Cowboys Under The Mistletoe: Five Christmas Christian Romance Novellas

by Kristen Ethridge

  Sarah leaned over to see what entry on the page that he’d tapped with his finger. “Santas on the Street?”

  “Yeah, it’s tomorrow. I used to come down to the island and go every year when I was in college. They had to cancel it for a few years because of the aftermath of Hurricane Hope, but this year, it’s going to be back and running. Do you have plans tomorrow night?”

  She let a half-smile steal across her face. The only plans she really had fell under the category of Sarah’s New Plan. Coincidentally, so did Grant McCray. He just didn’t know it.

  “Mom and Dad are taking Jamie to the lighting of the tree at the Grand Provident, but I might be persuaded to take a rain check—or a snow check, or whatever you take at Christmastime.”

  “Perfect.” Grant picked up the last jalapeno popper. “I’ll pick you up at eight. Wear something fun and Santa-ish.”

  “Santa-ish?”

  “You heard me. Santa-ish.”

  Santas on the Street felt like it had never been on hiatus.

  A crowd of thousands had taken over the historic downtown area, filled with classic Victorian buildings. Lights glowed in windows and every door of every restaurant and store were flung wide-open.

  It truly was beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

  Now, if it would just start to feel a lot like Christmas. December in Texas had a funny way of being like Fall everywhere else.

  But if he couldn’t have a whisper of snow or the snap of a chill in the air, at least he had a smile on his face as he walked down the street. It had nothing to do with the holiday season, though—and everything to do with Sarah Murdoch.

  Somehow, she’d found a very “Santa-ish” outfit—a lightweight red cowl-necked sweater with a pair of cream-colored leggings and some tall black boots.

  “Are you okay?” Sarah eyed him carefully.

  Shoot. Could he have been more obvious? “Yeah, sure. Why?”

  Grant tried to play it off. Maybe he could come up with some kind of plausible denial. He just needed a second or two to think…

  One eyebrow rose higher than the other. “Well, you’re staring. Is there a stocking stuck to my sweater or something?”

  He shook his head. What could he possibly say?

  Grant stopped walking and a few people in the crowd had to shift around him and Sarah. He didn’t really care. In fact, he didn’t really care about his answer. In a few days, she’d be gone back to Georgia, and he’d be back to riding slow horses on the beach. Contrary to what he’d first told himself, Grant didn’t need to play this one off. There wasn’t any reason for games right now.

  Might as well be honest.

  “You make a beautiful Santa.”

  Sarah swallowed. Grant could see the gentle contraction of the long muscles in her throat.

  “What? You don’t think you do?” He didn’t like the fact that she hesitated in responding. Either she disagreed with his observation or she didn’t like hearing it from him. The latter was understandable—they’d only recently met, and maybe she thought he was over-stepping a boundary. But the former was not something he would let her hold on to. Sarah was beautiful, and she deserved to know it.

  “I’m wearing leggings, Grant. I mean…”

  So, it was the former. “And some boots and a killer sweater. But it’s more than that.”

  She just looked at him with a blank stare. He didn’t think she was buying it.

  He reminded himself that he could be honest in this moment because she was headed home in a few days. There were no longer-term considerations here. He probably wouldn’t ever see her again after tonight, anyway. It made no sense not to speak the truth.

  The powerful realization reminded him of something his mother used to always say—speak the truth, but do it in love. Well, he wasn’t in love with Sarah Murdoch—they’d just met, so that thought was crazy—but he could speak the truth anyway.

  “You don’t think so?” he asked.

  A frown began to cross Sarah’s face. “Well, I mean…no, but…I mean, I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “You’ve never really thought that you’re beautiful?”

  This time, she put her hands squarely on her hips. “You don’t really seem like the kind of guy who stands at the mirror all day telling himself he’s handsome and figuring out your best angle for a selfie.”

