Courting Carrie: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 2)

by Lacy Williams

  Courting Carrie

  Triple H Brides

  Lacy Williams

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Dear Reader

  Stealing Sarah sneak peek

  Also by Lacy Williams

  Chapter 1

  Christmas cheer. He wasn't feeling it. This year, he felt more like Scrooge.

  Trey Reynolds sat behind the wheel of his truck, parked on Taylor Hills's Main Street, and chomped on a ham sandwich that tasted about as blah as he felt.

  Over the past two weeks, he'd seen the town transform into a Christmas wonderland. During previous Christmases, he'd worked the ranch—the Triple H, his home for eight years. But this holiday season, he had a firsthand view as the decorations appeared: green garlands strung with lights and twisted around every light pole, storefronts filled with Santas and elves, wreaths on doors and windows all along the small downtown.

  After leaving the Triple H, he'd taken a temp job at the feed store. It would last him through the holiday season. Then, he’d have to get serious about hiring on at another ranch.

  Preferably somewhere far away. Far enough that he could heal from his broken heart.

  "Mr. Trey!"

  A child's voice drew his gaze down the sidewalk to the short brunette in her bright red pea coat. She was waving wildly from the sidewalk. Scarlett Hale.

  He waved back, then glanced past her, over her head and down the sidewalk to see if her mom was following and how much trouble he was going to be in because he'd let himself be seen.

  But Carrie Hale was nowhere in sight. Not on the sidewalk or in the doorway of the small grocery store. He didn't spy her car parked along the street. Curious.

  He opened the door and stepped onto the sidewalk as Scarlett started toward him.

  Where was Carrie? It wasn't like the single mom to let Scarlett out of her sight.

  The spiffy new jeans he wore chafed slightly, and he spared a mournful thought for his old, worn-in work jeans. But the feed store didn't appreciate the stained, frayed jeans, so he’d grudgingly plopped down hard-earned cash on a new pair. A chill seeped beneath the collar of his open jacket.

  He caught the small torpedo of energy as seven-year-old Scarlett Hale launched herself at him. She smelled like kid shampoo, and he also picked up a whiff of sugar and cinnamon—like maybe she'd been in the bakery across the street?

  "Hey kiddo. What's doing?"

  She laughed when he tickled her chin, but he was quick to set her down, knowing her mom wanted more distance between them.

  And because he loved Carrie, he was giving her what she wanted.

  "Um...shopping."

  The kid's vague answer set off alarms in his head. He started a slow meander back the direction Scarlett had come from. "From the sidewalk?"

  The astute little girl sent him a sideways look but fell into step beside him. "Haven't ya ever heard of window shopping?"

  "I have, I just didn't know little girls were allowed to window shop without their mommies."

  She looked down at her feet, but not before he caught the guilt playing across her features.

  That's about what he'd thought.

  And right at that moment, a harried-looking Carrie ran out of the dress shop—not the bakery like he'd thought—pausing on the sidewalk as she frantically looked in all directions.

  He saw the stark fear and intense relief hit when she caught sight of Scarlett beside him.

  "There you are!" He heard the frantic note in her voice, but a glance down at Scarlett showed the girl was oblivious to her mom's panic.

  "Why did you leave the store?" Carrie demanded. She knelt to Scarlett's level. "You know you're supposed to stay with me unless you get permission."

  Scarlett ducked her chin. "I'm sorry, Mama. I saw Mr. Trey's truck, and I got so excited to see him."

  Carrie slid an abbreviated look to him, her gaze not quite hitting his face.

  He brushed off the sting of that, focusing on the girl at his side.

  Scarlett reached up and placed her tiny hand into his meaty paw. "I gotta talk to Mr. Trey about something. It's important."

  Now Carrie's gaze bounced off of him again, this time settling a little longer. There was a definite hint of death glare involved. "What do you need to talk to Mr. Trey about?" That you can't tell me? The subtext was clear.

  Scarlett looked up at him, her pixie features serious. "It's sorta a secret."

  "A secret." Carrie didn't sound happy about that at all.

  "Please, Mama. It's important. Veeeeery important."

  Carrie loved her daughter, it was evident in everything she did, and this was no exception. "All right, sweetie." But the glare she gave Trey told him she'd be following up to find out what exactly the secret was.

  He shrugged, shoulders shifting beneath his jacket. He had no idea.

  "If you want to keep shopping, I'll sit right out here with her." Trey jerked his thumb toward a bench just outside the dress shop, which, of course, was decorated with swags of greenery on its back and arms. "Unless it's too cold for her to be out here."

  The girl had had an asthma attack almost a month ago, and he'd never forget seeing her tiny body in the hospital bed, white as the sheets beneath her.

  Carrie gave him a look that was half exasperation, half reluctant appreciation.

  "It's not cold today, Mr. Trey," Scarlett said.

  Carrie still looked like she wanted to refuse. "It's pretty mild," she agreed with a grimace.

  "You can watch us through the windows the whole time," he reassured her.

  "Fine." Her word was uttered with little grace and a heavy sigh.

