Darn Good Cowboy Christmas

by Carolyn Brown

  “How cute is my butt?” He blushed scarlet. He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud but to whisper them for her ears only.

  “Cutest one in the house tonight. Don’t look at us like that. It’s an inside joke,” Liz told her mother, Tressa, and Blaze.

  The two tomcats weren’t circling each other anymore. They’d reached a territorial understanding, but it didn’t come with one hundred percent trust. Raylen’s fear was doublefold: that Blaze in all his worldly charm would break his sister’s heart and that he would convince Liz that the carnival needed her worse than Raylen did. Blaze wasn’t afraid of Lucifer himself. But Liz had to have told Raylen about her best friend’s womanizing, and that alone would make Raylen want to put Colleen in the nearest convent. And that scared the bejesus out of Blaze.

  “Thank you,” Raylen said.

  “You look pretty damn fine yourself, sweetheart.” Blaze jumped in with a compliment.

  Raylen wanted to kick himself. “She always does. She wore this the first time she came to Sunday dinner at my folks’. I thought she was a gypsy princess.”

  “She is.” Blaze smiled. “You two go on in the living room and sit with Marva Jo. Tressa and I will finish up in here. I still have a few adjustments to make to the table. I need to put out glasses for the wine.”

  “He cooks?” Raylen whispered on the way to the living room.

  “Yes, he is a chef in the kitchen and he’s a neat freak and even does his own ironing because a laundry wouldn’t to it to suit him.”

  “No wonder the women love him,” Raylen said.

  She shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it that way, but you are right.”

  Marva Jo caught the last of the conversation and pieced the rest together. “Liz does not cook. She knows how to do laundry and hates to iron. I made her learn so that she can do it. She had no choice but to keep things neat, but it’s not by nature like it is with Blaze. It was by necessity because we lived in a small trailer.”

  Raylen sat down and hugged Liz up close to him. “You tryin’ to scare me off?”

  Liz patted him on the knee. “He’s not a neat freak, but he’s not sloppy. His biggest problem is that he’s organized and a perfectionist.”

  “Then he’d better reconsider a relationship with you,” Marva Jo said.

  “It’ll take more than that to scare me off,” Raylen told her.

  “How does Colleen fit into the picture? She’s your sister?” Marva Jo asked.

  “We are peas in a pod, but she only cooks when she has to. Momma made all of us at home in the kitchen. Boys had to learn just like girls, but she also made sure they were able to run a ranch just like the boys. Goose and gander law, she called it. What was good for the goose was good for the gander. In the O’Donnell household, there is no division of men’s and women’s work.” Raylen made lazy circles on the palm of Liz’s hand with his thumb.

  Liz vowed she’d get even later. It wasn’t fair for him to heat her to the boiling point with nothing but his thumb, and right there in front of her mother. Oh, yeah, Raylen was going to get his just due.

  The doorbell rang, and Liz started to hop up, but Raylen held her hand tightly and yelled, “Blaze, would you get that door?”

  Liz shot him a look and he grinned at her. “Us guys got to stick together.”

  Marva Jo asked Raylen a question about Danny Boy, but Liz didn’t hear his response. She was too busy watching Blaze and Colleen’s interactions. Colleen wore a green skirt that stopped at her knee, a snug little sweater that barely made it to the waistband of the tight fitting skirt, and brown cowboy boots. Everything about her complimented her red hair and her clear complexion. And everything about her appealed to Blaze, who took her hand and led her to the kitchen.

  “That’s not fair. Why does she get to go to the kitchen?” Liz whispered.

  Marva Jo shook her finger at Liz. “You’ve got all the pie you can eat right here in this living room, my child. Let Blaze have his in the kitchen. I guarantee you that Tressa won’t let them do one thing more than I let you two get away with.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m sixteen and on my first date?” Liz asked.

  Marva Jo smiled. “Next time we’ll send Blaze over there to pick her up.”

  Liz giggled. “That sounds like a plan.”

