Christmas with My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  This piece had been handed down through Marshall Murphy’s family from 1775 onward to the present. Kass’s father was given the rocker by his mother when he married Jade at age twenty-two.

  Travis had seen the eagerness in Kass’s eyes when she realized it was possible for him to fix the beautiful antique for her mother. The grateful smile she gave him when he said he would repair the rocker still burned like warm, glowing coals in his heart.

  God knew, he wanted to give Kass the world. As he finished up the oiling, he straightened and threw the cloth into a basket that would eventually find its way to the washer.

  Kass was always on his mind. When Route 89 was navigable once more, five days after the blizzard started, he’d driven her to Jade’s home. There, he met Kass’s warm, outgoing mother. Jade showed him the broken rocker, pain in her expression over its need for repair. Carefully examining it, Travis told her he was sure he could fix it like new for her. That he’d bring it over to her on Christmas morning when he had breakfast with them. Jade was thrilled. Kass beamed and she gave him such a proud look, his heart expanded until it felt like it would burst inside his chest.

  The skin on his cheek tingled in memory of the light kiss that Kass had given him after he’d loaded the rocker in the back of his van that he used to transport furniture, covered it with a tarp, and tied it down so it wouldn’t fall over and incur more damage. Long ago, he’d installed special straps and connectors on the vehicle to take his furniture safely to the buyer after he’d made it.

  Not expecting that kiss, Kass had pushed up on her toes, rested her hands against his shoulders, and kissed his cheek, murmuring an emotional thank-you for doing this for her mother. It had happened so quickly, Travis didn’t have time to react. He’d inhaled the scent of her hair, the strands smelling faintly of oranges. His skin tightened beneath his clothing where Kass had placed her hands lightly against his shirt. To say his body erupted into a five alarm fire was an understatement. She’d kissed him shyly and he could see she wasn’t sure he’d like her doing that to him.

  He did like it. A little too much, maybe. Travis had enough wits about him to say, “Can I get another kiss from you on Christmas morning, too?” He’d seen Kass’s eyes shine with joy, the curve of those wonderful, sweet lips of hers blossoming in answer, that he wanted to grab and kiss her breathless right there on the spot. A real kiss on her mouth, not on her cheek, either. One that would make her sag against him because her knees had buckled from the sensuality of his mouth moving, coaxing, and capturing her lips hungrily against his.

  For the last few weeks since he’d taken Kass home, he’d been restless, wandering through the silent cabin, wishing she was still there to keep him company. Hungering for her thoughts, her keen intelligence, how she saw him and the world around her, he pined for her company. Twice, he’d driven his Dodge Ram truck the twenty-mile trip into Wind River to see her at her café. He’d had coffee at the counter and had ordered a piece of her homemade cherry pie. Travis hadn’t really tasted the food. He’d come to connect with Kass. He’d managed to have a few off-and-on conversations with her, but she was flying around the busy place taking orders, delivering food, or working back in the kitchen. Her café was the most popular one in town and where all the locals ate, because locals knew where the good food was served. He had got to meet a number of the vet waitresses, all heroines in his estimation. He’d never seen waitresses as happy as these but he knew why. Kassie had listened to them, absorbed their wounds and done something positive and healing for them. They all loved her and that was obvious in every way.

  Travis had wanted to ask her out and take her away from the hubbub of the restaurant for a while. He was too much of a coward to ask her, afraid of being rebuffed. Why had Kassie kissed his cheek? Was it just a peck that was impersonal, a sweet thank-you for him agreeing to fix her mother’s rocker and that was all? He ached to ask her, but the café was so busy it was impossible to get some focused, quiet time with her.

  Best of all, he’d seen her joy when he’d walked into the café those two times. It had taken everything not to open his arms to Kass and kiss her senseless right in front of eighty or so patrons. Not yet. Probably never. But he hoped, just the same, that the silent, intimate look of welcome she’d given him each time was the look of a woman who loved her man and was glad to see him once again. Kass had unearthed the love he’d always held for her in those five days she’d recovered at his cabin. She had triggered hope in him once again, whether he deserved it or not.

