Counting Down to Christmas: Draper Falls Christmas Romance, #1

By Stacey Wallace

Not much has changed in Draper Falls since Rosalie left.

Well, there is that new stop sign by the train tracks...

And Nate got hot.

Like, really hot.

 

After her fourteen-year marriage ends, Rosalie Dunn returns to her hometown of Draper Falls, WA, under the guise of visiting for Thanksgiving.

 

When she runs into her childhood friend, Nate Bantham, outside Martin's Grocery, he invites her to catch up at his nearby veterinary office.

 

Hanging out with Nate is just what Rosalie needs to go from hopeless to hopeful about coming home. He offers her the support and comfort of an old friendship, and even a job as his office manager.

 

Working side-by-side is only a teensy bit challenging. What with Nate looking how he looks and flirting how he flirts, Rosalie finds herself wondering if despite their past, do they have a future together?

 

*** This title was previously published as I'll Be His for Christmas. This version is updated and expanded.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Free Press
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224118397

Stacey Wallace

Stacey Wallace writes Contemporary Romance ranging from Sweet to Steamy, and Literary Fiction. She specializes in engaging stories that make her readers snort-laugh, ugly-cry, and fall in love with her characters. Stacey lives in Beaverton, OR with her husband and their five children. Obviously, she drives a minivan.

Book preview

Introduction

Hi! Thanks for picking up Counting Down to Christmas. I appreciate it.

Catch up with me at www.staceywallace.com and sign up for my newsletter.

Chapter 1

Thanksgiving

31 days until Christmas…

Rosalie merged her Volvo wagon–a car her ex-husband had purchased with the intention of fitting at least two car seats in the back–off the I-5 and onto State Route 14 toward her childhood home of Draper Falls in the Columbia River Gorge.

The drive from Seattle had been uneventful. The sound of the windshield wipers sliding across the blurred gray scenery in front of her combined with the instrumental Christmas music playing low on the radio, had lulled her into a state of calm Rosalie hadn’t felt in months.

I’ll be home for Christ-mas, Rosalie sang absently, before taking a sip of the lukewarm Venti chai she’d picked up at the closest of seven Starbucks near her house in Queen Anne on her way out of town.

She teared up now, thinking of how the barista, Charlie, had wished her a happy Thanksgiving and inquired if he’d be seeing her again in the wee hours of the morning for some Black Friday shopping fuel.

Rosalie had put on a convincing smile, something she did as easily as breathing. Not this year, she’d said. I’m headed down south to the boonies to see my family.

That sounds fun, Charlie said, handing her the chai through the drive-thru window. Enjoy your visit.

She’d been glad, for the first time, that the Volvo had deeply tinted windows and Charlie couldn’t see the remnants of the last fourteen years of her life in Seattle jam-packed into the car.

Rosalie still wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, or pathetic, that every possession she owned outright fit into a station wagon. Shouldn’t she have more to show for the life she’d built with Shane?

Of course, Shane had done most of the life-building. Rosalie had just been along for the ride. First following him to college at U of W, and then working as a receptionist in a dentist’s office while he went to school to be an orthodontist. Finally staying home attempting to be the proper housewife Shane wanted her to be; someone who would easily go from caring for a husband and household to caring for their children.

Rosalie drained the cardboard cup and then crushed it, throwing it onto the floor on the passenger side.

Seeking to reclaim her calm, she focused on the slapping of the windshield wipers and the Christmas music and the evergreen trees as she passed through Camas, the highway becoming a single lane each direction winding along the edge of the Gorge.

She hadn’t been back to Draper Falls for the holidays in three years. After Shane’s folks moved from DF–as the locals called it–south to Scottsdale, Arizona, Shane had preferred to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas basking in the sun and playing golf instead of cozying up by the fire and getting blissfully snowed in.

I hate Arizona, Rosalie said aloud. It’s not supposed to be eighty in November. She lowered the driver’s side window and yelled into the freezing cold drizzle. I love the rain, goddammit!

