“Hey. I live on a farm—a farm. Because you like green, and not the kind with Benjamin Franklins on it, and the cost of living is lower. I get to keep my red-soled shoes. That was the deal, and I don’t have flats.”
He grinned. “Dr. Plastic Nails, you maintained your white-tipped fingers, and your thirty-five minute drive from Nicole and her brood. I quit floating around on my boat. A beach climate was the least you could agree to.”
“I agreed to red-soled shoes.”
What could he say? When he proposed, he had promised those damn shoes.
He picked her up like a bride on her wedding night. It was the day before their anniversary after all. “I’m taking you to bed.”
Katie laughed. “And if Neveah wakes up?”
“I’ll lock the door. I still can’t believe I let you name her that.”
“Oh, be quiet. It’s no stranger than Aladdin.”
He leaned his head down and nibbled her neck. “You’ll do penance for that one.”
“Reason number sixty-five real husbands are better,” she purred.
“When I’m done with you, there will only be one reason real husbands are better.”
“Promise?” she whispered.
He promised with his mouth on hers.
Hours later, morning had arrived. They awoke to a screaming little voice and a thud at their bedroom door. “Let me in!” The thuds came in a measured rhythm now. “It’s a bing.” Thud. “It’s a bong.” Thud. “It’s a boom, boom, boom.” Thud, thud, thud.
She pushed the blankets down and sat up to rise from the bed.
Eledon caught her arm. “Where are you going?”
“To keep that kid from knocking our door down. Get up old man. It’s Christmas”
“Happy anniversary,” he said.
Her face turned bright red. He loved that he still had such an effect on her.
“You too,” she said.
It tugged at his heart, when Katie threw the door open and picked their daughter up. The family moved to the living room and sat around an eight-foot tree with Tiffany-blue ornaments.
Eledon pointed to three professionally wrapped gifts tied together with ribbon. “Neveah, can you give those to mommy?”
Neveah got behind the bundle and pushed it toward her mother.
“We should start with the kid,” Katie said.
“We’ll start with my wife,” Eledon said.
She unwrapped the first box. He watched her face fall as she removed a pair of mom loafers, her face fell. He covered his face, so she wouldn’t see him laugh. Her brows knit as she inspected the leather quality, pulled at the sides, and finally flipped the shoes over to find an undeniable red streak. A crease of confusion ran down the middle of his wife’s forehead. He was enjoying this. Katie repeated the process when she opened a pair of breezy flats, and again with the fuzzy house shoes.
She re-inspected the shoes, looking for signs of a knock-off, while trying to find an explanation for the quality of the leather.
“They’re real,” Eledon said.
“Buitton’s only have red soles when they’re heels.”
“Not true. The flats came with red soles. If you’ll notice the other two pairs only have partly red soles.”
“But if they’re real, they wouldn’t be red.”
He shrugged. “Okay. I bought them in China Town.”
“But the leather is genuine.”
He shrugged.
“How did you do it?”
“I promised my wife red-soled shoes. A little money can solve most anything. They’re custom.”
“Reason number 115 real husbands are better than book boyfriends.”
“When is nap time?”
Katie blushed and kicked him.
About the Author
Meet Beth Fred! That's me! I'm a full time ELF keeper and part time writer/blogger/writing instructor. I like my tea hot, my romance sweet, and my guys chivalrous. Real men hold open doors, refer to you as ma'am, make promises they keep, and aren't afraid to profess their undying love. It's not breakfast if there aren't carbs(at least, not in the South). Fajitas, carnitas, and churros are just few of my favorite things. Bet you can't guess where I'm from ;)
A Cowboy for Christmas
by Cate Grimm
Fashionista Sarah Jayne traded in her Laredos for Louboutins and planned to make it big in New York City. But, when her life in the Big Apple falls apart, she comes home to Love, Texas to heal. Temporarily.
