A Christmas Cowboy to Keep

by Hebby Roman

  He knew he shouldn’t get involved with Aaron’s mother, knew it as plain as his own name. Asking her to come to his home was like lighting a fire he couldn’t put out.

  Still… he had a responsibility to Aaron. She’d made a good start and he’d thought Aaron would respond to her sketches, but he hadn’t. He needed a few more details.

  The loss of her son’s affections called to something buried deep in his heart. He’d lost his daughter, and she’d lost her son. Not in the final sense of the word, like he had, but it was a loss, and he could sense how hurt she was.

  Her beauty was like the cherry on top of a very decadent hot fudge sundae. Her looks had gotten his attention from the beginning, but she seemed at ease with herself, not overly conscious of how she made men’s heads turn. Even Juan, his janitor, who seldom spoke more than three words at a time, had mentioned how hot she was.

  He snorted. Any man would have to be blind not to notice.

  She sat with her back to him, hunched over the flickering flames of the fire pit. She’d taken off her windbreaker and appeared to be basking in the warmth of the gas fire.

  Not wanting to startle her, he cleared his throat.

  She turned around and waved. “I like your fire pit. I could stare at the flames forever. My apartment in New York doesn’t have a fireplace, and I didn’t realize how much I missed having one.”

  “I thought you said the climate was temperate in Argentina.”

  “It is, but most Argentinians, even in the city, like to have a fireplace.” She lifted one shoulder. “I guess that’s why we’re famous for our fire-roasted meat.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that but it makes sense.” He retrieved the door key from his pocket and unlocked the back door. “Did you decide which wine you’d like to try?”

  “Could I try both? I really don’t know much about wine or what I like, but if opening two bottles is wasteful, I guess I’d—”

  “No worries about wine going to waste. I like a glass or two myself. I’ll get you a sip of each, and you can try them.”

  “I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Nope, you just sit tight.”

  In what he hoped was record time, he returned with three wine glasses and the bottles. He’d opened the red blend, so it could breathe, and settled the chardonnay in a thermos-like wine cooler.

  He sat a few feet from her, close enough to fill her glass but not close enough to be tempted. He half-filled one glass with the red and handed her the wine.

  Their fingers brushed, leaving a tingling trail of sensation on his hand. He’d touched her several times, but for some reason, each time was different, adding to her allure. And now they were alone, sitting in the dark.

  She took the glass, swirled the contents and sipped. She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a bit strong for me. It has an earthy taste to it, not unpleasant, but maybe something lighter?”

  “You have pretty good taste buds. No problem, not wanting the red.” He poured a second glass, filling it half-way. “More for me. I’m partial to the red.” Then he lifted the chardonnay from its cooler and poured her a glass.

  She accepted the white, chilly wine and sipped. She nodded and took another swallow. “Yes, I think I like this one.”

  “Good choice, it’s lighter and with a fruiter taste. But if you get chilled drinking it, you can always put your windbreaker back on.”

  She put her wineglass down and held out her hands to the fire. “I doubt I’ll get chilled. The weather is nice for late November, and your fire pit throws off quite a bit of heat.”

  “Yes, I guess it does.” He raised his glass. “To meeting and getting to know you, Sofia.”

  She lifted her glass and took another sip. “Thank you.”

  They sat for several moments, sipping their wine and staring into the fire. He didn’t want to rush her, but he didn’t want to keep her too late, either.

  He cleared his throat.

  She emptied her glass and held it out for more.

  He poured her more wine. “Glad you’re enjoying the chardonnay.”

  “Yes, it’s very nice.” She wrinkled her nose again. “And I’m hoping it will give me courage.”

  He gazed at her. In the flickering firelight, she looked even more beautiful.

  But he had to stop his wandering thoughts. He needed to keep focused on the relationship with her son. It was dangerous, the way she affected him, and he struggled to maintain a professional distance.

  Easy to tell himself, not easy to do.

