Cowboys Under The Mistletoe: Five Christmas Christian Romance Novellas

by Kristen Ethridge

  Ellie kicked her feet up on a low table that matched the rest of the deck furniture. “Careful there, Sis.”

  “Careful what?”

  “Careful with the fantasy land. You never describe any man’s response as perfect. Usually, your descriptions are more…um…choice.”

  Sarah sat up straight, pulling herself off the slightly lounged back of the low chair. “That is not true. You make me sound like some kind of man-eater, and you know that’s not the case at all.”

  Ellie began to sing a 1980s pop tune at a volume meant for her older sister’s ears alone.

  “Elinor. Really? Hall and Oates?”

  Ellie quirked her left eyebrow. “They had you pegged.” She continued singing the chorus.

  “I was in elementary school when that came out.” A little fight-or-flight surged through Sarah’s veins in response to the teasing.

  Nope. She’d categorized it wrong. There was no flight in the chemicals in her system.

  It was all fight.

  Just like her annoying little sister deserved.

  “They knew.” Ellie kept nodding her head obnoxiously.

  “Shut up.” It took everything Sarah had not to stick her tongue out at Ellie. That’s what this ridiculous trip to decades past deserved. But she was a mother now. She had to set the better example for her child.

  However, that child was not around and would never know if her mother resorted to chiming something about sticks and stones and various other mischief—like sticking out one’s tongue—better suited for the playground than the boardroom.

  But before she could decide on something deliciously juvenile to throw back at Ellie, her sister stopped singing and asked a question.

  “So, you’d rather talk about the cowboy than Hall and Oates and their greatest hits?”

  Sarah’s mouth went dry at the mention of Grant. She’d sat behind him for more than an hour today, watching the sway of his hips as his horse rambled through the sand. Just thinking about his dark-washed jeans that fit his body like they were custom-made for him put more memories of the morning’s adventure front and center in her mind.

  But this time, those thoughts about Grant had nothing to do with Jamie.

  Or a hug.

  Well, maybe a hug.

  Or maybe something more.

  “Dude. You’re blushing like Santa’s cheery red cheeks.”

  “Am not.” Sarah crossed her arms, then realized she looked ridiculous and defensive, and so immediately uncrossed them.

  Ellie took a deep breath before taking another sip from her mug. “Aaaah, this is just like old times. You know, the good old days when we listened to Hall and Oates.”

  “Elinor, we never listened to Hall and Oates.”

  Her sister nodded. “Yeah, and we never discussed your attraction to horse-riding cowboys before, either. But here we are. So…what’s it gonna be. Maneater? Or cowboy?”

  Sarah’s mug of cocoa was still full, so she couldn’t make an excuse to go inside and get a refill. Ellie was not going to let her off the hook.

  “He’s not really a cowboy,” Sarah said. Maybe Ellie would back down if Sarah diffused the situation.

  “Did he have a hat?”

  The black felt fit Grant’s head like it had been custom-made. It spent the afternoon cocked at the slightest of angles. “Yes.”

  “Mmmhmm. Wranglers?”

  “I didn’t note the brand.” Sarah tried to keep her mind and her responses aloof. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say her strategy was working like she’d hoped it would.

  Ellie’s eyebrow went up again. “Whatever. Jeans?”

  “Of course.” Honesty was the best policy.

  “How’d they fit?” Ellie leaned forward over the arm of the chair.

  “Really, Elinor. How would I know? I didn’t inspect them.”

  “Really, Sarah,” Ellie said, her words mocking Sarah’s tone. “I’m ashamed of you. You spent hours with a man on a horse and didn’t notice his jeans? That’s like breaking some kind of Texan code.”

  Sarah clicked her tongue on her teeth. “I’m from Georgia. I’m not a Texan.”

  “It’s girl code. And you broke it.”

  Enough of Ellie’s needling. “I am not a girl, either, Ellie. I’m a grown woman.”

  “You’re a grown woman who swore off men after Del left you. You let one jerk ruin it all. You could be happy and have the family you used to dream about, but you won’t even allow yourself the tiniest little indulgence like noticing a good-looking man in a tight pair of jeans.”

