He’ll sing a new tune this Christmas!
Divorced and raising two boys on her own is a far cry from the big family Marcella Grayson always imagined. Then she meets tall, dark and delicious Denver Yates—and the attraction is overwhelming! Still, Marcella is cautious. It takes a lot of man to date a single mom, let alone build a relationship...or a family.
After losing his wife and unborn child, Denver has sworn off the family life—especially kids. Yet lovely Marcella and her boys find a way into this cowboy’s heart. But when their passion lights up the plus sign on the test stick, Denver is stunned. Is this a snare set by Marcella? Or is it the Christmas wish they’ve been too afraid to make?
She glanced over at him and wondered what he was possibly thinking about her, wanting from her.
Had that kiss implied he wanted to deepen their relationship? The mere idea of that rattled her as much as the kiss. “I don’t know about you, Denver, but I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”
Braking at a stop sign, he glanced over at her. “I’m not, either. So what would you like to do? The night is still early.”
“It’s rainy and cold. Why don’t we just go to my place? I’ll make us some hot chocolate and we can watch TV—or something.”
“Are you sure? If there’s something else you’d rather do, just tell me. I don’t want this to be a bum date for you.”
“Just spending time with you will be special.”
An odd expression flickered across his face, and for a moment she thought he was going to insist they do anything besides what she was suggesting.
But then he shrugged one shoulder and turned the truck in the general direction of her house.
Marcella settled back in the seat and wondered if she’d just invited herself a heartbreak, or finally found the courage to open the door to the rest of her life.
MEN OF THE WEST:
Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers know how to ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy...
Dear Reader,
When my Men of the West series migrated to Carson City, Nevada, and the Silver Horn Ranch, I never expected nurses to show up. After all, these were stories about cowboys, not the health profession. But for one reason or another my characters continued to end up at Tahoe General Hospital, and the medical institution began to take on a life of its own.
Momentous occasions have certainly occurred at Tahoe General, and through the years, Nurse Marcella Grayson has watched her best friends find lasting love and give birth to their babies. As a single mother of two boys, she doesn’t want to think her chances to have a husband and more children have passed, but she has her doubts. Until she meets Denver Yates, ramrod at the Silver Horn.
The dark, reserved cowboy is everything Marcella wants, but Denver’s plan for the future doesn’t include a wife and babies. However, Christmas is coming, and the special holiday has a way of making magical things happen.
I hope you’ll travel with me once again to the high desert country of Nevada and celebrate Christmas with everyone on the Silver Horn and their friends at Tahoe General Hospital!
Happy trails and Merry Christmas!
Love,
Stella
The Cowboy’s Christmas Lullaby
Stella Bagwell
After writing more than eighty books for Harlequin, Stella Bagwell still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at [email protected].
Books by Stella Bagwell
Harlequin Special Edition
Men of the West
His Badge, Her Baby...Their Family?
Her Rugged Rancher
Christmas on the Silver Horn Ranch
Daddy Wore Spurs
The Lawman’s Noelle
Wearing the Rancher’s Ring
One Tall, Dusty Cowboy
A Daddy for Dillon
The Baby Truth
The Doctor’s Calling
His Texas Baby
Christmas with the Mustang Man
His Medicine Woman
Daddy’s Double Duty
His Texas Wildflower
The Deputy’s Lost and Found
The Fortunes of Texas: All Fortune’s Children
Fortune’s Perfect Valentine
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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To all the nurses who’ve dedicated their lives
to caring for others.
Thank you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Excerpt from Christmas on Crimson Mountain by Michelle Major
Chapter One
“Mom, somebody has come to our rescue!”
“Ain’t so, Harry! It’s a Halloween goblin come to steal our candy!”
Ignoring the shouts of her two sons sitting in the backseat of the car, Marcella Grayson glanced up from the black dashboard to the flash of headlights in the rearview mirror.
When her car had suddenly died, she’d attempted to steer it to the side of the rural graveled road. Instead, the vehicle had rolled to a complete stop before she could manage to make that happen. Now the rear end of the car was partially blocking the path of the driver behind her.
Marcella pulled on a lightweight jacket and reached for the door latch. “Stay buckled up, boys. Do not get out of the car for any reason. Understand?”
Harry, the older of the two brothers by a mere eight months, questioned, “Where are you going, Mom?”
“We’re blocking the road,” she said. “I need to explain to the driver behind us.”
“Tell ’em to call the police!” Peter exclaimed. “We need help!”
