Christmas Secrets (Heaven’s Gate #4)

Chapter 1

D ottie Sangster backed her husband’s two-toned blue and white pick-up truck up to the back door of Neamh and glanced furtively around. She wouldn’t get another chance to do this, it had to be today. “The things I get myself into,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t I just leave well enough alone?”

Dottie continued muttering to herself as she put her gloves on inside the warmth of the truck cab knowing it was close to zero outside. Gawd! She hated the cold. And there was plenty of it this time of year in the Highlands.

Bo and Misty, Darro MacCandish’s Blue Healers, were sitting outside the cab door staring at her, their breaths leaving little wisps of steam in the air. They tilted their sleek black and white heads sideways as if to ask whether she was planning on getting out anytime soon.

“Keep yer shirt on,” she told the dogs through the window. “Or yer hair as the case may be.” She allowed a sliver of humor to pierce her crappy mood as she gathered up the courage to put her plan into action.

The snow was a bright dazzling white under a sunny sky and she had on her sunglasses to prevent snow blindness. Coming up through the tree-lined lane into Neamh, the gorgeous green of the firs stood out in colorful contrast. Heaven’s Gate was beautiful in every season and even more so at Christmas. Lucerne MacCandish loved Christmas and all the decorations and customs that went with the holiday. Even the barn doors had huge fir wreaths with red ribbons on them.

In spite of her grinchy attitude, Dottie made sure her stocking hat covered her ears. Then she finally opened the door and ventured out, setting her booted feet carefully on the edge of the shoveled walkway. The last thing she needed was to fall on the ice and have to call for help.

Trudging through the crunchy snow bits to the back door, she twisted the doorknob and was happy to have it open easily. She figured it would. Although Darro, Angus, Ainsley and Poppy were at the hospital for the birth of Lucerne’s baby, there was a skeleton crew on board at Neamh. There was always someone around, though, and when the sunflower sign was turned to the welcome side on the door window, it meant that the men could come in and get hot coffee in the kitchen. Summer or winter, it was always the same.

After opening the back door and lowering the truck’s tailgate, she took two boxes from the big grocery box, one at a time, and set them inside the kitchen door. Then she stepped inside and quickly took off her gloves and hat and took the boxes to the huge freezer off the kitchen. She quickly opened each box and placed the aluminum containers of frozen food onto one of the shelves and then placed other rarely used items in front of the containers. Satisfied at last that no one would be coming after any of those ingredients anytime soon, she returned to the kitchen with the empty boxes and two containers of lasagna that she set out on the cabinet to thaw for the family dinner that night.

After breaking the boxes down, she finally relaxed and lost her furtive movements around the huge kitchen. Christmas decorations were everywhere, even a potbellied Santa biscuit jar with a cheeky grin. Lucerne kept it stocked full of Christmas biscuits which everyone loved.

She didn’t have an appetite; her nerves were too on edge. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at the family-sized bench table and tried to calm her nerves as she nibbled on her thumb.

When the women had been planning Christmas dinner, she’d had the bad luck to be right here in the kitchen with them. Lucerne was practically a chef because her cooking was so good, but with the advent of the baby coming so close to Christmas, she wasn’t going to be as active in that department. Hence the family was gathering around to fill in the deficit.

Of course, Poppy Sangster, her father-in-law’s American wife, was a very good cook. She’d only gotten better since she’d married Angus and had time to finally get back into the kitchen once again. Ainsley, Darro’s sister, wasn’t half-bad and made a mean haggis with neeps and tatties. Heck, even Jamie, Lucerne’s father, could make heavenly quiche and omelets with Stilton cheese and bacon. And his new wife, Pauley MacNamara, could turn out a very delicious meal quite easily when called upon. Her haddock chowder the other day had been to die for.

Dottie sighed and took a sip of coffee as the memories swept over her. Feeling very inadequate amongst all the accomplished cooks of the family that she’d married into, Dottie stupidly volunteered for some of the needs of the holidays. After she volunteered, they had all looked at each other as if they had finally noticed she was there and were trying to silently communicate with each other as to the best way to decline her offer.

It had been humiliating and embarrassing which had put her back up.

