Cowboy, It's Cold Outside

by Lori Wilde

  With a granddaughter who was devoted to her. That’s what saved her. Family. Connection.

  Grammie leaned forward and kissed Cash chastely on the cheek.

  He exhaled. Whew. Kissed her gently on the forehead.

  She giggled, blushed, ducked her head. “Oh, Wayne.”

  Cash glanced over at Paige. She was looking at him as if he’d climbed up into the sky and painted the moon and stars her favorite color. “What’s her first name?” he whispered to Paige.

  “Edie.”

  “You know what else I want?” Grammie asked.

  “What’s that, Edie?”

  “Will you sing ‘Danke Schoen’?”

  “Now?”

  Grammie bobbed her head, clapped her hands. “Uh-huh.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  The woman reading from the storybook stopped reading. Everyone was watching them. They had an audience. Crap.

  “I don’t have any music,” he said, grasping at straws.

  Someone in the room said, “Hold on, I’ve got Spotify,” and they called up the song on their cell phone. Seconds later, “Danke Schoen” leaked into the room.

  And he was stuck. No excuses. He couldn’t sing as high as a young Wayne Newton, but he was a musician and he gave it his best shot.

  Grammie was completely charmed. She clapped and giggled and sang along with him, and by the end, the entire room had joined in.

  “Thank you,” Paige murmured to him when the song was over. “I can never repay you for this.”

  He wriggled his eyebrows, murmured back, “I could think of a few ways.”

  She gave him a knowing smile that wrapped around him like a heated blanket and lit him from the inside out. “You’ve earned it.”

  “I’m holding you to it.” He winked. “It’s been a long week.”

  Then he swung Paige into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. Her knees buckled and if he hadn’t had a strong grip on her, she would have toppled over.

  “Emaline,” Grammie scolded. “Stop flirting with my boyfriend.”

  “Sorry,” Paige apologized.

  “I’ll forgive you this time.” Grammie shook a finger at Paige. “But back off.”

  Paige giggled.

  “Edie.” Cash turned to Grammie. “Would you like to go home?”

  “Oh yes,” Grammie said. “Please, Wayne. Please take me home.”

  “Here we go.” He held out his arm to her, helped her out of the deep chair. To Paige he said, “Call the police and the nursing home, let them know she’s okay.”

  Paige seemed happy to have something to do. She got busy making calls.

  “Edie,” Cash said. “You look especially beautiful tonight.”

  “Oh, Wayne!” She waved a hand at him, gaily girlish. “You sly flatterer, you.”

  He steadied her on her feet, slipped an arm around her upper back. “You doing okay?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Never better now that you’re here. Do you still have the Corvette?”

  “Afraid not. I traded it in.”

  “Too bad. I loved to feel the wind through my hair when you had the top down.”

  “It’s too cold to ride with the top down tonight anyway,” he said, guiding her from the room, ignoring the stares following them.

  “So it is,” she said, peering out the window. “My goodness, it’s snowing.”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t snow in Vegas.”

  Was this an opening? Could he slip in a little reality? “We’re not in Vegas, Edie.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Twilight.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Texas.”

  “Texas?” Her face softened. “I’m a Texan.”

  “I know.”

  “Born in Abilene.”

  “I’m a Texan too,” he said.

  “Tsk, tsk. Why are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes, Wayne? I know you were born in Norfolk, Virginia.”

  All right, too much reality too fast.

  Paige had finished her phone calls and hurried ahead of them to clear the way to the front door.

  “Emaline,” Grammie said. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  “Nope. I’m right here with you all the way.”

  Grammie made a face, whispered loudly to Cash, “The girl can’t take a hint. Help me get rid of her so we can be alone.”

  “Emaline needs a ride home,” Cash said. “I think we can give that to her, don’t you?”

  Grammie sighed. “I guess so.”

  “You want to wait here in the building with Emaline while I go get the car?” he asked.

  “No way. Now that I’ve got you back in my life, I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again, Wayne.”

  They didn’t have any choice but to walk Grammie outside in the snow in her house slippers. Paige held on to one arm, Cash on the other. Curious onlookers stepped out of their way, sent them lingering glances. A snapshot of Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  Walking Grammie to the Land Rover was a humbling experience. They had to stop several times to let her peer into windows.

  “I want to go shopping for Christmas presents,” she said. “But I’ve lost my purse.”

  “You haven’t lost it, Gram—er, Edie,” Paige said. “It’s back at home.”

  She peered at Paige then, blinked hard, a bewildered expression coming over her face. “You don’t know how scary it is, to realize you don’t know where you are and you don’t have a purse and no way to get home and sometimes . . .” Her voice grew softer, sadder. “You don’t even remember your own name.”

  “It’s okay,” Paige said. “We’re with you. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “You’re a good granddaughter.” Grammie patted her cheek. “I love you so much.”

  Paige met Cash’s eyes. “She’s back.”

  Grammie broke loose from Cash’s arm to rub a hand over her mouth. “Did I have one of my bubbles?”

  “Yes,” Paige said gently. “You did.”

  Grammie looked down at her clothing. “I’m in my nightclothes!”

