A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Boones of Texas, Book 1)

by Sasha Summers

  “Good.” Dara sighed. “I’m more interested in learning to drive and what my first kiss will be like.”

  Josie, Annabeth and Lola shared a smile.

  “Sounds about right to me.” Lola gave Dara a one-armed hug.

  “You remember your first kiss?” Dara asked Lola.

  “Of course I do.” Lola nodded, moving cookies from the baking pan to the cooling rack. “It was with Theodore Boone.”

  “Really?” Josie glanced at the woman.

  “Do tell,” Annabeth said as she washed her hands before jumping into the cookie making.

  Lola nodded, a look of pride on her face. “I was a looker and the menfolk were all very flattering. Of course, Magnolia hadn’t moved to town yet, so I didn’t have much competition. But he was sweet on me. So was my Henry. In the end, Henry was the right pick—even if Teddy was a better kisser.” She giggled. “Henry got better, in time. You have to train them right.”

  Josie laughed, taking note of Dara’s round eyes and startled expression.

  “Speaking of first kisses, I’m assuming Hunter was yours?” Lola asked Josie.

  Josie nodded, staring at the dough.

  “Take after his daddy?” Lola asked. “Meaning, he knows how to kiss a girl?”

  Dara made a strange little noise at the back of her throat.

  Annabeth giggled and Josie sighed. “Lola—”

  Lola looked back and forth between the younger women. “What?” She waved a dismissive hand at Josie. “Dara should know what she’s got to look forward to. It’s plain to see Eli’s sweet on her.”

  Dara squeaked this time.

  “Lola.” Josie couldn’t help but laugh then.

  “Fine, fine.” The older woman went back to rolling out a new batch of dough, grinning from ear to ear.

  After a few minutes of companionable silence, Dara asked, “Where’s Dr. Boone taking you tonight, Miss Stephens? Not much to do around here, unless you’re playing bingo.”

  Lola nodded. “And no offense to you, sweetie, but you two are too young to be hanging out with my crowd tonight.”

  “What?” Annabeth tossed some flour at Josie. “You’re going on a date?”

  “Yes.” Josie smiled. “I don’t know where we’re going or what we’re doing. He just said to wear something nice.”

  Lola looked thoughtful. Dara and Annabeth looked excited. So why did she feel petrified?

  “Nice?” Lola tapped her chin with one finger. “Hmm, sounds like he’s got something planned.”

  Josie nodded. That was why she’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, wondering what Hunter had planned—what he was thinking. No answers were coming, so she’d climbed out of bed and started baking. At 3:00 a.m. She stared down at her flour-covered shirt. “I’ll definitely need a shower.”

  Dara giggled. “Don’t worry, Miss Stephens. You’re one of the prettiest women I’ve ever met.”

  “Isn’t she?” Annabeth smiled.

  “And just as nice on the inside, too,” Lola agreed. “Where it matters most.” Lola looked at the young girl. “Don’t you let anyone tell you different, either, Dara, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Josie nodded in silent agreement with Lola. If her father was man enough to make an honest woman out of Lola Worley, she’d finally have the mother she always wanted. Lots of advice, love and willingness to lend a hand when needed. Nothing like her flesh-and-blood, look-but-don’t-touch mother.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about what you wear,” Lola said. “It’s clear that boy’s got it bad for you.”

  Lola’s words were hardly comforting. It’s not that she didn’t want Hunter to have feelings for her... Wait, she didn’t want that. Did she?

  Dara stopped piping icing onto the cookie and said, “That’s true, Miss Worley. The way he looks at you, Miss Stephens.” She sighed. “Like a present on Christmas morning. It’s like he wants to talk to you, you know? Really talk to you. Like he has something important to say, but he’s too nervous.”

  Josie stared at the girl, torn. Did Hunter really look at her like that?

  “He’s always looked at her like that.” Annabeth laughed. “He looks like that when he talks about her.”

  Lola arranged a fresh tray of cookies on the cooling rack. “It’s the way a man should look at the woman he loves—”

  “Lola,” Josie cut her off. “I think... I think I’ll wear a dress. Maybe?”

