A Dixie Christmas by Sandra Hill Read Free Book Online

genetic metabolisms, or they engaged in a massive amount of physical labor. He suspected it was a combination of both.
     
    “Do you think it’s a good idea to eat so much red meat and dairy?” Clay made the mistake of inquiring.
     
    “Bite your tongue,” everyone declared at once.
     
    For a moment, Clay had forgotten that these were dairy farmers whose livelihood depended on milk products. Plus, they had about a hundred thousand pounds of beef on the hoof in their own backyard.
     
    Clay rubbed a forefinger over his upper lip, pondering all that had happened to him so far this day. In the midst of the conversations swirling around him now, he felt as if he was having a personal epiphany. Not just the monumental discovery that, for the first time in his life, he was falling in love. It was much more than that. He never realized till this moment how much he’d missed having a family. He never would have described himself as a lonely man—loner, perhaps, but not lonely . Now, he knew that he’d been lonely for a long time.
     
    And that wacky bellhop had been right this morning about his coldness. Over the years, he must have built up an icy crust around his heart. Just like my father. Little by little, it was melting now. Every time he came within a few feet of Annie, the strange fever enveloped him, and his chest tightened with emotions too new to understand. He yearned so much. For what exactly, he didn’t know.
     
    In a daze, he reached for a biscuit, but Chet coughed meaningfully and Aunt Liza glared stonily at him. Once he sheepishly put the roll back, Annie took his hand on the one side, and Jerry Lee on the other. All around the table, everyone bowed their heads and joined hands, including Aunt Liza and Chet who sat in the end chairs, on either side. Then Annie said softly, “Lord, bless this food and all the poor people in the world who have less than we do, even the rich people who have less than we do. For this bounty, we give you thanks. Amen.”
     
    Everyone dug in heartily then, passing the bowls and platters around the table as they chattered away. Clay soon found himself with an unbelievable amount of high cholesterol food on his plate, and enjoying it immensely. He practically sighed at the almost sinful flavor of melt-in-your-mouth potatoes mixing on his palate with rich beef gravy.
     
    “Frankie Wilks called when you were in the barn.” Jerry Lee bobbed his eyebrows at Annie. “Said something about wantin’ you to go to the Christmas Eve candlelight service with him.”
     
    “Oooooh! Oooooh!” several of her brothers taunted, meanwhile shoveling down food like monks after a Lent-long fast.
     
    “Who’s Frankie Wilks?” Clay’s voice rose with more consternation than he had any right to exhibit. Yet.
     
    “The milkman,” Annie said, scowling at Jerry Lee. She had a hearty appetite, too, Clay noticed, though you wouldn’t know it from her thin frame. Probably came from riding herd on her cows.
     
    Did they ride herd on cows?
     
    Then Annie’s words sank in. The milkman? The milkman? I have a fifty million dollar portfolio, I’m not a bad looking guy, attracting women has never been a problem for me, and my competition is . . . a milkman?
     
    Competition? Whoa! Slow down this runaway testosterone train.
     
    “Don’t you be sittin’ there, gloatin’ like a pig in heat, Chet,” Aunt Liza interjected as she put another slab of beef onto Clay’s plate, despite his raised hand of protest. His mouth was too full to speak. “You got a phone call today, too, Chet.”
     
    Everyone at the table turned in tandem to stare at Chet.
     
    “Emmy Lou? Right?” Chet didn’t appear very happy as he asked the question.
     
    “Yep. She was callin’ from London. Said she won’t be home before Christmas to pick up the baby, after all.”
     
    “Stupid damn girl,” Annie cursed under her breath. Clay suspected damn was not a word she used lightly.
     
    “You drove her away, if