“I’m in— I was in the shower.” She laughed airily. “I’m making a puddle on Dad’s floor as we speak.” Why was she sharing that information with him?
He chuckled. “Want me to call you back?”
Sprinkles jumped up.
“I’m out now.” The dog howled. “Sprinkles!” Sprinkles sat, staring at her. She ignored Hunter’s laugh. “What’s up?” Not that she wanted to know why he’d called...
“I was wondering how long you were going to be here.” He sounded hesitant.
“At least through Christmas... Then see how Dad is. Why?”
“Well, the FFA chapter here always builds a Christmas float and some of the parents thought it might be nice to build one around your books.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say.
“I’m in my truck right now—” He paused. “And I’m about to go by your place. Can I come in and show you what they came up with?”
“Oh, um...” I’m just wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. “Well...”
“Okay. See you in a sec.” And he hung up.
“Damn it.” She glared at the handset. “Damn it, damn it.”
Sprinkles barked.
“Joselyn Marie Stephens,” her father chastised her from the living room.
“Really, Dad?” She peered around the corner to find her father sitting in his recliner. “You’re right there and you couldn’t get the phone? And I’m almost thirty. I can say damn it. I could even say—”
There was a knock on the door. Sprinkles started barking like mad.
“Someone stopping by?” he asked.
“Shit,” she squealed, then almost tripped over Sprinkles and ran back into the bathroom.
“Come in,” she heard her dad call out. Or go home. She pulled her thick robe on and picked through her brown curls quickly. She rolled her eyes at her reflection. Chill. Relax. She straightened her shoulders and opened the door.
There was no help for it. She’d have to walk past the living room to get to her bedroom. Which meant Hunter would be treated to a view of her wrapped in her fluffy black-and-blue bathrobe. She could almost hear her mother scolding her. A single woman must always look her best when keeping company with a handsome man. Josie sighed, grabbed an extra towel and started drying up her watery path from the bathroom to the hall.
“Oh, hey.” Hunter laughed. “You really were in the shower.”
She turned, one eyebrow arched, all sarcasm. “What makes you say that?” A boy peered around Hunter then. And Josie felt her irritation slip.
This was him... Hunter’s son. She felt pain. Pain she thought she’d worked through years ago. She stared at the boy.
The boy stared back. He had Hunter’s intense gaze and startling eyes.
She held up a finger. “Let me get dressed.”
“We’re not going to stay long.” Hunter’s voice was soft.
She pulled her gaze from the boy, her toes curling into the area rug beneath her feet. “Well, you’re going to have to give me a second because I refuse to have a conversation with someone while I’m wearing a robe. Okay?” And she needed a minute to get a grip. She half ran to her room, almost tripped over Sprinkles again and closed the door without a sound. “Shit,” she murmured with feeling.
Dad needs me. That’s why I’m here. I don’t have to do this float or spend time with Hunter...or his beautiful son. But I do have to take care of Dad.
She pulled on her underwear and dug through the suitcase, then the piles of clothes all over her room. She sighed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a thermal shirt. A quick search unearthed her fuzzy pink bunny slippers, which she slipped on while she headed back to the waiting crew.
“It’s the best I could do in two minutes,” she muttered when she saw her father’s disapproving glance. “I’ll put on my hoopskirt and pearls next time, okay?”
The boy smiled briefly, while Hunter laughed.
“Nice to meet you.” She stuck her hand out to the boy. She couldn’t ignore him—she didn’t want to. He looked like a Boone, which was a good thing. If he’d looked like Amy... She swallowed. “I’m—”
“Joselyn,” her dad offered.
“Or Jo,” Hunter added.
“Or Josie, even.” She rolled her eyes.
“Eli,” he said, shaking her hand quickly. He nodded and then sat by her father on the couch.
The door opened and Josie felt a moment’s panic as she spun around. If it was Amy—
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Joselyn Stephens.” Two hands picked her up, holding her eye to eye with a large wall of a man.
