The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby

by Stella Bagwell

  They found that place together and for long, long moments Marcella felt sure a part of her was dancing on the ceiling and somersaulting through the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.

  Even after her mind had settled back to its proper axis and her gasps for breath had slowed, her body was still wallowing in the delicious afterglow of his lovemaking. And though she welcomed his slack weight, he soon moved to one side and rested a forearm against his forehead.

  “Nurse, am I still breathing?”

  His murmured question had her reaching over and resting her palm upon his chest. The fast beat of his heart thumped against her fingers.

  “I think so. But you’re experiencing a rapid heartbeat.” She rolled toward him until she was close enough to press a kiss against his damp cheek. He smelled like a man. Her man. And she couldn’t get enough of the scent or the taste of his skin.

  “What do you prescribe to fix it?” he asked. “Bed rest?”

  “And lots of it,” she answered impishly.

  He turned his head toward hers and her heart swelled at the soft light she spotted in the brown depths of his eyes. It was like nothing she’d ever seen from him, or any man before, and though she wanted to believe it was love, she stopped her thoughts from going there. She was old enough and wise enough to know that one session of hot sex didn’t equal love. And yet the soft, warm feelings in her heart were getting awfully close to it.

  “How much time do you have before you head to the hospital?” he asked.

  “A few hours,” she answered, then asked, “How long until you need to get back to the Silver Horn?”

  Groaning, he reached for her. “Long enough.”

  Marcella’s lips found his, and as he begin to kiss her once again, she closed her eyes and told herself the needy feeling in the middle of her chest had nothing to do with her heart.

  Chapter Nine

  “Denver, you and Marcella and the boys are perfectly welcome to join us for Thanksgiving dinner here on the Horn,” Rafe said to him as the two men walked across the ranch yard toward one of the ranch’s many horse barns. “Greta always has enough food for a huge crowd. Besides, Dad and Grandfather will both be missing that day. Dad’s going up to stay a few days with Finn and Mariah over the Thanksgiving holiday and Grandfather will be spending the day over at Evan and Noelle’s. We need some more faces at the table.”

  “It’s nice of you to offer, Rafe,” Denver told him. “But I’ve already promised Marcella I would make dinner for her and the boys. And I don’t want her to think I’m reneging.”

  Without breaking stride, Rafe looked quizzically over at him and laughed. “You making Thanksgiving dinner? I realize you can cook enough to keep meat on your bones, but a holiday feast is a bit different, Denver. Unless you’ve already warned Marcella that she and her sons will be eating sandwiches.”

  “Very funny,” Denver said. “I’m not spoiled like you are—with a house cook and maids and a wife at your beck and call. I know how to cook and clean and do for myself. And since Thanksgiving is only three days away, I’d better start cleaning the kitchen tonight.”

  Rafe continued to chuckle. “Well, I’ll admit I’m spoiled and it feels pretty good. So you do all that cooking and cleaning and save me a piece of pumpkin pie. I want to see how good of a pastry chef you are.”

  “I didn’t say anything about making pastries,” Denver countered. “I’ll purchase those from the bakery in town.”

  “That’s cheating,” Rafe joked, then his expression sobered as he glanced over at Denver. “So how are things going with you and Nurse Marcella? Is she taking care of your aches and pains?”

  A week and a half had passed since Denver had driven into town with intentions of ending things with Marcella. He’d expected that visit to be his last with her. Instead, that day had ended up being one of the most incredible of his life.

  That morning, when he’d carried Marcella to her bedroom, he’d believed he was going to have sex with a sensual redhead. Instead, he’d ended up making love to the most beautiful, giving woman he’d ever known. The closeness they’d shared that day had changed him in ways he was still trying to understand.

  “Do I look sick?” Denver retorted.

  Rafe laughed out loud. “No. As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen you look better. Marcella must be doing something right.”

  Denver’s sigh was lost on the cold wind swooping across the ranch yard. “She’s a special woman, Rafe. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing.”

  The two men entered the cavernous barn and walked down a wide alleyway until they reached a large tack room filled with equipment the ranch hands used on a daily basis. Compared to the freezing temperature outside, the room felt blessedly warm, and after spending most of the day outdoors, Denver welcomed the relief.

  “What does that mean?” Rafe asked. “I thought you’d gotten all that doubt stuff out of your system.”

  These past days, Denver and Marcella had spent as much time together as possible. A few occasions they’d spent alone; in other cases, the boys had been present. And each time he’d said goodbye and returned to the ranch, he’d felt a little of himself remaining behind with her and her sons.

  “I’m working on it,” he said flatly.

  “Damn, Denver, what are you waiting on? For everything to be perfect? Everything to be guaranteed? Well, here’s a news flash for you—life doesn’t work that way. And another thing you ought to know—it doesn’t stand still. You’re wasting precious time.”

  His jaw set, Denver walked to the far side of the dusty room and pulled down several saddle cinches from a peg on the wall. Tossing them to the floor, he said, “These are no good. And there’s several head stalls here with torn leather and broken bits. You want to give them away or send them to the saddle shop to be repaired?”