  Blaze yelled from the kitchen, “I heard that last remark. Colleen has invited me over to her place to meet her parents tonight and to see those two famous horses. So don’t be feeling all superior in there, sweetheart.”

  “Children, children! Forgive them, Colleen,” Tressa said. “They’ve acted like siblings since the day I brought Blaze to the carnival. Marva Jo, bring your wayward daughter to the dinner table. We are ready to sit down.”

  ***

  Liz jerked the top sheet up over her and Raylen. A fine sheen of sweat covered them both, and the afterglow that surrounded them was almost as hot that night as the sex had been. She reached across the foot of bed space between them and clasped his hand in hers. How in the hell could she have ever doubted one second that she belonged in Ringgold? Raylen was her soul mate and Ringgold her home.

  “That was fantastic. Good night, darlin’,” she said breathlessly.

  “Always is,” he panted. “But I’m not spending the night.”

  “Why? Momma and Aunt Tressa are in their trailers.”

  “Did you want Dewar to catch us last night?” he asked.

  “No!” she said quickly.

  “I rest my case. I’m trying to show your momma and aunt that I’m one of the good guys, not a bad boy who’s only out for a romp in the hay, so as soon as my legs get bones in them, I’m going home.”

  She smiled at his expression. It was the same one she’d used the night before. She reached under the covers and walked her hand down the fine line of dark hair from his chest to his belly button and down to his penis.

  “What if something else gets a bone?”

  He rolled over but she hung on. He tickled her ribs, and she grabbed his hands with hers. In one swift movement he was off the bed and on his feet.

  “You don’t play fair,” she said.

  “That would be the pot calling the kettle black, darlin’.” He slipped his arms into his shirt and picked up his underwear.

  “Don’t put them on. I like commando,” she said. “You come commando to my party on Wednesday and I will too.”

  “Hell, no! I wouldn’t be able to think about anything else all night. I have a helluva time every time I conjure up a picture of you in one of those dancin’ outfits,” he chuckled.

  She sat up and wrapped the sheet under her arms. “You think Colleen made Blaze’s trailer rock and roll?”

  Raylen blushed. “Liz, she’s my sister! God, I don’t even want to think about that.”

  “You are her brother. You think she doesn’t know we’ve been to bed? Hell, she was the one who warned us last night. Maybe they’re out there in the horse stall next to Danny Boy using our blanket,” she teased.

  “Don’t go there,” Raylen said crossly.

  She whipped the sheet back and jumped out of bed, put her finger under his nose, and said, “Don’t you talk to me in that tone. I was teasing you.”

  “Don’t tease me about my sister. If you had a brother, would you want me to tease about him sleeping with Becca?”

  She took a step forward. “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “She’s a witch. Blaze is just a womanizer.”

  “Which makes it all fine and good? My sister is infatuated with a womanizer, but since that’s his only fault that makes it just fine?” Raylen said.

  She folded her arms over her naked body and glared at him. “Go home. I guess I can’t tease you. You can’t take it.”

  He finished dressing, shoved his feet down in his boots, and stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. She threw herself back on the bed and pouted for five minutes before the tears started.

  It was over. Raylen
would never speak to her again. The whole reason fate let her come to Ringgold was so she could get Colleen and Blaze hooked up. It had nothing to do with her own happiness. Life wasn’t fair.

  Oh, hush your whining! You think you are the only one who is unsure of herself in this relationship? What about Raylen? You are a carnie and your whole carnie family is surrounding you right now. Ever think that he might be scared you’ll go with them when they leave? Her conscience raked her over hot coals.

  She wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet and sniffled. “I’m not leaving. He’s not running me off. I’m staying right here because it feels right,” she said stoically. “But if Raylen isn’t the one—” She broke down and wept again, burying her face in his pillow, inhaling the remnants of his aftershave. That made her cry even harder.

  She couldn’t call Blaze because he was probably romancing the hell out of Colleen and she wouldn’t disturb that, but she sure needed a friend. She finally slung her legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed the first nightgown in her drawer, and put it over her head. She pushed her feet down into her cowboy boots and grabbed the truck keys from her purse, leaving everything else behind.