“Fisher?” She couldn’t believe this...this person was Hunter’s little brother. “What happened to you?”
He smiled. “I drank milk.” He pulled her into a bear hug.
“By the truckload?” She hugged him back. “You look great.”
“I do.” He nodded.
She giggled, stepping away from him as he put her on the ground. “At least your sense of humor hasn’t changed.”
“Not that I mind you all stopping by, but can we start over so I know what’s going on?” her dad interrupted. He was a stickler for his routine. The bakery opened at six, so he was in bed by nine each and every evening. She glanced at the clock. It was ten after nine.
Hunter spoke first. “Christmas float time. FFA met tonight and came up with a few ideas. One of them was to build something around Josie’s story characters.”
Josie didn’t know where to look. If she looked at Hunter, she felt...all sorts of conflicting and overwhelming things. If she looked at Eli, she felt empty. And if she looked at her dad, she felt rumpled and unattractive. Fisher was her only option. He winked at her when she glanced his way. It helped.
“You don’t have to tell me it’s Christmastime. Christmas parade kicks off the Gingerbread Festival.” Her father winked at her. “Which means Josie and I will be up to our elbows in the stuff for the next week.”
“Can’t wait.” Josie smiled. “Bonding while baking is a family tradition.” She made the terrible mistake of looking Hunter’s way. Hunter, who was watching her. His crooked grin and cocked eyebrow stirred up a series of memories. A flash of him smiling at her while they floated down the river. Another of them lying on a blanket under the stars. Him teaching her to drive stick shift. Making love for the first time. Not thoughts I need to have right now. Her heart lodged itself in her throat.
“Family traditions are good.” Fisher grinned. “Even better if it puts food on the table, right? A man’s got to eat.”
“Which characters?” her father asked, turning to Eli.
Eli shrugged. “Thirty-four, probably. Since some of us have calves.”
“Thirty-four?” She tore her gaze from Hunter.
“It was Dad’s calf, right?” Eli asked.
Josie nodded, rattled. “Yes, his state champion calf.” Her gaze settled on Eli. He looked a lot like Hunter when they’d first met. Her heart hurt. “What can I do to help?”
“Well, we’re gonna build the float. But they—we—were wondering...” Eli was clearly uncomfortable. “Would you ride on it?”
She shook her head. “Um, I hate the spotlight, Eli.”
“It’s just a parade.” Eli’s eyes were scornful. “In Stonewall Crossing.”
“Come on, Josie,” her father said. “You wrote books about this place, the town and people.”
Fisher elbowed her. “You are a celebrity here, kind of.”
“And it’s for the kids,” her dad added.
She held her hands up. “Really, Dad? You’re going to play the for-the-kids card?”
Hunter laughed, sending a wave of awareness along her neck. “Nothing to add, H-Hunter?” She stumbled over his name. It was stupid. Not like she could call him Mr. Boone. It’s a name, for crying out loud. Saying it shouldn’t affect her, or send the slightest shiver down her spine.
His gaze traveled over her face before peering into her eyes. “You might make some good memorie
s before you go back. Something for a new book.”
She couldn’t look away. And she really needed to look away. He might not be grappling with memories, with need and want, but she sure as hell was.
“Come on, Josie. Live a little,” Fisher added.
She should say no, but Hunter had found her weakness. A new book... Wouldn’t that be something? Not that anyone knew she was in the midst of the longest creative drought of her career. That’s why she was considering the teaching position in New Mexico. She wanted to feel inspired again.
Maybe working on the float could help. At this point, it couldn’t hurt. Her career, anyway.
“So?” Eli’s question ended her tortured introspection.
“Yes.” She smiled at Eli as she spoke. “Thanks, Eli. I mean, it’s nice to feel special for my stories.” Don’t ask. Don’t ask. But she did. “Did you ever read them?” Thinking about Amy reading her stories to Eli made her stomach twist.
Eli looked at his dad. “Dad used to read me 34 and Floppy Feet all the time.”