  Rafe walked over to where Denver was standing. “Right now I’m not worried about a bunch of unusable tack. We’ll deal with it in a few minutes. Right now I’m probably sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I want to know about you and Marcella.”

  “You’re right,” Denver said bluntly. “You are being nosy. Don’t we have enough things to discuss without bringing up Marcella?”

  “Okay, so I’m prying. But Lilly and I are the reason you got hooked up with Marcella in the first place. We sort of feel responsible for you two. Understand?”

  With a rough sigh, Denver sat down on a wooden storage box. “Sorry, Rafe. I don’t mean to sound short. It’s just that—”

  “That what?” Without waiting for an answer, Rafe pulled a rubber feed tub over in front of Denver and flopped it over to use as a makeshift seat. “Until a moment ago I thought things were going great for you two.”

  “They are going great. That’s what worries me. I never meant for things with Marcella to get serious. But they’re getting there. And I don’t know what to do to stop it.”

  Rafe’s head swung back and forth. “Why would you want to stop it? You could look for years and not find a woman of Marcella’s caliber. You ought to be jumping for joy. Is the fact that she has a pair of boys putting you off?”

  Rafe’s question put a deep frown on Denver’s face. “No. It makes her even more appealing. Harry and Peter are very special to me. But—well, like I told you, she wants more children. And I don’t. She might go along with my wishes for a while. But I figure sooner or later she’s going to start resenting me. I think—”

  “You’re thinking too damned much, Denver. Why don’t you just let yourself enjoy the blessings you have right now instead of worrying about all the things that could go wrong?”

  When Denver didn’t answer, Rafe’s eyes narrowed with speculation.

  “What’s wrong with having more children, anyway?” Rafe asked. “I realize kids are a big expense, but it’s not like yo
u’re a pauper. You can afford to raise more than two kids. That is, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. You’d have to really love Marcella before you’d want more children with her. And maybe you don’t love her. At least, not yet.”

  Love her? Would that make everything all right? Would that take his fears away? Denver wondered. He’d loved Christa, but that hadn’t kept her and the baby alive.

  “You are getting ahead of yourself, Rafe. I’m...just now getting used to being with a woman again on a regular basis.”

  Rafe suddenly smiled and rose to his feet. “Yeah. I’ve been married for a few years now. I guess I expect you to feel about Marcella like I do Lilly. You couldn’t live without her even if you wanted to.”

  Oh Lord, he did already feel that way about Marcella, Denver thought. So what did that mean? That he was already in love with her? He didn’t want to think about it now. Like Rafe said, he needed to quit worrying and start enjoying.

  “Okay, buddy,” Rafe said, “let’s go through this tack, and then I’ve got to head over to the office to make a few calls. Dad is thinking he wants another new herd to put on the far west range. I think I’ve located the kind of cattle he wants, but they’re in Nebraska.”

  Glad for the change of subject, Denver stood. “He wants to buy them now? Just as we’re heading into the dead of winter?”

  Rafe chuckled. “Best time to save a dollar. And when it comes to cattle, he’s like a kid at Christmas. And speaking of Christmas, don’t tell the hands, but they’re all getting new saddles this year.”

  Denver’s jaw fell open. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. Santa Claus is going to deliver some heavy loads to the Silver Horn this Christmas.”

  * * *

  “Mom, are we going to eat turkey when we get to Denver’s house?”

  Marcella momentarily took her eyes off the graveled road to glance in the rearview mirror at Peter. He and Harry were both dressed in their better jeans and button-up shirts. Harry’s red curls were tamed as neatly as possible, while Peter’s blond bangs had been carefully brushed to one side. Except for when they went to church services, she’d never seen them take this much pains with their appearance, and she realized the effort was all for Denver’s sake.

  Denver. Just the thought of him filled her with happy warmth. She’d never dreamed that any man could make her feel so desirable or special. Making love to him had taken her on a wondrous journey, and the miracle of their deep connection had seeped into every aspect of her life. Now everything from the sight of a gray winter sky to a grateful smile of a patient seemed to hold a special meaning for Marcella.

  Yes, Denver had changed her life, she thought. And though she couldn’t predict where their relationship was headed, she knew she could search far and wide and never find a better man for her and the boys.

  “I don’t know what we’ll be eating, Peter,” Marcella answered. “Does it really matter?”

  “No. I just wondered. Can a man cook good things?”

  Harry scoffed at his brother’s question. “You see all those guys cooking on TV, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the stuff they cook is good. Besides, I don’t believe everything I see on TV.”

  “Now, that’s being smart, Peter,” Marcella spoke up. “Your brother needs to follow your example.”

  “Well, Mom, lots of chefs are men,” Harry said defensively.

  “True,” Marcella reasoned. “But it’s like Peter says. That doesn’t necessarily mean that what they cook tastes good.”

  Peter scooted as far to the edge of his seat as the safety belt would allow. “Will Denver’s Thanksgiving dinner taste good, Mom?”

  She kept her smile to herself. “I hope so. But even if it tastes horrible, you guys are going to act like everything is delicious. Hear me? Denver has worked hard to make dinner for us and I want both of you boys to be polite and gracious.”

