Her Christmas Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  What did you do before you came here?

  Tell me about yourself.

  “What did you do to yourself?” he blurted, then winced. Damn his tongue for being such an idiot.

  But she only laughed. “I’ve been asking myself that for ages.”

  “Came out wrong,” Caleb said, glad he was hiding his face under the sink so she couldn’t see his embarrassment. It took him a moment to compose himself, to remind his brain of a proper question. “What brought you to Painted Barrel? That’s what I meant.”

  She gave a slow, sad sigh. “A divorce.”

  He said nothing. What could he possibly say? He was angry that some jackass had had her in his life before Caleb did and that idiot had tossed her away. He was also ridiculously glad for that divorce, because otherwise he’d have never had the chance to sit in Amy Mckinney’s kitchen, his hands on her drippy sink, his heart thumping like an out-of-control freight train.

  “Before you ask, no, he didn’t cheat on me,” Amy offered. “It was my idea.”

  “Wasn’t gonna ask.” Though he did like that it was her idea to get divorced. It meant she wasn’t hung up on her ex. That made his path easier.

  Well . . . not that he had much of a path. When it came to women, Caleb was just completely in the dark.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Amy continued softly. “I’m here now, and I’m on my own. I’m happy. I am.” He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or him. “And on that note, I should get ready for school. Are you sure you don’t mind driving me? I can ask one of the other teachers—”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “I appreciate it. So much.” He heard her get to her feet, and then she came over and touched his shoulder lightly before leaving the kitchen. A moment later, he heard the water in the bathroom turn on, and the pipe in his hands gave an alarming gurgle that drew his attention back to it.

  He should have told her not to take a shower in a house when a strange man was working on her pipes. Any red-blooded man in his right mind would be tempted to open that door and join her. He knew he was. He scowled at himself and focused on the sink, trying not to think about Amy undressing or soaping her body up.

  He was here to help her out, not to be a pervert. She felt safe around him.

  Jack would tell him that was a problem. That her being “safe” enough to shower with him in the house meant he wasn’t on her radar at all as a man. He was about as important as the filthy dog in the kitchen.

  Caleb glanced over at the dog—Donner. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”

  * * *

  * * *

  By the time she was ready for work, Caleb had an idea of how to fix the leak under the sink and had already tightened the seals on the knobs to stop the leak above. He had a mental list of parts he needed from the hardware store, and it was getting longer by the minute. Of course, that list flew out of his head the moment she appeared in the kitchen again, her eyes sparkling, wearing a slim, long-sleeved green dress that made her eyes look bluer than the ocean.

  It made all the words he’d been saving up fall out of his head entirely.

  “Are you sure you want to drive me? I can walk. It’s only a few blocks.” She smiled at him even as she shrugged on that too-thin coat. He looked at her shoes—beige high heels—and wanted to shake his head at how impractical she was. It was December in Wyoming. Didn’t she have warm clothing? Then again, given the state of her place, he supposed she didn’t.

  He wondered about this divorce. He wouldn’t ask, but, oh, he’d wonder.

  Caleb just grabbed his keys and headed for the door. Amy followed him, a little hesitant. “Do you think Donner will be okay? I’m afraid to leave him outside without me here. I wanted to give him a bath, but he doesn’t trust me yet.” She bit her lip, gazing at Caleb. “Does this make me a bad pet parent? I’ve never had a dog before, so I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or right.”

  “’S’fine.”

  She watched him a moment longer, biting her lip. “You sure?”

  He was going to be there with the dog today, wasn’t he? He added dog bathing to his to-do list. His brothers would just have to pick up the slack with the herd today. They’d understand, and if they didn’t, he’d just smack ’em on the back of the head.

  Hank would understand at least. He’d been all tore up over Becca all spring.

  So he grunted again and gestured at the door, pulling his hat on. She followed him out, shivering when the cold blast of morning wind hit her, and he made a mental note to get her a warmer coat. The thing she had was just ridiculous. Boots and a coat, he mentally added to his list.

  They drove one street before she gasped and clutched his arm, nearly making him drive off the road. “Wait! Stop!”

  He jerked to a halt, stomping on the brakes as the truck slid, looking for a child or a dog or something that was about to run out into the street.

  Amy fumbled with her seat belt. “I need that tree.”

  “What?” he bit out, not sure he heard her correctly.

  She was getting out of the car, though, trotting over on the icy street to the curb, where a dried-up husk of a Christmas tree had been set by the garbage. At first, he didn’t think she was serious. But a moment later, she grabbed the tree by one of the branches and he watched as dried pine needles showered to the ground.

  Okay, she was serious.

  Caleb parked his truck nearby and moved to her side. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Amy blinked those big eyes at him. She let go of the tree and it gave another rain of crispy, dried needles. “If it’s at the curb, they’re throwing it out, right?” She looked uncertain for a moment. “I was just . . . I thought I could take it. It’s a Christmas tree.”

  “I know what it is.” It was also a dried-out husk that had been cut too early and not given water. Not only was it dead; it was dry enough to be tinder. It was a fire hazard and her house had enough problems.