  “We call it ‘Dutch courage.’’’ He looked at his wine glass. “Not sure why, just an old saying.” He swirled his wine around.

  “Let’s backtrack, okay? You said Eric wanted to have your son around more, but you weren’t too keen on the idea, knowing how he might change if he got serious with another woman.”

  “Yes, and I think he wanted Aaron to show off. To let Zoe know what a great father he was and hope she’d regret fighting him for custody.”

  He didn’t like being judgmental, but he couldn’t help from saying, “What a prick. So, it wasn’t about him wanting to spend time with Aaron. He wanted to use his son as an object lesson?”

  “Yes, that’s it. Eric doesn’t know how to love, but he knows how to possess.” She shook her head. “I know I’m right but, sometimes, I doubt myself.”

  “Emotional manipulation is the toughest thing to figure out.”

  “You’re right.”

  “So, y’all were in a kind of push-pull situation over Aaron. What brought the lawyers into the picture?”

  “Oh, that’s an easy one, and I was stupid for not taking pictures with my Smart Phone…” She shook her head again. “Never mind. Water under the bridge. I just wanted to get my son out of there.”

  “What happened?”

  Chapter Four

  Sofia gazed into the fire, trying to find the right words. Finally, she looked up. He was watching her intently, but his eyes were filled with sympathy. More than the wine, the way he treated her gave her courage. And the next part would take a lot of courage.

  “Eric had my son for the week of spring break. I wasn’t happy about it, but I went along because Aaron was looking forward to going to the Hamptons and the beach.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  “My son called me on his cell phone. He was sick, throwing up, and he had a temperature. His father had given him a couple of aspirin and went out, leaving him alone. He was dating another model. I knew her, and she liked to do coke. I saw what was a line of coke in the living room when I picked up Aaron.” She frowned. “I should have taken pictures.”

  She stopped and gulped her wine. Then she held out her glass to be refilled.

  “Hey, you better slow down. You said you weren’t much of a drinker. Did you eat supper before you came over tonight?”

  “No, but I had a big lunch. I’ve learned to love Tex-Mex grilled fajitas.”

  He smiled. “Well, I can’t say as I blame you. But still—”

  “Oh, please, let me have another glass. The chardonnay is tasty, and it makes it easier for me to… for me to…”

  “Talk about Eric and your son?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, you got me.” He half-rose and refilled her glass. “But if your son was ill, and you came to his rescue, how did he become estranged from you?”

  “Oh, that was only the beginning. After that, I refused to allow Eric to have Aaron unless I was with them. My position enraged Eric. He got an attorney, and I got an attorney.”

  “I still don’t see—”

  “He was afraid of losing, like he had with his daughters. Afraid I’d talk about what I’d seen or that I had taken pictures and was holding them back.”

  She lowered her head and put her wineglass down. “Tit for tat,’ isn’t that what you say in the States? Paint me with the same brush, only worse.” She paused and she could feel the tears burning in th
e back of her throat. “Eric had me set me up… he set me up,” she almost sobbed.

  “What do you mean? What did he do?”

  She lifted her wineglass and took a swallow. “He had some thugs break into my apartment and plant coke. Then he called an anonymous tip line and turned me in. The cops came and hauled me off. I was going to phone Aaron’s old babysitter to watch him, but Eric turned up. He showed Aaron’s birth certificate and his driver’s license. I was arraigned for having coke.”

  “I saw that in your papers, but you weren’t convicted.”

  “Made you think twice, didn’t it?”

  “Not really. I’ve learned to spot a user. All my years in law enforcement, I guess.”

  She sniffled. “Thanks to a clean blood test, and a neighbor of mine who’d seen the thugs break into my place. And they were good, did it with some kind of a master key. Didn’t leave a trace.”

  “Good Lordy, Sofia. That’s worthy of a soap opera.” He clenched his fists. “Did they catch the guys and tie them back to… Probably not.” He muttered under his breath and then said out loud, “Someone needs to shake your ex—hard.”

