Christmas Cowboy (A Standalone Holiday Romance Novel)

by Claire Adams

  She yanked her hand away as if I'd stung her. "I'm not falling for your charm, Brickman. Just, please, move the party away from my house."

  "Your house?" Whitney materialized from the crowd with her usual ring of rich friends. Her laugh was echoed by her entourage. "Someone actually lives there? I thought it was some abandoned garden shed."

  "It's a cottage," Kiara and I said at the same time.

  "Well, whatever it is, it does explain the old dress and those shoes," Whitney said. "Sorry, dear, I love Versace as much as the next woman, but I would never match it with store-bought pumps."

  I wished Whitney and her friends weren't circled around me in a way that made it seem like we were blocking Kiara out. "I meant to tell you how nice you look," I said.

  Kiara shook back her wild hair and glared at me. "I only put on this dress so I could get past the door and make my complaint directly to you. Or would you rather I called the police?"

  "The police?" Whitney tittered. "I'm sure they'd point out that we are on Teddy's property and perfectly within our rights."

  "The Brickman Estate has over twenty fireplaces, so explain to me why it is so important to have a bonfire right outside my back door?" Kiara crossed her arms and faced us without any sign of backing down.

  "How do you know about the fireplaces? Have you taken the penny tour like all the other poor tourists?" Whitney's neck was stiff, and her nose pointing up.

  It was clear that she saw Kiara as a threat and things were only going to get worse, but Kiara was unflinching and didn't give me a chance to step in.

  "Poor tourists don't often see the heir to the throne covered head to foot in soot after his father made him scrub out all the fireplaces," Kiara snapped.

  The memory snapped into focus, and my heart lurched. "You loaned me your brother's swimsuit, so I could rinse off at your beach."

  Whitney's light-blue eyes flared at the connection we shared. "This is ridiculous. Teddy Brickman doesn't need to curtail his private events for some mouse in an old shed. Come on, darling, let's get back to the festivities."

  I stepped forward before Whitney could wrap her hands around my forearm. It was very obvious that I was crossing some invisible line to stand with Kiara until Roger swooped in with Darren on his heels.

  "Anyone who knows childhood stories about our Teddy is a friend of mine," Darren said with a dimpled smile.

  Roger's smile elicited stifled sighs from Whitney's entourage as he gave Kiara a slight bow. "Just give us a few minutes, and we'll have the party moved back up to the house."

  It was irritating how one smile and one casual promise from Roger was all it took to make Kiara's expression clear.

  Her eyes warmed again, and she bit back a smile. "Thank you."

  "Roger. Roger Dallas," he said gallantly.

  "The artist?" Kiara asked.

  I stepped in. "Graphic artist, logos and stuff like that."

  Kiara raised an eyebrow at me. "He's been commissioned to design the next Olympic logo."

  Roger shook his head. "No, no. I've just been asked to submit a few design ideas. People from all over the world are doing the same."

  "No more car trouble?" The towering supermodel who had accompanied me on the drive appeared behind the stout figure of Darren.

  Kiara actually laughed. "That pickup truck has been trouble for twelve years."

  Darren slipped a chubby arm around the supermodel's waist. "You've had the same pickup truck for twelve years? Wow. You sound just like Teddy. He's car-obsessed."

  Whitney had watched the exchanges with narrowed eyes before flouncing back into the crowd. Her dramatic exit left me worried, but it took a few moments to realize just what she had planned. Suddenly, the bonfire jumped up to dangerous heights and a cloud of sparks lit up the dark sky.

  Roger frowned. "Whitney's telling everyone to throw the rest of the wood on the fire."

  "At least, she's telling people to head back up to the house," Darren said.

  The supermodel pouted. "I don't want to walk all that way again."

  Darren pulled her closer. "Don't worry, darling. We'll borrow the staff's truck and be back in the ballroom in no time."

  Roger took a second to squeeze Kiara's hand. "It was nice to meet you," he said before he pushed into the crowd to take charge of the raging bonfire.

  I ground my teeth as Kiara watched him go. "I'm sorry about all this," I said. "Normally, your place is empty."

  Kiara turned to me with a tight frown. "I know."

  Somehow that short comment overflowed with a familiar emotion. Kiara was used to being alone, like I was. I took a step closer to her, but another roar burst from the bonfire, and a cloud of sparks whooshed high up into the sky.

  Vincent Jeffry appeared at my side, his scowl brightly lit by the towering flames. "I believe we may have a situation, sir."

  "Better step in," I said with a gallant air, but Kiara was not impressed.

  She thanked my housekeeper and then slipped into the shifting crowd. Party-goers were lined up to get their drinks refilled before the long hike back to the house. Music started pumping out of the black truck the staff used, and I saw Darren spinning the supermodel into a dance next to the open truck doors. Roger was still encouraging people to head back to the house, but he was fighting a losing battle. The party had a mind of its own, and no one was in a hurry to leave Kiara in peace.

  Whitney sneaked up and slipped an arm around my waist. She snuggled in tight against me and purred, "You have to admit that the bonfire is romantic. Though, maybe what we really want is a small fire just for the two of us. Maybe on the beach?"

  I caught sight of Kiara's dark hair, so shiny that it caught the firelight. She was struggling to get back to the split-rail fence that divided our properties, and for one electric moment, our eyes met. Then, I realized she saw Whitney pressed tight to my side, and the moment turned awkward.

  "Poor thing," Whitney purred. "Thinking she has a chance with you. How tragic. Why doesn't she just sell the property to you?"

  "The Davies won't sell to anyone," I said.

  Whitney sighed. "Some people just don't know when they don't belong."

