Her Christmas Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  “The carnival is growing,” Amy agreed absently, trying not to look too distracted. “My class is almost twice the size it was last year.”

  “And yoga class is full,” Becca agreed.

  Amy nodded. She and Layla and Becca took yoga together—or they used to. Now Becca didn’t do much and it was just Layla and Amy, but they had other friends in class. It was always a fun time. Amy wasn’t even mad that Becca had bailed on the classes—she was too envious of Becca’s pregnancy. Her friend had gained weight with the baby, but oh man, was she glowing. And her husband positively hovered over her, as if she were made of fragile glass.

  Amy’s biological clock had definitely started ticking. She pictured herself with a baby in her arms, Caleb hovering protectively over her, and sighed. That was further out in the future. She’d fought so hard for her “freedom” that she suspected Caleb didn’t even have marriage on his radar. Not that she was dying to get married again. It was just . . . she knew it’d be okay if it was with Caleb.

  He was her happily ever after, ring or not.

  A big, heavy arm slung over her shoulder. “I didn’t know you and my brother were into role-play. That’s kinky.”

  Amy squirmed out from under Jack’s heavy arm and poked him in the side. “Can you keep it down? There are children here!”

  “Sorry.” Jack’s grin told her he wasn’t all that sorry. Incorrigible brat of a man that he was, Amy couldn’t help but smile back. “Where’s Santa?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Amy crossed her arms over her chest, shifting against the uncomfortable duct-taped bra that kept her breasts from being too prominent in the costume. “He’s supposed to meet me here.”

  Hank coughed. His face turned red, and he pounded on his chest.

  Becca turned and gave him a little push. “Why don’t you go give Libby some more tickets? You know she’s probably already gone through the ones she has.”

  He nodded, disappearing into the crowd.

  Becca just shook her head, smiling. “Libby swore she’s going to win the biggest prize the games give away.”

  “If anyone can, it’s her,” Amy replied, watching as Jack wove away into the crowd as well, disappearing once more. With his hat on and from a distance, he looked heartbreakingly like her Caleb. But . . . Caleb wouldn’t be here in jeans and plaid and wearing a cowboy hat. He was supposed to be here as Santa. She bit her lip and looked at her phone again. No texts. No calls. No word at all. “I’m worried, Becca. I haven’t seen or heard from Caleb all afternoon.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m sure he’s on his way.” Becca rubbed her belly absently. “Maybe go look for him? He might not have realized where Santa’s Workshop was being held at. Maybe he took a wrong turn when he got to the carnival.”

  “But it’s in the same place that we were at last year,” Amy said, bewildered. “He knows where this is. Why would he get lost?”

  “You know men.” Becca shrugged. “I’m gonna go find myself a seat.”

  Amy anxiously looked at the forming line, at Miss Lindsey, the new fourth-grade teacher, who was manning the camera. She didn’t look worried at all—in fact, she looked excited for some reason. Didn’t she realize they had no Santa? “I’m going to go look around real quick,” she told Miss Lindsey. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Go on,” Miss Lindsey said. “I’m just going to fiddle with my camera.” And she giggled.

  Perhaps Miss Lindsey had been hitting some holiday punch too hard, Amy thought sourly as she headed down one of the crowded halls. It was filled with parents and teachers and children of all ages, and Christmas decorations dripped from every surface possible. “White Christmas” played over the loudspeakers, and in the distance, “The Bunny Hop” began to play, a sign that the Cake Walk was in full swing. Gosh, where was Caleb? She was getting so worried. It wasn’t like him to just not call.

  Her heart hammered. There was fresh snow on the ground. Surely he hadn’t gotten into an accident, had he?

  Jack passed by again, talking to her friend Layla. Amy grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. “Jack, I’m worried. Caleb hasn’t called and he’s about to be late.”

  “Huh.” He scratched at his short beard. “I thought I saw him go in your classroom.”

  “He did? Why?”