  She had magically turned his dreary gray life into something magical. He got up every day and looked forward to seeing her when he left his bedroom. He imagined her out in the kitchen busily whipping up an omelet, frying bacon, or making pancakes for them. Kass was a whirlwind of activity, but she’d always been like that.

  By the fifth day, the snowplows had reopened Route 89, and vehicles could once more come and go. He’d seen how sad she’d become because she had to leave him. He was sad, too, but had said nothing. That old rocking chair of Jade’s was a lifeline between them right now, and he was glad to repair it for her mom, who was well respected by everyone in the valley.

  As he placed the repaired rocker aside at the other end of his studio, he covered it gently with a light tarp. Tomorrow afternoon, he looked forward to Christmas Eve dinner and opening presents with his parents in Wind River. They had always opened gifts the evening before, not on Christmas morning. Walking over to a Chippendale dresser he’d made for his mother, he ran his hand lightly across the glowing waxed surface.

  Travis had painstakingly done thorough research on the Chippendale style, and then it had taken him six months to find the right wood, cherry, and then to hand hone and create a copy of a dresser he found online. He’d even mimicked the dovetails that held the drawers together. His mother would love it because she’d always appreciated the grace and beauty of Chippendale furniture, but it was so expensive no one could afford it in their hardworking middle-class family.

  Tomorrow he’d place it in his van, and he could hardly wait to see her face. He’d already called his dad, who was going to meet him outside, and they’d carry it into their bedroom. All the while, his mother had to sit in the living room, on the couch, her eyes closed, and wait for the gift to arrive.

  Kass had seen the piece, and he’d told her the story about it. She suggested buying some red or green ribbon, making a big bow out of it, and setting it on top of the dresser for his mother. The second time he’d met her at her café, he’d done just that. He’d walked down the wooden sidewalk, rows of stores tightly packed together, and dropped into Charlie Becker’s Hay and Feed store.

  It was decorated with Christmas trim, a well-decorated tree in the corner, and Pixie’s homemade sugar cookies on a huge red platter for all to eat at the counter. Charlie’s wife’s baking ability made Pixie the queen of the small town. Everyone dropped into the feed store whether they needed anything or not. Pixie was always making cookies, cinnamon rolls, blondies, brownies, and other goodies that she stashed in the back on the coffee service table or put up on the front counter where everyone could come in and get some free bakery goods.

  That was one of the many reasons Travis had wanted to come home. He’d grown up here, and as a kid, he used to run over to the feed store, race inside the door, and Charlie would invite him to take one cookie. Kids had a habit of grabbing as many as their little hands could hold, and he’d trained them all to leave some for others. Travis liked the morals and values visible in the valley.

  And there, in Charlie’s store, he’d found a bin full of bows of different sizes and colors, so it was his lucky day. He’d bought some and then took one of those highly decorated sugar cookies from the platter next to Charlie’s cash register.

  And having Kass once more in his life? Well, that was an unexpected Christmas gift to his heart, whether she knew it or not. He could hardly wait to see her on Christmas morning.

  December 25

  Kass c
ouldn’t remain still. She checked herself once more in the mirror. It was nearly nine a.m. Travis was to arrive any minute now. Her mother was out in the kitchen putting the final touches on their holiday breakfast.

  Smoothing her hands nervously down her nubby dark green velvet slacks, she nervously fiddled with the crisp white cotton blouse that had long sleeves with feminine ruffles around each cuff. Her hair was freshly washed and dried, the shining ebony strands loose and free. Grabbing the hip-long vest from the back of the chair, she pulled it on and tidied the collar, which had lace around the edges of it. Jade had knitted that bright red vest for her years earlier, a Christmas gift, and she loved it. Her mother had given her a set of round gold earrings last Christmas, which she put on. Her heart beat in anticipation of Travis coming to their home. How she’d longed for this morning to come! Would he like the gift she’d made for him? They hadn’t talked about exchanging Christmas gifts, but Kass wanted to make something for Travis anyway.