  “I don’t have a tree,” she told him patiently, then reached for it again. “Can we put this in your truck and take it to my house? I promise it won’t take long.”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” She looked crestfallen. “Okay. I guess it is a little messy. I’ve never had a live tree before. Mine always came from the department store.” She gave him a timid smile. “I’m sorry. I just got excited. You’re right. It was silly of me.”

  Now he felt as if he’d kicked a puppy. “We can get it.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Her smile turned even brighter. “I don’t need a tree. There’s nothing to put under it anyhow. I’m better off saving my pennies for dog food than trying to decorate it. I’m having enough trouble decorating my classroom.” She chuckled and headed back toward the truck.

  Caleb stared after her for a moment, then shook his head. Hell. Now he was going to have to add a tree to the list of things to get for her. Not a shitty, dried-up tree like that, but a real one. He’d shake the birds out of a tree and cut it down himself if he had to. He’d do everything for her. He just needed a chance for his tongue to loosen up and he could explain himself.

  Today wasn’t that day, though.

  He got back into the truck and they both sat in uncomfortable silence as he drove up to the school. Caleb tried to think of the right thing to say, to tell her that the whole tree thing wasn’t a big deal, that he’d take care of things for her, but when he tried to phrase it in his head, his mind went blank. He kept turning over ideas, trying to think of just the right thing, and then they were suddenly at the school. He pulled up to the curb and then got out to walk her to the door.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Amy said, giving him an apologetic little smile. “You’ve already done so much.”

  But it was still dark outside, and the least he could do was walk her to her classroom. It was the polite,
gentlemanly thing to do . . . and it gave him another opportunity to talk to her. Think, he told himself as he walked at her side into the school. Think of something to say. Anything. Comment on the weather. Ask if she’s enjoying the holidays. Pull out your cards and go over one of the lines you rehearsed.

  He did none of those things. Instead, he was utterly silent as they walked to her door. He opened it for her—at least he remembered that much—and was about to say something, anything, when she gasped.

  “What the heck? Is that for me?”

  Amy swept forward, and as she did, Caleb got a good look at what was making her so startled. It was a massive bouquet of red and white roses, so large that it nearly took up one-half of her desk. She moved forward in a trance, pulling a glittery card off a stick. “From your Secret Santa.” She turned and gave him a startled look. “You . . . ?”

  He shook his head.

  It wasn’t from him. She had another suitor, apparently. Some other guy was giving his woman flowers, and she was beaming ear to ear, utterly surprised and delighted at the sight of them.

  This put a kink in his plans. He’d been planning on taking his time with her, getting comfortable enough to have real conversations, maybe eventually ask her out on a date in a couple of months, when he felt like he could relax around her and just be himself.

  Clearly that wasn’t going to work. If she had another guy interested in her, Caleb had to beat him at his own game.

  He just had to figure out how.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The enormous bouquet of flowers puzzled Amy all day long. Every time she sat at her desk, the perfume of them practically choked her. They were gorgeous, granted, but now that she was a broke teacher, she knew how much this sort of thing cost, and the price tag of it made her uncomfortable.

  From Your Secret Santa.

  She’d read the card a half dozen times in the last hour, hoping for a clue as to who that Secret Santa could be. The card was from the local florist, the scribbly handwriting probably from whoever took the message. And there were two dozen red roses with another dozen white roses sprinkled in the mix. The vase—and spread—was enormous.

  All the other teachers in the school were envious. She got visits from all of them as they took breaks, each woman asking Amy about the flowers and gently prying as to who sent them.

  Amy had no clue. She barely knew anyone in town. Who would send her flowers?

  At first, she worried that they were from her ex, Blake. That this was him paving the way for a reconciliation. The thought upset her so much that she moved the roses into the coat closet after lunch so she wouldn’t have to look at them. After a little more time passed, though, that didn’t seem like it could be the case.

  Blake was still angry at her. The last time they spoke, he’d sneered and told her that she’d come crawling back to him. He wasn’t the type to bribe or play coy. No, Blake was good at destroying her self-confidence and making her “easier to manage” that way. Flowers weren’t his thing.

  Someone else, then.

  A name popped into her head—Greg, her Realtor-slash-landlord. Immediately, she hoped that wasn’t the case. Greg was nice . . . at least, nice enough. But he reminded her far too much of Blake and she wasn’t interested in that kind of guy right now. She was more interested in getting her darn faucet repaired.

  Over and over, these thoughts whirled in her head as the day crawled past. They did math songs in the morning, and after recess—an indoor recess—they’d started quiet time. Right now, they were reading books, which was a welcome distraction from the flowers.

  “Miss Mckinney?” one of the children asked as they sat on the floor and she read them a book.

  “Yes, Ella?”

  The little girl put her hand down and wiggled on her mat, happy to be called on. “Are we going to have a Christmas tree in our classroom? Miss Lindon’s class has one.”

