by Linda Warren
“I have to get back to work.”
“Wait.” Kid held up a hand. “I’d like to talk about oil leases.”
“What?” Lucky eased back into her chair.
“Shilah Oil would like to lease your land for oil and gas.”
She wanted to laugh and without realizing it, she did. She had something Kid wanted. This was going to be fun.
“No,” she replied without having to think about it.
“Come on, Lucky. This could be good for you.” He glanced around. “Maybe you could get out of this beer joint.”
That did it.
“The land is not for lease.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not leasing to a Hardin.”
He drew back as if she’d hit him. “Come on, Lucky.”
Come on, Lucky. That and his I-live-for-you smile were his trademarks. Come on, Lucky. He’d kiss her cheek. Come on, Lucky. He’d stroke her hair. Come on, Lucky. And she’d do anything he wanted.
But not anymore.
Dear Reader,
The Texan’s Christmas is the last book in The Hardin Boys miniseries. I’ve lived with these characters for almost two years and it’s sad to let them go, but I’m going to end the series with a bang—with tears and laughter. The best way!
If you’ve read the other two books, The Texan’s Secret and The Texan’s Bride, you’re well acquainted with Cisco “Kid” Hardin, the middle brother. If you haven’t, that’s okay. You’ll still love Kid, the charmer, the ladies’ man. He has a devil-may-care attitude and nothing in life fazes him much. Until he has to face his past—his first love, Lucinda “Lucky” Littlefield.
You probably know someone who has the gift of gab. Who never meets a stranger. Who’s the life of the party and always makes you laugh. My younger brother, Paul, is like that. He keeps everyone in stitches at family gatherings and is fun to be around.
Kid Hardin has some of those traits, and it was a challenge to see what it would take to make him serious. Kid and Lucky have a love story that has kept me on the edge of my seat and I hope you enjoy these characters as much as I’ve enjoyed creating them. So it’s goodbye to the Hardins, but I hope they live on in your mind.
With love and thanks,
Linda Warren
P.S.—It’s always a pleasure to hear from readers. You can email me at [email protected] or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805. Visit my website at www.lindawarren.net
or www.facebook.com/authorlindawarren. I will answer your letters as soon as I can.
The Texan’s Christmas
Linda Warren
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RITA® Award-nominated and award-winning author Linda Warren has written thirty books for Harlequin, including stories for the Superromance, American Romance and Everlasting Love series. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch, all set against the backdrop of Texas. When she’s not writing or at the mall, she’s sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife and plotting her next book. Visit her website at www.LindaWarren.net.
Books by Linda Warren
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1167—A BABY BY CHRISTMAS
1221—THE RIGHT WOMAN
1250—FORGOTTEN SON
1314—ALL ROADS LEAD TO TEXAS
1354—SON OF TEXAS
1375—THE BAD SON
1440—ADOPTED SON
1470—TEXAS BLUFF
1499—ALWAYS A MOTHER
1574—CAITLYN’S PRIZE *
1592—MADISON’S CHILDREN *
1610—SKYLAR’S OUTLAW *
1723—THE TEXAN’S SECRET**
1735—THE TEXAN’S BRIDE**
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1042—THE CHRISTMAS CRADLE
1089—CHRISTMAS, TEXAS STYLE
“Merry Texmas”
1102—THE COWBOY’S RETURN
1151—ONCE A COWBOY
1226—TEXAS HEIR
1249—THE SHERIFF OF HORSESHOE, TEXAS
1333—HER CHRISTMAS HERO
I dedicate this book to my brother,
Paul William—you’ll always be the life of the party.
I would like to thank all the patient and
understanding people who answered my endless
questions about the oil industry, trains and cattle
rustling. All errors are strictly mine.
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
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
LUCINDA LITTLEFIELD.
The name evoked a torrent of high school memories—heavenly blue eyes, kissing in the bleachers, making out in his old pickup…and a whole lot of regret.
Cisco Hardin shifted restlessly in his truck as he sped down the road in High Cotton, Texas. Everyone in school had called her Lucky, and they’d dubbed him Kid. Somehow he knew they’d meet again, but he never dreamed it would be like this.
In his mind their eyes would lock across a crowded room. She’d smile that smile that turned him inside out and all the promises he’d broken would be forgotten. Chickens wearing high heels might be a more likely scenario, he mused. Lucky wasn’t going to forget what he’d done. It was time to roll the dice and see if twenty years had mellowed the cockles of Lucky’s heart.
As he pulled into the parking area of the one beer joint in the small town, his cell jangled to the tune of “Ain’t Going Down (’Til the Sun Comes Up).” Turning off the ignition, he reached for the phone on his belt.
“Hey, Cadde.” His brother was the CEO of Shilah Oil. Kid and Chance, their other brother, had a vested interest in the company, too. The Hardin boys were in the oil business.
“Did you get Lucky to sign the lease?” Cadde always came straight to the point.
“I just reached The Joint.”
“What took so long?”