Cody Hayes is focused on getting his family’s failing ranch patched together and sold so he can return to his wanderlust career as a journalist. He has no intention of embracing his cowboy roots and making Love his permanent home. Until he finds himself distracted by a certain sassy New Yorker who's making him think Texas roots might not be so bad.
Will Love, Texas be the perfect place for two people with wanderlust to put down permanent roots and find a happily ever after together?
Chapter 1
“Know what? I think I’m going to like it here. Dad?”
“Hmmm?” Cody Hayes glared at the near empty conveyor belt snaking around the baggage carousel. “Huh?” He removed his Stetson and brushed a weary hand through his close-cropped hair as he watched the same three bags move on by. Again.
He hitched his carryon bag up over his shoulder. The cameras inside were his livelihood, but they’d become like lead weights over the last few days. The last few months really. He needed a break from chasing the next story around the world.
Cody had been traveling for thirty-six hours straight and was bone deep exhausted after hopping from airport to airport, as he made his way home from the other side of the globe. His last stopover in Los Angeles had been brief—just long enough to pick up his son. Then they hopped on another plane and headed to Texas for Christmas.
He was glad to be on the ground in Dallas but knew they had a good three-hour drive to the Hayes homestead outside Love. He wanted to collect their bags and drive to his parents’ home before jet lag caught up with him. Then he wanted to sleep. He was going to need at least a few hours of shut eye in order to keep up with his kid who could be a perpetual ball of curious energy.
“Dad!” The demand for attention was louder this time. “Is she an angel?”
“An angel?” Cody slid a quick glance at the eight-year-old leaning against his hip. His son had grown up, a lot, since the last time he’d seen him. What a difference a year made. Another reason to stop the globetrotting.
“Over there,” Davie said. “Do you see her?”
Cody followed the direction of the boy’s pointing finger across the baggage claim area.
Davie’s angel was bent at the waist and struggling to balance a scuffed hard sided makeup bag, like the one his mother had tucked in the attic gathering dust, with an ancient looking suitcase that appeared to be covered in dozens of old bumper stickers.
And she sparkled. Her blonde hair, shot through with glints of gold, and her snowy white coat caught every bit of the dim lights wavering through airport baggage claim and reflected it back a dozen times brighter it seemed.
Then the angel stood and turned. Cody got a look at her face. “Hell’s Bells!”
Davie gasped. “You are going to owe the swear jar a lot of money by the time we finally get back to your home,” he said.
“Our home. You’re a Hayes, too. And the homestead is home for all of us.”
The kid took that pronouncement in stride. “Do you think she’s a real angel? Or a pretend one? Because I saw a bunch of pretend one’s at the Christmas play,” Davie said.
“Sorry Davie. But that’s no angel.” Cody’s gaze remained transfixed by the woman still struggling to balance what was in her hands. “That’s the ghost of Christmas past.”
“She ain’t no ghost.” Davie made a sign of the cross and kissed his thumb, a gesture he’d seen Davie’s mother make. “Because I can’t see through her. And she looks like the angel mom puts on the top of the tree.”
“Cody?” she asked. “Cody Hayes?”
That voice hit him like an atomic blast from the past, nailing him right in the solar plexus. “Sarah.”
“You know her?” Davie asked.
Cody didn’t answer as he watched Sarah walk towards them. His feet were frozen to the linoleum floor but his heart pounded in time with her footsteps. Nearly a decade had passed since their last Christmas together, but the memories still stung like a dozen paper cuts across his heart. The sound of raised voices, broken promises, and tears of regret were a crystal-clear memory that haunted him every time the holly jolly season rolled around.
Two spots of pink washed over her cheeks as Sarah stopped in front of him. Cody shoved his hands in his pockets and wrapped his thumbs into his denim belt loops. Ten years had not changed her much. Her hair was a little brighter, and the wild, unruly layers she used to favor now fell in a single, golden wave. Her eyes, the same Texas bluebell color he remembered, were a little sadder. And her clothes were still uniquely Sarah but definitely a lot more expensive than the ones she used to wear.
