Show Me a Family for Christmas : Small-Town Single-Father Cowboy Romance (Cowboy Crossing Romances Book 6)

by Alexa Verde

  When it didn’t, the skills her father had taught her had come in handy. People often took kindness and shyness for weakness, but they respected brutal force.

  Once her fighting skills were known, she was left alone. She hadn’t come to challenge hierarchy but to survive until the next move to a new place. Who knew some schools could become such great preparation for bodyguard training? One always had to be on the lookout.

  Things changed when she was twelve, and she shut her eyes at the memory. She’d managed to blend into the background well enough and watched her back at the new school.

  Then a girl from her math class joined her at lunch. She had short thin hair, braces, and slumped-forward shoulders. “I’m Gillian. Do you want to be my friend?”

  Joy filled Gwendolyn. Her sister was her best friend once, but since the separation, the only person Gwendolyn could rely on was herself. Finally having a friend felt amazing.

  Three days and three lunches later, Gwendolyn realized the kind offer was extended partly because Gillian was bullied before. Gwendolyn was too thrilled to care if Gillian’s friendship had underlying reasons.

  The next time popular kids started using Gillian as a punching bag, Gwendolyn stood up for her.

  There was no hesitation.

  There couldn’t be. That was what friends did.

  The next day, Gillian invited Gwendolyn to her neighbor’s backyard for a barbecue. It smelled of leaves and fresh hope that day, and Gwendolyn was excited about a new beginning.

  Once Gwendolyn stepped inside, she guessed what was going to happen. There was no scent of barbecue.

  Older and stronger kids waited for her there, and a few more stepped behind her to cut off her escape. Gwendolyn glanced at her friend. With a sinking heart, she realized this was Gillian’s ticket into a popular crowd—or at least to be left alone for some time. As Gillian said when Gwendolyn’s father and the school administration conducted an investigation later, Gwendolyn was going to move soon anyway, and Gillian was going to stay.

  Gwendolyn learned there could be a limit to human cruelty, but there was none for betrayal.

  Trembling, she moved with her back to the fence, her muscles tense, prepared to fend multiple hits. She was going to lose, but she’d give it her best. Her heart thundered in her ears louder than the mockery. She was prepared for bruises, for the taste of blood when someone’s fist connected to her jaw while she’d blocked another person’s punch to her solar plexus.

  Gathering every ounce of her training, she prepared herself for the excruciating pain when her bone was crushed, barely minutes after her heart had been. Even with all that pain, she couldn’t afford to pass out, and she did the special breathing her father had taught her.

  But there was something Gwendolyn wasn’t prepared for. The last thing she remembered before she’d fallen to the ground that day was that Gillian smiled.

  It was the smile of someone with a job well done.

  * * *

  Though Conner had ulterior motives for coming to Cowboy Crossing, he always wanted to give his daughter the most wonderful holiday celebration he could. Even if he couldn’t incorporate Annika’s German traditions yet. He just couldn’t.

  A strange thought appeared in his mind as he drove on the outskirts of Cowboy Crossing for the Christmas gift drive. Would Annika want him to remarry and give Daisy a new mother?

  Especially if that person was nothing like Annika?

  Unlike Gwendolyn, who was obviously shy, Annika had enjoyed being around people and could talk for hours to a person who dialed the wrong number. Annika loved festivities, and they had gone to many Fests in Germany, including the famous Oktoberfest. He’d joked she looked like a German milkmaid, with her habit to wrap her braid around her head and her affinity for dresses and aprons due to all the baking.

  She’d laughed about it and bought them folk costumes, his complete with a hat and lederhosen, and they’d worn them to the Oktoberfest. He’d thought he’d looked ridiculous in leather knee-length breeches with suspenders, but he’d wanted to make her smile.