“Well—” he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel “—I wanted to see Aunt Etta and Uncle Rufus and then I went to Chance’s, but the baby was asleep so I stopped at your house to play with Jacob. He’s crawling everywhere and pulling up to his feet by himself.”
“He’ll be walking soon. Jessie and I can hardly keep up with him.” There was a long sigh. “Kid, you’re stalling.”
“Maybe.” He had to admit this wasn’t easy for him.
“You were only a boy when you promised to call and come back after you left for Lubbock and Texas Tech, but you didn’t. That was years ago. You’ve both moved on.”
“I know. I can’t figure out what she’s doing in High Cotton running her dad’s bar.”
“Don’t worry about her life, just get the lease signed. I’ve already purchased our drilling contract from Anadarko and it didn’t come cheap. Since Bud transferred the land and mineral rights to Lucky, we need her fifty acres to complete the desired acreage to drill the oil well. We have a personal stake in this because our property left to us by our parents is a major part of the tract.”
“I’m well aware of that, big brother.”
“Do you want me to talk to Lucky?”
“Hell, no. Leasing is my department and I’ll handle it.”
“You’ll have to get out of your truck to do that.�
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Kid looked around. “Are you watching me?”
There was a laugh on the other end. “No, but I know you and, believe me, this is a first—Kid Hardin afraid to talk to a woman.”
“Lucky’s not any woman.”
“You might want to analyze that statement and why this is so hard for you.”
He’d rather not. “You always said my past was going to come back and haunt me. I can feel the ol’ Ghostbusters chomping at my butt.”
“If you don’t want to see her, Chance or I will do it.”
“Like hell.”
“Then get out of your truck.”
Kid clicked off before the curse words could leave his mouth. Grabbing his hat from the passenger’s seat, he got out. The parking lot was graveled as it had been years ago and it crunched beneath his boots like corn-flakes. The weatherworn siding and tin roof with the rusty spots were the same, too. An iron rail ran across the front. Bud had put it up after a drunk had plowed through his building one night. “The Beer Joint” blinked from a neon sign. Bud hadn’t used much creativity in naming the place. Besides Kid’s truck, three more were nosed up to the rail and it was only five o’clock on a hot September afternoon.
Opening the heavy door, he stepped into the dimly lit bar and just like that, twenty years smacked him in the face. They were seventeen years old and he’d fixed up an old Ford pickup to drive to school. After classes, The Beer Joint was the first place they’d stop. Lucky would go in the side door and sneak out two beers. Then they’d cruise the back roads, stopping at the old abandoned Potter place beneath an overgrown entrance. He’d drink his beer and then hers because she’d only take a couple of sips. The rest of the afternoon they’d spend making out when they should have been studying.
He was her first and he’d thought he would love her forever.
After his eyes adjusted, he saw the inside was the same, too; the back wall had a row of red booths that now looked more orange than red. Wooden tables were scattered in the center, the old jukebox that probably held records from the 1980s occupied another wall, and to the left was the mahogany bar Bud had built. It shone like glass. A couple huddled together in a booth, two guys sat at a table and three cowboys were bellied up to the bar talking to a waitress.
He didn’t see Lucky.
Straddling a faded red bar stool, he looked around, his eyes falling on the waitress. She made no move to serve him. One cowboy said something and she laughed. His mind reeled. Oh, my God! He knew that soft, seductive chuckle. It visited him often in his dreams. Could she be…?
His eyes roamed over her slim yet curvy figure dressed in tight jeans. Her breasts pushed against a blue fitted blouse and the first button was undone. That he noticed, but her hair drew his attention. Lucky’s blond hair was long and flowing. This woman’s was short, kind of chic, wobberjawed is what he’d call the style. It looked damn good on her, though.
Lucky.
What have you done to your hair?
Just when he was about to fall off his bar stool from shock, she turned and walked over to him.
“Can I get you anything?”
The soft lilting voice was the same but there was no recognition in the blue eyes—the eyes that used to sparkle for him. Now they just stared at him with irritation.
He wanted to say, “It’s me, Kid,” but somehow the words got tangled up in the past of his misdeeds. What he said was, “Beer. Miller Lite.”
“Can or bottle?”
“Bottle.”
Behind her was a large cooler filled with numerous kinds of beer. She opened the door and grabbed one. After placing it in front of him on a napkin, she laid a ticket on the bar. He pulled out his wallet and placed a five on top of it.
“Keep the change.”
Without a word, she put the ticket and money in the cash register. She slammed it shut and went back to the cowboys, ignoring him as if he were invisible.
That was cold.
But she was beautiful and sexy, just like he’d remembered. The classic lines of her face were now mature as was her body. And her breasts—were they always that full? They used to fit the palm of his hand perfectly.
She didn’t recognize him! That took a moment to digest. Getting her to sign a lease was going to be so much easier now. He’d worried for nothing.
Looking down, he saw the bottle still had the cap on it. He knew it was a twist-off, but just to niggle her, he called, “Miss?”
