by Hebby Roman
Her son surprised her by saying, “Jimmy, you’re it. Let’s do this.”
Aaron had picked the boy Gar had singled out as being the most reformed, not his trouble-making friend. Her heart lightened.
Lucas scowled and shook his head, dropping to the back of the crowd of boys.
Jimmy and Aaron took the butane lighters from Gar’s hands and stepped onto the flat stones, overhanging the pond. They hunkered down as Aaron explained how to light the candles in the lanterns, take care to not burn themselves, and release los globos into the air.
Sofia bit back a smile, feeling warm and gooey inside, watching her son. Gar stood beside her, away from the circle of light thrown by the electric lanterns. He put his arm around her shoulder.
At first, she thought to shrug him off, not wanting to give her son or any of the boys the wrong idea. But they weren’t paying attention to the old folks anyway, so intent were they on getting their lanterns aloft.
Within a few minutes, half of the Christmas lanterns had been released, and they drifted in the sky above the pond, a tiny flotilla of brilliance against the dark night.
The boys stood back and watched, pointing and exclaiming. Los globos glided off, further across the pond.
When she and Aaron had released them over the ocean, they’d made splendid splotches against the horizon, stretching away. But here, over the smaller pond, they lit up the night, their lights reflected from the water.
“You say this is an Argentinian custom?” Gar asked. “Is there a special significance to it?”
She shrugged, liking the feel of his arm on her shoulder. “In Argentina, we reserve los globos for Christmas Eve. Here, at least in New York, because the weather can’t be depended upon, Aaron and I would watch the weather forecast and pick the nicest night to go out to Long Island.
“As to its significance, I don’t remember my parents mentioning anything, beyond it being another festive way to welcome the Christ Child. Most of our merrymaking in Argentina is done on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day is for sleeping late, nursing hangovers, and eating leftovers. It’s not the focal point of the holidays like it is in the States.”
“Interesting,” he said.
While they were talking, Aaron had organized the boys into groups of two, to release the remaining lanterns. But when her son touched Lucas’ shoulder, the boy turned on him. “Leave off. I’m done here. You’re trash to me,” he hissed and stalked away. Opening the back door to the SUV, he slid inside.
Aaron shrugged and went back to the pond to get the rest of the lanterns aloft.
She gazed at Gar. “Shouldn’t you say something to Lucas?”
“Nope. This is voluntary time. Lucas doesn’t have to participate. And what went down was between the boys.”
“Even calling my son ‘trash’?”
“Yep, it’s not a nice moniker to hang on someone, particularly in today’s vernacular, but as long as they don’t get physical, it’s best to let them work it out.” He squeezed her shoulder.
“Besides, I’m kinda glad your son picked Jimmy, not Lucas, as his partner. Though, that’s what riled Lucas, a heavy dose of jealousy. Still, I think Aaron wanting Jimmy to help him was a bit of a break through.”
“Yes, I feel the same way.”
The boys had released all thirty of their lanterns. They drifted lazily over the pond, mirrored by the water and startling a few, full-throated frogs into silence. Nestled against Gar’s muscular shoulder, she watched the bobbing light display over the blue-black water.
“Ready to light the final five globos? You’ll have to show me how.”
She smiled at him. “It’s pretty easy.”
“I know.” His voice was soft and warm, like a caress. “Any old reason to share with you something special.”
At his words, her face heated, and she said, “Oh, Gar.”
“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and tugged.
She followed along, embarrassed to have him hold her hand in front of the boys. But again, the teenaged boys were self-involved, not appearing to notice. Too busy rough-housing and gesturing at the lanterns, betting on when the first ones would burn out and drop into the pond.
And from the SUV, Lucas glowered and looked on.
She shrugged away the creepy feeling he gave her and kneeled beside Gar at the edge of the pond to light the final five lanterns, one at a time. He let her release them into the air. They sailed away on the light breeze that had just begun to pick up.
Then they stood for several moments, watching the thirty-something lanterns illuminating the sky. This time, he didn’t touch her, but she could feel the warmth of his body next to hers.
Like the Riverwalk lights, los globos cast their Christmas charm over all of them. The boys had stopped rough-housing and stood with upturned faces, watching the fiery glow in the night. A few of the first lanterns appeared to be burning out, as they were dipping close to the surface of the water.
“Okay, boys, spread out.” Gar waved his arm. “Half of you go to the left side, the other to the right. We don’t want them to drift over land. It’s been dry these past two weeks, and I don’t want to start a grassfire.”
He handed one lantern to Brian and the other to Thomas. “Be sure to bring back any leftovers. Remember, leave the place like we found it. Rule one in the out-of-doors.”
A couple of the boys groaned, but the five remaining teenagers split up, two to the left and three to the right-hand side of the pond, loping alongside the shore.
“And be careful,” Gar called out. “Watch for snakes and don’t trip over anything out there.”
“Kind of dark now,” he said.
She knew where he was heading but now wasn’t the time. “Yes, but we’re not alone.” She lifted one shoulder. “Lucas has us in his sights.”
He blew out his breath. “You’re right. Let me turn on the headlights. It will help the other boys to see.”