  Grant couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, my left side is my good side. I learned that a long time ago, so I don’t have to stare anymore. But seriously, no, of course I don’t do that. Chewie would never let me live it down.”

  “Exactly. I’m a mom. I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense.”

  He pressed one finger under her chin, lifting her face slightly until her eyes were in line with his own. “It’s not nonsense, Sarah. Would you believe me more if I said there were times when you’re not beautiful?”

  The space between her eyebrows creased. “That’s sort of rude.”

  “But it’s also true.”

  “What on earth?”

  Grant kept his gaze steady. “When I first met you, you weren’t beautiful. You had your face buried in the screen of your phone and you were willing to just pack your daughter off to have an adventure while you stayed behind and sent email replies and listened to voicemails. You came across as preoccupied and aloof. Those aren’t exactly beautiful traits.”

  “Well, I’m not Americas Next Supermodel Mom, so I have to do that stuff. Being a pretty face is not what pays the bills in the Murdoch house.”

  “But being a mom is.”

  Sarah laughed without mirth. “No, it’s not. Trust me, Jamie doesn’t write me any checks.”

  “She’s your why, Sarah. She’s why you do what you do. And when you focused your time and energy on Jamie, you transformed. When you’re not focused on what you can do yourself, but what you can do for others, you’re beautiful. Like tonight. You’re lost in the moment, in the Santas, in the spirit of the season. Not what’s waiting for you in your inbox.”

  Even though his finger still touched the curve of her chin, Sarah pulled her eyes away. She looked down at the street below. “I just can’t let her down.”

  Grant heard his mom’s voice again. His mother had been an amazing, God-fearing rancher’s daughter and rancher’s wife who took her responsibilities seriously. He saw that same resolve in Sarah, but she shouldered that burden alone. His mom had a whole community of family and friends and a husband who loved her. She was surrounded by a village.

  Sarah didn’t seem to rely on anyone but herself.

  Maybe, just for tonight, he could encourage her and let her know she wasn’t alone. Maybe he could speak that truth in love.

  “I know. And you’re clearly a great mom, a mom who cares. But Jamie needs you. She needs that connection with you. And you need that connection with you, too. Maybe your trip to Port Provident was for a reason. Maybe you came here to take some time with your daughter without all the distractions. And away from the hustle-and-bustle of a big city like Atlanta, maybe you’ll see the gift you both need this Christmas is already inside you, Sarah.”

  Sarah wanted to just get lost in some of the silliness of grown adults wearing Santa suits and other holiday-inspired costumes walking to-and-fro across Port Provident’s charming historic district. But she couldn’t get Grant’s words out of her head.

  What if he was right?

  What if she was too preoccupied?

  She’d always seen her go-go-go spirit as an asset. She’d never stopped to consider that the all-consuming drive to be her best might not be the most advantageous thing for her daughter.

  “Grant?” Sarah said as they picked up paper mugs of steaming hot spiced apple cider from a vendor on one of the street corners. “Where did you grow up? You said you weren’t from here.”

  He shook his head, but paused before answering. She saw his expression turn studious. Then, in another instant, the hesitation faded away. “I grew up in the Hill Country.
About an hour northwest of Austin, in a little dot on the map called Blue Creek. My family had a ranch there.”

  “Oh,” Sarah said. “That makes sense. That’s how you became a cowboy.”

  A short chuckle escaped his lips. “I think I was born a cowboy. It’s part of my DNA. My dad was a rancher. Both of my grandfathers were. It’s sort of what McCrays do.”

  “Sort of?” Sarah detected something behind that qualifier, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what it signaled.

  “Come on, let’s walk.” Grant rested his left hand in the small of Sarah’s back, steering her through the crowd of Santas.

  It should have surprised Sarah how naturally his hand fit there and how she made no move to wiggle or step to the side or any of the other techniques she usually resorted to in order to remove unwanted contact.

  But it didn’t.

  In fact, it should have surprised Sarah that she wanted the contact with Grant.

