A Christmas Cowboy to Keep

by Hebby Roman

  It had been several months since seeing her mother, Nana and brother. Her father had already made a couple trips. First trip, he helped her drive there, and the second trip was to spend time with Jared and her soon to be father-in-law on a fishing trip.

  She’d lived there for over half a year and it was definitely the best decision of her life. Already she’d started a book club with a group of local women. She was involved in a wine tasting club and she had an office that looked out onto Main Street in downtown Missoula.

  Although technically she didn’t need an office, it was easier for her to adjust to a slower life by going somewhere busier than the quiet street where she and Jared lived.

  Now that she rented a small office space, she not only continued writing for the online magazine, but she’d also been hired as an editor for the local city magazine, which conveniently had its offices in the same building. They’d loved her experience in writing and explained they needed someone with fresh eyes to write about the town’s social scene.

  A group of loud people came from the parking area and bustled to where Carmen stood. A red-faced woman glared at who Carmen assumed was her husband. “I told you we’d be late. I bet the plane has already landed.”

  The group looked at the lighted arrivals board, all of them speaking at once about which flight whoever they were there to greet was on.

  Carmen moved away from them when one of the men proceeded to pick his nose and rub his fingers on his pants leg.

  The same man pointed to where passengers were appearing. “Here they come now.”

  The group moved forward, effectively blocking Carmen’s view of the doorway. She shifted from one side to the other, but they were rather large people.

  “Excuse me.” She tapped a woman’s shoulder. “I can’t see.”

  “It’s not a parade honey, you’ll be okay,” the woman screamed more than said. The same woman shoved a body out of her way. “I can’t see either. Move!”

  Someone came up behind Carmen and jabbed her arm. “Excuse me lady, I can’t see with all of you in the way.”

  Carmen blew out a breath and decided to go stand by the baggage claim. Her heel caught on something and she went backward. Out of pure reaction, she grabbed the woman in front of her who immediately lost her balance too.

  A man in the group tried to catch them, but instead of helping, they pulled him down with them.

  Thankfully, Carmen landed on something soft. Possibly, the person who’d tapped her on the shoulder. Unfortunately, two rather large people fell on top of her making it difficult to breathe.

  “Need assistance?”

  Above her, Jared’s face came into focus. “You really need to stay out of airports.” He pulled her to her feet while people helped with the others.

  “You made me fall,” the red-faced woman shouted at the same man she’d been irritated with earlier. “All you had to do was hold my arm, not do whatever you did.”

  The group lost interest in the fall when someone called out a name and every one rushed to greet their person.

  “Don’t tell my family what happened. They always rib me about being so accident prone.”

  Laughter broke out and she turned to find Nana in the center of the rambunctious group looking at someone’s cellphone.

  “You’re a hoot,” her Nana said, wiping tears from her eyes. “All that’s visible is a leg and your hair.”

  The drive from the airport was uneventful. Jared drove her father and brother and she her Nana and mother. All the way, they discussed last minute wedding items that needed to be done. The entire time, Carmen couldn’t stop grinning. It was a happy time.

  This was actually going to work out. Her family would come to Montana often. As a matter of fact, her brother already had plans to come in the spring to help with ranching. Juanito was in love with the idea of exploring something new.

  Her parents and Jared’s were negotiating traveling back and forth and exchanging homes, depending on the seasons. Her parents wanted to come up and experience a white winter, while the Bowden’s were excited about a milder Georgia one.

  “What the hell is that?” her Nana called out pointing. “Is that a naked man? Pull over. Stop the car.”

  Carmen slowed down until stopping behind a gas station.

  “Henry, what the hell are you doing?”

  Nana got out and rushed to the man holding out a shawl. “Did someone mug you and take your clothes?”

  “No Ma’am,” Henry replied with a smile. “I am responding to a dare. I am not the kind of man to be dared.”

  “Well that’s just plain stupid,” Nana said, wrapping her shawl around his midsection. “Your pecker is going to fall off.”

  Henry considered what she said. His teeth chattered and lips were already turning blue. “You think so?”

  “Get in the back Henry, we’re going to the ranch. Jared is going to be mad at you.”

  “All right. Let me get my clothes.”

  Her mother who peered out from the back window gasped. “You’re putting a naked man in the back seat with me? No way.”

  “I’ll sit with him,” Nana said. “He’s a bit young for me, but I suspect he’s single.”

  Carmen burst out laughing as her mother hurried to sit in the front. “Come on, let’s get to the ranch. We have a wedding to plan.”

  That night after dinner, Jared took her hand. “Come outside, I have a surprise for you.”

  It took a few moments to get her coat, scarf, and gloves on before she left with him. They went to the snowmobile and Jared drove away from the main house.

  The cold air made her cheeks sting, but she loved holding onto Jared as they zipped across the expanse of the land.

  At the cabins, one in particular had the indoor lights on, and he pulled the snowmobile to a stop in front of it.