“Hi, Cody,” she said. “I—"
“Why’d you say she was a ghost, Dad?”
“Ghost?” Sarah asked. Then her eyes widened and her gaze dropped to Davie, trying to hide in the folds of Cody’s battered duster. “Dad?”
“She’s not really a ghost, Davie. Sarah is an old…friend.” Friend. Future. Femme fatale responsible for grinding his heart into little bits. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. In fact, Sarah and I first met when she was eight and I was ten.”
“Are you sure she’s not a angel?” Davie asked. And the boy sounded a bit disappointed about that.
Cody laughed. “I’m positive.”
“And she’s not a ghost either?” Davie said.
“Nope. Not a ghost either.” Although this was the one woman who had haunted him most of his adult life. She was like a tiny niggling wound, a missing piece of his heart that was never fully filled with anything…with anyone else.
Davie stepped out from behind Cody, still clinging with one hand to the back of his coat and said, “I’m David Hayes Cooper. But everyone just calls me Davie.”
“Hello, Davie.” Sarah glanced between the two Hayes men. “Is your wife—your mother meeting you both here?” Her voice had the barest hitch that was almost unnoticeable. Almost.
“No wife. Just an ex of sorts,” Cody said. There was only one woman he’d really considered making his wife, and she had walked away from him, bound for the bright lights of the Big Apple. After that his poor attempts at laying down roots were dismal failures. Mostly his fault. “His mother just got married. It’s me and Davie for the holidays. We’re going to see my folks for Christmas.”
“My mom is doing a honeyed moon trip,” Davie said. “That’s why I got to come to Nana and Papa’s for Christmas this year.”
Sarah’s eyes flicked to his before her gaze returned to Davie. “I see.” But the tiny furrow between her brows told Cody she still had questions. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Davie. As your, umm, as your dad said, I’m an old friend of his. Of all the Hayes’ really.”
“I’m a Hayes. Maybe I can be your friend too?” Davie asked. “You could be my first friend in Texas.”
Sarah bent at the knees, placing herself eye level with Davie. She smiled a soft, sweet smile that used to draw every boy in the county like a moth to a bug zapper, just before they got their wings singed. “I’d like that very much Davie Hayes Cooper.”
“Kay.”
Cody crushed the battered brim of his hat as his son smiled his own gap-toothed grin and fell head over heels in puppy love with Sarah Jayne.
Chapter 2
Cody’s gaze, hazelnut ringed in pine, was strong and steady like the evergreens his family grew on the homestead. She’d spent a decade trying—and failing—to forget how safe, how happy that gaze made her feel. Just like she’d failed to forget what his deep belly laugh sounded like, failed to forget the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. And she’d failed to forget the way she could tuck so perfectly under his shoulder when—
Stop. When she had traded in her red leather Laredos for red soled Louboutins, Sarah promised herself she would not look back on what almost could have been.
She straightened, blew out a soft breath and asked “Is Christmas the only thing bringing you back to Texas?” Sarah knew her voice was rife with a little too much breezy unconcern to be believable. Dammit, she wasn’t fooling anyone.
Except maybe the kid. Cody’s son. He flashed her a grin and that tugged at Sarah’s heart in a way she never would have expected.
“I wanted to spend some time with my folks. Dad had a stroke a few months back and now they are talking about letting the place go,” he said.
“I’m sorry about your dad. Aunt Jo mentioned his stroke the last time I talked to her but she didn’t share any specifics with me,” Sarah said. “I can understand if the homestead is too much for him, for them, to manage now.” Although she’d miss knowing the Hayes family was there if they sold the place.”
“Yeah, I just want to make sure they are positive about selling versus hiring on some help for a bit,” Cody said. “And I wanted my son to see the homestead, maybe climb a tree or two.”
“And see the old treehouse?” Sarah asked. Kid heaven her Aunt Jo used to call it.