“Dummy! We don’t need the police,” Harry chided his brother. “We need a tow truck!”
Marcella didn’t waste time telling the boys to quit arguing. Instead, she exited the car and immediately found herself blinded by the orb of a flashlight.
Shielding her eyes with a hand, she peered toward the end of the vehicle, but all she could discern in the darkness was a pair of long, muscular legs encased in dusty denim and an equally dirty pair of cowboy boots.
“Having trouble?”
As the boots started toward her, she tried to recognize the male voice, but failed. She was acquainted with several men who lived or worked here on the Silver Horn Ranch. Unfortunately, thi
s wasn’t one of them.
“My car suddenly lost power and quit. Now it refuses to start. And I’m afraid I’ve blocked the road.”
He lowered the circle of light and Marcella’s gaze traveled up the long legs, across a wide, deep chest, then finally to a set of chiseled features shaded by the low brim of a black cowboy hat. Tall and thirtyish, he was the epitome of a strong, weathered rancher.
“Don’t worry about the road,” he said. “If any more vehicles need to pass, I think there’s enough room to go around yours.”
Relieved for that much, at least, she quickly introduced herself. “I’m Marcella Grayson. My boys and I just left the Calhouns’ Halloween party.”
He jerked off a scarred leather glove and extended his hand to her. “Denver Yates,” he replied. “I work for the Calhouns.”
His hand was as hard as a piece of iron and as rough as grit, yet it was warm and reassuring. And for that reason alone, she allowed her fingers to linger against his for a few seconds longer than necessary.
“Nice to meet you, Denver. Thank you for stopping. Of all things, my cell phone has lost its power or something has gone haywire. It refuses to work. So I was beginning to think we were going to have to walk back to the ranch house for help.”
He said, “It’s at least five miles back to the ranch house. Much too far and cold for you and your children to be walking. I’ll take a look at your car. It might be a loose wire or something simple to fix.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great!”
“No trouble,” he assured her. “Just pop the hood.”
Inside the car, she released the hood latch, while Harry and Peter peppered her with questions.
“Is he a bad man? He might rob us!” Peter exclaimed.
“No. He isn’t a bad man,” Marcella patiently explained. “He’s a man who works here on the ranch.”
“Does he know how to fix cars?” Harry wanted to know.
“Let’s all hope he does,” Marcella said while stifling a sigh. She’d already worked a long shift at the hospital today. Her shoulders and legs were aching, and she still had a pile of laundry to do before she could crawl into bed tonight. The only reason she’d agreed to bring her two sons to the Calhoun party this evening was because she’d wanted them to enjoy a real outdoor shindig with a giant campfire, roasting wieners and marshmallows and listening to Orin tell ghost stories. She hadn’t expected to get stranded in the middle of the ranch’s wilderness.
“Okay. Try to start the motor,” Denver called to her from where he stood near the front of the car.
Marcella turned the key, but all that happened was a faint clicking noise.
“It ain’t doin’ nothin’,” Peter muttered with disappointment.
“The guy ain’t no mechanic, that’s for sure,” Harry added.
“All right, you two, I don’t want to hear the word ain’t again. From either of you. In fact, I want complete silence or both of you are going to be in trouble!”
She was tossing them a look of stern warning when Denver Yates pecked on the driver’s window.
Marcella lowered the glass a few inches. “Did you find the problem?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes. The battery is dead.”
She twisted the key back to the lock position. “Dead!” She groaned with disbelief. “I don’t understand. The battery hasn’t given me an ounce of trouble! And the car started fine a few minutes ago when we left the ranch house.”
He nodded as though to say he didn’t doubt her word. “That’s the way of batteries nowadays, ma’am. They don’t give you any warning as to when they’re going to quit. We keep a few batteries on hand back at the ranch yard, but I’m fairly certain none would fit your car. They’re mostly for trucks and equipment. Is there someone I can call for you? Maybe your husband can bring a new battery out to you?”
Even if she was still married to Gordon, the man would be about as useful as a rowboat with one oar, she thought drily.
“I don’t have a husband,” she said flatly. “And I wouldn’t ask a friend to drive all the way out here.”
If her statement surprised him, he didn’t show it. But then, single mothers were the norm these days, rather than the exception.
After a moment, he said, “Sounds like I need to call roadside service for you. But that would be expensive to have them come all the way out here. I could drive you in to Carson City to buy a new battery.”