  Jack shrugged. “I dunno. That’s where I saw him last.”

  Okay, that was strange. Maybe he’d gone in there to change? Amy murmured an apology at Jack and hurried toward her classroom. Thank goodness she’d gotten new boots for the costume. They weren’t as fancy as the others—just plain black—but at least she could walk quickly and not murder her feet. She headed into her silent classroom, opening the door. The lights were out, the room just as empty as she’d suspected. “Caleb?”

  To her surprise, the closet door opened a touch. “In here.”

  Relief flooded her . . . followed by bewilderment. “Caleb, what the heck are you doing? Are you changing?”

  “Not exactly.” His voice sounded muffled.

  She opened the closet door, surprised to see that the lights were off inside—and let out a yelp of surprise when he pulled her into his lap. “Caleb! What the heck?” She flipped the light on and gasped at his appearance. “Why are you so sweaty? Are you sick?”

  Her handsome boyfriend was wearing most of his Santa costume. He had the stuffed belly and overcoat on, and the pants, but the beard and hat were nowhere to be found. Instead, Caleb’s dark hair was touched with sweat and his face was flushed. Worried, Amy put her hand to his forehead. He felt a little hot, but how hot did people normally feel?

  “I’m just . . . having a hard time.” He tugged her closer and buried his face against her chest, then lifted his head. “Why are your breasts so hard?”

  She laughed, her hands going to his shoulders. “I told you I had to tape my boobs down. Remember?”

  “It’s a crime against humanity,” he muttered, holding her tightly.

  “Why are you having a hard time?” She ran her fingers through his hair, not caring that it was sweaty and damp. This was her Caleb. She loved everything about him. “Are you nervous, babe? You were awesome last year. It’s little kids. You know you’ll kill it the moment you put that beard on.” It was still fascinating to her that someone so utterly confident could have moments of sheer panic. It usually happened around strangers, and she always knew when Caleb was uncomfortable because he’d clam up and say nothing . . . or start mixing his words up. It was charmingly endearing, but it also made her ache for him.

  “Not worried about the kids,” he said, resting his head against her flattened breasts. “Just . . . I’ve been thinking.”

  She froze. “Thinking about what?” Her voice came out strained despite her effort to make it light and carefree.

  “This.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it up to her.

  Amy sucked in a breath. It was a small velvet box, the size that would hold a ring. Oh god. Was this . . . ? A brilliant smile crossed her face. He was proposing? Joy rushed through her.

  She opened the box . . . and burst into laughter at the sight of the house key pillowed where a ring should have been. “A key, huh?”

  “A key to my heart?” he teased, giving her an awkward smile.

  She slid her arm around his neck, settling into his lap. “I’m not sure why that makes you so nervous, babe. We’ve been together for a year now. In all that time I don’t think you’ve slept alone in your bed for more than a week. Aren’t we past getting nervous over keys?”

  “Does that mean you say yes?” He tilted his head, looking up at her.

  Amy chuckled. “You know I’d say yes to you for everything. I love you, Caleb.”

  He gazed up at her solemnly. “You would, huh?”

  “I would.”

  “In that case . . .” He pulled a second box out of his pock
et and held it out to her. “Will you marry me?”

  She held her breath, not entirely sure this wasn’t another joke. It wasn’t like Caleb to be cruel, though. With trembling hands, she took the box from him and opened it. This time, there was a ring inside. It was beautiful, a golden band twining about a small teardrop-shaped diamond. She didn’t care that it wasn’t enormous or ungodly expensive like the one Blake had gotten her. This was from Caleb—her Caleb—and that was all that mattered. “Oh,” she breathed out, finally.

  “I know it’s early,” he told her solemnly. “I know you want your freedom, and I would never hold you down or make you do something you didn’t want to do. I just want you to know that I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you, Amy Mckinney, and I’ll hold that ring for as long as I need to. You don’t have to take it right now—”

  “Yes,” she interrupted, excited. “Yes. Yes!”