A pickup passed her on the left, spraying a hearty dose of the rain she loved so much right into her face and all over her natural hair. Frizz and poof were on the horizon.

Rosalie raised the window and used the cowl neck of her teal sweater to wipe most of the water off her face. I said what I said, she muttered.

The rain let up as she crossed the bridge over Draper Creek, the outlet to the Columbia River that the falls fed into. She slowed way down, knowing full well there would be a police car parked up ahead, obscured by the small log building which housed the DF Visitors Center.

Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of a radar speed detector aimed at her when she drove by.

Her folks, her older sister Margot, and Margot’s son, Brady lived on the east side of town in the three-bedroom ranch house she’d grown up in.

Rosalie could have taken SR 14 directly through downtown but decided to take a quick detour to the waterfront to muster up some courage and clarity.

Train tracks ran parallel to the highway, outlining the south edge of DF. Rosalie crossed over them, stopped at a new-to-her three-way stop sign, and parked in a spot along the curb at the waterfront park.

The foothills across the river on the Oregon side loomed over the gray wind-whipped water. The last time she’d visited, they’d been strewn with charred trees and blackened earth from a devastating wildfire. Today, the hills were smudged in greens and browns, proving Mother Nature was one resilient woman.

She got out of the car, the famous gorge wind blowing her hair into her eyes. Rosalie decided not to care, sure that the pickup wake water had already smeared her make-up, and besides, the only other people in the small park were older folks walking their dogs and not paying one bit of attention to the likes of her.

She opened the back door and shimmied her red puffy coat out from between two framed paintings she’d made in college that she’d always been proud of. Shane had been insistent they best fit the décor of the basement guest room.

Rosalie put her coat on, grabbed her purse from the center console, and stepped over the muddy grass strip along the curb onto the sidewalk. Her mesh sneakers were comfortable, but not necessarily suited for a trip to the beach.

Following the paved path to the water, Rosalie took a deep breath, inhaling the damp, chilly air. She walked down to the end of the pier, her hands in her coat pockets, and stood watching the water rush by, marveling at its power–strong enough to cut through a mountain. Growing up in the shadow of this beautiful feat of strength scared her when she was a kid. A little as an adult too.

But Rosalie was done being afraid of power in any form, be it mountain or man. Yes, she was moving back home and starting over again, but she was doing it on her own terms.

Packing up her car and driving away from Seattle had been her first hurdle and she’d survived. The next was telling her family she’d gotten divorced and that she was in DF for good, provided her parents weren’t so angry with her they refused to let her stay with them until she found a place of her own.

Rosalie hadn’t meant for the secret to go on for so long. When Shane told her he was divorcing her last June, she’d somehow hoped that if she didn’t tell anyone, it wouldn’t be real. But it was real, and as of August 2nd she was a single woman again for the first time since age sixteen. What had been denial quickly turned to shame and embarrassment.

Rosalie had always thought herself the luckier of the two Dunn sisters. Margot, older than her by three years, had never moved out of their childhood home. When she’d gotten pregnant with Brady during her senior year her life had frozen in time. Margot got stuck and Rosalie got away. And Rosalie had always felt kind of superior about that fact, if she was being honest with herself.

Except, she’d just got stuck somewhere else. And Margot had a child. The one thing Rosalie was never going to have.

Shane had moved out in June giving her until December 31st to find a new place to live so he could sell their house. What he didn’t seem to understand was it was more than an apartment she’d been tasked with finding. He’d forced her to find a whole new life.

A train went past the waterfront park, blaring its horn at the crossing, the sound echoing off the rock cliff faces on either side of the river.

Rosalie rolled her shoulders and drew in another deep breath. She would enjoy Thanksgiving with her family, and then tomorrow, on Black Friday, she would suck it up and tell them she was back in Draper Falls for good.

