A Cowboy for Christmas

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A Cowboy for Christmas Page 2

by Stella Bagwell


  He’d taken a chance on ruining his expensive clothing to rescue her from the wrecked car. That surprised her. All the men she knew would have stood back and waited for an emergency unit to arrive.

  She let out a sigh. Maybe this man could be trusted. She prayed to God that he could be. “I’ve obviously interrupted your evening. Were you going to a party?”

  “I was at a party. Until I went out for more lamb fries.”

  “Lamb fries?”

  From the look on her face it was obvious to Chance that she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “Yeah. They’re, uh—a certain part of the bull that’s considered a delicacy. Sarah Jane just had to have them. It’s her engagement party, you see. She doesn’t realize there’s a blizzard going on out here.”

  He motioned to a grocery sack sitting between them. “Once the guests finish these off, that’s it. I say let ‘em fill up on steak.”

  Some woman named Sarah Jane wanted lamb fries, something that had nothing to do with a lamb, so this handsome hunk with his molasses voice had braved a blizzard to go get them and had rescued another damsel in distress along the way. Were all Texas cowboys like this one? Or was Charles “Chance” Delacroix something special?

  Chapter Two

  The home Chance Delacroix called the D Bar D turned out to be a sprawling Spanish-style ranch house. Along the driveway leading up to it, a maze of vehicles were parked at every available angle. It looked as if some guests had just left and others were in the process of leaving.

  Lucinda stared in awe as Chance brought the pickup to a stop behind a dark green Jaguar. She’d known, just by looking at his clothes and the luxurious pickup they were riding in, that he wasn’t a poor man. But she hadn’t expected him to live this well!

  “Do you think you can walk? Or do I need to carry you into the house?”

  She darted him an anxious glance. “Do I have to? Go in there, I mean?”

  He frowned as she inclined her head toward the brightly lit house.

  “Where the hell would you want to go? Other than the house, there’s only barns and stables and they aren’t much warmer than being outside.”

  Lucinda had driven well over a thousand miles in the past two days. She was bone weary and now her car was wrecked and her foot was throbbing. She wished he could see that she wasn’t in any shape to walk into the middle of an engagement party.

  Clutching her coat protectively against her, she said, “I—I’d really rather—could I just sit in the kitchen while you call a wrecker?”

  Biting down on a curse, Chance started to point out that she was being ridiculous, but something on her face stopped him. There was a haunted, vulnerable look in her eyes that tugged at him in spite of the fact that he normally couldn’t abide a helpless woman.

  Without a word, he jerked the gearshift into reverse, pulled away from the Jaguar and started around a driveway that led to the back of the house.

  Oh brother, now he thought she was being ungrateful, Lucinda thought with a silent groan, and that was the last impression she wanted to give him.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m being a bother. It’s just that I’m not up to meeting a roomful of strangers.”

  Her apology made Chance feel like a heel, though he wasn’t quite sure why.

  “Hell, don’t apologize,” he said more gruffly than he intended. “It isn’t your fault that a party is going on.”

  He killed the engine and Lucinda scooted to the edge of the seat.

  “It isn’t your fault that I ran into the ditch, either,” she told him. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t stopped to help me.”

  By now the inside of her car would be ice-cold. Even if the motor had started, she wouldn’t have been able to drive it out of the ditch. And trying to walk in the blizzard with an injured foot would have been asking for deep trouble.

  The sobering thought sent a shiver of fear through her. She looked at him and tried her best to smile, though she could feel her lips trembling. “I’d be glad to pay you for all your trouble. But that sounds pretty pathetic, doesn’t it, when we both know you probably saved my life?”

  Chance frowned at her. She was making him out to be some sort of hero. And that made him very uncomfortable. The last thing Chance could ever be was a hero. Especially to a woman.

  Turning away from her, he reached for the door handle. “Keep your money. You can repay me by staying off the roads in weather like this.”

  Before she could say more, he climbed out of the truck and came around to her side. Lucinda quickly opened the door and lowered her feet toward the snowy ground below.

