Cowboy SEAL Christmas

by Nicole Helm

  “Nothing.” Monica felt stupid for even bringing it up, but bottling up worries never did them any good. “I’m just wondering if I’ve forgotten how to be a human being in the past ten years of being a mom and a therapist.”

  “I think you’re a great friend.”

  “Feels like there’s a but in there.”

  Becca chuckled. “This is not a criticism, and I’m only saying it because you asked. Sometimes you have a habit of saying things as if that’s just the way it should be. Because you know what you’re talking about. I don’t know if that’s being a mom or a therapist, and actually, I really appreciate it. I admire the way you seem to know exactly what to say and you’re sure of yourself. You don’t waver. I wish I could be more like that.”

  “Not everyone appreciates it,” Monica mumbled, thinking irritably of Gabe. But maybe he had a point. She was always trying to get a read on him, trying to devise a plan of mental health action. She felt like that was her role, but maybe…

  “No. Not everyone is going to appreciate a woman who knows what needs to be done,” Becca said, handing Pal’s reins to Monica and giving her a meaningful look. “But if you mean Gabe…”

  “I don’t mean Gabe,” Monica said automatically as she took the reins with too much of a tug. But that’s who she had meant, and lying didn’t help anyone. “Not him only. I just mean…I don’t know what I mean. Ignore me.”

  “I will not ignore you. Because I know you wouldn’t ignore me. Or anyone here. You’re my friend. You’re my maid of honor. You wouldn’t be that if I didn’t love you. So, spill. You clearly need to.”

  “But I don’t want to,” Monica replied, knowing she sounded petulant. She wanted a moment to be that childish, selfish thing inside of her. But as she smoothed her hand down Pal’s mane, she felt calm. Working with the horses gave her that.

  “You do want to, or you wouldn’t have started talking. I’ve learned a few things from watching you interact with Jack and Alex. Now, go.”

  Monica couldn’t help but be amused. Becca said what she meant and knew when she was right. She just hadn’t learned to trust it completely yet. No doubt she would, and in short order.

  “I don’t know how to explain this thing,” Monica admitted, and that was hard for a therapist to admit—that she couldn’t verbalize this jumble inside of her. She was supposed to understand it.

  But you’re not supposed to beat yourself up about not understanding. You’re just supposed to try. “I feel like everything is rolling out of my control,” she said, hating that it boiled down to things she knew she couldn’t control. But feelings and what you knew didn’t always line up, no matter that she had trouble accepting it.

  “Colin was upset about that cow, and I took it out on Gabe,” Monica continued, stroking Pal while Becca led the second horse out of its stall. “I’m letting Colin go stay with my parents by himself for a week. The thought fills me with terror when I should be thrilled that I get a week to myself.” And because Monica couldn’t stand to only discuss the personal stuff and let the spotlight be on her as a person, she had to bring up the other thing that had been niggling at her. “I know the two men scheduled to arrive in January didn’t express any interest in the therapeutic horsemanship.”

  Becca handed her a brush, and then they worked in tandem to brush down the horses. It was a rote activity that often relaxed and helped people discuss what might be plaguing them. It was a safe space to talk and discuss coping mechanisms.

  But if the men didn’t want this…

  “No, they didn’t sign up for it yet,” Becca confirmed as though it wasn’t a big, huge point of worry. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t. I think they have to get here and see it before we’re going to have men really want to get into it.”

  “On a good day, I believe that.”

  “And on a bad day?”

  As much as she’d wanted to wait to broach the subject until after Becca’s wedding, maybe now was the best time. “I love this place, and I know I have built this program with you. But a foundation also has to operate within cost, and if no one is using my therapy services, then you are not operating in cost.”

  “You think we’d get rid of you because of that?” Becca demanded, forgetting her brushing and staring wide eyed at Monica. “We’d never get rid of you.”

