Page 12 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

By the time I emerged, the bedroom door was wide open.

I walked out to the room where the family was gathered and saw Luna was already on the floor with the other kids, gazing at all the gifts but not touching any.

Like Holt had said were waiting for her, she was wearing a fuzzy robe and slippers, both covered with mystical creatures.

Self-doubt washed over me as I prepared to face Holt again.

I saw Flynn first when she approached from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “Merry Christmas,” she said warmly, offering the steaming cup. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thank you,” I replied, searching her face for any hint of judgment but finding only genuine welcome. “And thank you for yesterday. For everything.”

“We’re so glad you’re here,” she said simply, linking her arm through mine and guiding me toward the center of activity.

Across the room, Holt caught my gaze, a small reassuring smile playing on his lips. He’d changed into a fresh button-down shirt and jeans, his damp hair suggesting a hasty shower. His expression made my breath catch—a quiet intimacy, as if we shared a secret.

Flynn motioned to the dining room, where an elaborate breakfast spread awaited. “TJ and I might have gone a bit overboard,” she admitted. “Buck always insists presents come after breakfast,” Flynn explained. “Family tradition. Though, with the kids this excited, we’ll probably rush through it.”

The scene was a warm chaos as everyone piled into the room—the children’s excited chatter, adults laughing, the rich aromas of coffee and cinnamon filling the air. Luna took a seat between Buckaroo and an empty chair she was clearly saving for me.

Her visible happiness brought a lump to my throat. This was the kind of Christmas I’d always wanted to give her—warmth, tradition, multiple generations gathered around a table.

As we ate, I became aware of a growing anxiety. In the excitement of being invited and the rush to pack, I’d only brought what I’d gotten for Luna. I had nothing to give the Wheatons, who had opened their home to us.

Before I could dwell on it further, Buck stood, clapping his hands. “All right, who’s ready for presents?”

The children erupted in cheers, Luna’s voice among the loudest. We moved en masse to the great room, where stockings hung from the mantle—including ones marked with Luna’s name and mine like she’d said.

Buck and Cord both played Santa, distributing gifts with theatrical flair. Luna’s eyes grew impossibly wider as a pile began to form in front of her—packages wrapped in colorful paper that she tore into with unbridled joy.

To my surprise, several appeared in front of me as well. “You shouldn’t have,” I protested softly to Flynn and Sam, who sat nearby.

“It’s nothing,” Flynn assured me. “Just a few things to make you feel welcome.”

Tears threatened again, but these were different from last night’s—born of gratitude rather than fear.

I’d expected this Christmas to be difficult, spent in a strange town without the traditions Luna and I had built together with my dad and his friends who made up our hodgepodge family.

Instead, we’d been welcomed with open arms, treated not as outsiders but as honored guests.

“Mommy! This one’s for you!” Luna exclaimed, bringing a small box wrapped in silver paper over to me. “It says ‘From Santa’ on it!”

I glanced questioningly at Flynn, who shrugged, equally puzzled. Luna climbed into my lap, eager to help me unwrap it. I pulled off the paper, revealing a velvet jewelry box nestled inside.

“Open it!” Luna urged, bouncing against my knees.

When I lifted the lid, my gasp echoed through the room. Resting against the dark velvet lay a stunning pendant on a delicate gold chain. The setting was deep blue, like the night sky, with a gold and diamond river winding across it beneath a crescent moon of tiny diamonds.

My breath caught as I instinctively looked up, finding Holt watching me from across the room. His expression confirmed without words that this was from him.

“It’s you and me, Mommy,” Luna said, touching the pendant with reverent fingers. “The river and the moon.”

The entire family fell silent, watching the moment unfold. I sat frozen, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and significance of the gift.

“Mr. Wheaton,” Luna called out. “Can you help put it on my mommy?”

Holt crossed the room and took the necklace from the box. I turned, lifting my hair as he fastened the clasp. His touch was warm against my neck, lingering a moment longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice catching.

I’d never seen a pair of eyes as warm as his were right now. “You’re welcome.”

If there weren’t so many people focused on us, my daughter included, I’d hug him after easing her off my lap.

He smiled as if he could read my mind, then rejoined his brothers as conversations resumed around us. Luna returned to her gifts, exclaiming over a stuffed unicorn identical to those on her robe.

I touched the pendant at my throat, feeling the weight of it—both literal and symbolic. No man had ever given me jewelry before, let alone something so clearly meaningful.

After our conversation last night, when he said he’d had a premonition about Luna and me needing him, I couldn’t help but wonder.

As the gift-opening continued, I watched Holt with his family—the easy way he teased his brothers, his gentle patience with the children. When he laughed, the sound rolled through me like music.

The festivities gradually shifted as the children began exploring their gifts and the adults gathered in smaller groups. I found myself momentarily alone, touching the pendant at my throat, still processing its significance.

“It suits you,” Sam said, appearing beside me with two mugs of hot chocolate. She offered one to me. “I thought you might like the adult version again today,” she added with a wink.

“Thanks,” I said, accepting it gratefully. “So, are you actually related to the Wheatons?”

Sam tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. “Through my grandmother Pilar—your aunt. It’s complicated, but yes, I’m a distant cousin to them on their mother’s side. My great-grandmother Cena was from the Rooker family, who were related to the Wheatons.”

“Family trees make my head spin,” I admitted.

