The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle

by RaeAnne Thayne

  He frowned at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I need to tuck in my boys,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes but held a hand out to help her to her feet—or foot, anyway. She hobbled into the room Kip and Drew shared and kissed them each in turn then went across the hall to Hayden’s football-maniac room, with its huge Broncos posters on the walls and the orange, blue and white theme that was everywhere she looked.

  He looked a little disgruntled that Carson was there as well but she was pleased that he still let her kiss him and tuck the blankets around his shoulders. Her oldest was going to be a teenager before she knew it. How much longer would he let his mother kiss him and rub his hair? Forever, she hoped.

  “Night, bud. Thanks for your help today. I don’t know what I would do without you,” she whispered as she kissed him. His cheeks turned a little rosy and she could tell he was pleased.

  “I’m not letting you scoot down the stairs again,” Carson said after they closed the door to Hayden’s room.

  She caught her breath as he scooped her into his arms with effortless ease. He carried her down the stairs without even breathing hard.

  She was breathing hard enough for both of them, though she did her best to hide her reaction. She didn’t want to admit how truly wonderful it felt to be held like this, to be cherished and watched over.

  It was only natural. She had been alone for two years, had been forced to rely only on herself for everything her family needed, from mowing the lawn to taking the car to be fixed to repairing a leaky faucet. The chance to lean on someone else for a change shouldn’t seduce her so completely, but she felt powerless to control it.

  Downstairs, he set her back on the couch and she forced herself to recall his words that morning, a moment that now seemed a lifetime ago.

  She wasn’t the kind of woman he wanted. He had told her so, straight-out and she couldn’t forget it.

  “Where’s the best place for me to bunk tonight?”

  “This is silly, Carson. You don’t need to stay here. Hayden and Drew and I should be able to handle things. I don’t need a keeper.”

  His sigh stirred the air between them. “Do we really have to argue about this again? You’ve got a concussion, a broken wrist and a sprained ankle. How could I possibly feel comfortable leaving you here alone to deal with four kids by yourself, especially with those heavy-duty painkillers on board? Now where’s the best place for me to bunk?”

  She wanted to argue, but she could clearly see by the stubborn set of his features that he wasn’t going anywhere. And as tough as it was to admit, she felt more comfortable having another adult in the house. The painkillers left her loopy and she couldn’t go up and down the stairs if, God forbid, the house caught fire or something. Her pride recoiled at needing his help but since the situation was beyond her control right now, she would just have to accept it with as much grace as possible.

  “There’s a guest room just off the kitchen. It’s the room my mother-in-law uses when she visits.”

  Just another stress she would have to figure out in the morning, she thought with an edge of panic.

  “That should be perfect,” Carson said.

  They lapsed into silence broken only by the crackle of the fire. Outside she could see snowflakes drifting down. It would have been an idyllic scene if not for the undercurrents that ebbed and flowed between them. She couldn’t seem to stop thinking about their kiss in his kitchen that morning or the devastating scene that followed it.

  “All right,” he finally said. “Out with it. I can see your mind is whirling.”

  She flushed. “Oh, you’re psychic now?”

  He shrugged. “You have to be a little omniscient when you buy and sell tech companies. But I don’t have to be psychic to see those wheels turning. Your face is remarkably expressive, in case you didn’t know.”

  What else could he read on her face? she wondered. Could he see the slow heat she couldn’t seem to control around him?

  “Joe used to accuse me of having the worst poker face in eastern Idaho.”

  “You might as well play your hand, Jenna. What’s on your mind?”

  Of course, she couldn’t tell him what she had been thinking so she quickly made something up. “I, um, was just wondering how long before the boys will safely be asleep. Hayden and Kip usually go right to sleep the minute their lights go out, but Drew has a tendency to read under his covers until I catch him at it and make him turn off the flashlight.”

  “He pick that up from you or his dad?”

  She made a face “Me. I used to do the exact same thing. There are still nights I stay up entirely too late caught up in a good book.”

  She paused and something about the quiet intimacy of the night made her admit, “It helps to keep the darkness away.”

  His features softened with sympathy and she instantly regretted her openness. She quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, I still have a few last-minute gifts from Santa to wrap. I need to make sure the boys are all asleep beyond a doubt before I dig them out.”

  He arched one of those expressive eyebrows. “And how do you expect to wrap presents? With your teeth?”

  Her arm ached as if on cue and she gazed down at her cast with no small amount of consternation. “Oh, dear. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “I can help. I can’t guarantee the kind of job I’ll do since wrapping presents is another one of those things out of my skill set but I can do my best.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done enough, Carson. I’ll figure something out. Maybe Santa just won’t wrap everything this year.”

  He made an impatient gesture. “Where are your presents and the wrapping paper?”

  There was no dissuading the man when he had his mind made up about something and Jenna decided to admit defeat. “We need to make completely sure nobody will be sneaking down the stairs first. Let’s give them a few moments and then I’ll direct you to my secret stash.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Carson knew damn well he shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

  This wasn’t at all how he intended to spend the holidays. He had come to his ranch for two reasons—to host the Hertzogs and to enjoy a little solitude before he returned to the hectic pace of San Francisco.

