Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish (Harlequin American Romance)

by Mcdavid, Cathy

  “Not at all.”

  “She was worried you were going to fall,” Justin answered.

  “But I didn’t fall.”

  “You could have.” Again Justin replied for his sister.

  She glared at him.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me. It’s true.”

  “I break three or four horses a month,” Ethan said. “If not one of Clay’s rodeo stock, then a client’s horse. I’m good at my job.”

  “She gets scared easily.”

  “All right!” Caitlin snapped. “I do get scared easily. Who wouldn’t? The horse was going crazy.”

  Ethan liked that she worried about him. It was another sign she cared. What he didn’t like was her disapproval, which was tarnishing an otherwise memorable day for him and his family.

  “You’re upset with me,” she said.

  “Of course not.” Only he was.

  “Here we go,” Justin announced enthusiastically, and passed Ethan his phone.

  There were five photos, two fuzzy and out of focus. In one, Ethan’s head and Prince’s legs were cut off. The remaining two were quite good for having been taken with a cell phone.

  He tried to see his ride through Caitlin’s eyes. Prince, his nose to the ground, his back legs straight up in the air, could appear dangerous to a novice. But not once had Ethan lost control or so much as slipped in the saddle. Surely she’d seen that. Everyone else had, and was thrilled and excited for him.

  “Thanks, bud.” He returned the phone to Justin.

  “I can email these to you if you want.”

  “That’d be great. I’ll have Gavin post them on the ranch’s website.”

  “Hey, Caitlin!” Howard hollered though cupped hands. “We have a problem.”

  “I need to go.” She started out at a brisk walk.

  “Wait!” Ethan went after her, cursing himself.

  She stopped and pivoted slowly.

  “Why can’t you be happy for me?” he asked.

  “I am.”

  “You have a strange way of showing it. I rode Prince. I’m fine. Not a single scratch.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I get that you’re scared.”

  “I don’t think you do.” Her voice shook. “I don’t think you have the slightest inkling of how truly terrified I was, watching you ride.”

  “Caitlin—”

  “I admit it, I’m a neurotic mess.”

  “You’re not neurotic. A little obsessive, maybe.”

  “This isn’t a matter of whether my worrying is obsessive or reasonable.” She placed a hand over her heart. “It’s how I feel, and it won’t change or go away because you or I want it to.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” She walked away from him then.

  Ethan stared after her. Until that instant, he hadn’t believed their differences were insurmountable.

  No more.

  “GO EASY ON HER.”

  It took Ethan a few seconds to realize Justin had wheeled up beside him. “Yeah?”

  “She’s crazy about you.”

  It went both ways. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  Ethan wasn’t sure where he should go—after Caitlin, back to the stables or to the office. “You want a beer?”

  Justin glanced at his watch, shrugged, then grinned. “Sure. I’m not driving. Nothing motorized, anyway.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Neither said a word on the short walk to Ethan’s bunkhouse until they reached the porch.

  “Can you—”

  “No problem.”

  Justin reversed his wheelchair and backed it up to the bottom step. Leaning forward, he cranked the wheels and climbed the two short steps inch by grueling inch, the muscles in his arms straining.

  “You’re pretty good at that.”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.” Justin maneuvered the chair through the bunkhouse door, which was just wide enough to accommodate him. “This is nice,” he said, and parked himself adjacent to the couch.

  Why his sister constantly fretted about him, Ethan didn’t understand. Justin was obviously capable of handling himself.

  Ethan recalled his own months of rehab, learning how to stand, walk off a curb, climb a ladder, manage stairs. More than once he’d landed face-first on the floor.

  “Thanks,” Justin said, when he passed him a cold beer from the refrigerator.

  Ethan sank onto the couch and propped his feet on the old footlocker that served as a coffee table. The beer tasted good, and for several moments they savored it in silence.

  “It’s not Caitlin’s fault she’s the way she is,” Justin said finally.

  “It’s not your fault, either.”

  “Hell, no, it’s not.” He took a swig of beer. “She changed after the accident. We all did.”

  “I can relate.” Ethan lifted his bottle in a toast, which Justin returned.

  “Don’t take this wrong, okay? But when you lost your leg, your family wasn’t there. They didn’t see you at the hospital afterward.”

  That was true. Gavin had wanted to fly out to Germany, where Ethan had been transferred for surgery immediately after being stabilized. Unfortunately, the ranch was barely sustaining itself in those days, and they didn’t have the money to finance a trip to Tucson, much less halfway around the world.

  “Caitlin and my parents spent some pretty harrowing weeks while I was in a medically induced coma. They didn’t know if I’d survive, much less walk again.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Caitlin blamed herself, which was ridiculous. I chose to jump off that cliff. She had nothing to do with it. I was bound and determined to show everyone I wasn’t the loser they called me behind my back and to my face.”

  Justin’s need to prove himself in front of others was a lot like Ethan’s—except his attempt had ended in tragedy. Ethan had a decidedly different outcome in mind for himself.

  “Have you told her you don’t hold her responsible?”

  “Dude, I’ve practically had it engraved in stone. She doesn’t listen.”