  “We’re taking you home.” Paige got Grammie moving again toward the Land Rover.

  “Who are you?” Grammie frowned at Cash.

  “This is Cash,” Paige said. “My . . .”

  “Neighbor,” Cash supplied.

  Grammie’s expression turned suspicious. “You’re not Sig.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m renting Sig’s houseboat while he’s in Sweden.”

  “You trust him?” Grammie asked Paige.

  “He helped me look for you,” Paige said.

  Grammie sized him up and must have decided he was on the level because she nodded. “My feet are cold.”

  “Here we are.” Cash hit the remote to unlock the Land Rover and opened the back door.

  “This is your car?” Grammie stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robe.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Fancy,” Grammie said in a “la-de-da” voice.

  “Cash is a musician,” Paige said.

  “Like Wayne?”

  “Like Wayne,” Cash confirmed, and boosted Grammie into the backseat.

  Ten minutes later, they were back at the nursing home and escorting Grammie to her room. The staff hovered and apologized. Paige assured them she didn’t hold the staff responsible for her grandmother’s great escape. She took Grammie into the bathroom and helped her change into dry clothes while Cash signed autographs.

  Paige led Grammie to her bed, tucked her in. “There now. Snug as a bug in a rug.”

  “She’s always been the nurturing type.” Grammie met Cash’s eyes over the top of Paige’s head as she leaned over to smooth the covers.

  “I’m not surprised.” A feeling of tenderness and pride stirred inside him. Paige was special. He’d known it from the very beginning.

  “Paige couldn’t have been more t
han four or five years old, but she knew her own mind. Tiny little thing looked me squarely in the eyes and said, ‘Grammie, I’m gonna have ten children when I get married. Five boys and five girls.’”

  Cash laughed, imagining Paige as a five-year-old, fierce in her convictions.

  “I swear I couldn’t keep a straight face. She looked so serious.” Grammie chuckled.

  “Hey,” Paige said. “I thought ten kids would be fun. An instant softball team with one to spare.”

  “Anyway . . .” Grammie’s eyes were trained on Cash. “I hope you want lots of kids because Paige loves them. When you two get married, I’m sure she’ll want to start working on kids right away—”

  “Grammie!” Mortified, Paige curled her fingernails into her palms, felt her cheeks heat, didn’t dare look over at Cash to see how he was taking this. “We’re not getting married!”

  “You can’t fool me.” Grammie winked at Cash. “I see the way she looks at you. The girl’s in love.”

  “I am not! Hush. Don’t say things like that.” Paige spoke sharply, the first time he’d ever heard her be anything but gentle with the elderly woman.

  Grammie looked startled. Her bottom lip trembled. She pleated the covers with her fingers. “Never mind me. I’m a silly old woman.”

  “You’re not silly. I’m sorry I snapped.” Paige sat on the mattress beside her grandmother, drew her into her arms, kissed her forehead.

  There was a knock on the door and a big blonde in scrubs stuck her head in the door. “I don’t want to rush you, but it’s time for her meds. After what happened today, the doctor wants us to up her Alzheimer’s drugs.”

  “Will this stop me from having those bubbles?” Grammie asked.

  “It won’t stop them,” the woman said kindly. “But hopefully it will keep them from happening as often.”

  “Bring it.” Grammie held out her palm.

  “We’re gonna go now.” Paige kissed her grandmother again. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

  Grammie nodded. “You go home and get some sleep.”

  “You get some rest too.”

  “Cash,” Grammie said.

  He straightened, gave her his full attention. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You make sure Paige gets home safely, you hear me?”

  “You can count on me,” he assured her.

  Grammie’s eyes narrowed. “Can I?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right, then.” She yawned. “Y’all go on now.”

  Paige took his hand and led him out of Grammie’s room. “You deserve some kind of service award.”

  “I didn’t do anything special.”

  “Are you kidding? You helped me search for her, you kissed her, and sang ‘Danke Schoen’ in front of a roomful of strangers. How many men would do that for her?”

  That was just the thing. He hadn’t done it for her grandmother. He’d done it for Paige, and as much as she’d given him, it didn’t seem like nearly enough in return.

  Chapter 17

  Major: One of the two modes of the tonal system. Music written in major keys have a positive affirming character.

  “Do you still feel like decorating the tree?” Paige asked when they climbed back into the Land Rover that smelled pungently of pine.

  “Do you? It’s after nine.”

  “I’m game if you are.”

  “Where are we going to get decorations?”

  “Oh,” she said, “I’ve got boxes and boxes of them.”

  “That you’re not already using?”

  She laughed. “You’ve only seen half my stash.”

  “Where do you keep it all?”

  “My cousin Flynn’s house. We can pick up Fritzi and the decorations at the same time. Still in?” She had to admit she was a little nervous around him after Grammie boldly told him that Paige loved him, but luckily he seemed to have put that down to the ramblings of a confused old lady.

  Thank heavens.

  She had big plans for tonight and didn’t want to scare him off. But considering everything he’d put up with today—getting chased down a fire escape by a pack of avid fans, Christmas tree hunting with her unwelcoming friends, and helping her track down her escapee grandmother—and he was still here, maybe it was time she recognized that Cash Colton didn’t scare easily.