  At the end of her lane she made a sharp left and gunned the motor the next mile, sliding around the O’Donnell lane and fishtailing on the gravel before she got control. She kept the speed down the rest of the way to Raylen’s house, only to find the door locked. She rattled it until the window threatened to break loose when he didn’t answer the doorbell immediately.

  Finally he slung it open and stood before her in nothing but a towel. His wet hair stuck up every which way, and water dripped onto the floor.

  “What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

  She slung the door open and he took two steps backward. “Don’t you ever leave in the middle of a fight. You stay until we settle it and then have makeup sex with me like we did in the shower that time, but don’t you just walk away.”

  “You told me to leave.”

  “Well, I damn sure didn’t mean it. You are supposed to stand up and fight for us if we are important enough. Are we, Raylen? Or are you tired of me already?”

  “Don’t you dare accuse me of being tired of you. I’ve wanted you since we were kids, dreamed about you, thought about you, and measured every other woman by the impossible yardstick you put in my mind. So don’t you dare say I’m tired of you. I won’t ever be tired of you. Maybe you just want to go back to the carnival and this is your way of doing it. Fight with me so it’ll make it all right,” he said.

  She stepped right up into his space, her nose not six inches from his, and tiptoed so she could see right into his blue eyes. “You are an idiot if you think that. I was crying my eyes out and made up my mind that Ringgold is where I belong. So whether you are tired of me or not, I’m not leaving. You can just get used to having me for a neighbor, if that’s all we are ever going to be to each other after tonight.”

  Gemma pushed her way into the living room and stared at them. “I don’t even want to know. See you two in the morning.” She went to her room, shut the door, and turned on the music loud enough that she couldn’t hear them.

  That two minutes gave them time enough to cool off.

  Raylen reached out and pulled Liz to his wet chest. “I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

  “I’m sorry too. It was ugly of me to talk like that about Colleen. You were right. If I had a brother, I’d be livid if I thought he was with Becca. And you’ve been so good about Colleen even after all that stuff you know about Blaze. Forgive me.”

  “Of course I forgive you. I love you, Liz Hanson. I have since that day you were watching me ride. You were so beautiful leaning on the fence, but not as gorgeous as you are in that flannel gown. Lord, you are making me hot just holding you,” he said.

  “I love you too, and I have my whole life, it seems like. I’d like to rip that towel off your hips, but I’m going to turn around and go home,” she said.

  “Why? Gemma knows you are here.”

  “Because when we have our makeup sex it’s not going to be with your sister across the hall.”

  He bookended her face with his big hands and kissed her hard. “I do love you.”

  “Me too!” She turned around and walked outside.

  All the way home she singsonged, “Raylen loves me. Raylen loves me.”

  Chapter 24

  In Texas they call it football weather. Crisp enough for a jacket but not so cold that breath comes out in a fog every time a person exhales. Liz couldn’t have asked for a better night for her party. The carnival folks had pulled the cinnamon bun wagon, the funnel cake wagon, and the gyro wagon off the flatbed and set them up inside the barn. Liz had made arrangements with Jasmine to cater in turkey and dressing and glazed ham. The rest was pure potluck. Bring whatever you like, put your name on the bottom of the dish, and go home with a full tummy and an empty dish.

  “With all this food, why would you set up those wagons?” Gemma asked.

  “Ovens. We needed more ovens,” Liz explained.

  Raylen slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to his chest. “Hello, darlin’.”

  “That sounded almost like Conway Twitty.” Liz laughed.

  Raylen buried his face in her hair and inhaled. “You smell good. Bet you’d taste even better.”

  She laughed again and turned around. “So do you on both counts.”

  He kissed her quickly and nodded toward the corner of the barn where the musicians were tuning up their instruments. “I didn’t know so many of your friends played. Does Blaze?”

  “Blaze can dance the leather off a woman’s boot soles. He can almost carry a tune, but he can’t play anything. Not even a washboard because his rhythm is off,” she said.