  “Gracious? What’s that?” Peter asked.

  “Well, it means nice.”

  “Aw, Mom, we aren’t going to say anything bad to Denver,” Harry insisted. “We love him. Don’t we, Peter?”

  “Yeah. He’s super. He’d be the most awesome dad we could ever have. Right, Harry?”

  “Right!”

  Marcella glanced in the mirror just in time to see the two boys giving each other an exuberant high five. And for one split second she considered pulling the car over to the side of the road and reminding her sons that there were no plans being made for Denver to become their father. And for everyone’s sake, they needed to get the idea out of their heads.

  But she instantly nixed that idea. It was Thanksgiving. Why spoil their special day by crushing their childish dreams? Besides, she had her own dreams about Denver. And for today, at least, she wanted to believe they could come true.

  A few minutes later, Marcella turned onto the long narrow drive that led up to Denver’s house. This was the first time since the night of the Halloween party that she and the boys had visited his home. Now in the light of day, she could see the outside walls of the low, rambling ranch house were covered with light gray siding and native rock work that went halfway up. Slate colored shutters trimmed the windows, and a long covered porch sheltered the front entrance. A stand of pines grew tall in the small front yard, while the bare limbs of several poplars promised the house would be shaded by hot summertime.

  “Wow! There’s a mountain right behind Denver’s house,” Harry exclaimed. “Can me and Peter climb it?”

  The slope was more like a tall hill than a mountain and sparsely dotted with trees and vegetation. Marcella realized the sight of all this open space was like dipping into a candy box for Harry and Peter. “Maybe later. After we’ve had our meal.”

  “Yay, Mom!” Peter yelled out, then poked a defiant face at Harry. “Bet I can beat you to the top!”

  “Hah, I’ll leave you in the dust, scrawny!”

  Moments later, as the three of them stepped onto the porch, the boys were still debating who could make the climb faster, but when Denver opened the door, they instantly forgot about the challenge.

  “Hi, Denver! Thank you for inviting us to dinner!”

  The boys chimed out the greeting in perfect unison, which promptly put a grin on Denver’s face.

  “Thank you for coming,” he told them as he pushed the door wide.

  “Hello, Marcella.” He winked at her as she stepped past him and into the house. “That’s a good-looking pair of guys you brought with you.”

  “They’ll do,” Marcella said, her affectionate glance encompassing both her sons.

  “We even took a shower this morning,” Harry admitted as he and Peter followed the adults into the living room. “Just like we were going to school.”

  Denver chuckled. “I feel honored.”

  He helped Marcella out of her coat, then waited for Peter and Harry to hand over theirs. Once Denver had hung the garments in a nearby closet, Peter lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. “Gee, something sure smells good! And I’m hungry.”

  “It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes,” he said. “Then you can tell me whether it tastes as good as it smells.”

  Harry immediately spoke up. “Mom says we have to tell you it’s good even if it isn’t.”

  Marcella gasped, then groaned with embarrassment. “Harry! Am I going to have to put a zipper on your mouth?”

  Denver laughed loudly, then made a tsking noise at Marcella. “Are you teaching Peter and Harry to tell fibs?”

  Deciding there was nothing else to do but laugh along with him, she said, “I’m trying to teach them to be polite, but obviously they haven’t gotten the hang of it yet.”

  Denver wrapped an arm around each boy’s back and urged them out of the living room. “Come on, guys. I have something in the kitchen I
want to show you.”

  “Am I invited, too?” Marcella asked impishly.

  He glanced at her and grinned, and the twinkle in his eyes was for her and her alone.

  “Of course you’re invited. I might need to put you to work.”

  The four of them marched through the house, which was much more spacious than Marcella’s. As soon as they stepped into the kitchen, she stared around in wonder. Except for the pots on the stove and a few last-minute preparations scattered on the cabinet counter, everything looked clean and tidy. Even the tiled floor was sparkling.

  “Looks like you’ve had a maid hard at work in here,” Marcella teased. “I can actually see a kitchen now.”

  “Ha! These hands of mine have never worked so hard,” Denver told her. “And that includes branding season.”

  He motioned for them to follow him over to the end of the cabinets, where he pointed to a big straw basket on the floor. “Harry and Peter suggested that I needed some cats. So I took their advice. What do you guys think?”

  Marcella peeped around Denver’s shoulder to see two sleeping kittens curled tightly together. One was solid white, the other gray. The sight of the baby animals took her by surprise. She hadn’t imagined a rugged cowboy like him taking the time or effort to care for two fragile pets.

  “Cats!” Harry quickly dropped to his knees and leaned over the basket. “Oooh, they’re cool!”

  Peter instantly sank to the floor next to his brother. “Look how little and pretty they are!”

  “Their fur is really long,” Harry said with awe. “I’ll bet they could win a cat show!”

  Chuckling, Denver glanced at Marcella, then down to her sons, who were getting as close to the kittens as they possibly could without actually touching them.

  Denver said, “They’re show cats, all right. Straight from the horse barn. The mother cat had four babies. Now that they’re big enough to eat without her, I took two and Rafe’s kids got the other two.”