  A bright smile broke across his face. “You’re sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

  “Yes!” she said again, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him. “It’s not too early at all. It’s perfect, Caleb. I love you!”

  “I love you, too, baby,” he murmured, then kissed her long and hard. After a moment, he broke away and grinned. Then he bellowed, “She said yes!”

  A cheer erupted outside the coat closet door.

  Amy’s jaw dropped. “You . . . didn’t.”

  “I might have.” He got to his feet, slid her off his lap. “Shall we go say hello?”

  They opened the closet door together, and immediately a camera went off. Amy blinked at the flash, and then she saw Miss Lindsey, grinning and clearly in on things. Behind her were dozens of people—from Jack and Layla to Sage and her husband Jason. There was the yoga instructor, her fellow teachers, and Becca and Hank. Uncle Ennis stood in the back, along with others she knew from around town. People she’d gotten to know. People she’d gotten to love.

  All of them were in on this. All of them knew exactly why Caleb—her wonderful, sweet Caleb—had been late to his Santa appointment.

  He was busy setting all this up. He’d planned all of it. He knew how much community meant to Amy, and he’d made sure that everyone she knew and loved was here to see their moment.

  “Merry Christmas, love,” Caleb whispered in her ear.

  Truly, he’d given her the world.

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next Wyoming Cowboys romance

  THE BACHELOR COWBOY

  Coming January 2021 from Jove!

  Well, ain’t you the prettiest sight,” Hank drawled as Jack showed up at the barn that morning. The oldest Watson brother pulled a dollar out of his pocket and held it up. “Can I bid on you, Prince Charming?”

  At his side with a pitchfork, Caleb snickered.

  “Shut the hell up, both of you,” Jack grumbled. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling a little self-conscious. “I just came to tell you two that I’m heading out and I’ll be back later.”

  “Did you shave for us?” Caleb teased. “You shouldn’t have. I like my men hairy.”

  “I’ll be sure and tell Amy that,” Jack shot back. In fact, he had shaved. Was feeling a little foolish about it, too. It was just . . . he knew he had a pretty face, and in the last while, he’d let his beard get bushy. He figured if he was going to be in a bachelor auction, he’d let his vanity take over.

  Jack Watson was gonna be the best-damn-looking Valentine’s charity bachelor Painted Barrel had ever seen.

  So yeah, he’d shaved his face clean of the big, hairy winter beard even though it was still cold out. He’d put on his favorite black cowboy hat. Put on a tighter-fitting black button-up and some tight jeans that hugged his ass. Boots. The works. Was it a little vain? Sure.

  Did he look amazing and ready to break some elderly hearts? Absolutely.

  “You’re just jealous that you don’t look as good as me,” Jack teased his brothers, tipping his hat back. “Besides, I have to look like I’m worth at least a couple hundred bucks to the ladies that are showing up at this thing. I can’t have Clyde beat me in the bachelor auction.”

  Hank stared at him. “Old Clyde? From Price Ranch?”

  “Yeah.”

  His big, bearded older brother stared at him. His mouth twitched, and then he snickered. “I can’t believe Clyde’s your competition.”

  “Oh, believe it.” Jack shrugged. “Word is that Hannah’s bringing her wallet and she’s gonna spend a fortune on him.”

  “And you’re dressing up for this?” Caleb asked, a dubious look on his face.

  “Well, yeah. Amy and Becca asked me to do this. I might as well go all out.” He pointed at his brothers. “And you two owe me big.”

  Hank scowled in his direction. “Why the heck would we owe you anything?”

  “Because it’s your damn girlfriend”—he pointed at Caleb—“and your wife”—he pointed at Hank—“that are running this ridiculous show. They’re the ones that guilted me into doing this instead of helping out around here.”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Caleb offered. “Maybe some local angel with nice boobs will bid on you.”

