A Cowboy for Christmas

by Sara Richardson

  “I’ll be okay.” She held on to his arm as they made their way to her front door. “Really, Ty. You don’t have to make such a fuss over me.”

  “I promised Everly I’d keep an eye on you. She informed me that’s what boyfriends do.” He held out his hand, and she gave him her house key along with a weak smile. Obviously she was too sick to argue.

  Once they got inside, Ty helped her slip off her coat and then hung it up in her closet. Tea. That was supposed to be good when a woman didn’t feel well, right? He shed his own coat and tossed it onto a nearby chair before rolling up his shirtsleeves and undoing the top button on the collar from hell. “Why don’t you sit down?” He caught Darla’s arm and led her to the couch. Her face had gotten so pale that it had changed her eyes. They were usually sharp and vibrant, but now they had a dullness to them. Even her posture had wilted during the few minutes she’d been standing by the door.

  “You don’t have to stay.” She sunk to the couch and rested her head back, gazing up at him with a stubborn frown. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

  “I know you don’t.” Hell, Darla Michaels had to be the lowest-maintenance woman he’d ever met. “But like I said, I promised Everly.” And what kind of person would let someone sit and suffer by themselves? What if she wasn’t okay? Knowing Darla, she’d keel over before she called someone and asked for help.

  “Do you think you have a fever?” He snatched a blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it in around her.

  Her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. Don’t think so. I just feel queasy.”

  Ty nodded. Must be a stomach bug, he thought. He’d have to make sure to give her a wide berth. “Do you have any ginger root?” he asked, cruising into her open-concept kitchen. “And lemon? And honey?”

  “Why, are you going to make a stir fry?” She might be sick, but her grin still brought out his.

  “No. I’m going to make you ginger tea. It’s good for your stomach.”

  Darla raised her eyebrows.

  “My grandma used to make it for me,” he explained, searching her cabinets. “So I’ll make it for you. As long as you don’t tell the guys.” He’d never hear the end of it from them.

  “Ginger and lemon are in the fridge,” Darla half groaned, wrapping an arm around her middle. “Honey is in the pantry.”

  “Got it.” Before collecting the ingredients, Ty filled the teakettle and set it back on the stove. Darla’s kitchen bordered on pristine. There was no clutter, and everything seemed to be organized with Type A precision. He supposed that was how it was when you ran a restaurant of sorts. But still, for some reason it surprised him. Darla had such a laid-back, easygoing personality. He never would’ve pegged her for a perfectionist.

  “When did you start feeling sick?” he asked, rifling through a drawer until he found a zester.

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It’s been a few days off and on, I guess. But it hit me hard tonight.” Those last words wavered as though she was trying to hold back tears.

  Ty glanced at her from across the expansive kitchen island. She’d closed her eyes and leaned her head back and seemed to be breathing deeply.

  “Well, from what I remember, this tea is some ancient remedy or something.” At least that was what his grandma had claimed. Of course, she’d also claimed that she’d once kissed John Wayne, so who knew?

  Darla didn’t respond, so he let the silence settle as he grated the ginger and some lemon zest into a small pile on the cutting board. When the teakettle screeched, he poured the steaming water into a mug and added in the ginger, lemon zest, and a generous tablespoon of honey. Damn, it smelled even better than he remembered—spicy from the ginger, but also citrusy and sweet. He gave the tea a stir, and then carried the mug over to the couch where Darla still sat with her head back. Trying to be quiet, he set the tea on the coffee table in front of her, but she startled and opened her eyes like she’d forgotten he was there.

  “Supposedly ginger is a good for an upset stomach,” he said, settling into the chair off to the side of the couch. Her living room had always reminded him of a Victorian-era parlor with rich velvety furniture and solid wood accents.

  “Thanks.” Darla scooted forward and picked up the mug with both hands, inhaling deeply before she took a sip.

  Ty watched her lips on the mug, aware of some low, stirring hunger. He’d enjoyed kissing her earlier, more than he probably should’ve given the pretend nature of their relationship.

