Code Red Christmas: A Sweet Hometown Romance Series: Finding Happily Ever After in a Small Town, #5

By Kristy K. James

Welcome to Charlotte, hometown of the Coach's Boys romance series. Settle back, put your feet up, and enjoy your visit. Who knows? You may want to stay for a while. Or forever - because nothing is sweeter than small town romance!

 

***This book is the fifth in the Coach's Boys series. Because of the mystery involving a secondary character, the books should be read in order.***

When she promised 'until death do us part,' she meant it…

When Darby O'Hara believed in something, she believed in it forever...

...and her marriage rated at the top of that list. But she hadn't counted on a husband who devoted most of his life to his business. As the years passed, and he spent more and more hours away from home, her dreams of becoming a mother seemed to be just that – a dream. One that would never be fulfilled. Being patient hadn't worked. Talking hadn't either, and one day she decided she'd had enough. It was time to make a new life for herself. Maybe with the handsome and attentive Dylan.

Achieving success had always been important to him…
No one had ever loved their wife more than Cal O'Hara loved his, but he'd never figured out how to balance his personal life and his business. And then came the day she announced her intention to divorce him. In that moment he knew he'd do anything to win her back. When a holiday reprieve comes his way, he knows he's got one chance to make some serious changes. He's willing to give everything he has to win Darby back. The question is … will everything be enough to make her want to stay?

 

If you enjoy clean and wholesome second chance romances with a sweet hero trying to win back the love of his life during the Christmas season – and finally discovering who the stalker is! – you just might love Code Red Christmas, book 5 in the Coach's Boys series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristy K. James
• Release date: Dec 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781386088387

Kristy K. James

Kristy K. James' first goal in life was to work in law enforcement, until the night she called the police to check out a scary noise in her yard.Realizing that she might someday have to investigate scary noises in yards just as dark as hers if she continued on that path, she turned to her other favorite love...writing.Since then her days have been filled with being a mom and reluctant zookeeper (7 pets), creating stories, and looking for trouble in her kitchen.

Book preview

Chapter 1

If he had one wish , Calvin O’Hara would go back in time to the moment when the alarm clock had gone off this morning, thrown the blasted thing at the wall and fallen back asleep. After the umpteenth night of Darby hugging her side of the bed like a lifeline, Cal had walked into chaos the moment he’d set foot in O’Hara’s Catering.

The chef he’d just finished training. The one who'd been scheduled to come in at the dark and early hour of six-thirty hadn't shown up. Instead, he'd simply called in the middle of the night, leaving a message saying he'd found a better position somewhere else. In other words, Tony had quit. On the spot. No notice, no thanks for the opportunity, no nothing.

The problem was, the guy was supposed to start baking several turkeys needed for an eleven o’clock luncheon, and that left Cal in a bit of a bind given he hadn’t arrived until eight o'clock. After working until nearly one a.m., it wasn't the best start to his day. Thank the good Lord for turkey fryers.

To make matters worse, another kitchen helper called in sick so, rather than being able to head home by five, he’d had to prepare the food for another reception, help set everything up, and stick around for a bit to make sure his long-time assistant and two part-timers could handle everything.

Now here it was, somewhere in the vicinity of nine, only about four hours later than he’d promised to be home. A promise made to a wife who had been mad at him for months, and who had been complaining even longer than that about the excessive hours he'd been putting in six and seven days a week.

Well... Come to think of it, Darby had stopped complaining about the hours a while back. About the same time she pretty much stopped talking to him altogether, except for curt answers to direct questions anyway.

Of course given how little time he'd been spending at home, it had been easy to push the problem out of his mind, to pretend that everything was still fine between them. Except something had changed recently. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it scared him and he knew he had to start making his wife and their life together his highest priority.

Sighing deeply, Cal cast a glance at the bouquet of roses on the seat beside him, and ran a hand through his hair. Inside the tissue paper wrapping were two cruise tickets to the Bahamas, dated to begin New Year’s Eve. If Darby could just be patient through the holidays, they would have a two week, long overdue vacation. He and Trish had been working out the details for quite some time now, although the loss of their new chef could throw a wrench into the plans.

