Wrestlin' Christmas: (Sweet Western Holiday Romance) (Rodeo Romance Book 2)

by Hatfield, Shanna

  Overhead, a “Hanging P” sign swung from a big pole entry archway that looked like it might collapse at any moment.

  With his attention focused on the sign and entry gate, he failed to see a pothole the size of a washtub. The truck rattled through it while his head knocked against the top of the pickup cab.

  He bounced off the seat, nearly swallowing the toothpick in his mouth as he uttered words his mother would box his ears for saying. Slowing to a crawl, he hoped the bump hadn’t jostled his horses too badly.

  A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a sprawling ranch house, painted a blah shade of beige, and glanced around. A big red barn in need of a coat of paint, a corral fence in need of repair, and a yard in need of a good mowing greeted him.

  Cort took a deep breath and got out of the pickup, tossing aside his toothpick. A quick glance around left him wondering what kind of man allowed his place to fall into such a deteriorated state.

  A slobbering dog met him at the end of the sidewalk. From the mottled color blending in an unappealing swirl across its back and sides, the oversized mutt could have been a mixture of any number of breeds.

  “Hey, dog. Nice doggie,” Cort said quietly as he let the dog sniff him. When it licked his fingers, he decided at least one occupant of the Hanging P Ranch would be easy to win over.

  A childish face peeped at him from around the edge of the curtain in the front window as he strolled down the walk.

  Two long strides carried him up the steps. He rapped sharply on the door and waited, turning his back as he took in his surroundings. A shed full of hay and a pasture full of fat cattle beyond the empty fields caught his eye.

  The location of the house on a hilltop offered spectacular views of the neighboring farmland. Lost in his observation of the landscape before him, he failed to hear the door open behind him.

  “May I help you?” a decidedly feminine voice asked, startling Cort.

  He spun around and stared into a pair of eyes the color of a winter sky - so light blue they almost appeared translucent. Thick, dark lashes framed those marvelous eyes and a soft, alluring fragrance floated around him, throwing his reeling senses into a tailspin.

  Astonished to see a woman at the door, Cort found himself further distracted by her height and loveliness. A long braid fell down her back, but wayward dark brown tendrils floated around the silky skin of her face.

  His fingers itched to reach out and touch her cheek, so he took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  Darn that Tate. He could have warned him Casey Peters had a beautiful wife.

  “May I help you?” she asked again, looking up at him in question.

  “Yes, ma’am. Tate Morgan sent me over. I’m looking for Casey Peters.” Cort swiped the hat from his head as he remembered his manners.

  “You must be Mr. McGraw.” The woman held out a slim work-roughened hand in his direction. He took it in his, surprised as much by her firm grip as the jolt that raced up his arm.

  “I am. And you are…”

  “K.C., not Casey. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.” She pulled her hand from his and leaned against the doorjamb. “I tried to find some replacements for my summer help, but most people aren’t interested in working this far from town, especially for what I’m able to pay.”

  “Room and board is a big bonus.” Cort thought the wages Mrs. Peters offered wouldn’t begin to compensate the work that would no doubt be involved with the position. “Is it just you here on the place?”

  “No. There’s Jacob.” The woman motioned behind her. A little boy stepped from the shadows of the house into the morning sunshine, clutching a toy tractor to his chest. It was easy to tell he was his mother’s child. From the dark hair and blue of his eyes to his stubborn little chin, he looked exactly like Mrs. Peters.

  “Howdy, Jacob.” Cort squatted down so he didn’t tower over the child. The boy stared at him wide-eyed, not saying a word. “I like your tractor.”

  Jacob looked at the green and yellow toy in his hand and nodded his head.

  “Go back and finish your breakfast, buddy,” his mother suggested, giving him a gentle push inside the house.

  “Jacob doesn’t talk, but he understands what you’re saying,” she explained, shutting the front door behind her. “Please treat him like you would any normal five-year-old.”

