A Christmas Cowboy to Keep

by Hebby Roman

  Skye nodded. “I see.”

  Wouldn’t Fogle love to know whose bed Skye had been warming recently? But that was her business.

  She knew enough about contracts and negotiating that until she did her due diligence and read through everything, she couldn’t make an assumption on Carrigan’s guilt or innocence in the matter between him and Mrs. Pendleton.

  She didn’t want to believe that perhaps he’d taken advantage of an old lady in declining health, but unfortunately, that could happen. And despite Mrs. Pendleton’s many bad traits in dealing with the community in the past few decades, the fact of the matter was that she had entrusted Skye to do right by her property.

  And Skye would do just that. If Fogle’s calculations were correct, the land and the house was worth about three million. There was no mortgage or active liens.

  Had Carrigan known about the inheritance before he’d dragged her into the men’s room at the country club? She didn’t think so. That would mean he’d been lying to her all this time. But hadn’t she deceived him as well by not telling him that she owned the property?

  Skye gathered the documents and put them in her briefcase, then pushed her chair out and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Fogle.”

  He shook her hand. “I’ll be in touch as things progress. Since you don’t live in town any longer, I’m guessing that you’ll want to sell the property. I can put you in touch with a good realtor.”

  As they walked out of the conference room and down the hallway, she said, “Actually, I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I’ll let you know if I need a contact.”

  They rounded the corner to the reception area and Skye stopped abruptly. “Joe?”

  Carrigan was seated on one of the couches but shot to his feet when he saw her. “Skye.” His brow furrowed. “Was this your appointment? Did you have lawyer business?”

  “Of a sort.”

  “Do you both know each other?” Mr. Fogle asked.

  Joe’s gaze made her heart skip a beat. “You could say that,” he said.

  Skye turned to Fogle. “Yes, I’m sorry I didn’t mention it during our talk.” But why was Joe here? Especially after the way Fogle had described Mrs. Pendleton’s assessment of the Carrigan men?

  “Well, then this might mitigate our meeting, Mr. Carrigan,” Fogle said.

  “And why’s that?” Joe asked.

  “Because the new owner of the Pendleton property is Ms. Mallory.”

  Surprise crossed Carrigan’s face. “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Skye replied.

  * * *

  Joe waited until the waitress placed two cups of coffee on the table before addressing the giant elephant in the room. Skye didn’t seem in any hurry to talk.

  To say he was shocked that Skye not only had inherited the Pendleton Ranch but also had neglected to tell him was an understatement.

  “Have you known the whole time you’ve been here?” he asked.

  She added cream and sugar, avoiding his gaze. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She took a sip of her coffee and shrugged. “I didn’t really tell anyone.”

  While their relationship was new—barely off the ground, really—it still stung that she hadn’t confided in him.

  “Why did she leave it to you?” he asked.

  She started to speak, then appeared to dismiss it, opening her mouth again only to furrow her forehead. She almost looked in pain.

  “To be honest, I really don’t know,” she finally said. “Our families were always on friendly terms and I genuinely liked her when I was young, but I hadn’t seen her in a while.” She took another sip of her coffee. “It would seem that the disagreements between you and her pushed her to finally make a will.”

  “And name you the beneficiary?”

  Skye narrowed her gaze and jutted her chin. “Apparently, she was never fond of you Carrigans. Your mother certainly confirmed that last night.”

  “And she thought you would protect the land from me?” This whole thing was becoming more bizarre by the minute. “Skye, I never had a grudge against the woman.”

  “Did you file a lawsuit for broken grazing leases?” Her eyes held a glint of accusation.

  “Yes.” He frowned. “Look, if you think I was trying to indiscriminately hurt a little old lady, you’re wrong. But she was wrong to break the leases. Did your dad tell you that she also broke his leases?”

  “No.”

  He scrubbed a hand across his face, then rested his arms on the table. “Probably because shortly after, she reinstated his but not mine. I filed the lawsuit to protect my interests. I was more than willing to negotiate with her, but she wouldn’t even talk to me. And then, near the end, she really wasn’t of sound mind. I was very sorry that she died, but I went to Fogle’s office today to find out who the new owner was so that I could talk to them. Which I guess is you. I’m willing to forgive you for not telling me. So, can we try to resolve this?”

  “You’re willing to forgive me?” Skye said. “I didn’t owe you an explanation. To be honest, this was none of your business.”

  “Like hell. We’re more than friends now.”

  She took a deep breath. “Look, until I have a chance to look through the paperwork that Fogle gave me, I can’t discuss this with you. And we shouldn’t … continue our relationship. Because it’s distracting and a little unethical at this point.”

  “Wait.” His head was spinning. “It’s not like I committed a crime. We can still see each other. This is crazy, Skye.”

  Her cellphone rang. When she looked at the caller ID, her face pinched in clear frustration. “It’s work. I have to take this.” She answered the call. “This is Skye.”

  Whoever was on the other line did the talking while Skye nodded, voicing a litany of yes sirs until she finally hung up.

  With her face taut, she said, “I have to go back to Denver.”

