Close To Christmas, A Westen Series Novella Read online

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2014 by Suzanne Ferrell

  Cover Art by Lyndsey Lewellen

  Formatting Libris in CAPS

  Release date: December 2014

  Ferrell, Suzanne (2014), Close to Christmas,

  A Romantic Suspense Novel.

  Suzanne Ferrell.

  All rights reserved to the Author

  This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise - without prior written permission of the author and publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Close to Christmas

  A Romantic Suspense Novel

  By

  Suzanne Ferrell

  Table of Contents

  Begin Reading....

  COVER

  COPYRIGHT

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  Other Suzanne Ferrell Books...

  The Edgars Family Novels

  Author Bio

  DEDICATION

  To Mary and Charles Willis, my parents. Thank you for letting me borrow your wedding date for Gage and Bobby’s wedding!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The Ferrell team always deserves a big thank you!

  I’d like to thank my cover artist, Lyndsey Lewellen of LLewellen Designs. Your covers are making the fictional town of Westen come alive!

  My beta reader for this book, Joan Kayse who kept me honest with my characters!

  My formatters at Libris in CAPS. Mitch and Alison have done such a great job!

  And my editor, Tanya Saari. Thanks for helping make my stories the best they can be!

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for trying my Indie published book. I understand that there are many options for you to spend your money on and am honored that you chose one of my books. For that reason my team and I strive to put out the best product we can from the awesome cover design through the entire editing and formatting process. For my part, I hope to deliver an entertaining story that keeps you wondering what’s going to happen next.

  If at the end of this book you find you simply loved the story and characters, please consider giving it a positive rating or review. In this brave new book world, the only way for a good story to find its way into the hands of other readers is if the people who loved it let others know about it. We authors appreciate any little bit of help you can give us.

  If, when you reach the end of this story, you think, “Wow, I’d love to know what’s next in Suzanne’s world of characters,” then consider joining my newsletter mailing list. I only send out newsletters a few times a year plus extra ones in anticipation of any new releases, so it won’t be flooding your inbox on a weekly basis, but will keep you abreast on any changes I may have coming.

  Also, I love to hear from readers. If you have any questions or comments, or just want to say “hi”, please feel free to visit my webpage for some extra tidbits or check out my Pinterest boards. You can connect with me via Facebook, Twitter or through my email: [email protected]

  Now the important part: Here’s Deke and Libby’s story. I hope you will love them as much as I did and enjoy revisiting Westen in CLOSE TO CHRISTMAS.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Well? What does it say?”

  It was four days before Christmas and Bobby Roberts sat on the edge of the bed, her hands twisted together in her lap. She’d been too nervous to look at the damn stick. Instead, she’d laid the thing on a towel on the counter and fled the bathroom, leaving her fiancé, Gage Justice, in there to read the results.

  A very long minute later, her soon-to-be-husband sauntered out of the bathroom, his blue cotton pajama pants riding low on his hips. He stopped in front of her, his face unreadable. Bending, he scooped her up in his arms.

  “Gage?” She squeaked his name as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He sat on the bed, keeping her cradled on his lap. “Let me ask you something.”

  “What? Is something wrong? You’re scaring me.” The serious look on his face wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

  He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, her worries fading into the dim morning light as the need for more of him consumed her. When she made the move to snuggle in closer to his naked chest, he slowly ended the kiss. “Bobby? Do you love me?”

  She leaned back and cupped his face in her hands, staring into the forest green of his eyes. “You know I do.”

  “No matter what that little stick says, you’re still going to marry me tomorrow evening and spend the rest of your life with me? Right?”

  The slight hesitancy in his question made her heart swell. To think this strong and wonderful mountain of a man could be scared she might reject him made her love him even more. She kissed him softly then smiled at him. “That’s the plan, big guy.”

  The lines of worry on his face eased as a grin spread over it, slow and suggestive. “Oh, I’ve got something big planned for you.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?” she said with a giggle. Lifting her leg, she wiggled around until she straddled him. She slid forward, feeling the thickness of his erection against her bare bottom. “Mmm, a man of his word.”

  “That’s me, a promise is a sacred thing.” He reached down and pulled the hem of her nightshirt up and over her head and arms, flinging it to the floor. “And right now, I promise to love you until you scream my name.”

  “And what will Mrs. Munroe have to say?” she asked, scooting closer so her nipples rubbed deliciously against the soft hairs of his chest. Her efforts were rewarded by a growl from deep inside him as he grasped her ass cheeks with his hands to haul her in tighter.

  “I doubt she sleeps with her hearing aids in, but I like a challenge.” He grinned in that sexy, I’m-about-to-make-hot-mind-blowing-love-to-you way that already had her growing moist between her thighs.