  “I have a family, Ellie. Jamie and I are a family. And you know it.”

  “I do. But I also know that it’s high time you forgave yourself for picking the wrong man all those years ago. You deserve better, and so does Jamie.” Ellie narrowed her eyes and stared straight at Sarah with laser-like focus. “Your little girl isn’t the only one who deserves a hug from someone who understands.”

  Grant checked and double-checked that this was the house that Sarah had pointed out on yesterday's horseback ride. White beach house. Green trim.

  After studying it for a few more seconds, he decided that yes, this looked like the place.

  At least he hoped so. Because otherwise, he was gonna look mighty stupid knocking on some stranger’s door.

  Grant raised his fist and rapped on the solid green door.

  Shortly, it swung open and a gentleman who could have passed for Grant’s Uncle Jed stood in the gap.

  "Can I help you?" The man’s forehead wrinkled, making his fuzzy eyebrows do a bit of a jig.

  "I'm looking for Sarah, or Jamie. Do I have the right house?" Grant tried not to hold his breath, but he felt the older man's scrutiny. It made him second-guess everything about coming up here.

  However, he hadn't made this trip to the green and white beach house for himself—or the confused man in front of him.

  He’d made it for one reason and one reason only.

  Little Jamie.

  Last night as he'd been cleaning up Beachcomber Stables, Grant had seen a bracelet woven out of colorful threads lying on the sandy ground near Chewie’s stall.

  He’d had several clients during the day after he’d wrapped up the tour with Jamie and her mother, but none of those customers had a wrist tiny enough to wear this bracelet of threads. He knew it had to be Jamie's.

  And if Jamie was missing something that was important to her, well, then the mission to return it was important to Grant.

  "They’re here, but who should I tell Sarah is looking for her?"

  Grant raised his hand and used two fingers to gently tap the brim of his hat up slightly. "Could you tell her Grant from Beachcomber Stables is here?"

  The man looked Grant down and then back up again.

  "I can," he said flatly. "Just wait on the deck."

  The door closed with a soft click. Grant assumed the man was Sarah's dad. Even though his hair had been lightened by the presence of gray, Grant could tell that at one time it had probably been the same dirty blonde shade as Sarah's.

  In about a minute, the door opened again—and the woman Grant had been thinking about since yesterday afternoon walked out onto the deck.

  “Um, hey, Grant. I didn’t expect to see you again." She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans as a small breeze kicked across the deck high above the beach.

  He laughed just a little bit to cut the nervousness that he felt inside. He didn’t really understand why he was so worried about what a virtual stranger—or her father—thought of him.

  Well…Sarah wasn't exactly a stranger.

  They’d wound up sharing a lot of conversation yesterday as they rode in towards the lighthouse. And then there was Jamie.

  And even though it felt strange to say after only one ride down the beach, but that little girl had a piece of Grant’s heart, and he knew it.

  Grant understood Jamie. He could tell she felt out of place, even though she lived in a world where seemingly she had ev
erything a little girl could want. Ever since his brothers and sister announced their plans for Blue Creek Ranch after their father's will was read, Grant knew exactly what it meant to be uncomfortable in your own skin.

  “I don't usually make house calls," he said. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips in the wake of his statement. "But when I was cleaning out the stables last night, I found this on the ground and I thought it might be Jamie's. It seems like something she might want back."

  He held out the tiny circle of threads.

  Sarah reached her fingers out and took the offered accessory.

  “Oh…my goodness," she said. "This is the friendship bracelet Elsie made for Jamie last Christmas. Elsie was her best friend in the orphanage back in Haiti, and they still stay in touch. This is one of her most prized possessions—I can't believe she didn't notice it was gone. We were on the go all afternoon and then built a bonfire on the beach last night. She was so tired when we got back here, I guess she just didn't have time to notice it had fallen off."

  The tightness in Grant’s chest relaxed. "Well then, it’s a good thing I made the trip over here. I'm glad I remembered which house you pointed out to me yesterday. Listening to all that real estate talk paid off."