That was when her foot flew into her mouth and irritation took over. She’d boldly announced her cooking skills had improved, but if they didn’t want her help, then that was fine. Which of course had them assuring her that they needed her help and would be happy to take her offerings. With beaming, false smiles no less. All of which put her firmly in the fix she was currently in. She sighed again. Why did things have to get so complicated? And why did she have to be so Scottish-born stubborn?

The truth was, she didn’t actually hate cooking, she simply loathed being expected to cook like an old-time perfect housewife. Being tied to an apron had been her duty since she was old enough to pick up a spatula and hit the cat with it. Her two sisters had fallen in line like regular little toy soldiers, but Dottie had resisted. It had gotten to be a habit, so when she finally met Ben and he asked her to marry him, she told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t cook. And don’t expect her to.

He'd been shocked. Typical male.

She remembered his words at her announcement. “Ye don’t cook at all, Dottie? Because I can make a pot of tea and scramble some eggs when needed, but beyond that, it’s beans on toast or grilled cheese.”

His disgusting puppy-dog eyes made her relent her bold statement. Rolling her eyes, she replied, albeit grudgingly, “Aye, I can cook some, but my sister Betty nabbed the cooking queen title from my mum, so if ye don’t mind risking yer life, I’ll do what I can.”

His responding smile had melted her knees. She should never have had that moment of weakness or made that offer.

After Darro married Lucerne, Ben had convinced her to take cooking lessons from Lucerne. She’d hated every minute of it. Lucerne was a good teacher, but Dottie refused to apply what she learned. She could have—but then that would have raised her husband’s expectations. She secretly resented the fact that he’d convinced her to even take lessons. And of course, when she was feeling pensive, she hated herself for being so damned stubborn and hard to get along with about it. But she’d warned him.

And he’d ignored her.

That was what stung the most and she couldn’t get past it.

“Mind if I join ye?”

The baritone of Dal’s sexy voice startled her so bad she jumped and screamed. “Oh, my gawd, where did ye come from? Ye near gave me heart failure.” Her knuckles were turning white with her grip on the coffee mug in front of her. She looked up from the table and focused on Dallas MacIntosh, the intern veterinarian currently living and working at Neamh.

Dal chuckled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ye. I came in, took my gloves and hat off, and poured myself a cup without ye even noticing. If I’d been a robber, ye would have been an easy target,” he teased, flashing her the toothy, sexy grin that crinkled his eyes. He pointed to the aluminum pans on the cabinet. “Is that dinner tonight?”

Dottie nodded, her heart rate finally slowing. “Aye, it is. Lasagna fer the family.”

“Any news about the baby yet?” Dal lifted his cup for a drink of his coffee after sliding onto the bench across the table from her.

“Dad says it’s progressing normally and going well. No complications yet. Hopefully, there won’t be any.”

Dal ran his fingers through his hair, slicing her a cautious glance. “Ainsley at the hospital too?”

“Aye,” she replied sympathetically. “Ben says things aren’t going too well with ye and her. Sorry to hear that.”

Dottie’s husband and Dallas MacIntosh had been friends since forever, and it was Ben’s recommendation of Dal to Heaven’s Gate for his veterinarian internship that had swung Darro in Dal’s favor.

“She’s only been home fer the holidays since last week,” he protested.

“Well, it’s two weeks until Christmas and she’ll be gone back to Boston after New Years. That MacIntosh charm ye are overflowing with is on a tight time schedule ye know.” She grinned at him with an easy camaraderie.”

“Ye were never susceptible to it,” he mocked, his eyes laughing at her. “I tried to get ye to go out with me and ye refused hands down.”

“That’s because Ben got there first,” she replied. Truthfully, Dottie had known Dal was a player and nothing serious would ever have occurred between them. Not that she hadn’t been tempted. But she’d been looking for someone with plans to settle down and a future mostly mapped out. When she and Ben had met, she’d fallen in love with the handsome Scot almost immediately. Finding out he was attached to Heaven’s Gate and Neamh had been a bonus, but she would have married him without it.

“Aye, that he did, the lucky jobber.”

Dottie blushed slightly. Compliments were difficult for her to take. Even from a friend. In her family, compliments were rare. You knew you were doing a reasonably good job as long as no one was complaining. Her parents were not effusive people—except with the criticism. They had plenty of that stored up for those who didn’t live up to their expectations. She changed the subject and grabbed the plastic bin with the cinnamon rolls from the end of the table.

“Here, put one of those in yer gob and save yer lines fer Ainsley.”