  She managed a smile. “Frontier justice, Gar?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, despite my acquittal, the rumors started to fly. Everyone knows what a dirty business modeling is… Everyone. It’s one of the reasons I admire Liana, she stayed clean. No drugs, no alcohol…”

  “Let me guess.” He hunched forward with his hands clasped between his knees. “After your arrest, it was an uphill battle to keep custody of Aaron.”

  She held out her glass again. He opened his mouth and then closed it. Leaning forward, he took his thumb and gently wiped away her tears.

  His tender touch made her tremble. She yearned for him to take her into his arms and shelter her. Kiss away her tears. But that wouldn’t be proper, given his professional ethics, and it wouldn’t solve her problem with Aaron.

  He refilled her glass.

  “Yes, keeping Aaron became a struggle. Eric has friends and business contacts all over New York. Judges, attorneys, who knows what?” She threw up her hands.

  “It’s when I got serious about finishing my citizenship requirements. I’d had a green card for years, taken some of the courses, but I hadn’t finished the requirements. I knew if I wanted to be taken seriously and not considered a flight risk, I needed my citizenship papers.” She sipped her wine. “I was lucky to retain joint custody of my son.”

  “So, what turned Aaron against you, Sofia?”

  “Madre de Dios,” she reverted to her native Spanish. “I wish I knew. Emotional manipulation, as you said.”

  She licked her lips. “I don’t know for certain. All I know is each time Aaron came home from staying with his father, he was more and more distant and hostile. When he turned thirteen, he said he wanted to live full-time with his father.”

  “And?”

  She gazed at her feet. “The judge allowed it.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Eric got a new girlfriend. Not a model this time—maybe he wanted to remove himself from that world. I don’t know. She’s a Broadway actress, famous in New York.”

  “He quit spending time with Aaron?”

  “Hah! His new girlfriend wanted my son out of the way. They shipped him off to a boarding school in Tarrytown, the Hackley School. I was against it. He was already going to a highly-respected prep school in Manhattan. Somehow, Eric convinced Aaron the Hackley School would be better preparation for entry into an Ivy League college, which is probably true. It’s very prestigious and has awesome credentials, but…”

  “It was where he was caught, smoking marijuana.”

  “Yes, I think Aaron was unhappy there, though, he wouldn’t talk about it.” She finished the last swallow of her wine. “I need to go now.”

  She got to her feet, but her legs felt heavy and her head was spinning. Too bad, she should have listened to Gar. But she couldn’t stay any longer. She’d grab some coffee at one of those truck stops.

  “It’s late. And now, you know the whole sordid mess.” She gazed at him. “I hope it helps you or his psychologist to reach Aaron.”

  She leaned down to grab her windbreaker and sketch pad and almost toppled over.

  He grasped her and held her close, steadying her. “Sofia, you can’t drive. You’re not accustomed to drinking and it’s plain to see—”

  “Let me go. I’m fine.” She pushed against him.

  “No, you’re not.” He held onto her.

  “I can’t stay here for the night.” She knew her words sounded funny. “Do you live alone? I thought Kiki said something about a daughter.”

  He shook his head and turned his face away. “Yes, I live alone. And Kiki shouldn’t have said anything about my daughter.”

  “Why not? You take care of kids. Is your daughter with her mother?”

  “No, my daughter is dead.”

  “What?” She stiffened and drew back. She knew her mouth was gaping open. “She’s… she’s…?”

  “Yes, died of an overdose.” He was cradling her in his arms. “My ex-wife said I spent more time with my juvie offenders than my own daughter.”

  He shook his head again. “She was probably right. As a parent, I was a failure. Now, you know why this ranch and the kids are so important to me.”

  “Madre de Dios, don’t say that! Don’t say it! You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Why not? Who should I blame?”