“Not a bad idea.”
He went to the front of the car and reached in, flicking on the SUV’s headlamps. Suddenly, the night was penetrated by brilliant beams of light, eclipsing the remaining globos.
She sighed, sad to see tonight coming to an end. She fixed her gaze on the few lingering lanterns.
* * *
“Name your poison,” Gar said, opening his fridge.
“If you still have some of that chardonnay, I won’t say no, but two glasses are my limit. And I ate supper tonight, too.”
“What? You didn’t bring your jammies?”
“No, I did not.” She made certain her voice was firm.
She shouldn’t have stayed, but she couldn’t seem to say no to Gar. She enjoyed talking to him… and feasting her eyes on him. But she’d made herself a promise, nothing more. Well, maybe a kiss or two. That couldn’t hurt, could it?
Skating on thin ice—when had she turned foolish in her old age?
He poured her a glass of straw-colored wine and handed it to her. Then he filled a wineglass with red for himself. “Want to sit outside again?”
“I’d love to. I’ve become addicted to your fire pit.”
“Too bad you can’t have a fire at home.”
“Yes, it is. I’ve been thinking about moving to a bigger apartment, one with a fireplace.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
He clicked on the fire pit. There was a whooshing sound as the gas rushed out, igniting the “fake” coals in the stone-edged ring.
She sat down across from him and took a tiny sip of wine.
He did the same and gazed at her. “I think I’m beginning to see some cracks in Aaron’s stance.”
“Yes, los globos must have reminded him of… happier times. I’m so glad I thought of them.”
“A brilliant suggestion. Something you and your son had shared together without your ex. I think all the boys enjoyed tonight. Scratch the surface and they’re kids again.”
“Except for Luc
as. He gives me the creeps.”
He took a swallow of wine and frowned. “Yep, haven’t been able to reach him. He’s had a tough upbringing.” He shook his head. “I can’t go into specifics, but he’s suffered a lot in his fifteen years.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Not typical for most boys we get.” His brows furrowed and he looked pensive. “Yep, he’s one of my regrets. He’ll be leaving after the New Year, and I don’t see any progress.”
She drank her wine but didn’t comment.
“Can’t win them all.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should know. Now, I need to come up with something for tomorrow for the older boys.”
“But it’s the weekend.”
She wasn’t looking forward to the weekend. Liana had already mentioned she’d be studying for finals and Damian was going off on a business trip to recruit new clients for his startup firm. Two whole days stretched before her, and she wondered how she would fill the time.
“A weekend for some, but the boys are still here. Staff works half days on Saturday and are off on Sunday. I should take the older boys out in the morning. Maybe a little calf wrestling to take the edge off.”
“Calf wrestling?”
“It’s like steer wrestling in the rodeos where contestants throw grown steers to the ground. But half-grown boys can’t wrestle six hundred-pound steers. I have them practice on some of my yearling calves. I act as their hazer.”
Somewhere, sometime, she’d seen pictures of grown men dragging full-sized cows to the ground. She was glad Gar didn’t let the younger boys participate.
“Don’t you need their parents’ permission? It sounds dangerous.”
“I have parents fill out detailed permission papers for all of our ranch activities, especially those involving horses or my cows. But that’s part of the appeal of this place. The boys get to play cowboy and forget their troubles for a time.”
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s not dangerous with yearling calves, usually. A few bumps and bruises. Like tonight, it’s voluntary. I even get permission slips for the boys to slide in the hay.”
“Really?” She sipped her wine.
“Yeah. Learned my lesson the first year. Let one kid play in the hay, and he broke out in a red rash and couldn’t catch his breath. Scared the life out of me. I rushed him to the emergency room in Bandera. Seems his parents had forgotten to tell me he was super allergic to any kind of hay or grasses.” He swallowed his red wine and refilled his glass. “Now, I don’t take chances with anything.”
“That must have been a scare.”
“Yep, not something I would like to live through again.”
“What about the boys who don’t volunteer for certain activities, like calf wrestling?”
“They can stay behind in the dorm, the rec room, or gym and have free time. Helps if the dorm Moms are still here, though.”
“What do you do for the rest of the weekend?”
He lifted his hand and pointed his index finger, turning it onto himself and thumping his chest. “What you see is what you get. I bed down in the rec room. There’s a sleeper sofa there.”
She nodded slowly, considering. Wondering if he ever got tired or needed a break or… “Kiki mentioned she had a day off during the week, too. Doesn’t that make for a four-and-half-day workweek?”
“A pretty face who’s good at math, too.” She recognized the teasing note in his voice.
“I’ve never had a problem with math,” she shot back, choosing to ignore his compliment.
He grinned. “Yes, it’s a four-and-half-day week, but around here, most of my employees work ten or twelve hour days. They put their time in.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing her career had made her expect to work hard, no matter what.
But it was different being an employee. She worked for herself. All those extra shoots she managed to squeeze in, went straight to her checking account, after the agency and Saul got their percentage.
She should know better than to second guess the way he operated. Based on what she’d seen, no one could best Gar when it came to working with people.
“What about feeding the boys?”
