Bring Me Home for Christmas Read Online Free PDF

“You and Denny?”
    “We were just kids.”
    “Ah,” she said. “You’re not over him.”
    “I have a boyfriend,” Becca said, but she didn’t make eye contact with Muriel. “I think he’s getting real serious, too.”
    “So, you’re not over him,” Muriel said again.
    “It’s not relevant. He’s over me,” she said.
    Muriel sipped her coffee. “Gotcha,” she finally said.

    It was an hour before Becca realized who Muriel was—a well-known actress. She just didn’t look the same without makeup, her hair covered with a stocking cap and hood. “I’m sorry, Muriel,” she said softly. “I didn’t know you were that Muriel!”
    The woman just laughed softly.
    “Is this how a famous actress spends her spare time?” Becca asked.
    “I’m just a farm girl who learned to act, sweetheart.”
    Becca was so happy to have Muriel to follow. She imitated her behavior, sitting still and silent in the bushes. Thank God there was another woman to cover for her when the time came to go behind a bush to pee; at that moment, she wished she really was one of the guys! And she stood guard while one of the best-known actresses in Hollywood squatted behind a bush. “Talk about something for my Facebook page,” Becca joked.
    “Don’t even think about it, darling,” Muriel said with a smile that promised dire consequences and no sense of humor on that suggestion.
    It drizzled on and off through the early morning and even though everyone had rain slickers, Becca felt damp to her bones. There were a couple of flushes of birds, a few shots fired, but it wasn’t until 10:00 a.m. that Muriel bagged a mallard. Luce went out for the duck, brought it back to her mistress, and Muriel praised her Lab proudly, tossing the dead bird into the back of her truck.
    Becca hoped she didn’t hit anything. Though she was every inch an athlete who could keep up with the boys, she seriously didn’t want to touch a dead duck.
    “What are you going to do with that duck?” Becca asked her.
    “Eat it, hopefully.”
    “You’re a cook, too?”
    “Well, no. Not at all. I can barely slice cheese. But I very wisely found myself a guy who loves to cook and he’s brilliant at it.”
    “And will you pluck it and gut it?” Becca asked.
    “Well, I can, if it comes to that. But I think Walt will take over. He loves thinking he takes care of me.” She smiled. “And I love promoting that idea. I like to train the dogs and shoot a lot more than I like handling the game.”
    “It’s a relief to hear that. I was feeling a little out of place with the boys,” Becca said.
    Then they went back to sitting, silent and shivering, waiting for game. What about this is fun, exactly? Becca wondered. She heard soft masculine laughter now and then. What could possibly be entertaining them? The cold? The rain?
    At a little before noon, Muriel decided she’d had enough, bid everyone goodbye and took her dogs home. A little while later, Becca took refuge in her brother’s truck, drank more hot coffee and ate a sandwich. She turned on the truck to run the heater and within seconds Denny was there, telling her to kill the engine. The noise! She hadn’t gotten even an ounce of heat, but she turned the ignition off. She decided the guys could have as much wet, cold fun as they could stand, she was done for the day. She couldn’t feel her toes; her nose would never again be a normal color. At least it was a little warmer inside the truck, even without the heater. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
    She wasn’t sure how long she had dozed when the truck’s door on the driver’s side opened and caused her to wake. Smiling, Troy settled behind the wheel. “Just thought I’d grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. You okay?”
    “Fine. Just got cold and hungry. Time for a break.”
    He reached into the back of the extended cab, into the picnic box Preacher had packed, and pulled out a sandwich. “So, what do you think of duck hunting so