  She’d looked so pretty in a dirndl, a traditional Bavarian dress with a tight bodice and a gathered skirt. To follow the custom, he’d paired his lederhosen with a white button-down shirt, and she’d paired her dirndl with a white blouse and an apron. Neither one of them drank alcohol, but her eyes had shone brightly as she’d enjoyed the festivities and the large costume and riflemen parade among about six million people in Munich.

  He’d loved giving her the best holidays he could, too, and a fist wrapped around his heart and squeezed tightly.

  Now he considered another person he’d love to give wonderful holidays to. The one sitting in the passenger seat right beside him. He’d tried to tell Gwendolyn who he was twice yesterday, but both times, he was interrupted. Was it a sign it was best to keep it a secret?

  His allegiance should be to his daughter first. And so far, Gwendolyn hadn’t provided much information about her employer, not that he’d insisted, really. He’d been too taken away with her kind hazel eyes and hurting soul.

  Did that make him a bad father?

  If only he could ask God for guidance! But he’d stopped praying when Annika died. Pain had filled his entire being then, not leaving space for faith.

  He glanced back to check on Daisy. She was sleeping peacefully, obviously tired out by a day of running around and handing out presents to children. Her sweet smile tugged at him before he returned his attention to the road.

  Making sure his daughter was happy and well taken care of was his priority, not falling for the lovely woman he’d never see again after Christmas. He’d tell Gwendolyn and the Clarks who he was soon.

  Soon.

  The secret already made him lie awake at night and gave him pangs of conscience now. But it seemed even more painful to say it.

  “Daisy must be exhausted,” Gwendolyn whispered. “Well, we only have one more house left.”

  “Yeah. Good.” Okay, maybe not so good.

  His heart shifted. He didn’t want the evening to end. He’d met Gwendolyn recently. When did he become so used to her half-smile or her attentive way of listening to his every word?

  “Tell me more about your work. I mean, do you love it?” Her voice conveyed his answer was important to her.

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he slowed around the curb. Then he lowered his voice to keep from waking his daughter. “I love... some aspects of being an art gallery manager. Like sponsoring an art studio for children that gives free lessons and then exhibiting their works.”

  “I imagine their parents might be more excited than the children.” She chuckled. “It’s nice of you.”

  Her praise touched him, but he didn’t mean to be bragging. “I can’t take the credit. Annika started it. I just needed to make sure the program continued. Taking care of the gallery was the right thing to do.” Was he trying to persuade Gwendolyn—or himself? “The first few directors I hired messed up exhibitions, so I needed to take over myself.”

  “That was... noble of you. Does this job make your heart sing? I mean, if it’s okay to ask.” Based on the whiff of her delicate, fleeting perfume, she shifted toward him.

  It was as if a fresh wind ruffled the pages of his story, turning it to a chapter he wasn’t ready for.

  Fine, he did feel confined within those four walls as if he were placed in one of the cubes in a cubism painting. “What choice did I have? Fulfilling my obligations should make me happy.” His voice was too clipped, and he winced.

  Gwendolyn had voiced the questions he’d been asking himself lately. Maybe being close to a ranch awakened memories of a place where he’d belonged.

  The scent of her perfume moved away, and the voice grew quieter as if she withdrew more than physically, causing a void within him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  The urge to tell her who he was, to share his story, surged through him. Her eyes were kind and inviting enough that he could f
orget caution. He’d gathered some information through the grapevine about the Clarks, and she’d given the family a great recommendation.

  Then his stepsister’s scream the last day he’d seen her rang in his ears, and he felt it in his gut—the secret had to remain hidden for now.

  So he told her the things he could.

  About losing his little brother when surgery could’ve saved him. About Annika’s spontaneous personality, her love of everything art, her penchant for baking German treats as if the recipes were in her blood.

  He could feel the sweet taste of stollen and Black Forest cake, hear Annika’s warm laughter and soft humming of German songs, smell her favorite flowers—daisies, of course. She was raised in the US, but her ancestors were from Germany—and she’d never forgotten it.

  She had an enviable confidence in herself and pride in her culture, including speaking German fluently. The most common native language in Europe, she’d said.