Christmas was a month away. She knew in her bones that if she could just hold on until Christmas. If she could grow into this season of her life, she was going to be okay. One month, day by day, week by week, Rosalie would learn from Mother Nature’s perseverance and thrive.

The countdown to Christmas and her new life started now.

C’mon, Goliath, Nate said to the Chihuahua/Dachshund mix lying on the beige Marmoleum floor next to his desk. Let’s fill up Miss Tippy’s water bowl again.

He pushed his chair away from the desk where he’d been playing Diablo on his computer and stood, walking over and opening the crate. One of the three pets he was boarding at his veterinary practice over the holiday weekend, a Shih Tzu named Miss Tippy, was lounging atop a pink fleece blanket panting like it was the 4 th of July and not Thanksgiving Day. The dog was eleven, almost twelve, and on steroids for her breathing issues. The meds made her constantly thirsty.

He retrieved the small metal water bowl and Goliath followed him over to the sink, as though he was actually helping, sitting at Nate’s feet as he rinsed and refilled the bowl from the faucet.

Nate set the water bowl down in the corner of the crate and gave Miss Tippy some much appreciated behind the ear scratches. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

That’ll be Amber, Nate said to Goliath as he shut the door to Miss Tippy’s crate. Nate’s oldest sister Jeanine had already called, as had their mother, so the only woman left in Nate’s life who hadn’t bothered him about coming to Thanksgiving dinner was his other sister Amber.

He took his phone from his pocket and answered it. What’s up? he asked.

Amber snorted. You know what’s up! Get your ass over here. Mom and Jeanine think you’re depressed and lonely and are plotting to fix you up with some lady from Jeanine’s church.

Nate sat back down at his desk and patted his thigh for Goliath to jump up. The dog was happy to oblige, getting comfortable on Nate’s lap and nudging his head under Nate’s free hand. I already told Mom and Jeanine I had to work. I’ve got boarders that need looking after.

Uh-huh, Amber said. Let’s unpack that.

Amber was an attorney with a non-profit in Portland and thought asking questions was a competitive sport.

There’s nothing to unpack, Nate said. I’m a one-man operation. I don’t get days off.

But why are you a one-man operation? Why don’t you hire someone to help you?

Like who? Draper Falls isn’t exactly rife with eligible candidates.

I don’t know, Amber said. Have you even tried finding someone to replace Ginger? It’s been almost a year. She sighed. And you didn’t have to take in boarders.

I most certainly did, Nate said. A small-town veterinary practice is not a cash cow, and you know it.

I know you’ve got a lot of excuses. His sister paused. Just come for a couple of hours. We all want to see your stupid face.

He could go for a couple of hours. None of his boarders needed constant monitoring. They were all older pets and spent most of the day sleeping.

But hanging out with his family meant more of this. More questions about his business and his life and what he was going to do. Questions that he, yes, still, didn’t have answers to.

Amber said it’s been almost a year like eleven months was how long it took to recover from devastating heartache and betrayal. All the women in his life thought he needed to move on and get over Ginger, his former vet tech and fiancée, who left him at the altar and ran off with his best man, Riley. But how do you get over something that affects your business, your love life, and a decades-long friendship?

What if I can get Mom and Jeanine to keep their mouths shut about your love life? Amber asked. Would you come over then?

Nate stroked Goliath’s head. If anyone could do that, it would be you.

Damn straight, Amber said. Okay, we’ll see you at one, then?

I’ll be there, Nate said, relenting. It would be nice to spend some time with his niece and nephew. Neither of them had an agenda. Do I need to bring anything?

A bottle or three of wine would be good. You know how Mom gets when she’s cooking a big meal. There won’t be any left for the rest of us.

Nate chuckled. His mom was a classic Type A like him. She didn’t want anyone in her kitchen and refused help, but she stress-drank to get herself over the hump. Thankfully, this only happened a few times each year. "Got it. I’ll bring a red, a white, and a