  “You have to be willing to,” Monica replied firmly, focusing on Pal because if she looked at Becca’s horrified, green eyes, she was afraid she’d get emotional over it. “The foundation is running on grants and, hopefully at some point, charitable investments. You can’t afford to have a part of your program not performing.”

  “You built this program. You are a part of Revival, and more, you and Colin are part of our family. On the off chance that none of these men see the value in this, we would find a different space for you. Nothing is going to make me give up on this program, and if we have to separate it from Revival, then we will. But I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “You’ve clearly considered failure, or you wouldn’t have all those ideas.”

  Becca waved it away, turning back to brushing down the horse. “Maybe, but only because it’s smart to have a backup plan. I don’t think we’ll need it. And you shouldn’t either.”

  “Like I said, on a good day…”

  “Why is this a bad day?” Becca asked casually, and Monica knew she was using the therapeutic strategies on her. Monica found she didn’t care.

  “I don’t know. I just feel off and out of control, and I hate it.”

  “You sound like Alex.”

  “I think one of the reasons Alex and I make a good therapist-patient fit is because I do understand his controlling tendencies.”

  “You know, I can’t imagine how hard it is to be a single mom. I watched my mom do it for a lot of years. She was overprotective to the point of stifling. You’re not like that.”

  “Because I try very hard not to be, but I’ve stifled him. I know I have.”

  “Maybe. Maybe it doesn’t help, but I came to this ranch as a kid, too. It opened up a world to me I never would’ve dreamed for myself. If it had just been me and my mom, she would have locked me in the house and never let me out, but I had my stepdad and he let me run free. Let me do things my mother never would’ve approved of. It’s a good experience to have someone who… Well, we’re here too. If you feel like you’re stifling, you can trust some people around you to show him what else is out there.”

  “So, I need to let the guys take Colin out on excursions that I would never approve of? Don’t even answer that, because I know the answer. The most horrible part of today is that I thanked Gabe for the whole Christmas tree thing. I sat there Thanksgiving night, and I thanked him for doing something for my son that I know I would never have let him do. But…it’s all these layers. I want Colin to be safe, and I always want to double-check everything and follow every safety rule known to man. If someone had been diligent enough to do that, my husband would not have died in that crash. But the emotional stuff? My son crying or being scared? There aren’t any safety rules for that. So I lost it at Gabe after I’d just thanked him for the same, and I’m sure it doesn’t make any sense to him, but it makes sense to me.”

  “And if it were Jack or Alex saying those things to you, what would you say to them?”

  “I’ve been giving you too many therapeutic horsemanship lessons if you’re turning things around on me,” Monica grumbled, working down the length of Pal’s large body.

  “What would you say to them, Monica?”

  She blew out an annoyed breath. “I’d say that emotions are normal and nothing to be scared of. We all have to experience them, and it’s even good that we do. Good for us as human beings to be sad and scared and happy. You know what the difference is?”

  “What?”

  “Colin is my kid. Reasonable or not, I don’t want hi
m to hurt or be sad ever. We’ve had so much of that already—so much hurt, and I know life isn’t fair, but I want it to be for my kid, even when I know it can’t be.”

  “That’s what makes you a really good mom. Because you want those things for him, and I think somewhere deep down, you know you can’t make it happen or you wouldn’t be conflicted. You wouldn’t be upset.”

  “And I wouldn’t be taking things out on Gabe that have nothing to do with him.”

  “Maybe you take things out on Gabe because you want to be around Gabe?”

  “You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer, Becca.”

  She grinned over her horse. “I know. But let me tell you something. When the guys first got here, and it was just me and them, I liked Gabe the best. He’s the most charming, the most personable. Alex was so hard and so different than I remembered him, and Jack was downright surly. Gabe smiled. He was nice to me. There were a few interactions that got a little dicey, but the point is, over something like nine months of being around them, getting to know them, and understand them as best as I can, I think I know the least about Gabe.”

  “He uses his charm as armor.”