  Ethan pondered Justin’s remark while finishing the last of his beer. “Want another one?”

  “Sure. Why not? I doubt Caitlin’s missing me.”

  “Caitlin or that girl? What’s her name?”

  “Tamiko.”

  “She’s cute.”

  “And has a boyfriend.”

  “You haven’t let anything stop you from doing what you want before now.” Ethan retrieved two fresh beers from the refrigerator.

  “Her boyfriend, Eric, may be dumber than a bag of hammers, but I think he can take me.”

  “It’s not his decision who she dates. It’s hers.”

  “You’re right.” Justin copied Ethan and raised his beer in a toast. “And the same could be said for you, my friend.”

  “About Caitlin?”

  “You want her. Don’t let anything stop you.”

  “I’m up against a lot more than a boyfriend. You saw her today. A five-ton steamroller couldn’t break through those walls she’s erected.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Me?” Ethan snorted. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  Justin laughed. “Tell you what, let’s make a deal. I’ll go after Tamiko and you go after my sister. Who knows? Maybe we’ll both get lucky.”

  Ethan stood and hitched up his jeans. “You’re on.”

  Justin’s challenge might have been issued in jest, but Ethan took it seriously. If any two people deserved a second chance, he and Caitlin did—and he was determined to see they got it.

  Chapter Nine

  “Is it gonna hurt?” The little girl’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears.

  “No, I promise, sweetie.” Caitlin dabbed antibiotic ointment onto the girl’s cut with a cotton swab. “There, see?”

  “Ow!” She jerked her knee away, although the ointment couldn’t possibly have stung.

  The cut wasn’t serious. Caitlin had seen far
worse this past week alone.

  “I don’t know how she fell.” The mother anxiously smoothed her daughter’s disheveled hair. “I swear she wasn’t out of my sight more than a minute.”

  “We were running, and Becky Lynn pushed me.”

  The girl sat in a folding chair, the same one Ethan had occupied when Caitlin had examined his shoulder, and again when she’d helped him put his prosthesis back on. She hoped to see him today—safe and sound after his ride, not in the first-aid station for a third time.

  “You and Becky Lynn have to be careful.” The mother hovered, watching every move as Caitlin placed a bandage over the cut and pressed down on the adhesive tabs. “There are a lot of people here today. You shouldn’t be running around and not paying attention.”

  There were a lot of people. Caitlin hadn’t known how many to expect, considering this was Clay’s first jackpot. Someone mentioned fifty-six entrants had registered and by Caitlin’s estimation at least two hundred people packed the bleachers.

  The little girl was Caitlin’s second patient this afternoon, and the event hadn’t officially started yet. She’d also treated one of Clay’s wranglers after a bull stomped on his foot while they were transferring livestock from the paddocks to the holding pens behind the chutes. Though the cowboy’s foot was only bruised and not broken, she’d advised him to take it easy for the rest of the day.

  FYI, he hadn’t. She’d seen him twice so far, limping as he went about his tasks.

  He reminded her of Ethan.

  “Can I go now?”

  “Sure thing.” Caitlin rolled down the little girl’s pant leg, covering the bandage.

  She hopped off the chair and flexed her knee as if testing the bandage’s sticking power.

  “What do I owe you?” her mother asked.

  “Not a thing. It’s part of the service.”

  “You sure? I really appreciate the help.”

  “If you’d like, you can make a donation to the Powells’ Wild Mustang Sanctuary. There’s a collection jar at the chuck wagon.”

  “I will.” The woman’s tentative smile bloomed.

  Her daughter tugged on her hand. “Hurry, Mommy. We don’t want to miss Daddy’s ride.”

  “Oh, honey, don’t worry. The bull riders go last, after the bronc riders.”

  Caitlin thought of Ethan breaking Prince yesterday.

  “Isn’t it hard watching your husband ride bulls?” she asked the woman, surprised at the boldness of her question. “Aren’t you afraid for him?”

  “’Course I’m afraid. I start shaking the second that chute opens, and don’t stop till he waves at me from the other side of the arena fence.”

  “Why put yourself through that?”

  Why let him do it? was what she really wanted to know.

  “My Micky’s no champion bull rider and not likely to ever be one. These jackpots, they’re his moment to shine, you know? For eight seconds, he’s king of the world. I wouldn’t dare miss it, and I wouldn’t dare take it away from him, either.”

  “Mommy!” The little girl tugged harder on her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “You be careful,” Caitlin told the girl. “I don’t want to see you back here.”

  “And I’ll be sure to put a donation in that collection jar,” the mother promised as they left.

  Caitlin spent the next several minutes cleaning up after her patient and thinking about the woman’s remarks. Her support of her husband was admirable. But what if he fell and hurt himself? His loving wife and beautiful daughter depended on him. He put not only himself at risk when he went into the arena, but his family, too.

  “Hey.” Clay’s large frame filled the doorway. “I see you’ve had a couple visitors already today.”

  “Your wrangler T.J. was one of them. He should be resting somewhere, elevating and icing that foot,” she admonished.

  “I told him to take the day off.”

  “FYI, he didn’t listen to you.”