She glanced his way.
“Aren’t you supposed to remove the cap?”
“Oh.” She moved over to him, her blue eyes narrowed. “I thought you could flick it off with your thumb.”
He frowned. Was she joshing him? He used to brag about that in high school. Not that he could, but it didn’t keep him from boasting.
Taking the bottle, she gave it a quick twist and placed it in front of him on the napkin. Foam oozed from the top and spilled onto the side. Did she shake it?
Again, without a word she walked away.
He needed another napkin, but decided against asking. He took a cold sip.
A man came through the door on the right, carrying a case of beer. Bubba Joe Grisley. In school, he’d had a big head and his body had finally caught up. The man was huge. Did he work here? From the apron he wore, Kid figured he did. Bubba Joe used to have a crush on Lucky. Had they hooked up? Chance had said that Lucky wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean a thing.
Bubba Joe unloaded the case into the cooler and turned, his eyes catching Kid’s. “Well, if it ain’t Crisco Hardin.”
Kid ran his thumb over the frosty bottle. “If you call me Crisco one more time, I’m going to jump across this bar and show you how strong I’ve gotten in twenty years.”
Bubba Joe laughed, a sound that rumbled through his large chest. “Hey, Kid. I’m joking.”
“I didn’t like it when you called me that in third grade and I don’t like it now.”
“Hell, Kid, you got all the looks and charm and all I got was a big head. I had to have some fun.” Bubba Joe rubbed his balding head. “I think I still have knots that you put there.”
“I didn’t hit you that hard.”
“Life was good back then, huh?” Before Kid could answer, Bubba Joe shouted to Lucky. “Hey, Kid Hardin’s back in town.”
“I know. I served him a beer,” she said without any emotion, and without looking his way.
That was even colder.
She remembered. On that thought came another. After all these years she was still pissed and madder than a bear caught in a trap. He knew Lucky and her stubborn pride. She wasn’t ever going to forgive him. Forgiveness wasn’t something he needed—too many years had passed for that. But he was sorry he’d hurt her.
After his parents’ tragic deaths, his mind was all messed up and Lucky was there to comfort him in a way no one else could. They were friends a long time before their relationship had become intimate.
“Are you moving back to High Cotton like your brothers?” Bubba Joe asked, leaning on the bar.
“Nah.” Kid took a swallow. “I’m staying in Houston. I’ve gotten used to the bright lights.”
“Yeah. I bet.” Bubba Joe snickered in that I-know-what-you-mean sort of way.
Kid just drank his beer, but every now and then he could feel Lucky’s heavenly baby blues on him. But now there was nothing divine about them. Instead, they gave off more of a fire and brimstone feel.
“Chance built a huge roping pen back of his house. I see him out there roping most weekends. His little girl, too. Sometimes Tyler Jakes ropes with him. He’s a roping champion.”
Kid brought his attention back to Bubba Joe. “Tyler’s a rodeo guy and he and Chance will always be cowboys.” Tyler was younger than the Hardin boys but his rodeo success was well-known.
“Chance’s wife just had a baby.”
“Yeah.” Kid twisted the bottle. “A little boy named Cody.”
“His wife teaches at the school. My cousin has her
for a teacher and he has a big crush on her—a beautiful blonde. Who wouldn’t?”
“Shay’s a real nice lady and Chance is lucky to have met her.” But the relationship almost disintegrated on its own when Chance had found out the truth about Shay’s past.
Chance had been asleep in the backseat the night their parents had crashed into a tree and died. Loud voices had awakened him. Seemed their father was leaving his family for another woman. That was the horrible secret Chance had kept, never telling anyone until about three years ago when he’d finally told his brothers.
No one knew who the other woman was until Shay literally crashed into Chance’s life. The other woman was her mother.
Kid gulped the cold beer. That news had been hard to take, but they’d gotten through it as brothers. Their father had been a big part of their lives, so much so they’d followed him into the oil business. Chuck Hardin had roughnecked most of his life. He’d told his sons that they’d do better than him. They’d get an education and move up the ladder into a position of power. Everything their father had taught them felt tarnished by his betrayal.
“We all knew Cadde was going to succeed,” Bubba Joe was saying. “He had that drive, even back then. Who knew he’d marry the boss’s daughter.”
“Yeah, who knew?” Kid swirled the beer around in the bottle. The marriage of convenience had turned into something special. Nothing much distracted Cadde from the oil business, except Jessie. When they’d lost their first child, Kid feared Cadde was never going to make it back from the edge. But he’d heard love had the power to heal. Kid didn’t know much about that, though.
“I see his wife every now and then at Walker’s General Store. She pushes the baby around in a stroller looking at everything in there like she’s at Neiman Marcus. Her dog is in the stroller, too. It’s a weird thing without any ears and if you get anywhere near that baby it growls and barks. Jessie, I think her name is, always apologizes. Man, she’s a looker, and pregnant again. You Hardin boys are going to keep the name alive.”