  Hank just looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

  Jack was pretty sure that the odds of any local angel showing up to this Valentine’s auction were pretty slim. Or his angel would be gray-haired and old enough to be his nana, not his date.

  Now that he was thinking about it, maybe he shouldn’t have shaved. Jack rubbed his naked jaw again. Charity, he reminded himself. This is for charity and for your sister-in-law and for Amy. You aren’t doing it because you’re expecting to score.

  It’s charity. Nothing more.

  * * *

  * * *

  I can’t believe you brought your crochet to the auction,” Amy hissed at Layla as they sat at the numbered table.

  “Believe it, sister.” Layla hooked another loop in the scarf she was making and shrugged. “Mrs. Kilpatrick brought hers.”

  “She’s ninety.”

  “So? She’s still here to buy a bachelor. Like me.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Amy protested, and then sighed. “It just seems weird, that’s all.”

  “The weirder it is, the more I like it.” Layla did a few more loops, concentrating on her project. In a way, it helped her calm down. She was incredibly nervous—and sweaty—at the thought of having to bid on a guy at the auction today. She knew she was the backup plan and hopefully it wouldn’t be necessary. Maybe several ladies looking for love would show up with fat wallets and make this charity shindig a success.

  Layla had her suspicions, though.

  For one, the room wasn’t more than half full. The Painted Barrel Animal Helpers Committee had decorated the gymnasium at the high school in all manner of construction paper hearts and pink garlands. There were pink and red flowers at every round table, and white tablecloths to add a touch of romance. There was a volunteer DJ (who looked like he was fourteen) putting on romantic music, and pink balloons filled the room. Each table had cute stationery and glitter stamps so you could write a love note for your valentine. There were heart-shaped cookies with bright red frosting and Layla had already eaten two of them. It was all really cute.

  Problem was, no one was there.

  Oh sure, the elderly bingo-hall folks had shown up, but they hadn’t quite come in the numbers that Amy and Becca had expected. Maybe word hadn’t gotten out. Maybe there was a football game on. Maybe people were wanting to do other things with their Valentine’s Day than bid on a bachelor, but whatever the reason, the situation was looking pretty grim.

  Layla hooked faster, her hands sweaty and nervous. “So how many bachelors did you end up with?”

  Amy looked miserable. “Eleven. We had another last-minute drop. Turned out his girlfriend lost her dentures and didn’t want to come out in public wi
thout them. Not that I blame her, but it just means less money for the charity.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

  “We could both buy a bachelor,” Layla suggested. “I can spot you the money.”

  “I think we have bidders for the others,” Amy said, her gaze roaming the curtained stage like the most impatient stage mom ever. “But if we don’t hit our goal, I might have to take you up on that.”

  Layla glanced around. “Where’s Becca?”

  “She’s coordinating props and making sure they’re all fed.”

  Do . . . what? Layla wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard that right and meant to ask, but a woman with a steely gray beehive and an absolutely glittering dress pushed her walker up to their table and sat down. She smiled at them. “Hello, girls.”

  “Oh man, I love your dress,” Layla told her sincerely. “Were we supposed to dress up?” She glanced down at her worn black cardigan over a gaming T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was in her usual bun and she wasn’t wearing makeup other than a slick of tinted lip gloss. Maybe she should have dressed up, but she was trying to throw a vibe into the universe: if she didn’t look like a hot piece, she wouldn’t need to win a man at auction.

  “Honey, when you’re my age, you take any excuse to put on fancy clothes.” The woman chuckled. “I’m Cora.”

  “Layla,” she said, offering her hand. “This is Amy.”

  Amy beamed at her. “Thank you for coming, Cora. Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?”

  “All of them,” Cora said with a sassy wink, and Layla decided she wanted to be Cora when she grew up. She patted her little spangly coin purse. “I’m going to bid on all of the bachelors because no one should go home alone.”

  “That’s amazing.” Amy clutched at her chest.

  “Total baller cougar move,” Layla agreed, and Cora just chuckled and waved a hand in the air.