  Her heart sank a little. Miss Lindon loved spoiling her kids, and unfortunately, the other teachers struggled to keep up. Miss Lindon’s tree was currently covered with gourmet candy canes and chocolate foil stars, and kids that answered questions correctly got to eat those candies. A pile of presents was under the tree, and Jenny—Miss Lindon—had been shopping for months for her kids.

  Amy hadn’t bought a thing for her kids yet, unless they wanted some of the ramen out of her pantry.

  But she couldn’t tell them that. It wasn’t their fault their teacher had gone through a contentious divorce and her crappy ex-husband wasn’t paying the alimony payments that would help her start her new life. They deserved to have the same classroom experience that other students did.

  So she lied. “Your tree was in my car, but it broke down. I’ll bring it in when my car is fixed, and then we’ll all spend a day decorating it. How does that sound?”

  The students cheered, and Amy mentally went through her wardrobe and shoes. Could she pawn Louboutins to get money for the tree? Did pawnshops even take shoes? It was worth asking, she supposed. She went back to reading, determined not to think about the tree issue until later.

  By the time the day was ending, Amy had a headache from the cloying rose smell, she’d made a list of potential items to pawn, and she’d texted Layla twice about the alimony payments. Still nothing, but that wasn’t a big surprise. There’d been nothing since she’d moved out of state, and Amy knew he was doing it to punish her.

  Okay, she’d need a plan B. Maybe she could babysit to make some money? She’d talk to Becca—Becca would know people around town that might want a babysitter. And wouldn’t a schoolteacher be the perfect one?

  Then it was time to do the end-of-day cleanup song, and the schoolroom was tidied, and gloves and coats were put on and checkmarked on Amy’s list. She marched everyone out front, dropped off the bus riders, then checked off heads that already had parents waiting out front. Becca gave her a quick wave as she picked up her stepdaughter, Libby, and even Amy’s normal straggler, Billy, was out the door on time. Huh. Amy went back to her classroom, cleaned up, and prepared for the next day. She “graded” papers and put stickers on them, cut out construction paper strips for Christmas garlands, and prepared supply buckets for the next day’s activities. As she put the final pair of safety scissors into Tammy’s bucket, she looked up.

  Caleb was in the doorway.

  She jumped, startled, and her hand went to her chest. “Oh dear god, you scared me.”

  His hard face was impossible to read. He said nothing to her reaction. Didn’t greet her. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t apologize. Said nothing at all. He just leaned against the doorway and waited.

  Caleb unnerved her.

  He’d been nothing but nice, of course, but the man was silent to the point of distressing.

  Even so, he was doing her a favor. He was picking her up from work so she wouldn’t have to walk in the cold, just like he’d picked her up on Friday. He’d been her knight in shining armor when he’d arrived to rescue her, and he’d wrapped her in a blanket and gave her a warm drink and he just . . . fixed things.

  She’d been so completely and utterly relieved that someone had arrived to take care of the situation that she’d cried tears of joy. So now, today, she didn’t even mind his cranky expression.

  Well, she minded it a little.

  He’d just . . . he’d be such a handsome man if he smiled every now and then. He had the most amazingly beautiful eyes with long, unfair lashes. He had a rugged face and a thick beard, and the cowboy hat he wore made him look damn good . . . or at least it would if his mouth wasn’t flat in a somber expression. She’d met his brother Hank a few times, and while the man was an intimidating mountain of a human, he smiled when his playful, talkative little daughter was around, or when he looked at his new wife. Becca spoke glowingly of Hank, so Amy just figured he was quiet around strangers.

  But Caleb? Even his sister-in-law said he
was a very silent type and he rarely spoke to her.

  Amy beamed at him, because it didn’t matter that he was gruff and surly. His actions were everything. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can walk. It’s probably good for me.”

  He glanced down at her shoes, then gave his head a small shake and stepped out into the hall, a silent signal that he’d wait for her. She tidied things one last time and then pulled on her jacket, readying to go out into the bitter winter wind. He really was the nicest man. “I hope I’m not taking up too much of your day.”

  He didn’t respond to that. Not even a grunt.

  Gosh, he’d talked to her Friday night and this morning, hadn’t he? She hadn’t imagined that? He was so silent right now it was starting to unnerve her, though. Amy tucked the vase of flowers against her side and walked out into the hall with him.

  That got his silent attention. He frowned at the flowers as if they offended him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you allergic? I didn’t want to leave them here because the smell was a little overwhelming in the classroom. I can put them back . . . ?”

  He shook his head. “’S’fine.”

  Well . . . that was a word. Maybe even two, if she used her imagination. It was a start. “I appreciate you taking all this time to help me out, Mr. Watson. I don’t know how I can thank you.” He said nothing, but that didn’t surprise her, so she continued on. “I hope I’m not pulling you away from something urgent. If I am, I totally understand and I can always just . . .” He kept walking, utterly quiet.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d say he didn’t like her. But he’d been so kind Friday night. Kind this morning, too. Even now, he wasn’t being rude. Just . . . quiet. So she tried not to take it personally. Tried not to think about Blake, who was never silent, who liked to tell her in great detail all the things she did wrong on a daily basis.