  “Wow. That’s good tea.” Her obvious surprise made him laugh.

  “Told you.” Of course, Darla never seemed to take anyone’s word for anything. She had her own ideas, an independence he respected.

  “I’m sorry I threw up on our date.” She set down the mug and drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

  “It was that bad, huh?” he teased.

  “It wasn’t bad. Actually, I think it was quite successful. You sure had people talking.” Color came back to her cheeks. “I don’t think we’ll have any problem convincing your family we’re an item.”

  His family. He had exactly one week before he had to pick them up from the airport. When he’d called and asked his brother to be part of the festival, his parents had jumped on the chance to get them all together. Now they were all coming to stay with him for the better part of three weeks—all the way through New Year’s. That meant he’d get three weeks of competing with his brother for the best son award. He didn’t know why he still tried. Rhett won every time.

  Darla picked up the mug again. “Ginny Eckles seemed sorely disappointed to learn that you’re off the market, you know.”

  “Don’t remind me.” He grinned. “We need to get engaged ASAP. Then maybe she’ll stop undressing me with her eyes all the time. It’ll be against the rules.”

  “Rules.” Darla sat up a little straighter. “Yes, rules.” She obviously had something on her mind, given the way her gaze shifted up to the ceiling, but he didn’t push her.

  “We need to talk about the rules,” she finally said. “In fact, we need to write a list of rules.”

  “Uh…” This wasn’t making sense. Maybe she had a fever or something. “What do we need rules for?”

  Darla snatched her iPad off the coffee table and started to type. “You know, like boundaries. Faking an engagement is kind of a big thing—especially with the whole town watching. Every good con needs rules.”

  What did she know about cons? “Okay.” He’d never been much of a rule follower, but Ty leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees to hear her out. “What have you got?”

  “First rule, no sex.”

  “But we’ve already had sex,” he reminded her. More than once. And it had been good sex. Good sex worth repeating.

  “I know we have, but we don’t need to confuse things. This is a ruse, and we don’t want things to get complicated.”

  In his opinion, sex was one of those things that didn’t have to be complicated, but if it meant that much to her he could compromise. “Fine. No sex.” Though that wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it. “You must be really worried that I’m going to seduce you.” He shouldn’t be giving her a hard time when she wasn’t feeling well, but he couldn’t resist.

  “Ha.” She raised her chin and looked down on him. “I just don’t want to get distracted, that’s all. We both have a lot to do. I want to be focused.”

  So she found him as tempting as he found her. “But maybe after we’re done pretending I can go back to distracting you?”

  Darla shook her head at him, but she didn’t say no. “Rule number two, we should definitely ease up on the PDA.”

  Ty laughed until Darla’s serious expression cut him off. “Seriously?” he asked as nicely as he could. “Just tonight you said we had to play that up. To sell our relationship.”

  “Well it doesn’t have to be so over-the-top.” Her eyes avoided his. “Anyway, it’s your turn. Do you have any rules you’d like to add?” she as
ked, holding out the iPad in his direction.

  “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do.” He reached over and pushed the device back into her lap. “Don’t talk to my brother alone. Without me around.”

  She dropped her chin and stared at him. “Seriously?”

  He put on his most serious expression. He’d sat there and listened to all of her ridiculous rules. She owed him one. “Rhett twists things around. And he’ll take any opportunity he can find to make me look bad.” He’d been doing it since they were kids. “Trust me.”

  “Okay, fine,” she muttered, throwing in a roll of her eyes. “I won’t talk to him alone. Anything else?”

  “Nope. That’s it for me.” He eyed her. “I’ve never been a big rule guy.”

  “Okay then.” She set the iPad back on the coffee table. “We should probably talk about our backstory. How we met, how we got engaged and all that.”

  Ty shrugged. “We met when I moved here, started hanging out, fell in love, and I asked you to marry me.” As long as they kept it simple, it shouldn’t be too hard to keep their story straight. “Isn’t that the way it happens for most people?”