  He certainly never planned to find himself in Jenna Wheeler’s comfortable TV room watching It’s a Wonderful Life on a twenty-inch screen he could barely see and wrapping up action figures.

  There were certainly worse ways to pass the time, he had to admit.

  “I hope I’m doing this right. I’m not a great gift wrapper.”

  “They look great.” She smiled at him from the couch. “Anyway, the kids don’t really care how fancy they look. I doubt they’ll even notice. They’ll rip all your hard work to pieces in about ten seconds flat.”

  A weird pang of longing pinched at him. He would like to see Christmas morning at the Wheeler house. The joy and excitement on their faces, the noise and confusion. It would be a completely foreign experience for him but one he suddenly wanted to endure, as crazy as that seemed.

  “You know, I can change this,” Jenna said, interrupting his thoughts. “You’ve probably seen this movie a million times.”

  “Actually, no. I’ve only seen bits and pieces of it and that was several years ago.”

  She exaggerated an expression of horror that made him smile. “How can that be? It’s completely unnatural.”

  His smile faded. He thought about making a joke but decided to tell her the truth. “I didn’t exactly have the Bedford Falls kind of upbringing.”

  She gave him a careful look, as if she knew exactly how tough that was for him to admit. “No?”

  She was clearly waiting for more. Now that he had opened the door, he wasn’t sure he wanted all that information about himself to come slithering out. But the soft compassion in her eyes tugged the words from him.

  “My dad ran off before I was born and my mother
struggled with depression and drug addiction most of my life. I guess you could say my childhood was on the chaotic side. Foster homes. Shelters. Back and forth with my mom when she would clean up for a while. I spent some time on my grandparents’ ranch not far from here, near Ashton. Bill and Nedda Jameson.”

  Her brow wrinkled with concentration. “Those names seem so familiar. Wait, I think I knew your grandparents. They used to come into my dad’s feed store when I was a kid. I remember your grandfather always had Brach’s toffee in his pocket.”

  He smiled a little at the memory. He had adored his grandparents and would have been happy living at their little ranch forever. But his mother hadn’t been on good terms with her parents for years and she became furious when she found out they had applied for permanent custody of him. She came to his school one blustery March afternoon and took him away from Idaho and he had never seen Bill or Nedda again.

  He had sneaked a few phone calls to them that first year but Lori always found out and made him sorry enough that he had given up and lost touch with them over the years. The first time he had tried to run away at thirteen, he had called and received a recorded message that the number had been disconnected. He later learned they had died the year before within six months of each other—and that they had never stopped trying to find him.

  He pushed the grim memories away. “What about you? I bet you watch this every year, right?”

  She shook her head. “Joe never liked it. He said it was so sappy it made his teeth stick together.” She smiled a little. “He wasn’t as crazy about Christmas as I’ve always been, though he was a good sport when I went wild decorating the house and baking up a storm for weeks beforehand.”

  He was astonished suddenly at the jealousy that suddenly pierced him at the thought of the happy years she shared with her husband.

  “You must miss him a lot.”

  She flashed him a quick look and then focused her gaze on the screen. He thought she wasn’t going to answer but after a moment she muted the television. “He was a good man and a wonderful father. For the first year, I didn’t know how I would go on by myself. But I’ve learned that everything gets a little easier the more time goes on.”

  He remembered those first few months after Suzanna and Henry James died, when he was certain every particle of light had been sucked out of his world. Gradually the light found holes to peek through, first tiny pinpricks, then bigger and bigger and he learned that life moved on.

  She smiled. “It’s Christmas. I certainly don’t want to forget Joe—I could never do that—but mostly I want to focus this year on all my many blessings. I have four beautiful children, a roof over our heads that’s paid for, good neighbors and friends and a supportive family. I’ve got a business that’s taking off the ground. I’m so richly blessed.”

  She embraced life, Carson realized. Many women would have used what she had endured as an excuse to be embittered, hardened. But Jenna was like a bright beacon of light to those around her. He had seen it at his house party. The Hertzogs had all responded to her because she glowed with life.

  Many in the world would consider him the more richly blessed of the two of them, at least materially. He had enjoyed enormous business success, owned houses in three states, had loyal employees. That was only the start. When was the last time he had taken the time to catalogue all he had or even to spend a moment appreciating it?

  He felt small and petty and ungrateful.

  He turned back to the gifts, wrapping a pile of books he assumed were for Drew. They lapsed into a not uncomfortable silence, their attention on the movie.

  “All done,” Carson said sometime later when he finished wrapping the last present in the box, a pretty pink-and-white doll for Jolie. Jenna didn’t respond and he looked over and saw her eyes were closed and her breathing even.

  She had been through a hell of a day. No wonder she fell asleep just minutes before Clarence the angel earned his wings.

  He watched her sleep for a long moment, struck by her fragile loveliness and astounded all over again that it covered such indomitable strength.