  The doorbell rang.

  She started. Oh! Giving herself one last look, she saw her pink lipstick was in place. Her cheeks were naturally ruddy. Turning, she hurried down the hall.

  “I’ll answer it, Mom!” she called.

  “Okay, honey.”

  Their old oak door had a large glass in a cathedral shape on the top third of it and she spotted Travis standing patiently. He wore his black Stetson hat and a warm sheepskin coat with the collar drawn up. How handsome he looked! Her heart swelled with such love for this man that she could barely contain herself. When she pulled open the door, she smiled up at him. In his left arm he had a Christmas bouquet of flowers, red and white roses.

  “Hey,” he said, “you look beautiful, Kass.”

  Heat spread from her neck to her face as she stepped aside, allowing him into the mudroom area. “Thanks.”

  “Here, these are for your mother,” he said, transferring the large bouquet into her hands. “I didn’t want to show up without something to thank Jade for all the trouble she’s gone to for me,” he said, removing his hat and wiping his feet on the bristly rug just inside the door.

  “These are beautiful,” she said, shutting the door behind him. “I know she’ll love them! Come on in. You can hang your hat and stuff on those hooks.” She gestured toward the wall.

  “Something sure smells good.”

  “Mom’s making her famous French toast. She puts peanut butter on them after they’re done and she has Kahlua syrup to drizzle over them. They’re delicious. Come on in.” She touched his forearm. Travis was dressed in a pair of charcoal gray chinos and a bright red long-sleeved flannel shirt with a black leather vest over it. In her eyes, he looked more than handsome.

  “Never had that combo before,” he said, hanging up his coat and hat.

  “You’ll love it,” Kass assured him. Impulsively, she approached him as he turned, placing her hand on his broad shoulder and looking up at him. This time, he seemed to be expecting that kiss she’d promised him a few weeks ago. The look in his eyes, a man focused solely on her, the heat she saw burning in them, his raw need of her, all conspired to make her heart race.

  Travis cupped her shoulders, aware that the flower bouquet was between them, and he leaned down, brushing her mouth with a kiss. Glorying in his scent, surrounded by that evergreen fragrance, the icy cold temperature outside, Kass closed her eyes, relishing his mouth moving tenderly across hers with invitation. His fingers tightened a little on her shoulders as their mouths clung hungrily to one another, silently coaxing her full participation in their mutual joy.

  All her senses melted as his mouth slid and cajoled and took hers with gentle command, making her heart thunder in response. As Travis deepened that wonderful soul-infusing kiss, she returned it with equal fervor, matching his need of her.

  Lost in his male fragrance, his large hand monitoring how much pressure he put upon her shoulder, their ragged breaths mingling and moist, a soft sound rose in her throat, a sound of utter satisfaction and celebration. At last! They were really kissing one another! Dazed as he reluctantly left her wet lips, her lashes barely lifting, Kass burned in the narrowed look he gave her. He moved his hands across her shoulders, caressing her, letting her know he wanted to share so much more with her. And so did she. Kass stepped back, lamenting his hands releasing her. Her whole body was humming with need, the throbbing heat increasing in her lower body.

  “Wow,” she murmured, giving him an awed look, “that kiss is a gift of its own, Travis Grant.” She saw his cheeks grow ruddy and realized that he was just as moved and shaken as she was.

  “I didn’t want to kiss your cheek,” he admitted wryly, moving toward her, slipping his hand to the small of her back, turning and leading her out into the spacious living room area.

  “I didn’t either,” she admitted, her voice husky, catching the surprised look in his eyes but seeing pleasure burning in them, too. As she led him toward the open concept kitchen on the other side of the living room, she added, “And I liked what we shared back there, Travis. A lot.” Again, she saw him color and wondered why. Didn’t he know by now how much she liked him? Loved him? That the love she held for him had never died? And then she saw that faint curve of one corner of his mouth, his hand lightly caressing her back in response to her words.

  “You’re a gift to me, Kass. I like what we share.”