Dal’s eyes lit up and he took two out of the container. “Wow, I wonder who made these? I love all the extra icing smeared all over them.” He took a big bite out of one and wiped his lip with his tongue to get the icing clinging to it.

It kind of hurt; he hadn’t even considered that she might have made them, but then she had only herself to blame. She’d trained everyone around her not to expect much from her and they’d finally started acting like it.

“So, who did ye make the lasagna delivery fer this morning? Did Poppy make it?” Dal mumbled around another bite of the cinnamon roll.”

Her temper flared. “I made it, thank ye very much!”

The look on his face was comical, or it would have been if it hadn’t hurt more than she wanted it to.

“Ye made it?” His voice had abject terror it which only escalated her temper.

Her eyes narrowed and she spit her comments out through gritted teeth. “I can cook well enough to be passable when I have to, ye know. I cook fer Ben all the time. Now, if ye’re done with yer coffee and doughnuts, get lost. I’m tired of looking at ye.”

Dal held up his hands in a gesture to ward off her temper. “Take it easy, Dottie, I was just playing with ye. No need to get so heated up.”

The nickname Ben had given her rolled off his tongue with the ease of friendship. Her full name was Dorothy. Trying to calm her rising temper for both their sakes, she kept reminding herself that she couldn’t blame Dal or anyone else. She’d asked for this—but it still hurt.

Dottie was a natural achiever driven to succeed in her endeavors, so it pricked her pride that she was such a total failure in the kitchen to the point that everyone just expected it. Well, they would be surprised soon enough.

“I know, I know,” she finally relented with a sigh, then shot him an evil glare. “Are ye eating dinner here tonight?”

Dal choked on his donut, his face reddened, and he made a big to-do of washing it all down with his coffee before jumping up. “Uh...I’m supposed to be going out with some friends tonight. Sorry.”

Then he hightailed it to the door and was gone while Dottie still had her eyebrows raised and her mouth open at his antics. Was she really that bad? She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Suspiciously she stared at the pans of lasagna sitting on the cabinet. What if no one ate her lasagna? Would they just throw it away and have Poppy whip up something else fabulous in just a few minutes? She was sure they would never tell her if they did. If she asked and they hem-hawed around and said it was good, then she would know they had thrown it away. That lasagna should garner her plenty of bragging rights and accolades.

Plus, it would be a waste of the horrible amount of money she’d spent to have an actual chef friend prepare the few dishes she’d volunteered for over the Christmas holidays. She shuddered at the memory of the cost of the dish she’d hidden in the walk-in freezer and the two pans sitting on the cabinet. Especially the Clootie Dumplings she was contributing to Christmas dinner. That was a recipe she would never in a million years attempt to make. Clootie Dumplings took a lot of time and effort. The delicious dessert, similar to Christmas pudding, had been the most expensive of all. Cripes! If Ben ever found out...

That thought didn’t bear finishing and she shuddered a full body shiver. He’d never spanked her before, but the possibility was always there. It certainly wasn’t an uncommon practice in the highlands, or in the family. Ben was pretty laid back and she wasn’t a brat, so there hadn’t been any real issues in their marriage. Just her cooking—and he totally accepted that she couldn’t cook. Another twinge of guilt. Was that an actual lie?

The image of Angus, her father-in-law, practically breathing fire when he tried her Habanero Roast Lamb flashed through her mental video. She’d known better than to use a handful of those hellfire peppers instead of the one the recipe Lucerne had given her called for, but she resented having to take the cooking lessons. That wasn’t the only recipe she’d ruined just to keep up her image of a lousy cook.

Suddenly impatient and frustrated with herself, Dottie jumped to her feet and took her coffee cup to the sink to rinse it out. She would be late for her dance appointment this afternoon if she didn’t get a move on. The roads were clear at the moment and they weren’t expecting more snow until next week. She’d grab lunch in town and head over to the studio where she was learning to belly dance. It was a surprise for Ben for Christmas.

Of course, she’d told Ben she was going Christmas shopping, so she’d have to bring home at least one bag, but he didn’t have to know if it was her favorite candy or whatever. That was the fun of Christmas, so many things could just be labeled as a secret, and no peeking allowed.