  “He’s not the only nervous one.” Lola nudged Dara.

  Dara glanced at Josie. “Is that normal? To feel all...” The girl shrugged. “Out of sorts, in a good way, of course. Like you can’t stop thinking about them. Even when you want to stomp on their foot and never talk to them again?” Dara added with a hint of agitation.

  It took a lot to keep Josie from laughing.

  “Oh, most definitely,” Lola agreed. “The more irate they make you, the fiercer the love is.”

  “Within reason, Dara,” Josie offered. “Fireworks are fun, but they can be destructive.”

  The others looked at her again, this time without the smiles.

  “How are things going with my father?” Josie asked, needing a diversion. And because she was curious.

  “You and Mr. Stephens?” Dara looked shocked.

  “It can happen,” Lola said. “Even at my age.”

  Dara shook her head. “I didn’t mean that, Miss Worley. I guess I didn’t think Mr. Stephens was all that aware of women.”

  “Oh, honey, men are always aware of women.” Lola started cutting out new cookies to put on the tray. “Some of them are too old to do anything about it.”

  Josie sincerely hoped her father did not fall into that category.

  “And some men have been too burned to know how to try again.” Lola was looking at her as she said that last part.

  “Maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe they should move on,” she murmured.

  “Man’s heart doesn’t always wander the way his eye does, Joselyn. I’d hazard to say quite a few fellas I know are far more true-blue than a lot of lady friends I have.” Lola put a new tray of cookies into the oven.

  “Listen to your heart,” Annabeth added.

  “Isn’t that a song?” Josie tried to tease.

  “Oh, stop it. I’m serious. Do what you can to make your heart and soul happy.” Annabeth spoke with such force Josie paused. Yes, Dara was young and naive and full of hope. But Annabeth and Lola had been married, happily. Maybe she shouldn’t dismiss what they had to say.

  What did she want? What did she really want?

  They spent the next few hours listening to music, sharing stories and laughing. They taught Dara to do the chicken dance. Lola taught them the twist. And Josie’s dad joined them long enough to share chicken and dumplings for lunch.

  “I’d best be heading home,” Lola said, hanging her apron on the hook by the counter. “Not much time to pull myself together before the festivities tonight.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” Josie said as she hugged the woman.

  “No problem at all.” Lola smiled. “You have fun tonight,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her.

  “I should probably head out, too.” Dara hung her apron beside Lola’s. She glanced at Josie. “The thing is, I really like Eli. Or I did. But now that he’s acting rude, I’m not so sure.”

  Annabeth looked at the young girl. “Eli’s been rude to you, too? I couldn’t believe the way he acted at Career Night.”

  “Oh, no, not me.” She blushed, shaking her head. “But toward you, Miss Stephens—”

  Josie shrugged. There was no denying the way Eli felt about her.

  “I know he’s worried his dad’s going to get his heart broken. Oops, sorry.” She looked at Josie. “I think it’s sweet that he wants to protect his dad, but not how he’s going about it. I mean, can’t he just talk to his dad? Can’t they come to some sort of understanding?”

  “Men don’t talk the way women do.” Annabeth sigh
ed. “They’ll work it out, eventually.”

  Josie felt sick to her stomach. What was she thinking? Why was she considering going out with Hunter, knowing that his son was dead set against her. She tried to smile at Dara. “Try not to be too hard on him, Dara. I know he’s a good kid.”

  “It’s natural for him to be worried. Maybe even a little jealous, too, since Hunter hasn’t been interested in another woman...well, ever.” Annabeth laughed. “You’re uncharted territory.”

  Josie nodded. “I need to talk to Eli. I would never come between him and his dad. He’s been lucky to have a strong family all his life. I don’t want him to think I’d try to change that.”

  Dara’s father showed up shortly afterward. Josie and Annabeth sent them on their way with a plate of Dara’s cookies.

  “You ready for tonight?” Annabeth asked. “Do we need to have the talk?”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “Um, I don’t think so.”