  “Wait,” he said as she started to slide out of the truck. “You’d better let me carry you.”

  Lucinda didn’t want him to carry her. She wasn’t exactly sure why. She only knew that he was big and strong and male. The idea of being that close again to him left her feeling awkward and hot faced.

  “I—I can probably walk,” she quickly blurted, and slid the rest of the way to the ground before he had a chance to reach for her.

  “Ooh!” The one word came out in a shocked gasp as her injured foot took her weight.

  Cursing under his breath, Chance didn’t wait for her permission; he swung her up into his arms and started toward the house.

  “It always feels good to prove a point, doesn’t it?” he asked mockingly.

  Trying her best to ignore him, Lucinda gritted her teeth as the pain in her foot shot through her leg, then gradually began to subside.

  “I know you’re anxious to get back to your fiancée,” she told him. “As soon as you get me inside to a telephone, I’ll be all right and you can return to your party.”

  As Chance stepped upon the porch and walked along its length to his private entrance, with Lucinda still in his arms, it dawned on him that she believed he was celebrating his own engagement. Which didn’t really matter, he supposed. He didn’t know this woman and she’d be leaving as soon as a wrecker pulled her car from the ditch. Still, he didn’t like her thinking he was engaged. He wasn’t a marrying man and he made sure everyone knew that.

  “Sorry, but you’re wrong on two counts. I don’t have a fiancée and a telephone isn’t all you need.”

  He walked through a side door leading from the porch, fumbled for a light switch, then carried Lucinda inside. From her lofty perch in his arms, she could see they were in a bedroom. From the masculine look of the pine furniture and sparse decorations, she could only guess the room was his.

  Knowing that only made her feel more awkward as he gently placed her down on the bed.

  “Now,” he said, taking a step back from her. “Stay right there and I’ll go get the doctor.”

  Lucinda’s heart gave an odd little thump inside her chest. He was looking at her as if he were almost pleased to see her lying on his bed. But that couldn’t be. He didn’t know her and it was hardly likely that he welcomed the intrusion she’d made on his evening.

  “Did you say doctor?”

  Before he could answer, she planted both hands on the mattress and vaulted to a sitting position. “Oh, please—I don’t want you to go back out in this weather. It’s too dangerous! Besides, I’ll be fine. Really. I don’t need a doctor.”

  She was practically pleading with him and Chance got the impression that she wasn’t at all used to having anyone help or look after her. But that could hardly be right. She was a beautiful woman. She’d probably always had men at her beck and call.

  Shaking his head at her, Chance put his hand on her shoulder and pressed her gently back down on the bed. “You let me decide what you need.”

  As Lucinda looked up at him, she was struck by how much larger he was than she’d first imagined. He had to be at least two or three inches over six feet and carrying two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Just looking at him sent a surge of adrenaline pouring through her, making her heart gallop beneath her breast. Not with fear. No. This man didn’t scare her. He excited her
in a way that made her feel warm and womanly and totally foolish.

  “Do you always have a habit of ordering women around?” she couldn’t help asking.

  One corner of his mouth lifted as though he found her question amusing. “Only stubborn Northerners. The women around here know when to let a man take care of them.”

  Certain that all the oxygen must have left the room, Lucinda drew in a deep breath. “And you know how to do that? Take care of a woman?”

  His eyebrows peaked as he slowly took in her long, disheveled hair, pale face and, finally, the shape of her legs encased in bright red leggings.

  “I guess I should know. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  Lucinda didn’t know exactly what he meant by that and she certainly wasn’t going to ask him. Just having him look at her in such a possessive, male way was enough to stain her cheeks with bright red heat.

  Chance could see that he’d embarrassed her and that surprised him. Modesty seemed to have gone out of style with most of the women he knew. Seeing the uncomfortable color on Lucinda Lambert’s face made him wonder just what kind of life she’d led up until now.

  “Don’t worry, Lucy,” he said, suddenly struck with a need to reassure her. “The D Bar D isn’t a bad place to be stranded.”