  “We’ll get along just fine.” Cort wondered what happened to the little boy to rob him of his voice or if it was a birth defect. Now wasn’t the time to pry, though.

  He scrambled to gather his wits after discovering his new boss was a gorgeous woman, not a seasoned ranch owner. Based on her pretty face, he assumed the rest of her would be as attractive. At least if she dressed in something more form fitting than a man’s oversized work shirt with dusty jeans and boots.

  “Didn’t Ed Peters used to have this place?” Cort asked, remembering the man from his childhood. His family had ranched not too far down the road and Ed’s son Dean was only a few years behind him and Tate in school. It seemed like there was another boy, too.

  “Yes, he and my husband, Dean, worked the ranch until two years ago.”

  “I heard about the accident. I’m sorry.” Cort contemplated why no one mentioned a widow or a child left behind. No wonder the place looked neglected. The poor woman most likely had all she could do to keep herself going one day at a time. “Isn’t there another son?”

  A nod of her head provided confirmation. “Todd was in the service. He died in Afghanistan earlier this year.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. My condolences.” Cort recalled Kenzie saying something about things going from bad to worse at the Hanging P. He rapidly gained clarity on what she meant by the comment.

  Rarely at a loss for words, he didn’t know what else to say. Thrown off kilter by the woman standing next to him with those remarkable blue eyes, he struggled to regain his equilibrium.

  In need of a distraction from Mrs. Peters, he looked toward the barn.

  “Can I put my horses in the corral?” he asked, pointing to the enclosure next to the barn.

  “That would be fine. You’ll find a place to store your tack in the barn. There’s a bunkroom there, next to the bathroom, where you can stay. Breakfast is at six-thirty, lunch at noon, and dinner at six. If you aren’t here then, you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cort tipped his hat to her before taking a step back, almost tumbling off the porch. He caught himself and hurried down the steps. “I’ll unload my stuff and get the horses settled then you can put me to work.”

  “That’ll be fine.” She opened the front door. “Just come around to the kitchen door when you’re ready.”

  “Okay.” Cort tried not to think about the attractive widow or how she left his senses muddled as he drove to the barn then unloaded the horses in the corral.

  If Tate had mentioned the owner of the ranch was a stunning young woman, Cort wouldn’t have agreed to work for her. The last thing he needed was to have his head turned by a woman like K.C. Peters.

  Kaley Catherine Cordova Peters, known by most as K.C., smiled at Jacob as she made herself a bracing cup of tea and sat beside him at the kitchen counter.

  “What did you think of our new ranch hand?” she asked, ruffling Jacob’s hair.

  He shrugged his little shoulders indifferently and continued eating his bowl of cereal. The sound of him crunching the cereal and the clock ticking on the wall broke the silence in the room as she sipped her tea.

  Weary of the silence, Kaley desperately wished for noise.

  She longed to hear the clomp of a man’s boots on the porch steps, the ringing of Jacob’s childish laughter down the hall, the welcome clatter that signified a happy, loving home.

  Her home hadn’t ever been happy. Nevertheless, since receiving the call letting her know Dean and Ed had died, nothing had been right in her world.

  She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to call Tate and Kenzie Mor
gan and give them each a tongue-lashing.

  The pastor at church put out feelers with the area ranchers to see if they might know anyone interested in temporary work. Aware her summer workers returned to college, the kind man knew she needed help. As much as she wanted to run the ranch alone, it was more than she could handle.

  Tate Morgan called the previous afternoon and said he knew someone with experience who was willing to work for what she could pay. Unable to believe her good fortune, she expected a grizzled old ranch hand in his retirement years, not a good-looking giant of a man in his prime.

  Tall and brawny, Cort McGraw happened to be one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. From his silvery-gray eyes rimmed with black eyelashes to the dimple in his all-too-attractive chin, she wished Kenzie had given her some warning.

  If she’d known what he looked like, that he was so young, rugged, and hunky, she would have told Tate not to bother sending Cort to her place.