  He sat on the bench, one arm stretched across the back, trying not to let the greenery poke his neck beneath his Stetson. The scent of pine seeped in, but even though he was seeing his two favorite girls in the world, he couldn't find cheer, not really. Best to just get through this, whatever it was.

  Scarlett perched beside him, her legs swinging above the ground. She kept looking over her shoulder until she was satisfied her mom had disappeared inside the dress shop.

  Trey was under no misapprehension that Carrie wasn't watching his every move through the storefront window.

  He was also unbearably curious what Scarlett's big secret was.

  "I need some help," Scarlett said. "With Mama's Christmas present."

  Okay, this wasn't so bad. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he could probably find a way to help with a gift. His job search was taking longer than he’d expected, and maybe this distraction would help get him through the holiday season.

  "What do you want to get her?"

  "A husband."

  He choked on his own saliva and had to cough past the burn in his throat. "What?"

  "I’ve been watching other Mamas, you know, at my friends' houses sometimes and at church and like at the family fun night at school. Those Mamas that have husbands, they giggle a lot. And they get this special look in their eyes when they're looking at their husbands. Sorta a googly look."

  A googly look.

  She looked down at her swinging feet. "And...sometimes the husbands take their little girls to the daddies and daughters Christmas Eve dance or other special things like that."

  His heart panged for the little girl who was watching so closely to notice those things. Scarlett needed a daddy. And yes, he'd often thought Ca
rrie needed someone to look after her. He'd wanted to be that man for both of them.

  "So I thought maybe you could be Mama's husband."

  That's when he really started to hurt. His insides burned worse than they had a few years back when he'd gotten gored by a longhorn cow.

  "Scarlett, your mama and I..." He didn't know what was the right thing to say here. He still didn't know what had gone wrong between him and Carrie. They'd been dating, spending lots of time together, and then all of a sudden, she'd ended things. No matter the roses he'd sent her after or how many times he'd asked, she'd never spilled about what he'd done wrong.

  "Honey, I wish I could be your daddy. I really do. But I can't be your mama's husband."

  He hated her crestfallen look. Hated the serious little nod she gave. He especially hated that she'd seemed to expect his answer.

  She turned that earnest, trusting gaze on him again. "Then, can you help me find a different husband for Mama for Christmas?"

  And wasn't that a hit to his solar plexus, thinking about Carrie with someone else? Scarlett had no idea that she was kicking his butt in an internal boxing match she couldn't see.

  He tried to put her off. "That sounds like a job for Santa Claus."

  He expected her to light up with Christmas joy, but instead, her mouth settled into a tiny straight line, as if she were willing her lips not to tremble, and her head tilted downward.

  "Santa's not real," she whispered.

  Another ouch. Seven wasn't too old to still believe in Santa, was it? Shoot, he still wanted to believe sometimes.

  He had to work at keeping his face neutral. "Who told you that?"

  A small shrug, with her head still down. "Some boys in my class."

  Who oughta be sent to the principal's office.

  "I still believe in Santa," he said. Because sometimes you just had to believe in miracles, Christmas and otherwise. He'd seen miracles happen for other people, even if he'd never expect one for himself. "And I bet if you asked your mama, she'd tell you she believes in Santa, too."

  Scarlett sent him a sideways look. Almost like she wanted to still believe but wasn't sure.

  "When you go to see Santa at the community center"—where he showed up every year for two Saturdays in a row—"why don't you ask him for a husband for your mama?" Oh, he almost choked on the words.

  And Scarlett sent him a sly glance. "I'll ask, but only if you promise to help me look for a good one."

  He gave it some real thought, staring at his boots. Because he cared about Scarlett, and because the girl deserved a real daddy in her life, not the deadbeat who'd abandoned her and Carrie years ago.

  It hurt like being gored all over again, but he nodded solemnly. "Okay."

  She lit up like a Christmas tree. "You promise? Pinky swear."

  He made the required promises, and she bounced off her seat and inside the store.

  There was no way he could face Carrie right now—his face burned just thinking about telling her the promise Scarlett had extracted from him—so he waved to her through the window and high-tailed it back to his truck. Back to work. Coming over to Main Street to eat his lunch had been a mistake, but he'd been itching with the desire to move, to get out of the shop for a while. He missed his wide-open spaces.

  Taking the job at the feed store was a tactical move. Every farmer and rancher around came through there. Surely somebody was looking for a cowhand.

  Right now, he didn't even care about clocking back in. All he wanted was to hide from Carrie. If she wanted to know what Scarlett's secret was so badly, she was going to have to track him down.

  "And then he ran off like his spurs were on fire." Carrie Hale sidled closer to the styling chair and the client she was giving a dye job. She pulled the small brush with its glob of hair dye through the strands of hair and then carefully folded the piece of foil until the hair was enclosed. It was the last one, thankfully. "There."

  From the chair, her best friend and the town’s veterinarian, Sarah Campbell, stared at her in the mirror, her nose slightly wrinkled. After years of dyeing and perming hair, Carrie had gone nose-blind to the scent of the dye.