  “I like being your gift, Travis. But you’re mine, too. Don’t you ever forget that. You may not be wearing a red ribbon on your head, but you are all of that to me.”

  Travis gave her a cocky smile. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Kass murmured, her lips lifting. “We’ll talk more later. I want you to give my mom the flowers. She’ll love that you thought of her like this.”

  He took the bouquet and nodded.

  Only last week while sitting with Maud Whitcomb in one of the booths at her café did Kass find out that Travis was not only famous in the world of high-class furniture making but was considered one of the finest up-and-coming young furniture craftsmen in America. In one year! That amazed Kass, but she wasn’t surprised. Travis had always been a person who worked hard, was responsible, paid attention to details, and finished what he started. He took great care and pride in everything he ever did.

  Maud had told her that he was probably one of a handful of people in the valley who was making a very, very good living moneywise. It was well known their valley had more people below the poverty level than almost any other county in Wyoming.

  Looking at the bouquet of winter flowers, the size of it, Kass believed it. She knew flowers very well, and the bouquet had huge white and red roses, deep purple linanthus with lavender-colored Viburnum berries. The silvery-green sage was tastefully scattered throughout it, emphasizing the beauty of all the various flowers together, along with small, silver flowers here and there, and made of the metal. Even the silver foil around the flowers, tied off with a bright red bow, shouted of being very expensive.

  She knew of only one place, fifty miles away, up in Jackson Hole, where such a florist would have something this rare and beautiful for sale at this time of year. Travis had spared no expense on it, and a fierce love for him giving her mother such a stunning bouquet made her want to cry. Swallowing several times, she choked back the tears. He was a hero in her heart.

  More than anything, Kass was glad for Travis because she knew he came from a middle-class family who worked hard every day of their lives. It was nice to see Travis break through that glass ceiling of sorts and be paid well for his master carpentry skills. But now he was sharing his hard-earned money in the form of this incredible bouquet. She saw her mother turn, her eyes going wide, as Travis stopped in front of her, offering her the bouquet.

  “For you, Mrs. Murphy. Merry Christmas.”

  For a moment, Kass wasn’t sure if her mother was going to faint or not. She stepped around Travis and came to Jade’s side, her arm going around her waist to steady her—just in case.

  “Oh . . .” Jade wh
ispered, handling the bouquet as if it were fragile glass, “these are so beautiful, Travis. And call me Jade, please.”

  He smiled a little, rocking back on his heels, hands jammed into his pockets. “Yes, ma’am . . . I mean, Jade.”

  “These are stunning,” she whispered. Touching some of the fragrant blooms, she added, “Where on earth did you get something like this, Travis? I’ve just never seen anything like this. Not ever. Not around here, at least.”

  He gave a shy shrug. “Well . . . er . . . I drove up to Jackson Hole. There’s a wedding florist up there. I made her a piece of furniture earlier this year and I saw how pretty her flowers were. I went to her, told her about you, and she put this together. When I told her your name was Jade, she went over to another canister and brought the silver sage back.” He hesitantly pulled a hand out of his pocket, pointing at the sage in the bouquet. “I think it looks real pretty. I could never put a bouquet like that together to save my life.” He grinned unevenly.

  “This is just the most beautiful bunch of flowers I’ve ever been given!” Jade gushed, showing them to Kass. “Aren’t they lovely?” she asked her daughter.

  “Very,” Kass murmured, leaning over, smelling the flowers. “Mmmm, they smell so good. Try it, Mom.”

  Jade nestled her face into the flowers and inhaled.

  Kass gave Travis a look of thanks and smiled. Her heart took off as he smiled back. She could tell he was nervous that maybe Jade wouldn’t like the flowers, but she loved them. “Mom? How about I go find the right size of vase for them? I’ll put them on the table and we can admire them as we have breakfast together.”

  “That would be wonderful, honey, thank you.” She gently set the bouquet in Kass’s awaiting hands. Then she stepped forward and threw her arms around Travis’s shoulders, squeezing the daylights out of him.