  “Now? I thought you were here until Christmas.” Her business-like demeanor was putting distance between them, and he didn’t like it.

  “I’m in the doghouse at work. It’s a long story.”

  “And you don’t want to tell me about that either, do you?” He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but it grated along the edge of his voice anyway. “Tell me something. If I hadn’t run into you at the attorney’s office this morning, were you going to tell me about the will?”

  “Yes. I was going to talk to you today after I’d spoken with Fogle. I wanted to understand what was going on first.”

  “You could’ve asked me.”

  “I feel an obligation to do the right thing.” She chewed on her lower lip then released a deep breath. “Look, give me a few days to study the situation and assess the legal problems.”

  A sense of foreboding that had hung over him in high school resurfaced. It had been why he’d stayed away from her all those years ago, because deep down he’d always felt that Skye was too good for him.

  And she had just treated him as such.

  It wasn’t going to work with her, was it?

  Pain sliced through him.

  He committed to memory the blue of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the elegant contours of her neck. She was more beautiful than he had ever remembered. In the instant he’d learned she had inherited Mrs. Pendleton’s property, a rush of elation had hit him, because it meant that maybe, just maybe, she’d return—permanently. She could live here, right next door to him, until he could convince her to live with him.

  Because, God help him, he wanted her for more than a casual fling.

  But he’d always known her ambition would take her far from Durango. And in his heart, he was a rancher. Even when she’d tutored him back then, trying to give him a leg up on his future, he’d yearned for a simpler and quieter life.

  Nine years ago, he’d had the strength to walk away from her.

  Now, he had to do it again.

&nbs
p; His heart screamed mutiny, but he ignored it.

  He was a cowboy. He’d always be a cowboy.

  “When are you leaving?” he asked.

  “Today.”

  “Then you’d better get going.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “He won’t take my calls.” Skye shifted her cellphone to her other ear and leaned back on the plush couch, tugging a blanket atop her. It was December 23 and blustery weather howled outside her Denver condo.

  “According to Ollie,” Celeste said, “Joe has been a real bear since you left. I think the man misses you. Maybe he’s mad that you lied to him about the inheritance during your whirlwind weekend, and he’s upset you’re not taking his side on his problems with Mrs. Pendleton.”

  Skye had shared the events of the past two weeks with her best friend, finally confessing everything to her—about the Pendleton property, the litigation, her wild few days with Carrigan, and her issues at work.

  “I didn’t lie. Not exactly.” But maybe Celeste was right. She should have told him.

  The crinkle of a wrapper could be heard on the other end.

  “What are you eating?” Skye’s own hunger drove her curiosity. She’d been working long hours to help her firm finalize a deal with a new client out of San Francisco, and she’d been running herself ragged, knowing she had to prove herself to make up for the Dave-debacle.

  “A candy cane. Just getting into the spirit. Listen, from everything you’ve told me, two things are clear. You hate your job, and you want to be a ranch lady. Oh, and you’re in love with Carrigan. I guess that’s three things.”

  Skye sighed. Celeste spoke the truth, about all of it. “When did you become so wise?”

  “It’s a gift,” Celeste teased.

  “I’m worried that Joe will feel pressured by my moving back, as if it’s for him. He’s already rejected me once. What if this drives him away completely?”

  “Okay, look. Your voice lights up when you talk about the potential for Mrs. Pendleton’s property. I think she left it to you, because she knew that you were the best one to take care of the land. So, take ownership and definitely own that ship. As for Carrigan, you need to talk to him, face to face. Get your butt down here. Now!”

  “I’ll come tomorrow,” Skye said.

  “Great! I’ll see you Christmas Day. Ollie invited me to The Quarter-Circle for your mom’s famous ham.”

  Skye ended the call and rose from the couch with renewed purpose. She headed to her bedroom to pack.

  * * *

  Emotion filled Skye as she entered Mrs. Pendleton’s modest ranch house, a wave of stagnant air and misuse greeting her. It was as she remembered it with the antique furniture, the large collection of horse artwork that the older woman had favored, and the Native American trinkets displayed in glass cases. There was also the doll collection. She’d have to get Celeste over here after the holidays to have a look at it. Mr. Fogle had informed Skye when she’d stopped by his office on her way through Durango that the house contents—as well as any farm and ranching equipment—belonged to her.

  Regret washed over Skye. She hadn’t tried to visit the elderly woman when Mrs. Pendleton had gone into assisted living after injuring herself slipping off a bottom stair step. And then the dementia had set in at a frighteningly fast rate. Although, considering the trouble Joe had had with her, her faculties likely had been in decline much sooner.

  We never have enough time.

  A lump formed in Skye’s throat as she walked into the kitchen with its rustic oak cabinets and homey feel. A large window overlooked an idyllic meadow, creating a peaceful scene.

  It was Christmas Eve, and Skye envisioned future Christmases here—a fire blazing in the hearth, pies baking in the kitchen, and the sound of children.

  Skye couldn’t help but smile.

  She wanted this.

  A home, a ranch, a life.

  With Joe.