  "It was probably nothing," Sarah said.

  With Trey Reynolds, it was never nothing. It'd been three days, and Carrie had been unable to focus on much besides the secret conversation her daughter had had with Carrie's ex-boyfriend.

  Scarlett was her daughter. There should be no secrets, especially considering Scarlett was only seven.

  "You're right," she agreed. "It's probably nothing. I don't want to think about Trey, anyway." That was pure truth.

  "For someone you don't want to think about, we talk about him an awful lot."

  She stuck her tongue out at her friend in the mirror before leading her across the room to the small seating area near the front window and caddy-corner to two seats with salon dryers. The window overlooked Main Street and was partially blocked by a curtain along the bottom half. The top half was left open for natural light to spill in.

  Carrie visually checked on Velma Marrs, whose white-haired perm was setting in one of the heater chairs. The older woman was deep in a magazine.

  The highlight on Sarah's head had been extensive and taken the better part of an hour, because her friend never took vacation days and tended to let her personal grooming slide. She’d only taken this afternoon off because her fiancé was coming to town later, and she hadn't seen the guy in a couple of months. And Carrie had begged her to do some highlights to cover the grays peeping through Sarah's dark locks.

  Sarah looked to make sure Velma was under the heater and couldn't hear before she leaned in to Carrie. "I can't believe Matt let him quit."

  "Let who quit?"

  "Trey."

  Sarah's statement didn't make sense, and Carrie flicked her own look at Velma before leaning close to where Sarah had sat. "What do you mean, Trey quit?"

  Sarah's surprise was evident in her raised brows—ones that needed waxing. Carrie made a mental note to suggest it before she left the shop today. "When I was out there to drop off the barn cat we spayed, I saw him packing up his truck. Matt told me it was his last day. I thought you knew. I heard he'd taken a job at the feed store temporarily."

  She hadn't known. And why hadn't her brother told her?

  "How long ago was this?"

  "Hmmm. Maybe three weeks? But you don't care, right?"

  Carrie firmed her lips. Her friend was right. She shouldn't care. She left Sarah with her own magazine and headed back to her chair to sweep up the hair clippings and put away the dyeing supplies. Fuming, but only a little.

  What happened out at the Triple H wasn't her business, but still...

  Trey wasn't her business either, not since she'd broken things off.

  But with the small-town grapevine active and crazy fast, how was it she hadn't heard about this?

  Trey had quit.

  It felt wrong. Very wrong. When they'd been together, he'd spoken frequently and fondly of the Triple H being home.

  A man didn't leave his home, not unless he made a mistake like she had all those years ago. What was he thinking?

  She kept her eye on the two timers as she swept the floor and reorganized the bottles at her station that always seemed to get out of place. She'd worked at the small salon—only three styling chairs—since she'd finished her stylist's license after high school. Back then, she'd had big dreams of moving on to bigger and better things.

  Now she'd settled in to small town life. Sure, her salary and meager tips would never be enough to afford a European vacation, but she didn't need much. She had a mortgage on the bungalow two blocks from Scarlett's elementary school. She'd probably pay the house off by the time her first grandchild arrived. She was close to Matt and his fiancé Kelsey and got to speak to Gideon overseas every other week.

  She didn't need to go home anymore.

  The bell over the front door jangled a welcome as someone entered. She was the only stylist working this after
noon, so she turned to greet the next customer.

  It was Zach Evans. They'd been a grade apart back in high school, and he worked at the small Taylor Hills bank as a manager or something. He'd never come into the salon for a haircut, at least not when she'd been working.

  But he smiled, and after she checked the timer for Velma's perm, she motioned him into the chair and swung a cape around his shoulders.

  "What brings you in today?" she asked as she aimed her water bottle at his hair. It was nice and thick. Just the very thinnest sprinkling of gray hairs. Felt like he used expensive salon shampoo, though he wasn't one of their usuals.

  "Oh, you know." He motioned to his hair, the movement of his hand rattling the cape. He smoothed it over his thigh. "It's about time."

  His hair wasn't that long. It had to have been cut less than a month ago, and she knew lots of cowboys—the whole gang at the Triple H—who only came in when it became necessary because their hair was getting in their eyes. Maybe Zach was more particular.

  "You want it cut in the same style?" She smiled at him in the mirror, and he nodded.

  She got out her electric clippers and a comb.

  She'd learned that styling hair in a small town meant that most of her customers wanted to chat, even though she'd prefer to do her work without the distraction. She'd also learned that being friendly got her bigger tips, and business had been a little down lately. That was a bad thing with Christmas coming up.

  So she worked up the best smile she could muster. "How've you been? Things busy at the bank this time of year?"

  He started to nod and then thought better of it with her clippers at his neck. "Yeah, a little. Not as bad as tax time or harvest."

  "Gotcha. Well, do you have any big plans for Christmas? Your parents moved away, didn't they?"

  She kept her eyes on his hair. Almost halfway done now, this would be an easy one...

  "Yeah, they're in Florida now. I go down every other Christmas, but this is my year to stay here."