Brushing aside her confusing and uneasy feelings about paying for food she would pretend she had made, she headed out the back door. A little niggle wormed its way into her thoughts wanting to know why she’d allowed herself to let pride get the better of her. She couldn’t have it both ways. Either she was a good cook or she wasn’t. Which was it?

“Just shut up,” she shouted out loud to no one and yanked the cab door open. Bo and Misty just stared at her as she climbed up into the blue cab. She didn’t see Bubs and Joe just coming around the corner of the barn in time to see her gun the truck to leave as they headed to the kitchen for coffee.

“What did ye do to the lass, Bo?” Joe asked with a chuckle, patting the dog’s head. Misty whined and stuck her nose under Bub’s hand and both men chalked it up to “ that time of the month.”

Dottie suddenly glimpsed the two men with the dogs in her rearview mirror just as she took off. Where had they come from? And had they heard her yelling? Embarrassment flooded through her and she failed to avoid the patch of ice just before the entrance of the tree-lined lane that led out of Neamh and back to the main road. Suddenly she was fighting with the wheel, trying to turn it into the direction of the slide when her red SUV with Ben driving came out of the head of the lane and she was heading for a broadside collision.

***

“C ripes,” Ben swore as he swiftly gunned the SUV to the right, trying to get out of the way of Dottie in his pick-up truck. He hadn’t been expecting to meet someone sliding into his side of the lane and his heart rate accelerated as adrenaline kicked in. How they managed to avoid colliding he wasn’t sure, but he sent a prayer heavenward as he went for the snowbank. Things were tight and the last thing he needed was for Dottie to be hurt and in the hospital, or for a huge repair bill for one or both of their vehicles.

As he came to a sudden halt when the side of the SUV nosed into the snowbank, Dottie’s ride suddenly went into a slow spin which brought the back of the pick-up facing the rear of the SUV with about six inches to spare between them. He slumped in relief, then slammed his door open to check on his wife.

He could see her leaning on the steering wheel as he ran as swiftly as conditions would allow to the driver’s door and tried to open it. It was locked.

“Dottie!” he shouted at her and banged on the window, happy to see there wasn’t any blood, but her eyes were closed and her body was shaking. “Dottie! Open the door, honey.”

Finally, she lifted a shaking hand and hit the unlock button. When he opened the door and reached in to pull her into his arms, she started sobbing against his shoulder.

“Are ye all right, honey? Where does it hurt? Did ye hit yer head?” He pushed her back so he could see if any knots were forming on her face. He didn’t see anything but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been hurt. He could see Joe and Bubs running towards them with the dogs leading the way. Concern was etched on their faces.

“I-I’m good, Ben, just shaken up,” Dottie babbled, stroking a fall of blond curls behind her ear. “I-I didn’t see the icy patch...my tire caught it and spun me around. Oh gawd...I almost hit ye,” she sobbed, grabbing the front of his jacket.

“Everything all right here?” Joe asked as he and Bubs arrived, their breath puffing white in the cold air.

“Aye, Joe,” Ben replied. “Dottie just hit an icy patch but no one’s hurt, thank the mercies.”

Bubs pointed a gloved finger towards the SUV tilted sideways. “Ye’re going to need some help getting yer car out of the snowbank though. Ye drove her nose in pretty good.”

“I did at that,” Ben admitted ruefully. “Better the snow than my pickup though.”

“We’ll get the winch and chain,” Joe said. “We can use yer pickup to haul out yer SUV.”

“Thanks, lads.” Ben turned back to Dottie as the men headed for the barn. “Ye sure ye’re all right, honey?”

Dottie took a deep calming breath. “Aye, I’ll be fine. But what are ye doing here? I thought ye were working with the sheep at Thistlewind.”

“I was, but I ran low on jabs fer the last of them. I called Dad at the hospital and he told me there was some in his office and to grab them. Then I’ll replace them when I get into town the next time. I take it ye haven’t been to town yet fer yer shopping?”

She shook her head. “Nay, I was just dropping off the lasagna dinner fer Lucerne’s family. I promised I’d prepare a meal, so I did my best.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Ye offered to prepare a meal?” He knew he’d said it wrong when her eye’s narrowed and he could see the steam building. “I mean...that is...I’m sure it will be fine,” he finished lamely. “Did ye leave enough fer us to have some at home tonight?”