  Grandpa O’Malley’s big booming voice sounded even louder coming from a microphone that had been set up in the musician’s corner. “Franny tells me the food is ready so I’m announcing the party is officially open now. We are thankful for the opportunity for everyone to get to mingle and know each other. And whoever made those cinnamon rolls, would you hide one pan of them under the table for me to take home? Don’t tell Franny. She and the doctor tell me I’m too fat, but those bathroom scales are the biggest damn liars in the world. Now load up your plates, and while you’re doin’ it Raylen and Liz are going to give us some fiddlin’ to entertain us.”

  Liz looked at Raylen who shrugged. “Grandpa is the oldest in the family. He takes over the emcee jobs for us at everything. Is it a problem?”

  She tucked her hand in his. “Not at all. I just didn’t know we were supposed to play right now.”

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Too nervous to eat,” she answered.

  “Might as well play then, hadn’t we?”

  She led him to the corner and picked up her fiddle.

  He did the same.

  She pulled the bow across the strings to make sure it was still in tune.

  So did he.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  He winked.

  “Then let’s give ʼem something to talk about,” she said.

  They locked eyes and she started the Bonnie Raitt tune, “Let’s Give Them Something to Talk About.” Liz stepped up to the microphone and sang as she played. The lyrics said that people were saying they were lovers kept under covers, that they laughed a little too loud, stood a little too close, stared a little too long. She sang that she was thinking about him every day and dreaming about him every night, and they were going to give them something to talk about and it was love, love, love.

  Her voice was gravelly, sexy, and just listening to her shot desire through Raylen’s body. When the last chords died, she whispered, “Is that yelling it from the rooftops?”

  He nodded and mouthed, “My turn.”

  She recognized the Gene Watson tune “Love in a Hot Afternoon” from the first note and their fiddles became one as the instruments talked louder than the words if they had been singing. She
hummed the lyrics about a lady sleeping like a baby in damp tangled sheets after love in a hot afternoon.

  It brought memories of a blanket in a horse stall, and she smiled as their music blended perfectly and floated out over the barn.

  “Give us some ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia,’” Grandpa yelled when they’d finished that one.

  Liz and Raylen’s bows hit the fiddles at the same time and the whole barn went silent as they watched the show. Raylen stepped up to the microphone and sang as he played. Liz played into the song with her body language, and at the end the applause was deafening.

  “Ready to give me that fiddle?” he asked Liz.

  “You ready to give me yours?”

  “I beat you that time. I sang and didn’t miss a beat.”

  “I didn’t either. Granny, who won?”

  Franny stood up at the table where she and Tilman had settled in. “I’m callin’ it a second tie. You two belong together, both with the fiddle and when you lay it down.”

  Raylen pulled the microphone to his mouth. “Yes, we do. Liz and I are together so all you other cowboys out there are out of luck.”

  “Well, praise the Lord! It’s been announced to the whole county. Dewar, you’d better get your lazy ass in gear,” Gemma yelled from across the barn. She was sitting at a table with Ace and Jasmine, Pearl and Wil, Blaze and Colleen, and Austin and Rye.

  “I’m goin’ to be the old bachelor uncle who raises Gypsy Vanners,” he said.

  He’d been close to Tressa all evening, the two of them discussing horses. He’d spent more than half the afternoon in the round pen with them and was more determined than ever to start a herd of his own.

  “We’re hungry so we’re takin’ a break. Rest of you can play when you want and maybe we’ll join you later,” Raylen said.

  “You ain’t goin’ to do ‘Earl’s Breakdown’ before you go?” Blaze asked.

  “Maybe later. I’ve got something better to hold right now.” Raylen slung his arm around Liz’s shoulders. She fit there like God had taken his height, weight, and arm length into consideration before he made Liz. She was having her Christmas right there, even if it was before Thanksgiving. To him, every day was Christmas now that Liz had come into his life. He looked up where miles and miles of garland had been looped and hundreds of ornaments dangled in the air like the beads on her dancing costumes.