  Carmen smiled. “What’s inside? Wanna peek first and make sure there’s no dead body?”

  They walked hand in hand to the door where she gasped. The main area was sparsely furnished with only a table, two chairs and a bed. On the table were two candles, a huge vase with beautiful red roses, two goblets and champagne chilling.

  “Merry Christmas,” Jared said with a wide grin. “I hope you like it.”

  She blinked tears back. “Oh my goodness. I got you a backpack. I feel so lame.”

  “There are also chocolate covered strawberries,” Jared added.

  “I put gum in one of the pockets.”

  “I need a backpack.” He kissed her and pulled Carmen tight against him.

  “And I need you naked and on that rug.”

  “Is that all you think about?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Thank you for reading Slay Bells by USA Today, Amazon Best-selling author Hildie McQueen. If you’d like to read more of Hildie’s books, you can find them on Amazon and her website.

  The Best Christmas

  By Hebby Roman

  Contemporary Western Romance

  Copyright @ 2018 by Hebby Roman

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The Best Christmas

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Hebby Roman

  Published by Estrella Publishing.

  All rights reserved and return to the author. This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means –electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise -without prior written permission of the author and publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  About The Best Christmas

  Sofia Rossi and Gar McCulloch meet under challenging circumstances—her estra
nged son has been admitted to Gar’s ranch rehab-center. Sofia is a successful New York model who had an ill-advised liaison with a wealthy, married member of New York society and lost her son to her ex’s manipulation. Gar is divorced and lost his daughter to a drug overdose. When they bond together to reclaim Sofia’s son, the last thing they expect is to find redemption in each other’s arms, making this their best Christmas… ever.

  Chapter One

  Sofia Rossi opened the barn door and stepped inside the stable. The smells were familiar—hay and horses, taking her back in time, when the world was simple and sweet.

  At the far end of the barn, her son was curry combing a bay mare, using long strokes. She squinted in the early morning gloom to get a better look. She hadn’t expected to see Aaron up this early, taking care of a horse.

  For the past few days, she’d been content to watch him from the roadside, cantering his bay mare with the other teenaged boys in a large field, edged with white-planked boards. She’d slept in her car again and risen before dawn, going to the rest stop to clean up.

  When she’d taken a few weeks off from work, she hadn’t stopped to think what she was doing, beyond her hope to connect with her son. And when she’d arrived in San Antonio, it was as if she’d landed on the far side of the moon. This place called Texas was as different from New York, as the Pampas were from Buenos Aires.

  Aaron must have risen early to care for his horse, and from the thoughtful way he was combing the bay, he appeared to love horses, as she had when she was young and living on her family’s ranch.

  A lifetime ago—a world apart.

  He’d grown since the last time she’d seen him in court. He was filling out; his chest was wider and his biceps had bulked up. His light-brown hair was long, pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. She used to nuzzle his neck when he was younger but that was a long time ago.

  Watching her son, drinking in the sight of him, she stubbed her toe. Staggering, she almost fell but caught herself by grabbing a post, holding up the hayloft. At her feet lay a sack of grain, which she hadn’t noticed.

  Like a shot, her son’s head came up and he saw her. “You!” He shouted, dropping the currycomb and pointing his finger. “You’re not supposed to be here.” He turned his back and picked up the comb. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  “Mi hijo, porqué—”

  “No Spanish! How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “Yes, my son, but why won’t you let me visit you?” She spread her hands. “It’s been so long, not since your father sent you to that boarding school—”

  “Because I don’t want to see you. All you’d do is gloat over what happened and bad-mouth my father. That’s why.”

  Her heart clenched, stuttering in her chest. How could her own flesh and blood be so wrong? Over time, Eric had claimed their child, turning him against her, making him despise her. She hadn’t known a child could be psychologically manipulated and tainted. But she’d learned. She’d learned the hard way.

  “You know you’re not supposed to be here. Don’t you?” Aaron demanded. “It’s a closed campus, to rehab us druggies. You could get into real trouble, sneaking in here.” His threatening tone reminded her of Eric when he didn’t get what he wanted.

  “I have my papers with me, all my papers. I’m a citizen now, and I brought your custody papers, too.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Doesn’t mean anything. I’m a teenager and can decide. The judge told you the last time you tried to force me.” He shook his head. “You never learn.”

  She sucked in her breath and felt like someone had stomach-punched her.

  She hadn’t seen him for weeks, except from the gallery seats in the court room. He’d been dressed in a suit and tie then. Today, he had on a short-sleeved V-neck, T-shirt. The gold cross she’d given him for his tenth birthday, which he’d always worn, was missing.

  A side door creaked open, and a tall man stepped into the barn.

  “Now you’re in for it,” her son mumbled.

  She’d seen the man before, directing the teenagers on horseback, teaching them how to ride and care for their horses.

  What she knew about Texas, she’d learned from old movies and TV. The area around San Antonio and Bandera had lived up to her expectations. Every other man wore broad-brimmed hats, called Stetsons, as they had in the historic films.