  No words had sounded as beautiful to him as when she’d whispered “Ich liebe dich” for the first time.

  I love you.

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as if it were sparkling ornaments or painted porcelain village figurines they’d bought at the market. He and Annika went to Germany at the magical time of Christmas when they’d dreamed of having children and bringing them there one day to visit.

  A lump formed in his throat. As much as he’d tried to keep Annika’s legacy by working at the gallery, for some reason, he’d kept the ornaments and the figurines in the attic and had never tasted stollen, German chocolate cake, or Black Forest cake again.

  He told Gwendolyn about those empty years without Annika when the pain wouldn’t go away. About leaving ranching for the art gallery, even if he was still a cowboy at heart. About all the amazing horses he’d encountered while working at a ranch. While he’d made sure to establish the fact they could rely on him and he was the one responsible—the leader of the herd, if you wish—they’d been his friends. And often, his teachers.

  He even told her about Snowflake, a beautiful Appaloosa who’d thrown the ranch owner when she bucked, landing him on the ground. Twice. Thankfully, the man had agreed with Conner that the horse was just scared of her new surroundings and he’d mounted her too soon. With a lot of patience, Conner had started making progress with Snowflake, a spirited horse who’d sadly been mistreated by her previous owners. Conner had found signs of the abuse on her body.

  But then, the owner’s young nephew came for a visit and, despite Conner’s protests, took Snowflake for a ride. The guy wasn’t experienced with horses but was arrogant and sure he’d needed to show the horse who was the boss. Snowflake’s history of being difficult had added to his desire “to teach Snowflake a lesson.”

  Conner had begged him to give Snowflake some time, but to no avail. Sure enough, Snowflake came back alone. Apparently, she’d gotten spooked and fled, and the guy had lost control and fallen from the saddle, breaking his arm.

  Snowflake was sold right after that, and Conner couldn’t do anything about it. Later, he had learned Snowflake changed several owners until she’d broken her leg and been put down.

  Gwendolyn didn’t say a word. But she listened and seemed to understand. And somehow, that made the pain a fraction smaller.

  Afar off, he spotted a house nestled by a red barn, and a fresh onslaught of pain sliced through him. The barn looked so much like the one on the ranch where he worked—eh, used to work.

  He did miss being out in the open, riding horses, feeling the wind in his lungs, and the uplifting sense of freedom he couldn’t find anywhere else, especially crammed in the gallery where he always feared he’d break something irreplaceable.

  But then... hadn’t he broken so many irreplaceable things before?

  “It’s just... if I couldn’t have Annika any longer, this way I could have a part of her. Her legacy.”

  He glanced at Gwendolyn as he removed his foot from the accelerator pedal. Candy cane earrings danced in her delicate ears.

  And more than compassion glowed in her eyes. Comprehension shone there as if she’d experienced herself what he was talking about.

  Her fingertips brushed against his right hand, light as a touch of tinsel, but they still made his heart beat faster. “I understand. I understand it very well.”

  By previously working in security to keep part of her father in her life, she’d done the same thing he’d done. And like him, she must’ve been questioning it now if she’d started nannying. She got him, plain and simple.

  An invisible bond strengthened between them. A bond that would have to be broken when he returned to Texas. It didn’t make sense to fall for Gwendolyn, even if he could open his aching heart to her after Annika’s death.

  Then Gwendolyn glanced back at his sleeping child and said, “But don’t you already have a better part of her?”

  * * *

  After about half an hour, Gwendolyn could guess why Conner had saved this family for last to give presents, and it wasn’t about the geographical distance. They celebrated Christmas like they meant it.

  At first, Gwendolyn worried about Daisy, but the girl seemed to get a second wind and enjoy herself.

  All of them, including two parents and five children—all girls—sang carols, built a gingerbread house, enjoyed cocoa stirred with candy canes, and played a few games Gwendolyn had to learn fast.