  She shook her head from side-to-side. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “So very sorry. I wish there was something I could do…” She bit her lip and let her hand drop.

  What was she doing?

  His tragedy was hideous, making her concerns seem small in comparison. There was nothing she could do… nothing. And Gar deserved so much better.

  She lowered her head and fought back her tears. The ground shifted and swayed. The world was topsy-turvy. Too much emotion or too much to drink—she wasn’t sure which.

  She spread her legs, wanting to steady herself. “I feel funny… light-headed. You know? I think I should go.”

  “Not on your life, Sofia. I’m not letting you drive back to San Antonio, half-drunk.”

  She put her hands on his chest again, pushing away. “But I can’t stay here.”

  “Why not? I’ve got an extra bedroom.” He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “You’re safe with me.”

  “I… I, uh, don’t think so.”

  He scooped her into his arms and brushed her lips with his. “It’s non-negotiable.”

  * * *

  Sofia woke up, flinching at the bright sunshine creeping around the venetian blinds. Her head was woozy and her tongue felt as if she’d been lapping at a fur coat. Ugh. She looked around at the blank, white walls.

  Where was she?

  She’d grown accustomed to Liana’s guest room, painted a soft pastel green with lots of family pictures, alongside paintings of local San Antonio landmarks. But this room looked like a blank white box.

  And then she remembered and groaned.

  Throwing off the one bright item in the room, which appeared to be a hand-made quilt, she swung her feet over the side of the double bed and found she was still fully dressed. Somehow, Gar had managed to make her comfortable while respecting her modesty. He’d removed her boots, unbuttoned her jeans, and unhooked her bra in the back.

  She shivered, thinking of his hands on her, even though he’d been discreet. She glanced at the nightstand beside the bed and found her purse. Inside, she retrieved her cell and its recharge cord. Only twenty percent left, but enough to call Liana and let her know she was okay. It was the least she could do, realizing Liana would be concerned.

  She pulled up Liana’s contact number and punched the screen. The phone rang four times and went to voice mail. It was after nine a.m. and a Wednesday
. Liana was probably in class. She left a short message, saying it had been too late to drive back and she’d stayed at the rehab center. She didn’t add she’d stayed at the owner’s home.

  Nothing had happened. Even as tired and half-drunk as she’d been, she knew nothing had happened. Except he’d kissed her and lifted her in his arms, cave-man style. She brushed her lips with her fingertips. It had been a “nothing-burger” kiss, but she could still feel the imprint of his lips.

  Then she recalled what he’d confessed… about his daughter. Tears gathered in her eyes and her parched throat burned. What a horrible, horrible thing. And he blamed himself. Now she understood why he didn’t take teenaged girls, and why he sacrificed his life for other people’s children.

  Despite his personal tragedy, it was a good thing Gar cared so much. If the other parents were anything like Eric, they’d shipped their kids off to let someone else clean up their mess. And the last thing they’d want to do, was visit their children, sullying their hands.

  She lowered her head into her hands. Was she any better? She’d had an affair with a married man. Had borne him a son, knowing he was selfish and arrogant and… In some ways, she was no better.

  Instead of arrogance, she’d allowed her naivety to eclipse her common sense. At least, her son was still alive. As long as he was alive, there was hope. It was what she’d come all this way for—and she’d see it through to the end.

  She dashed the tears from her eyes, hooked her bra and buttoned her pants. She saw a half-open door and realized the room had an attached bathroom. Padding on sock feet, she availed herself of the facilities, freshening up as much as possible, without stripping down and showering. Plenty of time to shower when she got back to Liana’s.

  Stuffing her feet into her boots, she sniffed the air. Someone… Gar must be brewing coffee. She didn’t remember which way the kitchen was, but she let her nose lead her. She stepped into a beige kitchen, modern and updated with oak-looking cabinets, granite countertops, and a multi-toned-brown-and-gold backsplash lending the one note of color.