  Before Lucinda could say anything to that, he went on out the door that led into the main part of the house. Which was probably a good thing. Getting personal with a man like Chance Delacroix would be inviting trouble. And she already had enough of that to deal with.

  Sighing heavily, she looked around the large room. Surprisingly, most of the furniture was old. Since it was all in excellent condition, Lucinda knew it was very valued and had probably been handed down through family generations.

  A denim shirt was tossed across the arm of a wooden rocker, and several toiletry items were scattered on the dresser top. Photos looked at her from different perches around the room, but Lucinda was too far away to see them clearly, though she suspected they were probably all family. Chance Delacroix seemed that sort of man. Even if he wasn’t married or engaged.

  Closing her eyes, she rubbed her hands over her face. Dear God, how had she ended up here in this strange house, in the bed of a man she didn’t know? Her car was probably out of commission and from the way it felt, her foot, too. What was she going to do?

  She’d barely had time to consider the question when Chance walked back through the door. A tall, gray-haired man followed closely behind him.

  “Lucinda, this is Doc Campbell. He likes partying better than he does doctoring, but I talked him into looking at your foot.”

  “Hello, Doctor,” she greeted, grateful for the kind smile on his face.

  “Don’t listen to this one,” he told Lucinda, while jabbing his elbow back at Chance’s rib cage. “If he’s got his mouth open, he’s lying. And I ought to know, ‘cause I delivered him into this world.”

  Expecting him to look at her foot first, she was surprised when the doctor came and sat down on the side of the bed.

  Taking her hand in his, he said, “Chance, if you’ll be kind enough to go get my bag from my car, I’ll check this pretty young woman over.”

  To Lucinda he said, “Don’t worry your little head about a thing. You couldn’t have picked a better place to mend than the D Bar D.”

  To mend? She had no intentions of staying here long enough to mend, and from the scowl on Chance’s face, she knew he had no intentions of letting her.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Doc asked, glancing up at Chance, who was still standing a few steps away from them. “Are you waiting for the molasses to run? Get gone, boy.”

  Chance left the room and Lucinda was relieved to feel her heartbeat slow to a more normal pace. She didn’t know what it was about the man, but he definitely unsettled her.

  “Now tell me about this car accident,” the doctor spoke up. “Chance mentioned that you were a little rattled when he found you.”

  Glad to put her mind on anything other than her dark rescuer, Lucinda nodded and proceeded to tell him what had happened up until the moment Chance had found her in the car.

  She’d barely gotten the whole story out when the door leading from the porch opened and Chance entered the bedroom. Snow and sleet covered his clothes and the black bag he handed to the doctor.

  The older man grabbed the medical bag and shook it in a way that reminded Lucinda of a dog ridding its coat of water. “You’d better get out of those clothes, Chance, or you’ll be in bed here with Miss Lucinda.”

  “If that’s the case, maybe I should leave them on,” Chance said.

  Lucinda’s gaze whipped over to where Chance was hanging his snow-damp Stetson on a hat rack. There was a smile on his face. Or maybe it was closer to a mocking grin, she thought. Either way, it was the first one she’d seen on the man tonight.

  If his words and the twist to his lips hadn’t been so suggestive she would have let her eyes linger on the raw good looks of his face. But the idea of being in bed with him was such a provocative one, she had to lower her eyes back to the doctor and safer ground.

  “Get out of here, Chance, and let me examine my patient,” Doc told him. “And when you get done changing your clothes, bring us back some brandy. I expect this young woman could use a bit of warming.”

  Chance winked at Lucinda. “Doc, you’re gonna give Lucy the wrong impression. She’ll be thinking you’re the boss around here instead of me.”

  Lucinda couldn’t remember when a man had ever winked at her. Was he actually flirting? Or had he simply been trying to tell her that Dr. Campbell was a longtime friend and that’s why he put up with the old man’s orders? Whatever the reason, that wink had left Lucinda feeling strangely hot and bothered.