No. They would figure something out. They had to. Cal closed his eyes for a moment. Not only did he need the break, but his marriage was screaming for one. While he’d poured his soul into the business that meant so much to him, he’d neglected his wife – and it was clear she’d grown tired of it. If the way she’d been shrugging off even hugs was anything to go by, she had been tired of it for quite some time now.

Cal sighed again and picked up the flowers. He wasn’t helping things by just sitting in the car while she kept his supper warm. Bracing himself against the frigid November air, probably nowhere near as cold as the welcome he was about to receive though, he got out and hurried to the small bungalow they‘d moved into immediately after their wedding. The keys jingled quietly as he slid one into the door lock and let himself inside.

The first thing he noticed was that Darby still sat at the table in the little dining area. The only illumination came from the light in the kitchen, but it was enough to see that she didn’t even glance his way.

Hi, sweetheart, he said, forcing a cheerfulness he wasn't feeling into his voice. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it in the closet before crossing the living room. Holding out the flowers, he stammered, These are for you.

Oh really? Monotone. Okay, so maybe the flowers weren’t such a good idea. Cal squatted beside her chair and pulled the tickets out, holding them up for her to see when she wouldn’t take those either.

Darby, he said softly, I know things have been rough this year, but I swear to you it's going to change. I promise.

Like you promised to be home for dinner at five? she asked. Her words were quiet, but there was a tone there, something he couldn't identify. Something he didn’t want to identify, because he knew it would be bad.

Darby- He felt his heart beat faster when she glared at him. What he saw in her eyes wasn't love, and for the first time, he realized he hadn't been scared before. Not after real fear set in as he stared into her eyes. My chef quit this morning. What was I supposed to do? Close the doors and cancel everything? You know I’d been grooming Tony to take over a lot of my hours.

Yeah, right, Cal. Like you’d ever let anyone share the responsibility for your baby. That’s all you care about and everyone knows it. She slid the chair back and walked to the window that overlooked the river that ran behind their house.

You’ve been promising things would slow down for the entire time we’ve been married, but nothing ever changes. After almost eight years, I've finally realized that you'll never slow down. You'll never be successful enough.

Honey, I know it’s seems that way-

Seems?

All right. I know it's gotten worse. But I mean it, starting New Year’s Eve that’s all going to change. I’ve booked a cruise for us. A two week cruise. And when we get back, I’ll be working a lot less. I promise it's the truth. She still hadn’t looked at him, except the brief glare over her shoulder, the kind that usually brought to mind the 'if looks could kill' saying.

I’ve heard it all before. You’ll cut back. You’ll hire more help. The sad thing is, I know you mean it when you say it. And you really do try, for a little while, and then you’re right back at it. A few hours here, an extra shift there, and then it's back to business as usual. She whirled around, finally, and looked at him, her face a frozen, unfeeling mask. I’ve moved my things into the guest bedroom. I’ll be sleeping in there until my apartment is available December first.

What? Cal rose slowly to his feet and felt the blood drain from his face. An apartment?

I want a divorce. I’m tired of listening to your promises. I’m tired of being married and living like I’m single.

No-

Yes.

Just like that? he asked incredulously.

No, not just like that! Darby spat out. A tear rolled down her cheek and she scrubbed it away with her fingertips. I’ve tried, Cal. I’ve given you chance after chance, and you’ve let me down every time. I just can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of trying. I want to be with someone who wants to spend time with me. Someone who wants children. I'm almost thirty years old. If I wait for you to be ready, I'll never be a mother.

Darby, please don't do this He couldn't do more than whisper because it felt like the air was being squeezed from his lungs. I swear I'll fix it. We can have as many kids as you want.

No. Just stop. I’ve met someone. I don't know if I love him or not, but I do care about him. I want the chance to see where it might go, and I can't do that if I'm still married to you.

His knees felt like they were made of the same gelatin he'd made for the party this evening, and he wasn't sure they would hold him up, but he stood there, waiting for the punch line – because it had to be a joke. A cruel joke, but a joke nonetheless. Because if it wasn't, then he'd lost her.

