McGavin Brothers 13 - A Cowboy's Holiday

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Mucking out stalls ended up being good therapy for her hangover. Who knew? She’d tackled the job with a vengeance and worked up a sweat that prompted her to drink lots of water.

  She’d washed and put away the blankets. Then she’d cleaned out the fireplace and laid kindling and logs on the andirons because that was her habit. Might not be easy to sit in front of the fire by herself tonight, but she’d do it.

  Loading the dishwasher with her breakfast dishes took care of her immediate chores. Too bad, because she desperately needed something to do. Maybe she should put up a few more holiday decorations.

  She wasn’t in the mood, but she had more ribbons and other odds and ends stored in a box. She hadn’t used her collection of pinecones, either. Extra greenery was available right out the front door. She’d put on holiday music. She’d be merry and bright, doggone it!

  The process worked like a charm. She loved so much about this time of year—the carols, the festive decorations, the beloved traditions. She’d be adding a new one this year by going to the barn at midnight on Christmas Eve. Since Pete had told her about it, sharing the moment with him was the right thing to do.

  Eventually she ran out of spots that needed a festive bow or a cluster of pinecones and greenery. She was especially proud of the centerpiece she’d created for the dining table using the poinsettia, greenery, pinecones, and tapers of red, green and white.

  Time to put any leftover items away and feed the horses. She’d never found a use for the skeins of yarn, one red and one dark green, that she’d bought a couple of years ago. Hadn’t found a use this year, either.

  Or had she? Before she headed down to the barn, she tucked the yarn and a pair of scissors in a canvas bag and took it along. Then she added a small cellophane bag of baby carrots. She’d never braided a horse’s mane and tail, but how hard could it be? Her efforts didn’t have to last through a parade, only through Christmas Eve.

  After bringing the horses in from the pasture and delivering hay flakes all around, she pulled out her phone, accessed the Christmas music she had stored there and chose one of her favorite albums, Celtic Christmas. The flutes, violins and soft vocals created a serene atmosphere as she cut lengths of red and green yarn and tucked them in one jacket pocket. Carrots went in the other.

  When Honey Butter, the first one fed, had finished his dinner, she walked into his stall and gave him a couple of carrots. “Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve, buddy. I’d like to spruce you up for that special event. Are you with me?”

  The palomino eyed her for a moment before nuzzling her pocket for more carrots.

  “I’ll give you another one when we finish.” She stroked his velvet nose and evaluated his cream-colored mane. “You can help by standing still.” Starting at the top of his neck, she finger-combed a section, divided it into three strands and began.

  Whether it was the music or the sensation of fooling with his mane that calmed him, the gelding stood quietly as she worked. She finished her first braid and tied a bow of red yard at the end to hold it.

  Stepping back, she smiled in satisfaction. “Not bad. Pete is going to be so surprised when he sees this.”

  Honey Butter snorted and bobbed his head.

  “Speaking of that cowboy, my plan to keep things casual fell apart last night.”

  Shifting his weight, the palomino let out a gusty sigh.

  “Yep, not good.” She tied green yarn to her second braid. “He wants deep and meaningful. In my experience, that gets you into trouble.” She finished a third braid and tied it with red yarn.

  “All that romantic stuff is distracting. Like I completely ignored how different Rafael and I were. He procrastinated on everything. I’m an ASAP person. Our body clocks were incompatible. Lark versus owl. Ditto with our sense of humor. I could go on, but you get the idea, right?”

  The gelding snorted.

  “Exactly.” She braided another section. “Pete thinks it’s time to get serious. I don’t agree. It’s too risky. And way too soon. We could end up regretting it like Rafael and I did because we rushed into something we weren’t ready for.”

  Pete’s words came back to her. After seven months of daily interaction? That’s what you imagine will happen?

  “You tell me, Honey Butter. Wouldn’t you say there’s a huge difference between working with someone for seven months and dating them for seven months? Our first kiss was only five days ago, for heaven’s sake.”

  No response. She tied on another bow and peered at the horse’s heavy-lidded eyes. “Are you falling asleep on me?”

  He slowly turned his head in her direction and his expression was so blissed out it made her laugh. “Clearly this routine works for you.”

  His head was drooping by the time she finished the last braid. “You look very handsome and very sleepy, my friend. Here’s your reward, a bedtime snack.” She gave him one more carrot. The lazy crunch of his teeth made her giggle as she left his stall.

  Each of the other horses reacted much the same way Honey Butter had. The combination of music and having their manes braided lulled them into a semi-trance. She left the barn smiling.

  Pete was going to love those Christmas-themed manes. Too bad he hadn’t been there to witness how mellow those critters had become during the process. He would have gotten such a kick out of—

  She came to an abrupt halt between the barn and the house. She was right about how Pete would react to this impulsive project of hers. She was right because they’d spent seven months together—working, arguing, planning, laughing, and last of all…making love.

  We passed light and breezy a long time ago, but we absolutely left it behind the night of the blizzard.