“The cafeteria ladies make enough on Saturday morning, usually a casserole, for the boys to heat up that night. Sunday morning, after a compulsory non-denomination devotional, I cook breakfast. Just scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Some of the boys, like Jimmy, help out. Then we make sandwiches for lunch.
“Sunday night is special, pizza night. The boys love pizza night. We order in and catch a newly-released movie. They pick and vote on what movie.” He scrubbed his chin with one hand. “Can’t say I’m much for the vampire and werewolf movies, but it’s their choice.”
“Well, aren’t you self-sufficient.”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I don’t think about it anymore. Easier to just do.” He lifted the white wine, nestled in its cooler. “Want another glass?”
“Sure.” She finished off her wine and held out her glass. “But this is my last one. You’re not the only one who’s learned their lesson.”
He raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. He got to his feet and filled her glass.
She twirled the honey-colored wine, watching it swirl in the glass, against the backdrop of the flames. A feeling of melancholy hung over her. Tonight had been exciting. Now she faced a long weekend by herself. Wasn’t there some way she could “wrangle” an invitation from him?
She sipped her wine and ventured, “I know it’s not for the younger boys, but I would love to see the calf wrestling. I’d especially like to see you as the… What did you call it—a hazard?”
He laughed. “Yeah, you’re right, I can be a hazard.” He arched one eyebrow at her. “Especially tonight. Told you to bring your jammies.”
She thought she knew what he was getting at, but she wasn’t buying. “Alright, Mr. Hazard, what was it you said?”
He lowered his gaze. “I act as the boys’ ‘hazer.’ It’s a cowboy who rides on the off-side from the steer or, in this case, the calf, and keeps it from veering away so they can catch and wrestle it to the ground.”
“Do the boys jump onto the calf from horseback?” Her memories of a rodeo she’d watched on TV were dim. Growing up on the Pampas, her father had been busy making a living. They’d never attended any of the local events.
“Yep. That’s really the dangerous part when you’re dealing with calves, the boys jumping from horseback to grab them. It’s why I reserve this sport for the older boys, and we only do it occasionally, as a special treat. They don’t think of the danger, though. For them, it’s pure excitement.”
“I bet. Are you on horseback, too?”
“In rodeo steer wrestling, the hazer is always on horseback. With yearling calves, I sometimes do it on foot, sometimes on horseback. Depends on how frisky the calves are, I guess.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Uh, could I come and watch tomorrow morning? I know Aaron won’t be a part—”
“The younger boys are invited to watch. But Saturday mornings are free time. I don’t force anyone.” He looked up and gazed at her. “Why do you want to drive all the way out here to watch when your son won’t be participating?”
Should she tell him the truth? Her instincts told her that was best, though it made her sound lonely and needy.
“Nothing better to do. My hostess and host are otherwise occupied this weekend.”
“Told you to bring your jammies. Then you could have stayed the whole weekend. Helped me with cooking on Sunday morning, too.”
She gazed at him. Their gazes caught and held. He grinned.
“Uh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Gar. Besides, after tonight, you’ll be sleeping in the rec room.”
“There’s always tonight.” She detected a hint of longing in his voice.
She shook her head. “Too many reasons to not go there.”
His face fel
l. He lowered his gaze and scuffed his cowboy boots against the flag-stones of the patio. “You’re probably right, Sofia. It’s just I’m hankering for… for…”
There it was again, the yearning in his voice, and it plucked a similar chord, deep inside of her.
He got up, put his wineglass to one side, and opened his arms. “Okay, you’re probably right. Come and go on your own terms. And yes, I’d love to have you help with Sunday breakfast.”
She rose, too, wondering what he was doing. “No problem, I don’t mind driving out again.”
“Hope you got unlimited mileage with that Chrysler.”
“I’m sure I did.”
“There’s one thing more.” He closed the gap between them and put his hand under her chin, tipping up her face. “I do demand a fee of sorts.” He gestured with his free hand. “You know, for access to the ranch and my firepit, the boys, and Hill Country wine. All of that.”
She couldn’t keep from grinning. “And what is that, Gar? I offered to help with Sunday breakfast.”
“Just this.”
He lowered his head and stopped, a mere inch from her lips, as if waiting for an invitation or a refusal.
She sighed and went on tip-toe, reaching up to curl her arms around his neck.
He sighed, too, his breath warm and spiced with the heady scent of wine. He lowered his mouth and kissed her. Long and deep, moving his head from side-to-side, as if he couldn’t get enough of her, as if he couldn’t decide on which way to run his lips over hers.
She opened her mouth, inviting him in, wanting the intimacy, needing more of him. Desperate to taste him and then some. Her arms tightened and her fingers moved through the silky lengths of his brown hair grazing the collar of his cowboy shirt.
He responded instantly, thrusting his tongue inside, tangling with hers.
She groaned and buried herself against him. Tingly sensations raced along her nerve endings, and her blood heated, warm and sluggish in her veins. Her heart pounded in her ears, as if she was the one chasing down a runaway calf.
The moist heat of his mouth with his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth was driving her wild. It started with a slow burn, deep in the pit of her stomach and the flame spread outward, licking at the core of her, turning her hot and wet with need.