I'm going to bed, she said, brushing past him, looking straight ahead. I suggest you do the same. I'm sure you have a million things to do tomorrow.

THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK in the corner chimed three times. Cal had gone to bed hours earlier but found without Darby there, he couldn’t sleep. Even with the empty space between them these past weeks, at least he'd know she was there. So after tossing and turning for what felt like forever, he'd given up on getting any rest. Instead, he'd gone out to the living room, sinking down on the sofa in the quiet, dark room, wishing he could turn his thoughts off.

The shock from her announcement cut into his heart like a thousand shards of glass, shredding it to pieces every time he remembered what she'd told him. Since the scene played in his mind like a relentless loop, the pain was never ending. He still couldn't believe the words that had come out of his wife's mouth.

Oh, God. What was he supposed to do? First he'd lost his mother barely ten months ago, and now he was losing Darby, who didn't love him anymore. Because she'd met another man she might be falling in love with. Every time he thought his anguish had reached its zenith, all he had to do was remember that and he'd know he'd been wrong.

Cal brushed tears from his eyes and tried to figure out what he’d done that had been horrible enough to drive her into the arms of another man.   He knew it all came down to the neglect though. That he was guilty of always putting the business over her every time he had to make a choice.

He remembered all of the dinners and date nights he'd had to cancel because someone called in sick or couldn’t handle the job. The times he’d crept in to find she'd fallen asleep out here waiting for him. And he thought about the baby they kept postponing. That he kept postponing. The child she wanted so desperately, but that he'd never been ready for.

Oh yeah, he was guilty all right. But knowing that didn’t make the pain he was feeling hurt any less.

DARBY PUNCHED THE PILLOW she'd been holding, and then shoved it across the bed. It wasn't helping. Except for two days in the hospital when she'd had her appendix out, this would be the first entire night she’d spent alone in this house in nearly eight years, and she couldn’t sleep.

Blast Cal anyway. How dare he look so wounded when she told him she wanted a divorce? How dare he! After the countless times he’d hurt her, leaving her alone so he could tend to his precious business, why should she care if she hurt him?

But he'd had to stand there, looking as though her announcement hit him from left field. Like his world had come to an end, much the same as their marriage had.

She grabbed the pillow, punched it again, then flopped over onto her back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. She would be less than useless at work tomorrow – today, actually – if she didn’t doze off soon.

Maybe a glass of warm milk would help, she thought, tossing the covers aside. After slipping into her robe, she headed for the kitchen. In the moonlight shining through the window, she was startled to see Cal sitting on the sectional sofa, his face wet with tears. She noticed he didn’t even try to wipe them away, and while she felt a tug at her heart, she forced it away.

You really ought to try and get some sleep, she murmured, turning her gaze toward the doorway.

Darby, could we talk? Just for a few minutes?

No. I’ve said all I have to say to you. I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to hear any more excuses. She continued on her way before she buckled under and gave in, the same as she'd always done. Just because she didn't want to be married to him anymore didn't mean she'd stopped caring. But it didn't take a genius to know that if she didn't get out now, she'd regret it for the rest of her long, lonely life.

Setting the cup of milk in the microwave, she punched in the numbers, and then leaned against the counter to wait for the timer to run out. Drumming her fingers against her thigh, she willed it to hurry.

Cal had always had an uncanny ability to sooth her ruffled feathers, to assure her that it wouldn't always be like this. And because she loved him so much, she'd always made the decision to believe him, to wait it out and hope that it would be different this time. But it never was. Nothing every changed.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. If she gave in, had the talk he was pleading for, she knew she'd believe his promises again. And one day, when she woke up an old woman with no children or grandkids to keep her company while her workaholic husband continued to devote his life to feeding strangers, she'd have no one to blame but herself.

She needed more than the lonely future a lifetime with Cal would bring. And now that she'd found Dylan, she might never be lonely again. Even if things didn't work out between them, she'd still have an opportunity to find someone who wanted to be with her.

GOOD GRIEF, BOSS, YOU look like death warmed over, Trish Gleeson said, her tone – as always – too cheerful for such an early hour. Hanging her coat and purse in her locker, she turned to look at him. Whatever she saw made her inhale sharply, and she hurried to his side, touching his arm and saying softly, What’s happened?