His last suggestion penetrated her spinning thoughts. “No! It’s a thirty-mile trip to town, then thirty back. I wouldn’t think of asking you to do that. My insurance will pay for the roadside service. I was just thinking—” She glanced back at Harry and Peter, then climbed from the car and shut the door behind her. “Sorry,” she said, “but I didn’t want the boys to hear me. You see, Peter, my younger son, has asthma. The condition is well controlled, but I don’t like him being out in the cold night air for too long. Back at the party he was near the warm campfire. Out here, without the car heater—well, he’ll probably be all right until the mechanic arrives, but I’d feel better if you’d drive us back to the ranch.”
The man studied her for a brief moment, then glanced at the car’s back window. “You don’t want the little guy to think he needs special care?”
Surprised that he understood, she decided he must have children of his own. “That’s it, exactly. He’s ten and wants to think he’s just as strong as his eleven-year-old brother.”
A faint grin tilted the cowboy’s lips. “Sure he does. I won’t mention the asthma. So get your sons and whatever else you need from the vehicle and I’ll take you back to my place. You can wait there until the mechanic gets your car going.”
His unexpected offer caused her jaw to drop. “Your place? I wouldn’t want to barge in on you. Lilly and Ava—”
“Are busy wrapping up the party,” he finished her sentence. “And I live just a short distance from here.”
Deciding she was in no position to turn down help from this Good Samaritan, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Yates. I really appreciate your help. Uh—but first—well, I hope you won’t take offense, but would you mind if I used your phone to call Lilly? Just so she can confirm who you are?”
“Sure. I’m glad you’re being cautious.”
He pulled a smartphone from a leather carrier on his belt and handed it to her. Marcella quickly tapped out her friend’s number and to her immense relief Lilly answered immediately.
After giving Lilly a brief explanation of what was going on with the car and Denver, Lilly assured Marcella she was in safe, capable hands.
When the brief conversation ended, she handed the phone back to the ranch hand. “Lilly tells me you’re a nice, capable guy. So if you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get the boys and my things from the car.”
“Fine,” he told her. “While you do that, I’ll call the roadside service.”
* * *
Short minutes later, Denver steered his truckload of passengers onto the long drive leading up to his house. Next to him, in the passenger seat, Marcella Grayson’s hands were clenched tightly together on her lap as she stared straight ahead at the dark landscape beyond the windshield.
Beneath the dim lighting of the dashboard, he could see enough to tell him the long hair hanging nearly to her waist was a light shade of red, but the thick lashes framing her eyes made it impossible to detect their color. Her features were dainty and soft, and from what he could see, she had that creamy pale skin that only true redheads possessed.
What kind of idiot could have left this little beauty and two boys behind? he wondered. Or had she left him?
What the hell does it matter, Denver? This pretty redhead is none of your business. You need to concentrate on helping her get her car going and forget about all the rest. That’s what you need to do.
“Mister, do you know how to ride a horse?”
Denver glanced over his shoulder to see the question had been spoken by the boy called Peter. Tall and thin, with a headful of corn-yellow hair, he had a wide mouth and an eagerness in his voice that said he was basically a curious child.
“A little,” Denver said, then realizing the woman was giving him an odd look, he gave her a reassuring wink.
Harry was quick to correct his brother. “Dummy! He’s a cowboy and that’s what cowboys do. They ride horses!”
“How do you know he’s a cowboy?” Peter demanded.
Harry let out a loud sigh of exasperation. “Can’t you see his hat?”
“Yeah, but he might be wearing that for Halloween,” Peter reasoned.
The exchange between the two boys had Denver smiling to himself. Clearly this was a pair of town kids. Unlike the children who’d been raised here on the Silver Horn and were accustomed to being around ranch hands and livestock.
“Harry, quit calling your brother a dummy,” his mother chided. “Peter is asking questions because he wants to learn.”
Marcella’s statement must have given the older boy the idea to ask his own questions, because the next thing Denver knew Harry had scooted to the edge of his seat.
“I’ll bet you have a horse of your own, don’t you?” he asked.
“I have five horses,” Denver replied.
Clearly impressed, Harry exclaimed, “Five! What do you do with that many?”
Stifling a chuckle, Denver said, “I use the horses to work with. We cowboys have to ride the range, you know. And riding just one horse every day would make him too tired.”
“See, numskull,” Peter tossed at his brother. “You don’t know everything!”
Just as the boys began to argue between themselves again, Denver braked the truck to a stop beneath a low-roofed carport connected to the east side of a wide, rambling house that appeared to be gray in color.
“Here we are,” he said to the woman. “Let me turn on the lights and we’ll go in.”
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