  Clearly he had. But what about her? She hadn’t left anything behind. She was stuck in the past, clinging to old fears. He’d invited her to step into a very special future. Did she have the courage to accept?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Wild Creek Ranch house was roomy, but it bulged at the seams on Christmas Eve. Pete sipped a beer and talked with Ryker and April about their chickens, which had been in residence for a year. Those two were enamored of their laying hens, so conversation flowed easily.

  Pete was grateful for that. The evening had been somewhat of a chore to get through. He and Taryn had exchanged a polite greeting and he’d worked at avoiding her after that.

  Should have been easier than it was considering all the folks packed into the house. Inevitably, though, he ended up brushing past her to help himself to food or heard her laughter not three feet away.

  He’d always looked forward to Christmas Eve, and up until Saturday night, he’d been super excited about it this year. Having his entire family in one place, including Uncle Brendan, promised to be a blast and a half. Adding in the McGavin crowd had expanded his anticipation to epic proportions. Then…Taryn. Intense joy had disintegrated into anxiety.

  He didn’t do anxiety well. He preferred action. And he couldn’t take any, at least not where Taryn was concerned. On Sunday, he’d given his dad and uncle a quick summary, followed by a request to drop the subject when he was around.

  The family grapevine had clearly been busy since then because no one asked an awkward question or made a painful reference. He supposed they’d all had practice at this. In a blended family of this size, issues were bound to crop up. His with Taryn was just the most current one.

  He did his best to concentrate on the good stuff going on in this room. Cody and Faith had brought Noel and after a brief show-and-tell moment, they’d tucked her in a back bedroom.

  She was a cute little thing. So tiny. She’d inherited her mom’s blond hair. Her eyes would be light, but no telling if they’d end up green like Faith’s or McGavin blue.

  Josh had held court earlier, too, but now that it was past eleven, he was fast asleep in the crib Kendra had provided. Emma ran a tight ship with that little kid. Bedtime was firm, even on Christmas Eve.

  Mandy, Zane’s wife, had provided the biggest
news. She and Zane were expecting a baby in July. Jo hadn’t been able to stop talking about it all night. Fun to see how excited she was about being a grandma.

  Kendra had recently joined the conversation about chickens and was discussing egg size when Pete’s dad tapped on his beer bottle with a spoon to get everyone’s attention.

  “I’ve maintained a Christmas Eve tradition in my family for years, and Kendra’s agreed to go along with it.”

  Bryce spoke up. “Is this the thing about talking horses?”

  “Yep. Folk legend says that at midnight the horses in the barn are given the gift of speech. Crazy as it sounds, Kendra and I will bundle up in about fifteen minutes and walk down to the barn, the older one, and listen.”

  “I’m going, too,” Jo said. “I believe.”

  Uncle Brendan raised his beer. “Yea, yea, I’ll be there.”

  “Great. Anyone else who wants to come along is welcome. You can sing carols on the way if you want, but keep your voices down once you get in the barn, please.”

  Pete looked for Taryn. She glanced over at him and raised her eyebrows, asking a silent question. He gave a quick nod. He hadn’t told his dad about this development. He’d been prepared for Taryn to change her mind. Better alert him now.

  After working his way through the crowd, he tapped his dad on the shoulder. “Forgot to mention something. I told Taryn about the horses talking and she wants to listen to hers. I said I’d go with her. Evidently she still wants me there.”

  His dad’s gaze was thoughtful. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “I have no idea if it will be or not.”

  “Hey, what’s this? Where’s my positive thinker?”

  Pete had no answer for him.

  “Christmas Eve is a magical time, son.” He gave Pete’s shoulder a squeeze. “Keep your heart open.”

  Pete had been maintaining his cool, but that comment got to him. Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, he nodded and went to find Taryn.

  She was talking with Emma, but she excused herself and walked to meet him. “We should go.”

  “I just told Dad.”

  “Let me thank Kendra for tonight and I’ll meet you by the front door. I left my purse in the truck. My coat’s somewhere on that rack.”

  “The white one or the parka?”

  “The parka. I knew I’d need that when we go to the barn.”

  “I’ll have it ready for you.” His heart was racing by the end of that short, totally informational conversation. God, he wanted to do this for her without making a damn fool of himself.

  He located his jacket and hat first, and then unearthed her coat. It was a wonder the wooden coat tree hadn’t tipped over under the weight.

  He’d put his jacket on and was ready to help her into hers when she showed up, pink-cheeked and breathing faster than normal. As he held the coat, she slid her arms into the sleeves and thanked him.

  “You’re welcome.” He waited for her to zip up before he opened the door. “Better put on your gloves, too.”

  “Right.” She tugged them out of her pocket. “Let’s go.”

  He opened the door and followed her out. His body registered the cold and he could see his breath, but he was too wired to care about the temperature. “Where are you parked?”

  “To the right, over by the barbeque area.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “Lead the way.” Some things were non-negotiable.

  She shoved her gloved hands in her pockets and headed toward the barbeque area. “I love the John Deere stuff.”

  Wham. Right in the heart. “That’s good.”