  She got so carried away that, despite being unable to carry a tune to save her life, she nearly joined in singing carols with Conner, Daisy, the family, and their two cats who, apparently, as the head of the family felt the need to explain, were both females.

  Some families requested the child “earn” their gift, and this was one of them. So each cute blonde girl either recited a poem, sang a song, or in the case of the oldest, performed an acrobatic figure. Gwendolyn understood now why one of the gifts was a certificate for gymnastics lessons.

  After sharing some contents of the basket with Christmas cookies Conner had brought into the house, she loved watching the girls’ faces light up when they unwrapped the gift boxes with sweaters and coats, then the ones with toys, games, and books. But the highlight would be the bicycles in different sizes to suit each girl, every bicycle with a large red bow, that Conner secretly stowed behind the barn for the parents to give the girls on Christmas.

  Tears shone in their parents’ eyes when he slipped them a note explaining where and what the secret gifts were, and more thanks escaped their lips than Gwendolyn had heard in her life. As the woman hugged Gwendolyn oh so tightly and whispered yet another teary-eyed thank you, she warmed to her very core. She didn’t expect any presents this year—just like the year before and the year before that—but this was already the best Christmas she’d had in decades.

  By far.

  “It was kind of you to participate in the Christmas gift drive,” she told Conner when they were driving back, Daisy once again asleep in the back, so adorable in her green elf outfit.

  He didn’t even live in this town, and still, he’d done it for these children. So yes, it was more than chiseled features or generous muscles she was attracted to.

  “I’m the one who benefits the most. And hopefully my daughter this time. I want to show her that the easiest way to feel better ourselves is to help someone else. Hopefully, it helped her shyness a little, too. I’m grateful to be able to buy her the gifts she requests. Well, besides a kitten. But not all parents can do the same. I wanted her to give gifts to children who are not in her situation.”

  It dawned on her. “It’s not the first time you’ve done this, is it?” She should’ve guessed by how at ease he was while it took her a while to be more or less comfortable with people she didn’t know.

  “My late wife started this tradition. She said we should share our blessings.” His voice dipped a little. “I... I haven’t done it since she died.”

  Her heart clenched. The more she was getting to know this caring, honest, and yes, still
grieving man, the more she liked him. But how could she compete with a woman who was no longer here and sounded perfect?

  Of course, she didn’t need to compete. She, Conner, and Daisy would go their separate ways soon enough, and she’d have the opportunity to retreat into her familiar cover of loneliness as if this amazing holiday had never happened.

  Sadness pressed on her lungs.

  Her breathing became shaky as she recalled the troubling calls, too. Four calls now. All saying the name her father used to call her. She’d gone to the police in the afternoon, but they couldn’t help her. The calls had come from burner phones.

  She’d been restless ever since she’d seen that old navy-blue sedan with tinted windows and snow-covered license plates.

  Would she be able to put the puzzle pieces together with her friend’s help? Or was twenty-five years later too late and were too many of those pieces missing? Or was she even putting the wrong pieces in the wrong places?

  Could she put the pieces of her heart together like that puzzle and finally move on?

  “Are you okay?” Conner asked as if sensing her change in mood while he made a turn.

  She told him about the navy-blue sedan and strange calls.

  He frowned as he slowed for an icy dip in the road. “I’m worried about you. You should talk to the police.”

  She sighed. “Done already. The calls came from burner phones.”

  “If you allow me, I’d like to hire you a bodyguard.”

  She chuckled without mirth. “I am a bodyguard.”

  The truck swerved slightly before he straightened it out. “What?”

  Oops. She wasn’t supposed to reveal it—her contract explicitly specified that. On the other hand, she didn’t want to withhold the information from him like her mother had from her father.

  Her fingers tightened around the truck door handle. “The Clark family hired me because they thought the children might be in danger. It looks like that’s passed and I’m not needed any longer. That’s why I’m leaving after Christmas.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  Cold seeped into her bones as if the blast from the past was freezing. So she took off her gloves and reached to the vent with hot air.