Fisher snorted. “Hey, hey, now. I’ve read the cow one—”
“It’s called 34,” Hunter answered.
“Right, 34.” Fisher nodded at his brother. “A time or two, Eli.”
Eli grinned at his uncle.
Josie risked another glance at Hunter, but he was staring into the fire with a small smile on his face.
“That reminds me, Josie, Annabeth called from the elementary school earlier. She wants you to do a story time there.” Her father spoke up.
“I’d love that.” She smiled. Other than her father, Annabeth was the only one in Stonewall Crossing she’d kept in touch with after she’d left.
Hunter looked at her, his voice soft as he said, “The kids would, too, Jo.”
Jo. For an instant she wanted him to grab her and kiss her, just as he used to. When he’d kissed her, nothing else mattered. She nodded, staring into his eyes wordlessly.
“We should go, Dad. I’ve got a math test Monday morning.” Eli stood up. “Thanks for helping us out...Miss Stephens.”
She turned away from Hunter and beamed at the boy. “You really can call me Josie, Eli, please. I don’t like feeling old.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He barely glanced at her, his answering smile forced. “Thanks for the breakfast this morning, Mr. Stephens.”
“How’d you do?” her father asked.
“Eli got a one at the stock show.” Hunter smiled at his son, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He’s been working real hard with Bob, his steer. And the judges could tell.”
It was clear Hunter was a devoted father, just as she’d always known he’d be. Something hard settled in the pit of her stomach, a hollow, empty ache.
“I wasn’t the only one.” Eli’s cheeks were red. “Now there’s nothing big until after Christmas.”
“Time to get ready for the next one.” Her father winked at the boy. “You should be proud, Eli.”
“Thank you, sir.” Eli nodded and headed for the door.
“Don’t get up,” Josie said to her dad.
“Now, Josie—” her father started to argue.
“Dad.” She held her hand up.
“We know the way out. Don’t get Jo all worked up.” Hunter shook her father’s hand. “Have a good evening, Carl. Thanks for having us over.”
Her dad winked. “You’re welcome anytime, Hunter. You know that. You, too, Fisher.”
She knew her father cared for Hunter—he always had. After all, Hunter had been almost family. Her gut twisted. She led Hunter to the door, needing him to go—now.
“I know you’re a big-time author now, but I expect to see you some before you go.” Fisher hugged her again before following Eli out and into the truck.
Hunter lingered in the doorway. His gaze wandered over her face. “You and Carl want to come out to the ranch tomorrow? Have dinner with us? I’ve made a lot of changes.”
Josie stared at him, surprised. Did she want to go? No, she really didn’t. It would be awkward and painful. Us. She didn’t think she could handle seeing his family unit together, in a place she’d truly loved. Where Amy now lived. “I don’t—”
But her father interrupted her, loudly. “Sounds good.”
No, it doesn’t. It sounds like a nightmare. She mumbled, “Are you sure that’s okay?”
Hunter smiled that crooked smile. “It’s my home. Of course it’s okay. See you about six?”
She stood there, searching for some sort of excuse, while he climbed into his truck and drove away.
Chapter Two
Hunter didn’t say much on the drive back to the ranch. Fisher, who was never at a loss for words, kept Eli talking all things steers and Future Farmers of America. And Hunter was thankful for it. Spending time with Jo was harder than he’d expected. Leaving her was worse. If he could get her alone, if he could talk to her... What would he say? He was eleven years too late to apologize.
Fisher said good-night and headed to his place, leaving Eli to his homework and Hunter to his paperwork.
“I guess she is kinda pretty.” Eli sounded thoughtful.
“Who?” Hunter looked at his son over his laptop.
“Josie.” Eli gazed at the homework spread out on the table all around him. He tapped his pencil on the table, then added, “I guess I sorta get it. But Mom’s prettier.”
Hunter looked at his son. “Your mom is beautiful, Eli.” Amy had always been pretty—to look at. But her beauty was skin-deep. Underneath was something else entirely.