  Before she could ask exactly what he had planned, Gage reached up and gripped the back of her head in one hand, his fingers clenching in her hair. He dragged her down until his mouth claimed hers in a hard, hot kiss, his tongue sliding in between her parted lips. He tasted minty.

  She pulled back. He’d had time to brush his teeth while she’d been waiting for him to tell her about the stick?

  The stick.

  “Gage, the stick?” she asked as he trailed his mouth down the column of her neck, sending shivers and goose flesh all over her.

  “Later, I’m busy right now.” He caught her mouth once more, this time in a low, slow, kiss, as if he were devouring the most decadent dessert in the history of desserts. Leaning back, he took her with him, until she was spread over his chest. All the while, one hand gripped her bottom tight against the thick part of him and the other controlled her head, keeping her focused on the things his mouth and tongue were doing to hers.

  As always she couldn’t get enough of this man. Couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t taste enough. Couldn’t feel enough. Her hands caressed and kneaded the long, thick muscles of his arms then traveled down to his hips and slowly up his sides, finding every ridge of sinewy muscle and hard plane of
rib.

  Slowly, he turned them until she was beneath him and her legs parted wide for him to settle between them. He lifted up on his hands, his gaze fastening on hers. “Would it be a bad thing if the stick said we were pregnant?”

  Her hands on his lower back, she gazed into his eyes, reading both the question and hope in them. “No,” she said, smiling. “Having a baby with you would be wonderful. And we’re not getting any younger.”

  “And if we weren’t yet, would you want to try?” he asked.

  This time the smile turned into a happy grin. “Yes, I believe I would.”

  He lifted off her and stripped out of his pants.

  The wonder that all that male perfection was hers alone never ceased to amaze Bobby or set her own hormones into overdrive.

  With a grin as big as hers, he returned to the bed and slowly slid deep into her.

  “You’re not wearing a condom,” she said as he stretched and filled her.

  “No, no I’m not.”

  “Mmm, I think I like this,” she purred as he slowly pulled back to the tip.

  “Good thing, because I do, too.” With that, he sank back in again, slowly. His green-eyed gaze locked onto her. Each thrust going deeper.

  She lifted her legs to wrap around the taut muscles of his ass as they worked up and down. Grabbing onto his biceps, she held him tight, meeting his body with each thrust. Inside her the tension built, her breathing coming in gasps, until she arched her back up and her shoulders down into the bedding.

  “Gage!” she moaned loudly as she split apart with her orgasm.

  One arm behind her back, he rode her a few more thrusts, each one eliciting more aftershocks from her before he clenched her to him, crushing her into the mattress and spilling his seed inside her.

  For a few minutes she lay beneath him, enjoying the feel of his body on hers, running her fingernails lightly over the sweat-covered muscles of his back. Finally, he lifted up and kissed her again, slow and soft. Gently, he slid out and off her body to lay on his side beside her, running his fingers over her breasts and tweaking the tight buds of her nipples.

  “Gage?” she asked.

  “Yes, love?”

  “What did the stick say?”

  He reached for her far hand and entwined his fingers with her, slowly bringing it to his lips.

  “The stick,” he said with a kiss to her fingers, “said that,” he moved their hands down to her lower abdomen, “our son or daughter will be attending our wedding.”

  * * * * *

  Deputy Sheriff Wes Strong leaned against the brick front of the sheriff’s office, watching shoppers meander along the sidewalk in the lightly swirling snow. Many stopped to talk, smiling and often exchanging back slaps or hugs. It had taken him years to get used to the natural friendliness of the people in Westen. Thanks to the former sheriff, they’d accepted him with little question and hadn’t pressed for his life history. His secrets were his alone.

  There were whole days now that he wasn’t looking over his shoulder for signs of his enemies. Days like these.

  All of Westen’s Main Street was decked out for the holidays. From the county courthouse, with its giant blue spruce wreaths decorated with equally large gold balls and red ribbon hanging in every window, to the small boutiques that lined the streets with lighted windows in blinking white, red or multicolored lights, everyone was in a celebratory mood. In the town square stood a fifteen foot evergreen decorated from top to bottom in multicolored lights. The Peaches ‘N Cream Café was serving eggnog and peppermint shakes. The Dye Right Salon had the hair dressers decked out in elf aprons.

  He stepped away from the wall. Yep, it was good to see the town folk so relaxed, too. Heck, even the new newspaperman, Sean Callahan, had been running lots of feel good stories about folks helping folks.

  It had been a hard, danger-filled year for the usually quiet little town, but nothing that had to do with his past. They’d survived a murdering meth kingpin and an explosion that could’ve destroyed the town. Except for the actions of his boss, Sheriff Gage Justice, it could have been much worse.

  Of course, Gage had nearly lost his life in the tunnel collapse that ensued. It had been the new deputy, Bobby Roberts, with the help of Fire Chief, Deke Reynolds and county engineer Howard Russett that had saved the sheriff.