  Darla lifted her mug again, holding it tightly in her hands. The shadows had come back to her eyes, darkening them as she stared at the floor.

  Was that how it had happened with her first husband? He wanted to ask, but something told him he shouldn’t. Darla seemed lost in her own thoughts. Or maybe lost wasn’t the right word. More like consumed. She looked as sick as she had back at the community center. The longer they sat in silence, the more uncomfortable he got. Something was bothering her, and he didn’t know how to help.

  Maybe she wasn’t comfortable with their arrangement. “Look, if you don’t want to do this—”

  “I’m fine with it.” She raised her head. “It’s no big deal.”

  Then why all the rules? Why was she acting so weird?

  “I’m just not feeling well,” she said, slipping off her shoes and resting her feet on the coffee table. “That’s all. You’ve been a great pretend boyfriend, but you can go now. I’m really not in the mood to talk anymore tonight.”

  “We don’t have to talk.” Ty leaned over and picked up the remote. “Why don’t we just watch a movie? Hang out?” He still didn’t feel right about leaving her to fend for herself. Before she could protest, he started flipping through the saved movies on her DVR. “Oh, White Christmas. I haven’t seen that in years.”

  Darla smirked. “You’ve seen it before?”

  “Heck yeah. My mom used to make us watch it with her every year. It’s actually not half bad.” He clicked the Play button. Darla stared at him a few more minutes, but then she lay down on the couch and seemed to get comfortable. Twenty minutes into the movie, she fell asleep. Ty hauled himself out of the chair and quietly and carefully pried the almost-empty mug of ginger tea out of her hands. He gazed down at her, struck by how peaceful she looked when she was asleep and wasn’t guarding herself so closely. Her hair had fallen across her cheek, and he lightly brushed it away.

  He’d told Mateo he didn’t have feelings for her, but he couldn’t deny that something stirred when he looked at her. When he touched her. When he kissed her. Something definitely stirred and it made him want more.

  Chapter Six

  Darla sat straight up in her bed. A warm cozy feeling from the dream she’d been having still enveloped her. Oh. Dear. God. She shoved her hair back from her forehead, recounting what exactly had been going on in her subconscious. She’d dreamed about Ty. And it hadn’t been a sex dream either. It had been…nostalgic. The two of them were standing at her kitchen counter. She’d been mixing up a batch of chocolate truffles and he’d come up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her neck while she giggled. Giggled!

  It had been a scene straight out of a sappy engagement ring commercial. A scene that she’d experienced with Gray plenty of times. But Ty…Ty? Nope. Nuh uh. She didn’t think of him like that. She couldn’t think of him like that.

  Darla threw off the covers and scrambled out of her bed. This was because of last night, that’s all. The emotional rollercoaster Gray’s letter had put her on. She’d been so upset when Ty had shown up that she hadn’t kept her wits about her. Of course she’d dreamed about him after his stellar acting job last night. The scenes flickered through her mind. Of course she’d dreamed about him when he’d gone and smeared frosting across her lips and kissed her. Oh! And he’d made her that delicious tea, which really had soothed her stomach somehow. Then they’d watched White Christmas—her favorite Christmas movie of all time.

  Wait. She glanced around, trying to get her balance and her bearings. How’d she get in her bed? She had no memory of walking into her bedroom. But Ty wasn’t in here with her. And, though she stood on her wood floor barefoot, she was still wearing her dress from last night. If she didn’t walk in her room on her own, then…Darla bolted out the bedroom door and careened down the hall into the living room.

  Sure enough, Ty was still there, passed out on the couch. The sight of him made her pause. He lay flat on his back, his hair and clothes rumpled. Another few buttons on his shirt had come undone so that the very top of his muscular pecs peeked through. He looked peaceful and relaxed and too sexy for his own good. Or for her own good, for that matter.

  She had to stop looking. That dream had messed with her. Ty was a friend she’d had some fun with. That was all.