No point being negative. Chances are she’d be coming through town for the holidays. Sometimes it went well, sometimes it didn’t. But he wanted his son to have a relationship with his mom, no matter how he felt about his ex-wife.
“So are you going to date her?”
Hunter looked at his son again. “What?”
“Are you going to date Josie?” Eli’s bright eyes challenged his father unflinchingly.
“No.” No matter how much he wanted to. “She’ll be heading back after the holidays, anyway.” He kept his voice neutral.
“If she wasn’t leaving, would you?” Eli’s gaze continued to burn into his.
Hunter studied his son for a long time. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. “But I don’t know if she’d want to date me, kid. It’s not that easy, you know?”
“Why?” His son’s eyes narrowed a little.
He hedged. “It’s just not. Women are...complicated.”
Eli sighed and looked back at his homework. “I know.”
Hunter stared at the top of his son’s head. “What does that mean?”
“Woman are complicated.” Eli was bright red when he looked at his father. “I asked Dara if she’d have lunch with us...at the county show.”
Hunter bit back his smile. “Did she say no?”
Eli shook his head, then shrugged. “She didn’t say anything.”
“You should ask her again. You might have surprised her. What did you say?”
“I don’t know.” He paused, thinking. “Something like, ‘Have lunch with me at the next show.’”
Hunter nodded, fighting the urge to laugh.
“She just stood there, staring at me.” Eli looked at his paper.
“Did you ask her or tell her?”
Eli tapped his pencil again. “I think I asked her.”
“Ask her again.”
Eli frowned at his paper, the pencil tapping faster. “It’s no big deal. I gotta get this done.”
“Need help?”
Eli shook his head.
Hunter sat, trying to stare at his computer. His son had his first crush and he didn’t know what to tell him. He thought Dara was a nice enough girl, but they were both so young. And shy. Eli had probably scared the shit out of her, at the very least surprised her. But Hunter knew better than to push. If Eli was done talking about it, then they were done talking about it. Eli had homework and so did he.
He had a good group of fourth-ye
ar vet students, partly because he was so hard on them. The semester might be winding down, but clinical rotations weren’t. Not like the patients disappeared because it was winter break. If his students didn’t like it, they could take a look at the long waiting list of eager candidates waiting for any open spot to remind them of how lucky they were to be there, working through the holidays.
He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up and logged on to the University of East Texas website, then the College of Veterinary Medicine intranet to access his files. He had two classes of finals to grade and his caseload of patient files to review. His fourth-year students were doing most of the patient charting, but he had to check each and every note.
Most were spays and neuters. A couple of dogs with parvovirus. He glanced over their charts. Poor dogs had to be isolated and hooked up to an IV to keep hydrated. It was expensive to cure and messy to treat. All it took was one easy vaccination to prevent the whole thing.
He clicked ahead, skimming the fourth years’ notes. No errors so far. He closed those files, then opened Mars’s file. They were all getting attached to the sweet yellow Labrador. She’d been with them for two weeks now. Her owners had carried her in, bleeding and limp, after she’d been hit by a car. He hoped her paralysis was temporary, but the dog wasn’t improving the way he’d expected. They’d have to perform a cesarean soon. He didn’t have much hope for the three puppies she carried, but he prayed Mars survived. He added a note to schedule the surgery for next week and closed the file.
“Dad,” Eli said. “Did Uncle Fisher get the four-wheelers back?”
“Yes.” He glanced at his son. “But you’re not driving them.”
“Uncle Fisher would let me.” Eli frowned. “And Uncle Archer and Uncle Ryder would let me, too.”
“They might. But they’re not your father.” He nodded. “You’d best not bother them about it too much, or you’ll end up working this weekend.”
Eli smiled. “They wouldn’t make me do that. I’m their favorite nephew.”
“You’re their only nephew.” He chuckled.
“Harsh, Dad.” He laughed, too, then turned back to his homework.
“You’ll always be their favorite.” He worried about teasing his son sometimes.
A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Boones of Texas, Book 1) Page 2