  “Just don’t get too far into your head, Josie. Try to have fun. Try to remember that this is the guy you loved with your whole heart.” She hugged Josie. “And try to remember that if you marry him you’ll live here and we can hang out and have fun.”

  The bakery was too quiet once Annabeth left. All Josie’s fears and insecurities reared up, reminding her how clearly wrong tonight was. She should get out of town earlier, put a few thousand miles between Hunter and her heart, for all their sakes. It was the right thing to do. Her dad was getting better now that he was listening to the doctor. And Lola was around to help keep him on the road to recovery. Now she needed a way out of tonight.

  The phone rang. “Pop’s Bakery,” she answered.

  “Wear your sexy underwear.” Annabeth’s voice was laced with laughter. “Not your cotton granny panties.”

  Josie groaned. “There will be no underwear viewing tonight.” She chewed on her lip. “As a matter of fact, my head is killing me—”

  “No, it’s not,” Annabeth argued.

  “Yes, it—”

  “Stop it, Josie,” Annabeth snapped. “You’re fine.”

  “It’s my head. I think I know when I’m getting a headache.”

  “Oh, please. You are chicken.”

  Josie sighed. “Maybe. A little.”

  “Well, that’s just pathetic. I have to get my kicks from naughty texts, while you’re passing up on the real deal.”

  Josie’s interest was piqued. “Naughty texts? With who?”

  “No one you’d know,” Annabeth huffed in exasperation. “Besides, texts can’t compare to actual kissing and touching. Period.”

  There was a pause.

  “Does your head really hurt?” Annabeth asked.

  Josie closed her eyes. “A little.”

  “Fine. Take Advil. Cancel tonight and add it to your list of regrets. Go to bed. Whatever.”

  “Gosh, thanks.”

  “You can’t expect me to support your life on the sidelines, Josie, you just can’t. Your dad is getting more action than you are.”

  “Um, gross.” Josie winced. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Sure, I guess,” Annabeth muttered. “I mean, if there’s anything to tell.”

  She hung up, put the cookies away and did a lightning-fast cleanup of the kitchen. She stopped to nudge her father awake before heading to the shower. A long, steamy, hot shower gave her time to consider her options. Lola and Annabeth said to listen to her heart, but Annabeth also said to listen to her libido. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, both her heart and her libido were supremely interested in spending the evening with Hunter Boone.

  She could cancel tonight, book a flight and leave first thing in the morning. But then she’d be letting people down...again. And, dammit, she didn’t want to be that sort of person. She didn’t want to be her mother.

  Okay, fine, then she was staying. She was going on the date with Hunter. And she was not going to overanalyze everything that happened.

  Her closet didn’t have much to offer. She’d packed for caregiving and nights in with her dad, not dates or a night on the town. She had one black dress, no frills. A clingy wrap dress that was cut low but traveled well. Her only real option.

  She laid the dress out on the bed and opened her underwear drawer. Pretty silky garments or practical cotton foundation wear. That was the real question.

  Chapter Eight

  Hunter tugged at the collar of his shirt, adjusting the collar and tie for the fifth time since he’d parked in front of Pop’s Bakery. He felt like an idiot. He was too old to be getting dressed up, to feel this tongue-tied and flustered.

  Eli was right. What was he thinking? A vision of his fuming, red-faced son didn’t ease the knot in his throat or the twist in his gut. They’d never argued like that, ever. The two of them were thick as thieves, working through any disagreement without losing their cool. He’d raised his son to be rational, looking at a situation from all sides, putting himself in the other person’s shoes and keeping an open mind. And, thank God, Eli was like him—no drama.

  But when it came to Jo, Amy had planted a seed of hate deep in his son. He hadn’t realized just how deep until Jo got here, until he saw the look in his son’s eyes and knew how much he blamed Jo for his and Amy’s divorce.

  Was he a bad father for leaving Eli angry and taking Jo on a date? Was he selfish for wanting time with her? Eli sure as hell thought so. Tonight was something Hunter had to do. If he didn’t try, if he let Jo slip away, the regret would cripple him.

  He pushed the truck door open, a blast of frosty wind forcing it wide. Pulling his jacket tight around him, he hurried up onto the porch, out of the wind. But then he froze, staring at the door, nervous and uncertain all over again.