  Mercy, he smelled good, too. Even now, his manly, musky fragrance filled her senses. Annoyed with herself for savoring his heady scent, she brushed at her nose, hoping to chase away the lingering aroma of his aftershave.

  Grudgingly, she admitted he seemed good with children. When he hunkered down on her son’s level to speak with the boy, that simple act showed her more about his character than even he might be willing to reveal.

  Kaley hadn’t given any man the time of day since Dean died, but she found herself inexplicably drawn to Tate’s friend.

  Bothered by the folly of her thoughts, she quickly dismissed them. She had no business, none at all, getting involved with another man, especially not one who looked and smelled as fine as Cort McGraw.

  Something about him seemed familiar and his name finally struck a bell in the recesses of her mind. Of course! She remembered Tate mentioning something back in the spring about his former rodeo travel partner suffering a severe injury. That must be why Cort wasn’t out on the rodeo circuit.

  She’d have to pump Kenzie for more details Sunday after church. Now, though, she needed to forget about the way Cort filled out his shirt and form-fitting jeans and focus on showing him around the Hanging P Ranch.

  “Want to help me this morning, Jacob? We need to show Mr. McGraw around the place.”

  Jacob nodded his head and offered her the barest hint of a smile before taking another bite of his cereal.

  “Great. When you finish your breakfast, go put on your boots and hat.” She grinned as Jacob hurriedly stuffed the last two bites of cereal in his mouth, making his cheeks puff out. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

  The sound of his footsteps running down the hall made her smile. There was far too little that sparked any interest in her son’s eyes. All too often, he seemed disinterested in the world around him.

  As he finished his cereal, she noticed his eyes twinkled with excitement.

  With another capable hand around the place, she could spend more time with her son. Although the college boys she hired to help during the summer worked hard, they required her constant supervision.

  Last winter, she spent most of her time trying to do the work of two men since the one she hired was just barely better than useless. It left her precious few moments to devote to Jacob.

  She picked up his empty bowl, put it in the dishwasher, and glanced out the window. Cort strode across the lawn and up the back sidewalk.

  He certainly appeared strong and capable. With those bulging biceps and long, solid legs, he looked like he could take on the world without a blink.

  Attempts at remembering what event he competed in failed her. She realized she’d never paid much attention when Tate talked about the rodeo. It hadn’t fit into her precisely ordered world, so she filed it away as unimportant.

  At the moment, she wished she’d paid more attention.

  To keep from ogling Cort from behind the kitchen curtains, she busied herself straightening a dishtowel and waited for his knock before opening the door.

  “Ready for the grand tour?” she asked as Cort stood on the back step, twirling his hat around in his hand.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll get Jacob and we’ll go.” Kaley turned toward the hall and called for Jacob. The sound of running steps announced his arrival as he hurried into the kitchen, holding a small pair of gloves in one hand and a well-used ball cap in the other.

  “Ready, buddy?” Kaley asked, smiling at her silent little boy.

  He nodded his head and ran past Cort, across the lawn, and toward an old pickup parked by the barn.

  Cort waited for Mrs. Peters to walk ahead of him, partly because it was the respectful thing to do and partly because he wanted to watch the little sway in her hips he’d noticed earlier.

  Although she wasn’t as tall as Kenzie, she was definitely tall for a female. He appreciated that she wasn’t some petite thing since he topped six-foot-three.

  Cort liked a tall woman, especially one with so many appealing curves. Beneath her baggy shirt, his imagination conjured a curvy figure.

  He opened the door of a pickup that appeared to have been green at one time. It sported spots of rust and smudges of primer. He added a paint job and undoubtedly a tune-up to his growing list of things that sorely needed attention.

  Mrs. Peters took a ball cap off the seat, tugged it on her head, and pushed her long braid through the hole in the back. She pulled on a pair of gloves, similar to Jacob’s, before motioning for the boy to climb into the cab.

