the romance gone wrong had reopened wounds caused by the loss of his parents and the separation from his family when he was barely more than a teenager.

      “Usually,” she agreed.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, after another moment had passed.

      The spontaneous and unexpected apology surprised her. “Why are you sorry?”

      “Because I obviously said something that upset you at lunch today.”

      “I can be overly sensitive at times,” she admitted.

      “Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he asked hopefully.

      She nodded. “You’re forgiven.”

      “That’s a relief,” he told her. “We wouldn’t want the kids of Rust Creek Falls Elementary School to worry about any obvious tension between Santa and Mrs. Claus.”

      “I’m not sure they care about Santa’s marital status so long as he delivers their presents on Christmas Eve.”

      “Which he wouldn’t be able to do if the missus got possession of the sleigh and custody of the reindeer in the divorce,” Bailey pointed out.

      “Then he better do everything he can to keep her happy,” she suggested.

      “If Santa had a secret formula for keeping a woman happy, it would top every man’s Christmas list,” he said.

      “Ha ha.”

      “I’m not joking,” he assured her. “But in the interests of keeping you happy, can I buy you a drink?”

      “No, thanks. I had a glass of wine with dinner and that’s my limit.”

      “One glass?”

      She nodded.

      “Okay, how about a dance?”

      “The words sound like an invitation,” she remarked. “But the tone suggests that you’re hoping the offer will be declined.”

      “Maybe, for your sake, I’m hoping it will,” he said. “Because I’m not a very good dancer.”

      “Then why did you ask?”

      He shrugged. “Because it might seem like everyone else is paired off, but I have noticed that there