  Sarah smiled. It made her green eyes twinkle like a Christmas tree strong with the tiniest lights. "I'm so glad you did. We’re really indebted to you. I think most people would have just thought this was trash and they would have thrown it away."

  Grant knew she was right. On most days, he might even have made that mistake.

  "Jamie's in town doing some Christmas shopping with my mom, but you really should give it to her yourself. She’d be so grateful."

  Sarah handed the bracelet back to Grant. He felt a small spark of electricity as Sarah’s fingertips brushed his own. He looked directly in Sarah’s eyes. He knew he felt a connection with Jamie. But now, he felt an entirely different link to her mother. This one was electric.

  For just a moment, Sarah didn’t say a word, either. The moment just hung there between them.

  “Um, she really likes you. You know, um, yesterday, at the lighthouse… She's never done that before."

  "Done what?" Grant kept his eyes on Sarah’s face.

  "The hug. She's not a hugger. Sometimes, it's even hard for me to get one out of her. She never hugs strangers. She rarely interacts with them all at all. But you—I don't know why, but you seem to have broken all her rules."

  Grant idly spun the bracelet around his thumb "She's special," he said. "That's not hard to see."

  He had to stop himself from saying anything more. If he said anything to tip Sarah off that he’d felt that tiny frisson of awareness when their hands met, she’d think he was crazy. And then she’d make sure he never saw Jamie again, bracelet or no bracelet.

  Sarah nodded. "Yes, she is. And I think you're her special friend. Please come back by later if you can. She’ll want to see you."

  Grant remembered what Sarah had said about the earthquake and Jamie’s adoption, and he wondered if he even, all these years later, that was the reason why she guarded her child-sized heart. The adage wasn’t true. Time didn't heal all wounds. Grant knew that one very well.

  Maybe that's why he felt a kinship with the quiet little girl from half a world away.

  He cleared his throat before replying. “I will stop by, but I don't close the stables until about five-thirty. I try to keep open as long as I can since the days are so short now. Is it okay if I stop by after that? Or will that be too late, like right in middle of dinner or something?"

  Sarah turned and looked back at the house, then back to Grant.

  “We talked about going out to dinner tonight. My parents want to try that fancy seafood place, Porter’s. But I don't think that's a good fit for Jamie. Plus, she doesn't really like seafood. Do you know any other place we could go for dinner, maybe someplace that's kid-friendly?"

  "Sure, this is a tourist town. There are tons of kid-friend options. Would you like for me to meet you here at six and I can give Jamie her bracelet and give you some ideas?"

  A plan began to take shape in Grant’s mind.

  "That would be perfect," Sarah said. "We'll see you then."

  "Okay, sounds good."

  Grant tugged down the front of his hat and began to walk off the deck across the deck towards the stairs on the side of the house.

  “Hey,” Sarah shouted behind him. “Are you going to be riding a horse?

  Grant couldn't help but laugh at that. “I have a truck, actually. Otherwise, I look like I’m on some modern-day trail ride. I try to keep the horse-riding to the Beachcomber routes.”

  Sarah's grin widened and warmed up the coastal December day.

  Grant had to make himself leave the deck. Jamie wasn't the only one with a smile he couldn’t help but remember. He wanted to see another smile from her mother, too.

  Chapter Four

  “This place is awesome. What a great view!”

  Sarah loved everything about The Seahorse. From the view of the water to the days-gone-by diner feel of the décor to the guilty pleasures that were everywhere on the menu, this place was far more Jamie’s style than an upscale seafood restaurant. Grant had picked the right place.

  After Grant had returned Jamie’s bracelet and shared a few dining choices, Jamie selected The Seahorse—then she crooked her finger at him.

  Just as he’d done at the lighthouse, Grant crouched down so his six-foot frame folded down to to the little girl’s size.

  “Could you come with us, Mr. Grant?” Jamie looked at her feet, but the sentiment behind the words touched her mother’s heart.