  Which was both exciting and disconcerting. Because she knew she had no future with him, no matter how much a small slice of her kept spinning crazy fantasies.

  Grammie was right. She was in love with him.

  Paige wasn’t sure how or when it happened. For sure she’d been attracted to him from the first moment he’d strutted his way into the playhouse.

  And the attraction had been building ever since.

  To the point that whenever he walked into a room her body lit up and her spirits lifted and her heart swelled until it filled her entire chest. All she wanted was to be around him. To hear him laugh, see him smile, smell his special Cash scent, to touch him, taste him.

  Oh, she was in so much trouble, and she knew it. Couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

  It was ten o’clock when they arrived at the houseboat with the decorations, collected Fritzi, and got the tree placed into a stand. Following Joe’s instructions, Cash filled the stand with plenty of water and Paige covered the stand with a tree skirt.

  While he opened the boxes of decorations, she made hot chocolate topped with colored marshmallows she brought over from her house. Fritzi was in play mode, hopping in and out of boxes and rolling ornaments around the room.

  “Where do we start?” Cash asked as they sat on the couch sipping hot chocolate and staring at the naked tree.

  “Seriously? You don’t know how to decorate a Christmas tree?”

  He shrugged. “I’m rusty. Haven’t done it in years.”

  “Why not?”

  “Christmas is a busy time for musicians. You have to let some things go.”

  “Like your own holiday traditions?”

  “Exactly.”

  She curled her legs up underneath her. “What about when you were a kid?”

  “I’m thinking we start with the lights. Makes the most sense.” He shifted on the couch, set down his mug of hot chocolate, avoiding her question.

  Paige noticed he deflected her whenever she brought up his past. It felt inequitable, the give and take of secrets and confessions. She’d told him everything about her past and he’d told her next to nothing about his. Most everything she knew about his history came from what she’d gleaned from the Internet.

  He slid off the couch to the floor, dug through the box marked “Lights” in neon green Sharpie, and pulled out tangled strands of multicolored twinkle lights.

  “You don’t have any family you spend the holidays with?” she asked.

  “Does Emma count?”

  “When was the last time you spent the holidays with her?”

  He shrugged, started untangling the lights. “Not since before she married Sam.”

  “So, like, almost a decade.”

  “Eight years,” he said. “They’ve been married eight years.”

  “You got something against Sam?”

  “What?” He glanced up, looked confused.

  “Why haven’t you spent time with her at the holidays after she married Sam?”

  He went back to untangling the lights. “I didn’t want to horn in. They were newlyweds, then new parents, and then I was with Simone. Time flies.”

  “And you didn’t miss spending time with her, spending time with anyone important for the holidays?”

  “I had the band.”

  “And they didn’t have families they hung out with?” She joined him on the floor, reached for another stand of lights.

  “Look,” he said, his tone taking on a sharp edge. “I’m not like you. Christmas was never that important to me. I certainly wouldn’t be doing this right now if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Oh.” She dropped the lights, tried not to get h
er feelings hurt. “We don’t have to do this. I just thought it would be fun, and you could use a little Christmas cheer, but I don’t want to push you to do something you don’t want to do.”

  “Paige . . .” He touched her hand, offered a mild smile rolled up with a wince of old pain he struggled to mask. “I . . . it’s not you.”

  She waited, hoping he’d say more, but when he didn’t she said with forced spunk, “Let’s plug these suckers in and see if they still work.”

  He took the plug, and stretched out long across the floor, his shirt riding up, revealing taut, hard abdominal muscles. Paige’s heart went pitty-pat. He stuck the plug into an outlet and the room lit up in a twinkle of red, blue, yellow, and green.

  Cash sat up and they stared at each other across the circle of lights and boxes and spill of ornaments and tinsel. He gulped, moistened his lips with the tip of this tongue.

  A measured moment slipped between them. Paige didn’t speak. Didn’t budge.

  Finally, the words dribbled from him, falling in hesitant sprinkles. “My mother . . . she . . . died . . . on Christmas Eve.”

  Paige inhaled, but said nothing. Didn’t want to interrupt. Colors flashed over his face, a rainbow of sorrow. It took everything she had in her not to reach over and touch him. But if she kept quiet, kept her hands to herself, maybe he would go on. She had a feeling he’d been sitting on the full story since the day his mother had passed away.

  He pressed a palm to his mouth, his eyes darkening. Haunted with ghosts and shadows. “Growing up, our life was pretty chaotic. I told you Mom was an aspiring musician, but more honestly, she was a groupie. She dragged me from and to everywhere as she followed bands around the country, hooking up with guys she thought could advance her career. She had talent, but she kept giving away her power to the men in her life.”

  Drawing her knees to her chest, Paige balanced on her sitz bones, swayed back and forth.

  “Lorena was beautiful. Men swarmed around her like bees to honeysuckle.” He picked up the lights, moved to start stringing them around the tree. “She loved me the best way she knew how. It might not have been the way most moms loved, but she was all I had.”

  “She was so young when she died.”