  But that didn’t surprise her, either.

  She didn’t know if it was part of her new plan that she’d established last night or because Grant’s earlier words today had toppled a very stout wall in her life. Either way, it felt completely normal to be guided by the tall, handsome cowboy.

  It felt completely normal to be walking down a Victorian street, surrounded by Santas.

  It was even starting to feel normal not to have any true hint of chill in the pre-Christmas air.

  She never felt any of this back home. Something about Port Provident had begun to feel perfectly normal—like the fit of a good pair of Wranglers. Maybe Grant had been right about more than just his assertions about her relationship with Jamie.

  Sarah had traveled to Port Provident for this holiday getaway, cursing her parents’ travel planning the whole way. She hadn’t understood why they needed to leave north Georgia and travel to the Texas Gulf Coast.

  But now…now she knew. She was meant to be here at this moment in time. And she had Grant to thank for the realization. Now, all she needed to do was learn whatever lessons were out there for her.

  And she didn’t mind Grant being her teacher one bit.

  When they rounded the corner, Grant started speaking again. “My dad passed away in the spring. His will stated that everything he had was to be divided equally between his kids. He left behind the ranch in the Hill Country and the last parcel of land here on the island that used to be the C-Bar-M ranch and the long-term lease where the stables sit on the beach. My mother had inherited the island properties from her father. I have two brothers and a sister. Tucker works in medical sales in Houston. He doesn’t really care about running a ranch. He’s a salesman. Brinley, my sister, lost her husband a year ago. She’d always planned to be a Navy wife, then it was taken away from her. She’s got some crazy idea that she wants to be a wedding planner now. I don’t understand why. It seems like she’d just be torturing herself as a young widow. My oldest brother, Tucker, appreciates the ranch and wants to do something with it, but thinks we need to ‘modernize’ things. I told them that I’d just take the land down here and they could fight among themselves about what the right idea for the ranch is.”

  Sarah heard pain in Grant’s voice. There was a low note that reminded her of a sound she’d heard in Jamie’s voice before. She knew that Jamie’s memories weighed heavily on her sometimes. It seemed that Grant’s did as well.

  “You didn’t want to stay and fight for your vision for the ranch?”

  “Nope,” he said slowly, but definitively. “I watched my dad fight cancer for two years. I watched my mom fight it for ten years, off and on. I don’t have any fight left in me. I just want to leave it all behind.”

  “But they’re your family. You can’t leave family behind. My sister drives me nuts, but I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Sarah thought about Ellie’s ridiculous penchant to break into song lyrics at any time. Even so—even when she started singing Hall and Oates—Sarah knew without a doubt Ellie would be there, and she would also be there for Jamie.

  “I’m not leaving them behind. I’m leaving them free to do what they feel like they need to do. Without me.”

  Sarah thought about the years Ellie had been in South Carolina for college and they didn’t see each other regularly. “Don’t you miss them?”

  “It’s not like I don’t talk to them. We all have cell phones.” He finished the last of his cider and tossed his cup in a nearby trashcan.

  “But don’t you think it’s like you said earlier?”

  A slow grin broke across Grant’s face. “That you’re beautiful?”

  Sarah whacked at his red-velvet covered shoulder with the map of downtown she’d picked up. “No, silly. That the people you care about deserve your best.”

  “This is for the best, Sarah. They can do their thing. The horses and I can do mine.”

  “You don’t want to do anything different?”

  Grant stopped walking down the sidewalk and turned toward Sarah. “Actually, I do.”

  Good, maybe she was getting through to him like he’d gotten through to her. She saw so many parallels between Grant’s story and her own, even though the fundamental details were worlds apart.

  She took one last sip of her own cider. It made her toes feel toasty. Just like Christmas—even if the air around her didn’t quite match the season. At least she felt like Christmas on the inside.

  “So, what do you think you should do?”