  He had on the almost-obligatory Stetson, a pearl-button shirt, faded Levis, and pointed-toe cowboy boots. His shoulders were broad and he walked with a swagger, as if his hips were leading the way.

  She backed up a few steps.

  Embarrassed at being where she wasn’t supposed to be, she could feel her neck and face heat. She wanted to explain, but her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

  The tall cowboy lifted his head and glanced at Aaron. He pursed his lips and then turned his attention to her. “Ma’am, do you know you’re trespassing? You don’t look dangerous, but I can’t have people wandering onto my ranch.”

  “Your ranch? I thought this was a rehabilitation center for—”

  “I prefer to think of it as a ranch. Labels can be… misinterpreted.” He glanced again at Aaron. “I’m assuming you’re his mother?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “He looks like you, Ma’am.”

  Aaron snorted. The bay mare startled, threw up her head, and side-stepped in the stall. Her son stroked the mare’s neck, soothing her.

  “Aaron’s father signed the orders, placing your son under my care. When I asked about his mother, his father’s attorney said you’d deserted the boy.”

  She clenched her fists and closed her eyes.

  The lies, over and over, so many lies. It was Eric’s way of doing business and with his wealth, privilege, and social standing, he usually prevailed. But Texas was a long way from New York.

  “I didn’t desert my son. He chose not to see me, but I’ve got joint custody.”

  The corners of the man’s mouth quirked. “I figured that out, too. Else you wouldn’t be here. As to him not wanting to see you—”

  “I don’t want to see her,” Aaron confirmed.

  Her blood ran cold, hearing her son reject her again.

  The man swiveled his gaze to Aaron once more. “Son, on my place, you don’t talk to a woman like that, especially if she’s your mother.”

  “I’m not your son!” Aaron’s voice pitched louder, cracking and sounding childish.

  “Alright, Mr. Van Wyck, you’re not my son. But you will show respect to women folk while you’re here. This isn’t New York.”

  The early morning gloom had lifted, filling the barn with shafts of light between the planked sides. She could see her son blush.

  Aaron nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. McCulloch, sir.” Then he turned and with his arm outstretched, he sketched a mocking bow. “Lo siento, Mami.”

  Mr. McCulloch considered him for a moment. “You didn’t have permission to come to the barn early. Did you?”

  Aaron shook his head.

  “Well, I’m glad to see you taking an interest in Duchess’ well-being. Though, I think you need to wrap it up and get to breakfast.”

  Aaron stuck out his bottom lip. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Then go through the motions for me.” Mr. McCulloch’s voice was firm.

  Her son drew back his arm, as if to throw the currycomb at the side of the barn, thought better of it, and put the comb in a wooden slot built into the stall. Without looking at either of them or saying a word, he shoved his hands into his tattered and frayed jeans, stalked to the back of the barn, opened one of the double doors and slipped through.

  The cowboy pursed his lips again and shook his head. Then he turned to her, touching the brim of the Stetson with his index finger. “I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Gar McCulloch. You can call me Gar. I try not to stand on ceremony.” He held out his hand.

&nb
sp; She took his hand, feeling how it dwarfed hers and surprised by the calloused ridges on his fingers and palm. Though she shouldn’t have been. Her father’s hand had been rough as old shoe leather.

  “My name is Sofia Rossi. Pleased to meet you… Gar. You can call me Sofia.”

  “Glad to know you. Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee? Or I can get you breakfast. Sleeping rough in your car, I bet you could use some eggs and bacon.”

  She gasped. How did he know?

  He grinned and took her elbow. “I have to keep a lookout around my place. These young’uns think they can sneak off. There are always so-called friends, relatives, not-so-good characters, you name it, who are more than happy to bust them out. If they can hightail it, they’re gone.”

  She turned her head away, feeling foolish. Of course, he would know what went on around his so-called ranch. This was, despite the pretty fields and handsome horses, a private rehab center for juvenile drug offenders.

  Madre de Dios, how had her son ended up here?

  * * *

  Gar spooned sugar into his coffee. Kiki, his office manager, had been kind enough to bring two breakfast trays to his office. He lifted his head a fraction and studied Sofia.

  She took her coffee black and without sugar. She’d already drained one cup, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in the food. Not that he was surprised, she was whipcord slender.

  Her skin was like burnished gold, bronzed and glowing. She was obviously of Latino heritage. Her son had spoken Spanish, and Gar knew enough Spanish to get by. She had a lilting accent, though, which he couldn’t place.

  She was beautiful beyond words.

  Without a speck of makeup, she took his breath away. Her wide-spaced, golden-flecked, brown eyes with a gentle, almost Oriental-tilt to them, reminded him of doe’s eyes. She had a sharp, little nose, almost like a blade, that turned up at the end. Her mouth was wide and generous. Her chin firm and determined. And she had long, curly, brown hair. Her only artifice was a few wide stripes of blonde mixed with the brown.