His gaze crinkled as he smiled and said “Yeah, maybe that too.”
“He’ll like that,” Sarah said. Because the treehouse Carl Hayes built and added on to over the years was filled with memories of smiles and childhood secrets whispered in the night while sleeping under the Texas stars.
“So.” Cody’s voice cracked. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right in a subtly stilted rocking motion. “Is this a flying visit for you? Or are you staying through Christmas?”
“I’ll be here for a couple weeks. Probably through the new year. You?”
He nodded. Cleared his throat. “Just through the honeymoon.” He shifted on his feet again. “His mom’s, I mean. It’s a ten-day cruise.” Cody pulled Davie into his hip. The boy was wilting with weariness. “Then I’m takin’ Davie back to his mom’s in L.A., and I’ll be off to work again.”
She smiled. A deep Texas twang wound through his words as they talked. It didn’t take long once you got here. She remembered the same thing happening to her and her sisters every time they visited their Aunt Jo. The Jayne girls seemed to go home with a bit of ya’ll in their voices, and a boot scoot in their steps.
“Still leading the no strings attached life?” Sarah watched him closely, saw the tiny wince that pulled at the corner of one eye.
Cody looked down and tousled his son’s hair. “I’ve found I like some strings.”
Sarah sucked in a quick breath. Direct hit. “I’m glad.” She forced a smile.
“What about you?” Cody asked. “Are you still chasing the bright lights in New York?”
“Of course. It’s home.” Sarah tried to ignore how much his voice made her feel like she was home. She tried to ignore the butterfly flutter that churned in her belly as he automatically soothed his tired son. Tried to convince herself she didn’t regret walking away from the possibility of this, of him growing into a man who would one day open his heart to a family of his own. “Bright lights, big city girl. That’s me.” Sarah hoped she was the only one who heard the lie in her voice.
“I’m glad.” He grinned. “It’s important to follow your dreams.” His lips widened into a full-fledged smile.
Those lips. His smile. Kicked up at the corners kissable. Nope, nope, nope. Not going down that road again. Sarah held her own smile in place by sheer force of will. “Happy life?”
“Yeah. I’m getting there,” Cody said. “So, what have you be
en up to in the Big Apple?”
“I opened a little shop in SoHo. Designer Redos. My store specializes in bringing classic designer goods back to life.” Sarah smiled when she thought back to the magic she found in making old things new again. “The boutique also carries one-of-a-kind accessories made by local artists.”
“I’m glad you found something so perfect for you,” he said.
“Dad,” Davie said, a slight trill of panic in his voice. “I got to go. Now.” His stage whisper had a hiccup at the end, as he glanced sideways at Sarah who pursed her lips together to smother her grin.
Cody’s gaze swung to his son who was bouncing from one foot to the other. “Okay buddy.” Cody looked back at Sarah and added, “It was good to see you.” They headed towards the restroom signs on the other side of the baggage area but Cody turned and faced her again before they’d gone more than a dozen steps. “Stop by the homestead if you have time between now and Christmas. We’d love to have you.”
“Sure.” Sarah forced an upbeat tone as she watched the pair turn and walk off. Her mouth curled into a genuine smile when she noticed the boy and the man had the same devil may care swagger in their steps.
Just as they disappeared around a corner, the conveyor belt started a mechanical chug again. Suitcases, bags, and boxes started spewing from behind the black curtain that hid the airport’s baggage drop. “Finally.”
Sarah waited impatiently for her checked luggage to appear. She just wanted to collect her bags, pick up her rental car, and be on her way so she could get to her Aunt Jo’s and lick the wounds the bright lights, big city, and its citizens—one citizen in particular—had inflicted.
Chapter 3
She never planned to step her stiletto clad feet back in Love, Texas. Her heels always got bogged down in the Lonestar state mud. But Sarah’s best laid plans had crashed and burned just a few week before Christmas.
A Merrily Matched Christmas Page 16