Cal carefully measured a tablespoon of ginger and stirred it into the mixture that would fill his pumpkin tarts, and tried to blink back the tears flooding his eyes.

My wife has decided she needs more than she’s getting from our marriage. In fact, she may already have husband number two lined up.

Darby? Trish gasped, her bright blue eyes wide with shock. "Our Darby?"

Yeah. Well, no. She's not my Darby anymore, Cal said, brushing irritably at his eyes with the back of one wrist. She’s filing for divorce and will be moving out December first. Merry Christmas to me, huh?

Oh, Cal, I’m so sorry. Her sincere sympathy was almost more than he could bear, and Cal tried to ignore it by focusing on the recipe he’d known by heart for years. The words blurred before his eyes but he read each word in the familiar directions just the same. Is there anything you can do to change her mind? Marriage counseling? What about the cruise? I can't believe she isn't beside herself with excitement over that.

She’s not interested in talking to me anymore. I tried last night. She’s done. I need to get these tarts in for the luncheon this afternoon. Can you hand me the crusts please?

Did you ask her about counseling? Specifically? Trish slid the pans across the counter.

I'm afraid it didn't cross my mind at the time. No, he’d been reeling from everything she’d said and his brain had pretty much shut down, incapable of any thought, much less a coherent one.

Maybe you should. Look, all we have today is this luncheon. I can handle it. You should go home.

And do what? Cal sighed. Start getting used to how empty the house will be once she’s gone?

No. You should go home and make Darby’s favorite meal. You should set the table with your best china and candles. Put on some romantic music so it's playing when she gets there. And then, after you've eaten, ask her about the counseling. I don’t know why she told you she’d found someone else because I know that can't be true. Darby loves you. I know she does. I think this is just a cry for help. Something to get you to sit up and take notice of the fact that you don't spend enough time at home – with her.

Cal pondered the thought with more hope than he’d felt since the night before. Could Trish be right?

Maybe I will do that, thanks. But I want to finish the main dishes first.

As he rolled out the freshly made pasta dough for the fettuccini, he tried to shut off all thoughts, all memories of what happened the night before. And he was largely successful as he focused almost one-hundred percent of his attention on mixing up his special Alfredo sauce.

The pain was still there, but as he'd learned when his older brother had been killed at seventeen, and then again when he'd lost his mom, if he worked hard enough, he could block most of it out. It was only when he slowed down that it became unbearable, so he just didn’t slow down.

When the sauce was simmering nicely, he moved on to the chicken/broccoli casserole, and that's when he heard the front door open. Given that the truck didn’t need to be loaded for the mid-afternoon luncheon for another hour and a half, he knew it wouldn't be any of the wait staff.

When he looked up, he saw Dan Mulholland leaning against the counter by the large coolers, his arms crossed over his chest. He shot a scowl at Trish, but she just shrugged and, muttering something about checking the dishes and glasses, she left the kitchen.

I don't want to talk about it, Cal said, turning his attention back to the huge baking dishes he was filling. Dan didn't say a word, and he determined that he wouldn't either. He'd known his friend long enough to know what he was up to, and he wasn't about to fall for it. No matter how long and how patiently he waited, Cal wasn't in a mood to discuss it.

Once the pans were in the oven, it was time to beat a gallon of heavy cream. He poured half of it in the big glass bowl and set it on the base of the stand mixer, watching it closely as it began to foam up.

That's going to be a lot of whipped cream, Dan observed. What's it for?

Pumpkin tarts.

Who's having the party?

The private school over on the west side is honoring their parent volunteers.

Glad I'm not going to be eating with them.

What? He glanced over at Dan, who just shrugged.

I've never had whipped cream with a cup and a half of salt before, and I don't think I'd want to try it either.

Salt? He looked down at the canister sitting beside the bowl. The canister was clearly marked 'Salt.' Clenching his jaws, he turned the mixer off and leaned against the counter next to Dan.

It felt like all the strength left his legs, and he slid down the cupboard as if in slow motion, until he was