  All that excitement had been back in the spring. A state of mild chaos descended on the town as the state officials came and went, dumped tons of newly appropriated funds into repairing the area, including the roadways near and around the town. They’d also buffed up the socioeconomic infrastructure of the whole county. Impressive how the DEA’s guilt over one of their former employees keeping a known meth lab in this area a secret could benefit the community.

  Things had slowly gotten back to normal until the long, hot summer led into a second round of danger when a series of fires sprouted up. A crazed arsonist had put social worker Libby Wilson in his sights and only the heroics of Deke and young football sensation, Kyle Gordon, had saved her from a fiery death.

  Funny thing about these two near catastrophes—two weddings had come out of them.

  Libby and Deke, who’d been in love ten years earlier, had rekindled their romance, deciding to fly off to Vegas over Thanksgiving to finally tie the knot. Deke had said he’d waited long enough to make Libby his wife and wasn’t taking a chance to lose her again.

  Wes chuckled.

  Gage had been pissed for days, walking around the office muttering, Wish we’d had the good sense to just go get hitched. All this fuss over invitations, flowers and cakes. Makes my head hurt.

  Bobby, Gage’s intended bride, just laughed and patted him on the back good-naturedly. Trust me, all of Westen would be upset if we didn’t give them a wedding to celebrate. Besides, my sisters would never forgive me for not having a church wedding.

  He’d sighed and hugged her, casting a mournful look over her shoulder at his deputies. They’d rolled their eyes and given him unsympathetic looks. Unsympathetic, that was, until Bobby insisted that all the deputies would be involved in the wedding in some fashion or other, which required suits and ties.

  “Planning your escape?”

  Wes looked over his shoulder to see Sean approaching.

  “Not yet,” he said, offering his hand to the newspaperman, who shook it firmly. “Bobby’s got us under close observation.”

  “Has she resorted to ankle monitors for you guys yet?” Sean asked with a laugh.

  “Hey, don’t say that too loudly. She just might.”

  “Everything set for tonight?”

  Wes nodded. “Poker bachelor party at my cabin. Deke set the rotation so the deputies are all off volunteer fire duty. You gonna make it?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. Leaving the laptop at home so nothing we do will hit the paper.”

  “Good thing. Sheriff’s just warming up to you, given that you’re a newspaperman.” Wes arched one brown at him, half in mock seriousness, half not. “Anything unflattering or possibly embarrassing appears in the morning papers, he might decide to give you a free overnight tour of the jail.”

  Sean laughed. “Don’t worry. While I believe in the freedom of the press, I also believe discretion can be just as important. Especially to my own health.”

  Catching movement just over the newsman’s shoulder, Wes whistled as a silver BMW turned through the light and headed towards them.

  Sean turned to see what had his interest. “Nice ride. Someone new in town?”

  “Not sure,” Wes answered, as he tried to place where he’d seen this car before. As it slowed, then pulled in to parallel park in front of where they stood outside the sheriff’s office, recognition hit. The same unease he’d felt the last time he saw that car crept over him. “Nope. This is a visitor.”

  “How do you know?” Sean asked as the driver’s side door opened. Then his mouth fell so far open that Wes thought he’d have to help the guy pick his jaw up off the ground as a tall, willowy-thin woman with s
hort, stylish brunette hair stepped out and leaned her elbows on the car’s roof, travel coffee cup in one hand and cell phone in the other.

  The phone rang. She glanced at the screen, made a face, pushed a button and dropped the phone into the passenger’s seat.

  Whoever that was, the lady didn’t want to talk to them.

  For a moment, she looked down the road as if she expected someone to pull in behind her, but the road was empty. Finally, she refocused her attention on them, especially Wes’s sheriff’s deputy baseball cap.

  “Excuse me,” she said, her voice low and silky, like fine liquid caramel. “Can you tell me where Roberta Roberts is? She’s not answering her cell.”

  “I believe she’s over at the Dye Right,” Wes said, looking into the biggest, darkest eyes he’d ever seen.

  The lady lifted her brows in curiosity. “The die right? Is that the funeral home or something?”

  Wes shook his head. “Only if you’re male. It’s Dye, as in, D-Y-E. The local hair salon.”

  “Figures,” she said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, apparently unimpressed with the small town’s sense of humor. “Any chance you can direct me there?” she asked, then took a sip from the coffee cup.

  “Keep going to the next light. Turn left. It’s at the end of that block. You can’t miss it,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Without another word, she climbed back in and drove down the street.

  “Wow,” Sean said as they both watched her go. “Who was that long, cool, drink of water?”

  “Settle down, boy. She’s dangerous territory.”

  “Some things are worth the scratches. If you know what I mean,” Sean said with a grin.

  Wes turned on his heel and headed into the office. “Trust me. You don’t want to mess with that.”