“Mine too.” She smiled. “It’s still strange to me. It was just my mom and me when I was growing up. I never knew my dad. Then I find out I have this whole extended family I never knew about.”

I studied her face, recognizing something of myself in her expression. “I know what you mean.”

Sam glanced across the room to my daughter, who was showing her new stuffed animal to Buckaroo. “She’s beautiful, Keltie. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”

“I try,” I said, my voice catching. “Some days are harder than others.”

Sam touched my arm gently. “Holt mentioned she hasn’t been well. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Thank you,” I said, surprised by how much the offer meant. “Actually, I’d love to hear more about your family—our family.”

Sam led me to a window seat overlooking the snow-covered landscape. “I never met my grandmother Pilar—she died before I was born. My mom didn’t talk about her much,” Sam said. “My grandfather’s mother forced her to leave when she was pregnant with my mom.”

I gasped. “Forced her to leave?”

Sam’s expression was somber. “Family drama from another era. I didn’t know any of this until recently. It’s why my mom and I struggled so much—she grew up without a dad, like I did.”

The parallels to our situation weren’t lost on me. “I worry about the same thing happening with Luna.”

“She won’t have the same struggles we did,” Sam said with unexpected fierceness. “She has you, and now, she has all of us too.” She gestured around the room. “They can be overwhelming sometimes, but they’re loyal to a fault once they consider you one of them.”

“It might be a little soon for that.”

“You don’t know the Wheatons.” Sam’s gaze moved to Holt, who was helping Buckaroo with a new toy. “I’d say at least one of them definitely does.”

I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “It’s not. I mean, we barely know each other.” Again, I heard those words coming out of my mouth.

“As I said before, sometimes, that doesn’t matter.” Sam said with a knowing smile. “Beau and I were friends for years before everything changed in an instant.” She twisted the engagement ring on her finger. “When you know, you know.”

“I have Luna to consider. My business. Eventually, he’ll resume his music career.”

Sam’s eyebrow raised. “Has he told you about the trust?”

“Yes, last night. How it’s keeping him here instead of touring with CB Rice.”

“You know what I think?” Her voice dropped. “I’ve known the Wheatons for less than a year, but I’ve never seen Holt look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Before I could respond, Luna came bounding over, breaking the moment. “Miss Sam! Can you help me name my unicorn? Mr. Wheaton says you’re good at names.”

Sam laughed, reaching out to touch one of Luna’s curls. “I’m terrible at names, but I’d be happy to help.”

As they discussed what to call my daughter’s precious, new stuffed animal, my gaze drifted to Holt, who stood across the room. As if sensing my attention, he looked up, our eyes meeting over the holiday chaos. Something silent but that felt significant passed between us.

Later, as the children played with their new toys and the adults cleaned up the wrapping-paper chaos, I found him alone in the kitchen.

“This is too much,” I said, touching the pendant at my throat. “I can’t accept it.”

“Might not be easy to return it to Santa. You know how he is about things like that.” He smiled. “It’s called ‘River Under Moonlight,’” he said softly.

I felt emotion rise in my chest, and my words stuck in my throat.

“As soon as I saw it, I knew it was meant for you.”

Without thinking, I rose on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, both of us surprised by the impulsive gesture. Before either of us could speak, Flynn entered the kitchen.

“There you are,” she said brightly. “TJ’s asking if anyone wants to go sledding before lunch.”

“Sounds fun,” Holt replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “What do you think, Keltie?”

“I should call my father first,” I said. “Wish him Merry Christmas.”

“Take all the time you need,” said Flynn. “I’m thinking after lunch would be better anyway.”

I slipped out onto the porch, wrapping myself in a thick wool coat I found hanging by the door. Snow fell gently from a pearl-gray sky, the landscape stretching, pristine and white, in every direction. The contrast between the quiet outside and the joyful chaos within struck me as I dialed.

“Merry Christmas, mija !” my father’s voice boomed through the phone.

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I replied, smiling at his exuberance. “How’s New Mexico?”

“Sunny and beautiful, as always. How’s my Luna?”

“She’s great—having the time of her life, actually. We’re spending Christmas at a ranch outside town.”

“A ranch?” His interest piqued. “Whose?”

“The Wheaton family. Remember I told you about meeting someone who knew Aunt Ursula at the bar? Well, turns out we have other connections.”

There was a noticeable pause. “What kind of connections?”

“Sam Marquez is here—Aunt Pilar’s granddaughter. And the photo of you and Ursula at the original Goat caused quite a stir when they saw it.”

His voice turned careful. “Is that so?”

“Dad, is there something wrong?”

“Not at all. I just miss you and my granddaughter.”

“We miss you too, Dad.”

“So, tell me, are you enjoying yourselves?”

I sighed and smiled. “Yes, we are. It’s a wonderful place. Luna’s playing with the other children, and everyone’s been incredibly kind.”

“I’m glad,” he said, genuine warmth in his voice. “I wish I could be there with you both.”

“I thought you might drive up,” I admitted. “You said you were considering it.”

“I’m at my annual Christmas gathering with the poker buddies,” he explained. “You know we’ve done this for decades. But I’ll come visit soon, I promise. Once things slow down.”

We said our goodbyes after a few more minutes, neither of us mentioning Luna’s hospital visit. That conversation could wait for another day—today was for celebration, not worry.