Sweet Joymaker (Indigo Bay Christmas Romances #3) - Jean Oram Page 0,2

of their plans.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be away,” she told him, as a plan formed in her mind. An old friend, Kittim Lane, had been trying to convince her to visit her in Indigo Bay, South Carolina. She was busy helping with an upcoming fundraiser for the coastal town’s animal shelter, and had suggested Maria come let her hair down at the gala. She’d said no, due to the timing of the gala, as her boys’ team would be playing in the Texas football state championship game the day prior, but maybe Kittim needed some help leading up to the fundraiser.

Either way, getting away might be exactly what she needed right now. And not just because she’d avoid facing Roy at a million Christmas parties they used to attend together.

“Where are you going?” Henry demanded.

“Indigo Bay.” The prospect of spending time near the ocean while visiting Kit lifted her spirits in a way nothing else had recently. She and Roy used to take the kids to Indigo Bay each summer to see a cousin on Roy’s side of the family, play in the waves and take a break from the Texas heat and life on the ranch. It had been good for them all, and she hadn’t been back in years—not since his cousin Danny, who took over the ranch during their vacation—had passed away.

“To visit the Wylders?” His expression had grown stormy.

“My friend Kittim Lane still lives there.”

“You know Roy is happily remarried.”

“And you know my life is officially none of your business.” Maria said, standing up. She resented the implication she was going to Indigo Bay to stir something up between Sophia and Roy by visiting Roy’s family. As far as she was concerned, Sophia could keep Roy.

Fiona arrived with the peppermint tea, her jaw dropping as she overheard Maria’s words.

“Put it on my tab, please.”

Fiona nodded quickly, but Maria knew the untouched tea would never show up on her running tally.

“Merry Christmas,” Maria said softly. She strode to the door, hoping her invitation to Indigo Bay was still open.

“Hang on. I want to get a muffin,” Maria said, reaching for her son Brant’s arm as he drove past the Longhorn Diner.

“They have muffins at the airport,” he protested, checking his watch. With a frown, he made a U-turn in the middle of Main Street and parked in front of the diner.

“The diner has the best bran muffins.” If she was going to sit on a plane for over four hours, she wanted something good to snack on.

“Better than yours?”

“Yes, and Fiona won’t share their recipe. They’re that perfect blend. Not so dry you feel like you’re eating sawdust,” she said, undoing her seat belt, “and not so moist it’s oily.”

“You make bran muffins sound so appealing.”

“It’s a skill.” She grinned and slipped out of his fully equipped veterinarian pickup truck.

“Like dodging Uncle Henry’s Christmas party. How did everyone get out of going except me?”

“It never occurred to you because you’re the best one out of all of us.” Due to her week-long Indigo Bay trip, she would miss tonight’s party. Maria gestured toward the restaurant. “Want anything?”

“Nope, I’m good, thanks.” Brant held up his insulated travel mug and took a sip of coffee. April MacFarlane had a matching one, and Maria glanced at her son. April had grown up along with the boys, while her dad had worked as their ranch hand. April was a Wylder as far as the family was concerned, and they were all there for her now as she was going through a divorce.

Her marriage had been on the rocks practically from the moment she and Heath had uttered “I do.” But sometimes Maria wondered if Brant had had anything to do with its rockiness. He was a good friend to April, and as his mother, Maria was proud of him and trusted him to do the right thing. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if some of April’s problems had to do with Brant always being around to support her and be the friend her husband couldn’t seem to be.

Shaking off those thoughts, Maria hurried into the diner, then tracked down Fiona at the back counter.

“You’re off?” her friend asked, looking up with a smile. She shifted, sending the white fringe on her pink Western blouse swinging.

“Yes. And I need a muffin to go.”

“You got it. Anything else?” Fiona handed her an already-wrapped bran muffin. “Pack your sunscreen?”

“And a hat.”

“Where are you going?” asked a familiar, smooth male voice, sending tremors down Maria’s