  Becca nodded. “Exactly. He uses that smile and that politeness and that kindness to hide whatever is going on underneath all that. Much like Alex and Jack, some of his behavior suggests he’s getting worse instead of better. Gabe hides it differently than Jack and Alex did. I think he needs something different than Alex and Jack do. There’s something separate about him, and I think he sees you as a threat to that separateness.”

  “I can’t make him get therapy.” She didn’t like to accept that simple fact, but it was a fact—she couldn’t force anyone. They had to want it on some level.

  “That’s what I’m saying. Maybe Gabe doesn’t need therapy. At least not the way Alex and Jack did. If he’s separate and different, maybe we need a completely different approach.”

  “Like what? Because that’s one very annoying question that I don’t have a clue what the answer is.”

  “I don’t know either.” Becca moved so she was hidden behind her horse. “Sex is always an option.”

  Monica screeched a laugh. “Becca Denton.”

  “Well, I’m just saying. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You helped Alex immeasurably, but sex was some good therapy, too. It got him to a place where he was ready to get the therapy.”

  “Love did that. Not sex.”

  “Eh, I think it was both.”

  Monica laughed again. “Well, because you’ve got both, I wouldn’t suggest you have sex with Gabe.”

  Becca appeared at her horse’s tail. “You know I didn’t mean me.”

  “Then who?” Monica asked innocently, focusing on brushing Pal’s tail.

  “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

  Monica straightened her shoulders. If she couldn’t play dumb, she’d play her other roles. “I’m a mother and a therapist. I’m not just going to go hook up with some guy. Especially some guy I have to work with.”

  “But you said yourself you’re worried about only being a mom and a therapist. You should be a woman too. A great place to find your inner woman is in a guy’s pants.”

  Monica tossed her brush at Becca, and Becca jumped out of the way, laughing.

  “This wedding of yours has made you lose your mind,” Monica said, pointing an accusatory finger toward the sleigh in the back.

  “Sex was only a suggestion. I guess you could also take up knitting.”

  “There has to be some middle ground between ill-advised sex and knitting.”

  “Maybe. Although Montana is pretty isolated. I’m not sure what middle ground you’re going to find.”

  Well, she’d find some. Because sex with Gabe was not an answer to any of her problems. Or his. Ever.

  If she was picturing broad shoulders again—this time shirtless, like she’d seen them this summer—well, no one had to be the wiser.

  Chapter 7

  “If you don’t stop making out with your damn fiancée, I’m leaving without you,” Gabe announced, probably more irritably than he should have and for no good reason.

  “You can’t leave without me. I’m the bachelor in the bachelor party,” Alex called from where he and Becca were huddled in the next room, doing who knew what.

  “I don’t think Pioneer Spirit is going to close down before we get there,” Jack said, seated all cozy with Rose on the couch.

  Gabe narrowly resisted scowling at the both of them.

  “I want a full report,” Rose said, since she owned Pioneer Spirit. She’d taken a leave of absence, letting her head waitress run things while she was pregnant. “Crowd size. How’s the new hire doing. If anyone is hassling my waitresses,” Rose said.

  “Why are you asking me for a report? He’s your lapdog,” Gabe said, gesturing at Jack.

  “You were just down there this morning,” Jack said. “I think Tonya warned you that any more checking in would result in you being bodily blocked from the bar until the baby is six months old.”

  “I am the boss, not Tonya.” Rose crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, but Gabe had a feeling she’d be dealing without any reports.

  The front door swung open, and Colin bolted inside, Monica following at his heels with a box in her hands. She leaned back on the door, clearly struggling with the weight in her arms.

  Gabe scowled, marched over, and took the box from her. Christ, it was heavy.

  “Thanks,” she offered. “Just some supplies for our little party,” she said, unwinding the scarf from around her neck.

  Since he didn’t want to watch the staticky strands of blond hair swirl around her face as she took off her winter gear, he peered in the box. “Are those board games?”