  He was about to knock when he heard a strange thumping followed by a highly frustrated shriek.

  “Sprinkles!” He knew that sound. Jo was fit to be tied. And Hunter couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “Stop, dammit, I need that.”

  Clicking, probably Sprinkles nails on the wood floor, followed by more thumps. He knocked, but there was no answer. He waited, then eased the door open. “Hello?”

  “Come on, Sprinkles, give it to me.” Jo’s voice was muffled. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a treat.” Sprinkles barked in answer.

  He closed the door, sealing the cold out. “Jo?”

  “I swear, dog.” Each word was getting louder, less coaxing. “I will buy more face cream and leave it out just for you.”

  He chuckled, following the sound of her voice into the back of the house. “Jo?”

  “That’s it, Sprinkles,” she cooed. “Just a little closer.”

  He found her then. Halfway under her bed, her fuzzy robe revealing two long, toned legs and barely covering her mighty fine rump. “Jo?” He cleared his throat.

  Jo squeaked, rearing up. A distinct thud made him wince. “Damn, Jo, you okay?”

  Her groan was muffled. “I see stars.” She pushed herself out from under the bed, one hand coming up to hold her head.

  He knelt beside her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I knocked, I promise.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t hear you.”

  He nodded.

  Her face was screwed up tight from pain. “I’m not exactly ready.”

  “I got that.”

  She opened her eyes, scowling at him. “Damn dog ran off with my stockings. Once she’d decided she was done with them, she took off with my brush.”

  “How’d the stockings hold up?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “They’ll be good for tying up Dad’s tomato plants in the spring.” She rubbed her temple. “Ouch. Goose egg.”

  He leaned forward, noting the red welt rising along her hairline. “You always did have a knack for scrapes.” He tilted her head back, trying not to appreciate her bared creamy shoulder or the long curve of her graceful neck. “Let’s get some ice on that.”

  She sighed, pointing under the bed. “She still
has my brush. And unless this—” she pointed at herself “—is acceptable for a night out, I need it.”

  “Let’s get some ice.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “Then we’ll get the brush.” He pulled her up, catching a whiff of citrus and soap. She smelled like heaven.

  “I meant to be ready. I did.” She reached up to cradle her head. “That dog hates me.”

  Hunter chuckled. “She’s probably a little jealous of you.”

  Jo paused, disbelief plain on her face. “Jealous?”

  “Sure. You’re an interloper.” He led her into the kitchen, putting ice into a clean kitchen towel. “It’s natural for her to assert her dominance. Or try.”

  “I thought that meant peeing on my shoe or something.” Jo took the ice pack and pressed it to her head. “Thank you for the ice.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, Jo.”

  She smiled, waving his apology away. “I know.” Her expression changed, nerves and uncertainty clouding her clear gray eyes. She fidgeted, tugging her robe down while trying to smooth her hair. Her hand landed on one of the large rollers covering her head and her eyes went round. She froze, shook her head and sighed, closing her eyes. “My mother would die. No, no, she would disown me for this.” She pressed the ice to her forehead.

  He laughed. “I won’t tell.” He paused. “But I’ll see if I can get your brush for you. I don’t know if the museum has a dress code or not, but I’m pretty sure hair rollers and bathrobes aren’t on the short list.”

  She adjusted her ice pack so she could level him with a sexy-as-hell, narrow-eyed smile. “Museum?” She was interested, he could tell.

  “An Impressionist exhibition. A few Monets. Still your favorite?” Her anger gave way to surprise, then pleasure...then something else that was warm and promising. His lungs emptied, hard and fast.

  He stooped, breaking the connection to search cabinets. He didn’t want to get sidetracked from the night he’d planned. If he wasn’t careful, it’d be all too easy to get lost in her silver-gray eyes. He kept searching until he found the dog treats. “Good thing there’s a lock on this one.” He pulled the bag from the cabinet and shook it. Jo, he noticed, was pulling rollers from her hair and tucking them into her robe pockets. She was awkward and nervous and all sweet, soft woman.