  And so, Jamie and Sarah found themselves on a Friday night ordering pizza and tapping along with a jukebox playing hits from the 1960s. But this time, it wasn’t just a mother-daughter evening out.

  This time, they had a special guest. And although they’d only met him a short time ago, it was clear that Grant McCray was more friend than stranger. Atlanta was the stereotypical home of sweet tea and Southern manners. There had never been a shortage of people asking “how are y’all doing?”

  But something about Port Provident felt different.

  It felt like a small community of people who cared. Three people had already stopped by the table to tell Grant hello and wish him a Merry Christmas. Sarah knew tons of people from working all over the metro area, but living in one of the ten largest cities in America, random encounters were few and far between.

  “Do you come here often?” Sarah asked Grant as she slipped a straw into her glass of soda.

  “Not really. I’m kind of a homebody. Most nights I just eat back at my place. Now, that’s not to say that I don’t enjoy myself when I come here.” He popped a mozzarella stick in his mouth.

  Sarah tried to focus on the mixed appetizer plate Grant had ordered, but something else had a firm grip on her attention.

  Grant wore a faded red T-shirt with an outlined image of Santa Claus that read “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

  Every time she looked at it, the slogan made her want to giggle.

  But to look at it, she had to notice the definite outlines of pectoral muscles underneath the stretch of well-worn cotton…and the sight of that was nothing to joke about.

  Sarah heard Ellie’s teasing loud and clear in her head. And as much as it pained her to admit it, her little sister was right. She’d spent far too long living in the shadow of one bad decision about one bad man.

  She wasn’t even in her mid-thirties yet. She’d sworn off living for far too long.

  Sarah Murdoch had one full week left in Port Provident and one good-looking cowboy sitting across a diner table from her. Cowboys didn’t grow on peach trees. At least not real cowboys like Grant McCray. He was a one-hundred-percent Texan specimen.

  Seven days.

  One cowboy.

  And one new plan.

  Merry Christmas to me, Sarah thought.

  “So, are you going to?” Grant cocked an eyebro
w at her and it caught her attention almost as dramatically as the way he filled out that T-shirt.

  “Sorry. Going to what?”

  He’d noticed her daydreaming—there was no sense in denying it. “Going to try the jalapeno poppers. Jamie’s going to. Aren’t you, Jamie?”

  Every time Grant spoke directly to Jamie, Sarah could see her daughter coming out of her shell just a little more. Sarah would eat a thousand jalapeno poppers for that change, even though she didn’t like spicy food very much.

  “Um…I guess so.” She hesitated briefly, studying Jamie’s face. “Are you really going to eat one, Jay?”

  Jamie reached out and grabbed the breaded jalapeno that had been stuffed with cheese and then deep-fried. She dunked it defiantly in a small bowl of Ranch dressing, then chomped it in half with a hint of a giggle.

  “Well, I can’t be left out, I guess…” Jamie took a popper of her own, let it swim liberally in the creamy white dressing and then opened her mouth wide and put the whole thing inside in one bite. Her tongue prickled with the heat from the pepper, but the cheese and the Ranch provided a mellow counterpart. The poppers were good.

  Much like Sarah’s evening…and her new plan.

  “Y’all are on your way to becoming honorary Texans now. We just need to find you some good brisket and a plate of authentic tacos.”

  Sarah groaned. She would put on ten pounds before she even boarded the plane back to Atlanta. But it would be worth every single bite. “Challenge accepted, Mr. McCray. When do we start?”

  Grant jumped up from the table. “Hang on one second.”

  As he walked toward the door of the restaurant, Sarah noticed that Ellie had been right. Grant was wearing Wranglers. And yeah, they fit just like every cowboy-and-jeans stereotype out there said they would.

  Mmmhmm. Better than jalapenos, brisket, or tacos.

  Score another point for Sarah’s New Plan.

  “Here we go. The Provident Gazette. This is the paper that comes out twice a month and is geared to tourists and activities in town. Let’s see what’s on tap for the next few days.” Grant opened the thick tabloid-sized paper and thumbed through until he found a listing that looked like a calendar. “Perfect.”