  Becca and Alex finally emerged from the other room.

  “We’re having an old-fashioned sleepover. So don’t you three dare stumble in here drunk later. It’s the bunkhouse for you.”

  “I hope someone won’t be stumbling drunk,” Monica offered, hanging up Colin’s already shed winter gear along with her own.

  “I’m the designated driver,” Jack said, unwinding himself from Rose and getting to his feet. “I took the nine-month alcohol-free pledge.”

  “You’ve got him so whipped, I don’t know how you live with yourself.”

  “I guess the same way you live with that piss-poor attitude of yours,” Rose replied sweetly. “Maybe a little whipping would do you some good, Gabe.”

  Gabe just grunted.

  “Do I really have to stay with the girls?” Colin whined, looking hopefully up at Gabe.

  Gabe patted his dark head. “Sorry, kid, twenty-one and over for this party. But do me a favor and play with the dogs. They’ll be needing some male companionship.”

  Colin grumbled, but soon enough, he was sprawled out on the rug with the two ranch dogs, happily scratching their stomachs while Jack and Alex pulled on their winter coats.

  “Be safe, you three,” Becca said sternly, slipping Alex’s hat on his head.

  “No bar fights or you’re paying me damages,” Rose added.

  The couples exchanged kisses, and Monica and Gabe stood awkwardly, pretending like they didn’t notice they were the two singles in the room.

  Then, thank Christ, they were out the door and on the way to the bar. Finally. Gabe hadn’t had a decent drinking night in weeks.

  Alex and Jack talked about the fixes they’d done to the furnace at Jack and Rose’s place on the way to the bar, and Gabe mainly nodded along, pretending to listen. Montana was dark and stark outside the truck’s window, and Gabe appreciated that lack of red-and-green Christmas lights out here in the middle of nowhere.

  Of course, once they got to Blue Valley proper, it was all lit-up storefronts, wreaths on doors, and those obnoxious pieces of tinsel and garland strung from stree
tlights on one side of the road to the other.

  Even Pioneer Spirit was decked out in twinkling lights and ribbons. “The one hope I had for this town was its total lack of holiday charm.”

  Alex laughed. “Everyone loves Christmastime, Gabe. Even Blue Valley. Perhaps even you, deep down.” He parked in the small gravel lot next to Pioneer Spirit’s somewhat shabby exterior, somehow made to look inviting by the red, white, and green lights decorating the storefront.

  “Don’t confuse me with the Grinch. This cold, black heart ain’t ever growing three sizes.”

  Jack snorted, sliding out of the truck in time with Alex. “Yeah, you’re a real hard-ass. That kid is terrified of you.”

  Gabe stepped out of the truck, wincing at the cold and the pain in his hip, which was made worse by the temperature and the gravel beneath his feet. “Whatever, Captain Whipped America.”

  They razzed each other as they made the short trek to the bar entrance, then stepped into the dim warmth of the bar. Alex and Gabe grabbed a table while Jack went and ordered them a round.

  Finally, they all sat at the table, uncomfortably like old times that felt even older than they should. Because during old times their lives had been the three of them. Now it was more like couples and one solitary Gabe. Gabe raised his glass and did his best to pretend this was all fantastic. “A toast to the last days of the single man.”

  “I think it’s supposed to be a happy toast, Gabe,” Jack replied. “Not one that sounds like a funeral.”

  “It is a death of sorts. At least for the guy downstairs.”

  Alex shook his head. “The guy downstairs has no complaints.”

  “Well, that is something to toast to.” They all clinked glasses, and Gabe ignored the way his chest tightened. It was the end of something. Jack and Alex wanted to pretend like time wasn’t marching on, but Gabe knew what marriages and babies did. They separated people. Gave you new people to love, and the old people didn’t fit in anymore.

  He drank deeply. “So, when are we going to toast you?” he said to Jack. “Make an honest woman of that girl you knocked up?”