  “The hat and gloves fit great.”

  “I’m glad.” He stepped around her so he could open her door and help her in. Her hand in his nearly undid him. “Pull out and wait for me. I’ll be right behind you.” He closed her door quickly, before he said something stupid.

  Jogging to his truck helped. Movement of any kind was welcome. He backed out, wheeled around and drove up behind her. She blinked her lights and started down the Wild Creek Road.

  The drive over to her place took forever, although the clock on his dash recorded less than fifteen minutes. She drove straight to the barn and he parked right beside her.

  She was out before he could get to her, which wasn’t surprising. “I’ll bet the horses will wonder what the heck is going on.”

  They’re not the only ones. She could have cancelled this program at any time. Why hadn’t she? Her original decision to stick with the plan could have been a knee-jerk reaction, but upon further reflection, she could have begged off.

  But no, here they were, standing in front of her barn at five minutes to midnight. He slid the bar across and opened the door, letting her go first. Then he stepped in and closed it behind them. The aisle lights gave the barn a soft, warm glow but not enough to see anything clearly.

  “I’m thinking we should leave it like this.” She walked over to Honey Butter’s stall. “If we turn on the overheads, they might not talk.”

  Despite the tension wrapped around his chest like a steel band, he smiled. “They might not talk anyway.”

  “I know. The thing is, I wanted you to see what I did, but I’m not sure if you can in this light.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Come over and look at Honey Butter. Maybe when your eyes adjust, you’ll be able to see.”

  He approached the stall. “What am I looking for?”

  “Last night I braided his mane and tied the braids with red and green yarn.”

  “That’s awesome.” He concentrated on the palomino. “I can tell his mane’s braided. Can’t see the colors, though.”

  “Belatedly I realized that you wouldn’t be able to without the overhead. I did the same thing with all of them.”

  “Really?” He took that as a positive sign even though he couldn’t have said exactly why.

  “You can check it out in the morning.”

  “You want me here in the morning?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Another positive sign. Could be super positive but he wouldn’t get ahead of himself. “Then I’ll be here.”

  She lowered her voice. “I think he’s asleep.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “He’s so quiet.”

  “He might be dozing, but I guarantee they’re all aware that we’re here.”

  “I guess they would be. They can hear like nobody’s business.” She turned in his direction. “Where do you want to be?”

  Now there was a question. In your arms. “I’ll just stand by you, if that’s okay.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He decided not to ask why. It was almost midnight. If they were going to do this right, they had to be quiet.

  “How long should we listen?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “How long do you usually wait to see if they’ll say anything?”

  “I’m good for about five minutes. I figure if they are given the gift of speech, they’ll either use it right away or decide it’s not worth the effort.”

  “Then five minutes it is.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Almost time.” She cleared her throat. “It’s midnight.”

  He kept his breathing as quiet as he could and not because he wanted to hear the horses speak. For the first time since he’d been doing this, he didn’t care what the horses did or didn’t do. He focused on Taryn’s breathing.

  It wasn’t smooth and regular. It had a little catch to it, as if she might be agitated. The scent of her perfume mingled with the familiar aroma of hay and horses. She didn’t normally wear perfume when they were in the barn together.

  But she’d dressed for a party, with makeup and another nice sweater, this one green. John Deere green, to be more specific. Interesting that she’d liked what he’d bought. What if he’d skipped the champagne and flowers and only given her the John Deere stuff? Would that have made
a difference?

  Damn, five minutes was a long time, especially when he was within touching distance. Okay, when five minutes were up, he’d ask her why they were here. Or why he was here. That was the critical—

  “Time’s up. I didn’t hear any horses talk. Did you?”

  “No, ma’am.” He paused. “I just have to ask. Why am I here?”

  She turned to face him. “Because I wanted to be the first person to wish you Merry Christmas.”

  “Uh, okay. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  She took a step closer. “And because Christmas is a great time to get clear on things.”

  “Is it?” His heart beat a rapid tattoo.

  “For me, anyway. When I was braiding Honey Butter’s mane, I told him all the reasons why I didn’t want to get serious about you.”

  “And?” He could barely breathe. Please don’t let me be dreaming this.

  “To borrow your words, it was all BS.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m serious about you. I have been for a long time. I love you, Pete.”

  He sucked in air. “Taryn…” He started toward her.

  She held up her hand. “Wait a sec. Once you kiss me, it’s all over. I need to say this. I’ve been falling for you ever since we met. But like an idiot, I wouldn’t—”

  “I know. I get it. Doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. I acted like all the time together didn’t count. I was so wrong. Every day, every hour, every minute I spent with you led to our first kiss.”

  “Do you think maybe it could lead to another one? Because I’m going crazy over here.”

  “Sure. I think that’s the gist of what I needed to say.”

  “Thank God.” He eliminated the distance between them and swept her into his arms. “I love you so much.” He lowered his head. “So very much.” He settled down lightly, still not quite believing that he was awake.

  But she didn’t disappear. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with so much enthusiasm that he groaned and pulled her in tighter.