  He plucked Sarah’s empty cup from her hand and shot it toward the trash can with an arc that would have made a basketball player envious.

  Grant slid one arm behind Sarah’s shoulder and pulled her close, closing the distance between them.

  “This,” he said.

  Before Sarah knew what was happening, Grant’s lips found her own. He tasted like the sweet and spicy cider they’d both just finished. He tasted like Christmas.

  Sarah knew earlier that the feel of Grant’s hand on her back, guiding her through the crowd had been just right. But now, she knew this was just as right.

  Maybe it was righter than right.

  Maybe it was one of those Christmas miracles that all the feel-good holiday TV movies liked to showcase. It had to be, because she hadn’t let herself enjoy a kiss in years. Not since Del revealed his true character. She’d been fooled once, and getting close enough to kiss could open the door to being fooled again.

  But New Sarah took chances. New Sarah wanted to take the gift of spontaneity that had been given to her and to make the most of it.

  And this moment—the tender and sweet, the strong and spicy—it was definitely a gift that she planned to unwrap and savor.

  She slid one arm up and placed her hand gently on the curve of Grant’s shoulder, feeling the roll of the horseman’s muscles beneath her fingertips.

  When Grant pulled back, he looked straight at Sarah. He owned the moment, without excuses. She locked her eyes on his and studied the different shades of brown that flicked around his iris. Then, just for a second, she saw something in the light that filled his eyes.

  She’d fought for years against seeing it. But there it was. The expression he wore reflected it back to her, and she had no choice but to accept the truth of it.

  Grant had been right.

  She was beautiful.

  Chapter Five

  A cold front had blown across the island overnight and for the first time, a hint of holly and jolly found a place in the Port Provident air.

  Of course, that meant merely that the mornings were in the mid-50s and the highs only climbed to the upper-60s. But still…it was a nice change from the weather of the last week-to-ten-days, which had felt more like late spring than Frosty the Snowman.

  Grant had already done four beach rides so far today. The change in the weather seemed good for business. For a moment, though, the sand was deserted. Grant handed Chewie a carrot and walked down to the shoreline.

  The heels of his boots sunk into the brown softness below his feet.
He’d decided to wear another Christmas-themed T-shirt today instead of his more traditional clothes. For some reason, people expected him to “look” like a cowboy when they came to ride. They seemed to trust him more when he looked the part.

  But today was December 22. A T-shirt that looked like a tacky Christmas sweater seemed like the perfect sartorial choice.

  Grant looked down at the screened-on reindeer jumping across his diaphragm area. His sister Brinley had given each of her brothers one of these three years ago, and then insisted they all take a photo together. He and Tucker and Josh picked Brinley up and held her horizontally while they all laughed. Her then-fiancé, Brett, snapped the photo while Anna and Bart McCray looked on.

  It was the last Christmas they’d all spent together.

  It was the last Christmas he’d made a Christmas wish and believed it could come true.

  Despite the slogan on the shirt he’d worn to The Seahorse, he had stopped believing. And he knew it. His mom and dad were gone. His brother-in-law was gone. The ranch he loved was about to be gone. And he just didn’t even feel like he knew the three siblings that were in the photo with him.

  Did he even have enough faith for another Christmas wish?

  Grant scuffed at the sand with the rounded toe of his worn brown-leather boot.

  Faith. There was a word that hadn’t crossed his mind in a while.

  When Grant was young, Anna made sure her four children sat in a row every Sunday. Even as they all grew older and pursued separate interests and lives, church on Sunday had still brought them all back together. Well, that and the promise of one of Anna’s Sunday dinners.

  He hadn’t stepped in a church since he walked out as a pallbearer in Bart’s funeral.

  He didn’t have faith in much anymore. Not in the family members he had left. If he was honest, he didn’t even really have it in himself. If he believed in himself, wouldn’t he have stayed and made sure his voice was heard in the discussions about the future of Blue Creek Ranch?