  “He needs the money, Caitlin. It’s a tough economy, and he has bills to pay.”

  “Right.”

  “You annoyed at me specifically or the world in general?”

  “Sorry.” Caitlin was immediately contrite. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Does your mood have anything to do with Ethan competing?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You sure?” Clay stepped fully into the room. “Because he mentioned you being mad at him. Something to do with breaking Prince yesterday.”

  Caitlin hadn’t been particularly close to Clay when they were younger, even though he was Ethan’s best friend. They were always in competition for Ethan’s time and attention. Caitlin had wanted him to herself, while Clay was constantly luring Ethan away for football or rodeo or fishing or a night out with the boys.

  Working for Clay, however, had changed their relationship. He really was a decent guy, and Caitlin felt bad that his brief marriage had ended disastrously.

  “A couple of weeks ago he injured his shoulder,” she told Clay. “Then his prosthesis came off. Next time could be a lot worse.”

  “He knows what he’s doing.”

  “He’s at a disadvantage. I heard him telling Justin at Thanksgiving dinner he sometimes has trouble keeping weight on his left leg, and it throws him off balance.”

  “He’s learned to compensate.”

  “How would you feel if something happened to him?”

  “Like shit,” Clay answered honestly. “But I wouldn’t blame myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Not even a little? You did give him permission to enter the jackpot.”

  “He’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions.”

  Ethan had tried to tell her the same thing about Justin. That he was the one who chose to jump off the cliff.

  But there was a difference. While Clay allowed Ethan to ride broncs and enter the jackpot, he hadn’t encouraged him. Goaded him. If anything, he’d discouraged Ethan.

  “You care, and that’s sweet.” Clay watched her as she meticulously organized the tray of supplies. “Did you ever think your constant worrying makes him feel like an invalid and not like the normal guy he wants to be?”

  Her hand slipped, knocking a box of gauze pads to the floor. She stooped to pick it up. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “I don’t think of him as an invalid.”

  “You just said he’s at a disadvantage because of his artificial leg. That sounds like you’re calling him an invalid.”

  “I’m not,” she argued hotly. “Not on purpose.”

  “Then go watch him compete. Saddle bronc riding is the first event.”

  “Leave the first-aid station? What if someone gets injured?”

  “This place isn’t that big.” Clay grinned affably. “We’ll find you.”

  “I…can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Watching him would be like giving my stamp of approval, and I don’t approve. It has nothing to do with his prosthesis. Anyone who climbs on a bull or bronc is an idiot in my opinion.”

  Clay’s response was a loud laugh.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “You’re right.” He promptly sobered, studying her intently.

  “What?”

  “I was just thinking how lucky Ethan is to have you.”

  “He doesn’t have me.”

  Clay laughed again. Her steely glare had no effect on silencing him.

  The overhead speakers did the trick when they came to life and a man’s crackling voice announced the start of the jackpot.

  “I’d better get going.” Clay hesitated at the door. “Hope you change your mind about watching Ethan.”

  “I won’t.”

  “This is a big moment for him. He wants you there.”

  Caitlin was still thinking about what Clay had said five minutes later as she listened to the announcer call the names of the first three contestants.

  How many
men were competing in bronc riding today and how soon until Ethan’s turn?

  What did it matter? She wasn’t going to watch him. She managed to stick to her guns until the announcer, during color commentary between participants, mentioned the Powells, their mustang sanctuary and Ethan’s military service.

  Caitlin dashed out the door and raced toward the area behind the bucking chutes where the cowboys typically gathered to debate the various merits of the bucking stock. He was there, engrossed in conversation with two men.

  He noticed her only when one of his companions elbowed him in the ribs and nodded in her direction. If he was surprised to see her, he hid it well.

  She slowed, her courage evaporating as quickly as it had come.

  He broke away from his friends and met her halfway, ignoring the good-humored jeers they hurled after him.

  “Hey.”

  “I…uh…” She tipped her head back in order to see his face, and promptly lost her train of thought. His dark eyes had a way of doing that to her.

  “If you’re here to tell me I shouldn’t ride, you’ve wasted a trip.”

  “I’m not.”

  His brows rose. “Good.”

  “I didn’t want you getting on that horse thinking I was mad at you. I’m not, and I apologize for my behavior yesterday. I really am happy you broke Prince and proud that you’re competing today.”

  “Thanks.” His mouth lifted in a sexy, knee-weakening grin. “Don’t suppose I could have a kiss. For luck.”

  She should have seen that coming. “How ’bout a hug?”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Determined not to lose control as she had during their last hug, she looped her arms around his neck, her spine ramrod straight, her cheek averted. She lasted two full seconds before her entire body melted with a gentle sigh and she relaxed into his embrace.

  When they parted, he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m going the full eight seconds.”

  “I just want you to be safe.” Her voice quavered.

  “I can do both.”

  She carried that promise with her to the stands, where she perched on the front row of the bleachers, her foot tapping nervously.

  ETHAN WATCHED CAITLIN walk away, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie, her slim shoulders hunched. It wasn’t cold. In fact, the sun shone brightly in a perfect, cloudless sky. But Caitlin looked cold.