  Jacob looked at her expectantly and she shook her head.

  “Not today, Jacob. I’ll let you drive another time, though. Okay?” she said, kissing his nose.

  He rubbed a gloved hand across his face then rolled his eyes before scooting into the middle of the pickup’s bench seat.

  “Already too old for kisses? What’s the world coming to?” Kaley asked in a teasing tone.

  “There will come a day you’ll be glad to have a pretty girl kiss you.” Cort grinned as he slid in on the passenger side and stuck a toothpick in his mouth.

  “I hope it’s not for another twenty years,” Kaley muttered, turning the key and praying the truck would start.

  After a few splutters, it finally roared to life. Cort smirked as the mottled dog jumped in the back of the pickup, his big pink tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  “What’s your dog’s name?” He asked as Kaley put the truck in gear and eased toward the barn.

  “Buford.”

  He chuckled and glanced back at the dog. The canine wore a huge doggy grin as he sat with his head sticking over the side of the pickup.

  “Great name. What breed is he?”

  Kaley laughed. “No earthly clue.” The dog had no defining breed, but he was loyal and friendly. Jacob loved him and that was good enough for her. “He’s a good dog if you can get past his interesting coloring.”

  The sound of her laughter surprised Cort, putting him in mind of Christmas bells, for some odd reason.

  “He appears to be a friendly dog. Is he good with the cattle?” Cort asked, watching out the window as Kaley drove the truck down a narrow dirt road past the barn and toward the pasture.

  “Most of the time. Once in a while, he gets in mind to chase them, but a stern word brings him around. He just gets excited. I think he must have some cow dog somewhere in the mix. The reason he is an esteemed member of the family is because he’s really, really good with Jacob.”

  The boy struggled to sit up high enough to see out the windshield. Something caught his interest, and he pointed a small, gloved hand toward the front of the truck.

  Cort watched a handful of cows wandering along on the wrong side of the fence.

  “I take it they aren’t supposed to be there.” He studied the fence to see if he could spy a break.

  “No, they aren’t. Like everything else, the fence needs some work,” Kaley said, exasperated. She’d just walked the fence line a few weeks ago and patched three sections. Fortunately, the cows w
eren’t far from a gate.

  Cort jumped out as soon as she stopped the truck and started around the cattle. “If you open the gate, I’ll drive them in.”

  Annoyed he felt the need to give her orders, Kaley told Jacob to wait in the pickup then hurried to open the gate. Buford stood beside her, making sure no cattle escaped from the pasture while Cort drove the fugitives back into their confined area.

  “Thanks,” she said as Cort closed the gate and latched it.

  “If it suits you, I can ride the fence line and make sure there aren’t any sections in need of repair.” Cort climbed back into the truck. His new employer drove slowly along the fence, looking for any damaged sections.

  “That would be fine. Why don’t you plan on starting first thing in the morning?” Kaley didn’t want to send Cort out on a long day in the saddle the first hour he was there. The same group of cows often wandered beyond their fenced enclosures. Convinced they had some secret way of getting out, she hadn’t made time to investigate.

  Cort nodded his head, continuing to watch the fence. Mrs. Peters didn’t look surprised to find the cows out, so he surmised it happened with some frequency. He planned to put a stop to it right away.

  She drove around the pasture, pointing out the farm ground she rented to one of the neighbors before showing him her now-empty hayfields. After circling around the rest of her place, they drove past a large feedlot near the hay shed.

  “Once the weather turns cold, we move the cattle to the feedlot for the winter. Makes it easier to feed and care for them,” Kaley said, envisioning her fat cattle filling the pen.

  Last winter, she’d somehow managed to care for them mostly on her own. Her brother-in-law came home for a month of leave in February and relieved her of the chores before he returned for another tour of duty. He’d barely arrived back in Afghanistan when the news came he’d died.

  A quick mental shake helped clear her thoughts as Kaley looked at Cort. “See any problems with our set up?”