He hoped the answer to that was no because the last time she’d made lasagna, the noodles had been stiff, as if they hadn’t been cooked long enough. She said she’d used the oven-ready ones and the box said they didn’t need to be cooked first. Either the box was wrong or she did something wrong, because the leftovers were even harder.

“We are all trying to pitch in and help Lucerne get through the holidays with the baby, so I felt like I needed to at least try,” Dottie replied, her voice like the frozen snow. “I am getting a little better with some things.”

“Of course, ye are,” Ben enthused, all the while wondering which dishes she was talking about. It would remain a mystery because he wasn’t going to ask.

“If ye don’t like my cooking, ye can always take over the job,” she snarked with a healthy sniff. She wiped a few loose tears off her cheeks and glared up at him. “I’ve told ye time and again that I’d trade some outdoor chores if ye wanted to be in charge of dinner.”

Ben shook his head. “We’ve been through this before, Dottie. I’m usually working outside until dinnertime, ye know that. I’m not in the house in time to prepare dishes that take early preparation and all that. At least ye’re in the house, since yer office is there,” he added helpfully. A twinge of conscious hit him. He probably could do more in the cooking department, he just didn’t think he could fit it in. Even if he wanted to.

As it was, he usually had to scrounge around for something edible after dinner. He only had himself to blame, if there was any reason to blame anyone for anything. Dottie had been perfectly clear that she wasn’t a cook right up front. And that was okay with him. He loved her just the way she was, and he wouldn’t starve just because she couldn’t cook.

His dad and Poppy usually had them up to the house for a meal or two each week, so that helped them both. Poppy was a pretty good cook. Lucerne was teaching Poppy some traditional Scottish dishes that they all loved and she was catching on fast.

It was a mystery though, that Dottie couldn’t seem to get the hang of it, even with lessons from the expert Lucerne. For such an intelligent, hardworking lass, Dottie continued to remain clueless when it came to food. A tiny, disloyal shard of thought raced through him that perhaps she intentionally didn’t learn? Shaking it off, he scolded himself for such a thought. His Dottie was honest and forthright in everything she said and did. He shouldn’t ever think such things.

“Ben?”

He shot Dottie a startled look, realizing she’d said something and his thoughts had gone walkabout. “Um...sorry. What did ye say?”

“I said, I’m going to wait in the truck where it’s warm until the SUV is out of the snowbank. “It’s really cold out here. Then I’ll go on to Inverness if there’s no damage and ye can drive it home.” She blew on her fingertips through the gloves and he knew the insidious cold was creeping into any seam and crack it could find.

“Of course, honey, let’s get ye into the passenger’s side.” He walked her around the truck, opened the door for her, and helped her get settled. Then he grabbed the blanket he kept behind the seat in case he got stuck somewhere and wrapped it around her upper body and legs. “There ye go, snug as a bug in a rug.” He grinned down at her and dropped a kiss on her rosy, upturned lips. Dottie was such a beautiful little thing, his heart and soul. He berated himself mentally for suspecting subterfuge on her part. “Are ye still feeling like driving into town? Do ye want me to take ye in?” he asked, solicitously.

“Nay,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’ll be fine. Ye have work to do and I wasn’t hurt, just shaken up.” She reached up and patted his cheek, then nibbled on his lips. “Ye are so good to offer to take time out of your work, darling, but I can’t let ye do that. Life on a sheep station is demanding and schedules have to be kept fer the livestock. I understand completely, and I’ll be back before ye know it.”

Ben’s heart swelled but he narrowed his eyes at her in a stern gesture. “Be extra careful on the roads, I don’t want ye caught in a snowbank between here and home,” he said firmly. “The truck has new tires and 4-wheel drive, so ye should be alright. But if ye get stranded, ye could freeze out there. Text me when ye get into town, and keep me informed when ye head back.”

“I promise,” she replied.

Ben eyed her carefully, feeling like something was amiss but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Her bright smile seemed a bit too bright suddenly, as if she didn’t want him to accompany her into town. That prickly feeling between his shoulder blades didn’t usually lie though. Warning, premonition, whatever you want to call it, he’d had it enough times to know something was off somewhere. Then again, this was his Dottie. She wouldn’t lie to him. Mayhap, she was just up to Christmas secrets.

“Good girl,” he growled, his tense shoulders relaxing. One more peck on her lips and he turned to meet Joe and Bubs arriving with the winch.