  She hoped …

  She had called him this morning, but it had once again gone to his voicemail. She’d left a message, telling him she was driving down and asking if she could stop by The Triple C later. While his radio silence was reminiscent of the pain of his rejection from long ago, she refused to think that this was the end. If she had to, she’d squat in his house until he was forced to talk to her.

  But first, she needed to come here, to be sure this was what she wanted.

  And it was.

  Now, no matter how her meeting with him went, she could stand strong in her decision to take possession of the Pendleton property. This was the direction she wanted her life to take. If it didn’t work out with Joe, then she would keep her chin up and go on. She’d done it before. She could do it again.

  Skye ventured into a room serving as an office with a large, dark-stained desk. Dust coated the banker’s lamp and pencil holder, along with a blank tablet of paper. She walked slowly around the solid piece of furniture, admiring the heavy wood and numerous iron accents, which looked hand-forged. She pulled the top right drawer open and was surprised to see a photo album resting inside that she had made for Mrs. Pendleton.

  She lifted it out and began to flip through the pages. It had been a handmade Christmas gift that Skye had crafted during high school, after Mrs. Pendleton had confided in her about losing her husband in a car accident long ago and her great sadness over never having had any children of her own. Wanting to give the dear woman a sense of family, Skye had shared the only one she had by making an album of her and Oliver.

  Once again, Skye fought back tears that Mrs. Pendleton had kept the gift all this time, ultimately returning the gesture with a present far more grandiose.

  Skye glanced upward. “Mrs. Pendleton, you win when it comes to Christmas gifts,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll take care of this place you called home for so long.”

  She was about to close the book when her gaze stopped on a photo of two boys and a girl—Ollie, Joe, and her. She was probably about ten years old, her hair pulled into a ponytail and her grin showcasing crooked front teeth before orthodontics had given her a better smile. She was hanging on a fencing gate beside Ollie and Joe. Only a year older than her, they were scrawnier versions of themselves. Skye marveled that her mom had allowed Ollie to sport such a ridiculous mop of shaggy hair, and Joe’s skinny arms protruding from a striped t-shirt bore no resemblance to the man’s solid physique today.

  The front door opened, startling Skye, and she peeked into the foyer. Joe stepped inside, his cowboy hat in his hand, and wiped his boots on the rug while looking at her.

  “I saw the Prius,” he said and gave a shake of his head. “You’ve really got to stop driving that in the snow.” He shut the door.

  At the sight of him, her heartbeat doubled its tune, putting the Little Drummer Boy to shame. She stepped into the foyer.

  “Hi, Carrigan. I was beginning to think I needed to send out smoke signals to get your attention.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Why did you come back?”

  For you, you big lug. Oh, sweet Santa Claus. Was he really going to make her beg?

  “Because I told you I would,” she replied, her back stiffening as her irritation climbed. “I haven’t been happy at my job for some time, so when I learned that I’d inherited all of this, my initial reaction was excitement. It seemed as if the guy upstairs was telling me that I should come back. And deep down I wanted to. But then I ran into you, and within one day you turned my world upside down.”

  “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  He remained rooted to his spot on the entryway rug, so Skye stepped closer to him.

  “I’m moving in,” she said. “And if you can’t handle it, then I’m sorry.”

  His dark eyes clouded with confusion. “Why would I not be able to handle it?”

  Skye planted her hands on her hips. “Because I’m guessing you think I’m putting pressure on you.”

  “Pressure
for what?”

  “For you! For us!” She threw up her hands. “We’ll be neighbors. And if our relationship has already crashed and burned, then we’ll be forced to watch the other one shack up with somebody else.”

  His face downshifted from stone-cold granite to fiery beast. “Like hell,” he grumbled. “If anybody’s shacking up with you, it’s me.”

  “Then why haven’t you returned any of my calls?” Her voice hitched and she nearly sobbed.

  He took a step toward her. “I didn’t want to hold you back, Skylar. I’m always going to be a rancher, and I didn’t want to force you into a life you didn’t really want. I’ve always known that about you. I knew it the night you kissed me back in high school. You were always headed to the big city.”

  “But what if I want to come back?” she asked quietly.

  “Then I’ll hold onto you and never let go.”

  “Promise?”

  He nodded. “I promise.”

  She moved into his arms and kissed him. As her mouth consumed his, her anxiety finally abated. He did want her. He hadn’t turned and run.

  The taste of him ignited her hunger and a burning need to get him into bed.

  “It’s much too cold to fool around in here,” she murmured against his mouth. The electricity was shut off and a sharp chill permeated the house.

  “When has location ever stopped us before?” His hands slipped underneath the edge of her tweed peacoat and dived into the waistband of her pants.

  When his icy fingers reached her flesh, she squealed. He laughed, and she stepped back to regroup. Joe leaned down to pick up his hat, which he’d lost hold of after she’d thrown herself into his arms.

  While getting naked with Carrigan made her think all kinds of wicked thoughts, she wasn’t quite ready to do the boom-boom in Mrs. Pendleton’s house.

  “I think I want to clean the place out a bit, put my own touch on it, before you knock me off my feet again.”