  Dr. Campbell chuckled softly. “Maybe if your mama would marry me I’d help you do a little bit of bossin’ around here. But as it is, I guess you’re the only top dog on the D Bar D.”

  Crossing to a closet, Chance pulled out a pair of jeans and a red shirt. “I wouldn’t worry, Doc. Mama will come around to marrying you one of these days,” he said, then added as he started out the door, “I’ll bring that brandy back in a few minutes.”

  Once Chance was totally out of sight, Lucinda exhaled an unconscious sigh and closed her eyes. That man had about as much presence as the winter blizzard wailing out there over the plains. And she was stupid for letting it affect her.

  Dr. Campbell pulled out a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff. While he wrapped it around her upper arm, he glanced at her swollen ankle. “I know you’re more worried about your foot than anything. I’ll get to that in a minute.”

  Lucinda tried to relax as he pumped up the cuff and listened to the fold of her arm. After a moment, he gave a satisfied grunt. “Just a little elevated, but I’ll blame that on Chance. He seems to do that to all the women.”

  “He’s—certainly not like any of the men I knew back in Chicago.”

  The doctor laughed. “No, I expect not.” Flashing a pin light in her eyes, he continued to talk. “Chance isn’t always easy to read. But he’s a good man. I used to be a bit like him myself. But thirty-five years does a lot to a man. I’ll bet you wouldn’t believe I was a favorite beau among all the young ladies in this county.”

  “I’m sure I could believe it,” Lucinda said politely, while thinking she’d never had a doctor like this one. Even though he was obviously in his sixties he was still a handsome man. His clothes were expensive and tasteful and she knew in spite of his casual demeanor he was a very educated man.

  “Is—Mr. Delacroix always this way?” she asked as the doctor put away his light.

  With his palm, he pressed down on her abdomen. “What do you mean?”

  Lucinda licked her lips. She shouldn’t be asking the doctor anything about Chance Delacroix. But since she was now in the man’s house, she didn’t think a question or two was that out of place. “Well, I mean, does he go out of his way to help people? He could have driven on by me t
onight.”

  “Like I said, Chance is a good man. He doesn’t know it, but he is. His father was a generous man, too. God rest his soul.” The doctor suddenly looked up at her. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  The question left her with an overwhelming sense of relief that things between her and Richard hadn’t gotten that far. “No. There’s no possibility of that. Why, is something wrong?”

  He gave her a reassuring smile. “Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t a little one in there that had been shook up.”

  The doctor turned his attention to her foot. Lucinda winced with pain as he took it between his hands and flexed it first one way and then the other.

  “You trying to break it more, Doc?”

  Through the pain, Lucinda heard Chance’s voice coming into the room. She opened her eyes to see he was carrying a tray holding a cut glass decanter, three matching glasses and a plate of food.

  Lucinda had thought him attractive before in his dress shirt and trousers, but now in jeans and a red cotton shirt with its long sleeves rolled back against his forearms, he looked like a handsome devil. One that knew it perhaps, but would never think of flaunting it.

  “I’ve been a doctor for nearly forty years, Chance. I think I know a little bit about what I’m doin’.”

  Chance placed the tray on a table beside the bed then stood by Lucinda’s shoulder as the doctor finished his examination. While he’d been out of the room changing clothes and waiting for his mother to fix a plate of food, he’d kept telling himself that the little northern snowbird he’d found in the ditch wasn’t really that pretty. She was just an ordinary young woman who didn’t have enough common sense to stay off the highway during a blizzard. But now that Chance was close to her once again, he had to admit to himself that there was nothing ordinary about her.

  The red mohair coat she’d hurriedly thrown around her shoulders was now tossed, along with her purse, to one side of the bed. The loosely knit sweater she was wearing came down to her thighs and was black. Buttons lined the front of the garment and all were fastened, except for the top three where the collar fell away from her throat. Her skin was ivory pale, making the red velvet ribbon she wore as a choker around her neck even brighter.

 

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