  She needed to eat more of her own cooking. A few of those divine desserts she made would certainly put a little more meat on those thin bones.

  A strange feeling stirred up inside him as he watched her sleep. Something tender and gentle and terrifying. He drew in a sharp breath and did his best to shove it back down in the deep, dark recesses of his heart.

  “Jenna? Let’s get you up to your bed.”

  She blinked awake slowly and when her gaze met his, she gifted him with a soft smile so free and unfeigned it took his breath away. To his vast regret, it faded as she returned to full consciousness.

  “Sorry to wake you but I figured you would be more comfortable where you can stretch out in your own bed,” he said.

  “I would. Thanks.” She sat and moved as if to stand up but he held out a hand to stop her.

  “Don’t even think about it. You’re going to be in serious trouble if you put your weight on that foot.”

  She gave him a challenging look. “Will I?”

  “Yes. The doc told you stay off it, remember? I’ll carry you up again,” he said, though he almost didn’t trust himself to touch her with these emotions churning through him.

  “I can scoot up the stairs.”

  “I’ll carry you,” he repeated. He forced himself to move toward her and scoop her up in his arms. She felt entirely too perfect there, a sweet, warm weight that fit just right, and he wanted to hold her close and not let go.

  She didn’t meet his gaze while he carried her up the stairs. Both of them were silent and he wondered what she was thinking about that put that color on her cheeks, like the blush of a newly ripe apple.

  “I’m the last door on the left,” she whispered at the top of the stairs. The narrowness of the hallway forced him to hold her closer and he could feel each breath she took against his chest.

  He opened the door she indicated and flipped on the light switch before he gingerly set her down on a wide bed covered in a rich damask.

  For some reason, he would have expected her bedroom to be light and feminine. Lavender, maybe, with lace and lots of froufrou pillows. Instead, it was dramatic and bright, with strong solid colors and polished Mission furniture. She had her own small tree here in the window, as all the children did, he had noticed earlier. Her tree was decorated in framed pictures, he guessed of her children.

  “Is there anything I can get you before you go to sleep? A nightgown or something?”

  Her blush seemed to intensify, though he thought that might just be a reflection of the bold colors.

  “I don’t think so. I can hop to the bathroom and my dresser is on the way.” She paused. “Um, thank you for carrying me and…everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” He gazed at her for a long moment, fighting an almost desperate hunger to touch her again. She looked so lovely, her hair tousled from sleep and that skin so rosy and soft that he ached to kiss her.

  His gaze met hers and he saw a reflection of his hunger in her green eyes.

  Fast on its heels was a growing unease. He could deal with all this much better if he only felt a physical attraction to her. But he was very much afraid it was becoming much, much more.

  He shoved his hands in his back pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Good night, then. I’ll probably sleep on the couch so I can hear if you need anything.”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue but shut it again, much to his relief. If he had to stay here another minute, he was going to be on that bed with her, to hell with both her broken wrist and the consequences.

  “Good night, Carson. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you. You’ve done nothing but rescue the Wheelers since you’ve been here.”

  “That’s what neighbors do, right?”

  With that lame comment, he backed out of the door while he still could and headed back down the stairs.

  Both times he had gone up the
stairs, first with Jolie then just now with Jenna, he had been too preoccupied with the Wheeler female in his arms to notice the photo gallery that lined the stairway.

  But he couldn’t help paying it more attention now as he moved slowly down the stairs. The pictures showed the evolution of a family. There were photographs of all of the children in various stages of development, from infants to toddlers to preschoolers on up. They were beautiful, every one of them.

  He was particularly struck by the largest picture on the wall, a posed family portrait taken somewhere outdoors in the midst of what looked like golden-hued fall aspens. He stopped and gazed at it, at the trio of blond, grinning boys who looked a few years younger than they were now, and at the smiling parents behind them. Jenna looked lovely and bright and happy. Beside her stood a man who looked just like he imagined Hayden would look in twenty years or so. His face was tanned and rugged, his blond hair a shade or two darker than Jenna’s. He smiled at his family like someone who knew he had everything a man could ever want.

  Carson’s insides wrenched with sadness for Joe Wheeler, who had been taken from his family and would never see the boys in that picture grow to manhood and who had never even met his beautiful baby girl.

  He continued down the stairs, thinking of the love on those shining faces.

  He was in a house full of people, but he had never been as keenly aware that he was alone.

  The siren smell of coffee and something else delicious dragged her out of sleep the next morning.

  Her nose twitched and as she slowly waded back to consciousness, Jenna couldn’t figure out why her room was so blissfully quiet. Usually, she was either awakened by her actual alarm clock or by one of her four living, breathing, bed-bouncing alarm wannabes.

  What were they up to? Maybe they had decided to let her sleep in a little. Heavenly thought, that. She opened one eye and peeked at her alarm clock, then sat upright, pushing aside the last cobwebs in a burst of panic. Eight-thirty! She never slept until eight-thirty!