  “Wake up.” She leaned over and shook his shoulder. “Come on, Ty. Wake up.”

  His eyelids fluttered, but he simply groaned and turned onto his side. “Few more minutes…”

  “No. Not a few more minutes.” Darla tugged on his arm, trying to sit him up. “Come on. Time to get up.” Time for him to go home so she could clear her head.

  Ty yawned and opened his eyes fully, then squinted at her. “What time is it?”

  Good question. Darla glanced at the kitchen clock. “Almost eight.” Embarrassed, she tried to smooth her wrinkled dress, which was ridiculous because this was only Ty. Ty who’d already seen her naked on numerous occasions. Ty who’d touched her almost everywhere.

  Okay, this wasn’t helping.

  “Why are you still here?” she demanded, images from that dream playing in the back of her mind.

  He sat up and moved his head as though trying to get a crick out of his neck. “I thought I’d stay in case you needed anything.”

  “I don’t.” Darla crossed her arms tightly over her chest, feeling too exposed. “I don’t need anything. Do you know how many times I’ve been sick and on my own? Plenty. I can take care of myself. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” And she’d been fine. Her life had been very manageable up until last week. Until she’d agreed to be Ty’s fiancée. But none of that was his fault. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Still not feeling great.” She must have the stomach flu. Or maybe she’d eaten something that didn’t agree with her. Yes, that had to be it. She didn’t have time to be sick right now. “Did you really carry me to bed?”

  “You were conked out.” His sleepy tone would’ve been adorable if she wasn’t so desperate to get him out of her house.

  “I thought you’d sleep better in your bed. I was only going to hang out for a while to make sure you didn’t need anything, but I guess I fell asleep.” He pushed himself off the couch, his eyes brighter and more awake. “How are you feeling?”

  Worse. She was feeling worse. Her stomach sloshed and gurgled. “I’ll be right back,” she wheezed, running to the bathroom. She got there just in time to throw up in the toilet, and then she quickly splashed water on her face. She had to get herself together. This was ridiculous. As if having some weird stomach bug wasn’t bad enough, now she had all of these emotions to contend with—a deep yawning sadness, confusion, and that other one she usually kept in check. Fear. She hadn’t dreamed about anyone but Gray since he’d died, and she couldn’t start now. Faking an engagement was one thing, but real feelings? No. She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t.

  When she came out of the bathroom, Ty stood at the end of the hall waiting for her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Or she would be if she could just go about her usual routine, her normal life, and forget all of this for a few hours. Forget that Gray had asked her to risk her heart again. Forget about this fake engagement that had seemed like such a good idea at the time. She needed to go to work. She needed to plan and prepare for the festival. “Thanks for keeping an eye on me, but I have to go.”

  Ty leaned his broad shoulder into the wall and stared at her, tilting his head slightly. “You sure that’s a good idea? Maybe you need some rest.”

  Rest was the exact opposite of what she needed. “I have too much to do. The festival starts next week, and I still have to finalize the details.” She needed to call the county and make sure the permit was approved and confirm with all the vendors who would be selling food during the rodeo. “I’m great. Feeling much better now, actually.” Or at least she would feel better when she got her mind off of everything.

  “Okay.” Ty still didn’t look convinced, but he straightened and moseyed back to the living room. “You’re still coming with me to pick up my parents from the airport, right?” He sat on the couch and pulled on his boots.

  “Yep.” Darla hurried over to the chair and grabbed his coat, holding it out for him. “Just text me and tell me when you want to leave.”

  “They get in late Monday, so maybe we’ll head down in the early evening.” Ty took his coat from her and slipped it on. He paused in the entryway and patted his pocket. “I almost forgot. I have to give you the engagement ring. You still want to tell people I popped the question last night, right?”

  “Oh.” Right. That had been the plan. “I think we should. That way everyone will know before your parents get here.” Hopefully the town’s shock would wear off by then.

  “Here.” He pulled out a small box and popped it open.