  I struggled to slip out of her tight arms. "Why wouldn't she belong? This is where she grew up."

  "Please, Teddy, don't be silly. Just because she managed to inherit a little plot of land doesn't mean she belongs here. I mean, look at that place. It's nothing more than a falling down shack. It practically ruins the south views from your mansion."

  "I always thought it looked comforting," I admitted. "The kind of home that's always warm."

  Whitney stiffened against me, before moving away. "Come on, darling; we better get back. You have a party to host."

  She caught my hand and tugged me towards the mansion, but my feet were rooted to the ground. "You didn't need to be so rude to her, Whitney."

  Whitney blinked at me in shock. "Rude? Rude is crashing a party just to make some pathetic complaint. I'm all for charity, Teddy, but I'm not about to lie to someone. A little bit of fashion advice like I gave her might go a long way with someone who actually cared."

  "Cared about what?"

  "Cared about her status, her place in society. It bothers me when people complain, but they never lift a finger to better their own situation. She should just sell that pile of kindling and get on with her life," Whitney said.

  I'd heard the same argument hundreds of times since childhood. My fathers' friends and relatives couldn't understand why he tolerated the tiny cottage bordering his pristine property. The Davies had been offered fortunes time and time again, but they still remained. It would have made more sense if it was a treasured family home, but I hardly ever saw anyone there. Occasionally there were lights, but the only person I had ever actually seen around the small house was Kiara.

  As a child, I’d thought of her as some fairytale princess, abandoned at the edge of a vast, dark forest.

  "Teddy? Did you hear me? Roger said he'd take care of t
he bonfire while we get the party resettled in the house," Whitney repeated with barely concealed impatience.

  "Roger? I should be in charge of putting out the bonfire. You go ahead, and I'll meet up with you when it's out," I said.

  Whitney flounced away, but not before she nodded to her friends. They in turn egged on their escorts, and suddenly, the rest of the dry firewood was flung on the already roaring bonfire.

  Another cloud of sparks billowed up, and this time, the dry branches of a tall pine tree crackled. The flames sputtered, then consumed the top of the tree. The laughter around the bonfire turned to screams.

  Panic took hold of the high society crowd as they fled towards the lights of the mansion. Expensive haircuts were shielded from the ash, custom-made suits were turned from the disaster, and haute couture dresses were sped towards safety.

  The music cut off, and I heard Darren calling. "Jump in, honey, let's go!"

  He revved up the black pickup truck the staff had used to haul down the bar. Darren's supermodel jumped into the passenger side, and he slammed on the gas. I don't think I had ever seen Darren in the driver's seat of anything before, and his unfamiliarity was obvious as he was in reverse. The black truck gunned across the uneven grass and crunched hard against the burning pine tree.

  The cracking of the tree trunk was louder than a gunshot, and the crowd scattered. I spotted Kiara across the fire from me, the only other person frozen to the spot.

  She watched as the tall, blazing pine tree shuddered and then tipped towards her family home. I moved so fast I didn't feel the heat of the fire until I'd passed it and swept Kiara into my arms. We dove to the cool grass just as the tree crashed down on her cottage with a terrifying clamor.

  Darren, white as a sheet and barely in control of the pickup, bounced to a stop next to us. "Get in!"

  Kiara struggled out of my arms and sprang to her feet. One look, and I knew exactly what she planned to do. "Call the fire department. Now!" I yelled to Darren as I scrambled to my feet.

  Kiara was sprinting for the split-rail fence, and I caught her just before she vaulted over. "Let go, damn it! I've got to get to the garden hose before-"

  It was too late.

  With a deafening roar, the fire burst out of her crumpled cottage roof and tore into the cool, night air. Hissing to draw in more oxygen, the fire burst windows and soon engulfed the small home.

  I held on tight as Kiara fought me. She was surprisingly strong, and we were both exhausted and panting by the time she gave up her struggle. The cottage was gone, just a shadow amidst a growling wall of flames, and there was nothing she could do.

  "It'll be all right," I told her. "Your family can rebuild."

  Kiara broke out of my arms and shoved me away as the fire department's flashing lights approached the blaze. Over the din of the sirens, she said, "Leave me alone. I just want to be alone."

  Chapter Three

  Kiara

  I had been to the top of that pine tree when I was five years old and wanted to be an eagle. I was going to fly away, over the seas, and spend the morning with my father. I remember how Donna Martin spied me from her kitchen empire and hollered until our neighbor's chauffeur fetched me down with a ladder.

  I had also built an attic escape one cold, stormy fall. It was a bright tent away from the tight knot of empty rooms below me. I remember candles in mason jars, and the bright patterns of the warm blankets felt more like home those chilly months. The bright, brass hooks I used to hold up my quilted tent flashed when the pine tree fell through the roof.

  When I saw them reflect the growing fire, I started running. My mind was yelling, in my father's military voice, Do something!

  I was going to grab the garden hose before the flames got too high and keep the fire under control until the fire department arrived. It was going to work. I wasn't going to watch my family's home—the only home I had ever known—be devoured by flames. I was almost to the fence, right hand out for a practiced vault over the split-rails, when Teddy caught me around the waist.

  He lifted me up in the air, my legs kicking out, and I felt his forearm like steel around my waist. He was a lot stronger than his casual slouch ever betrayed. The well-bred idleness that encapsulated his whole look burned away as he scooped me up and shielded me from the blistering heat of the growing flames.

  He saved my life.

  I would have stood near the outside faucet, right where the living room windows burst. If Teddy hadn't stopped me, I would have been two feet from the place where the fire broke free and consumed the cottage whole.

  Then, he let go and tangled both hands in his own, blond hair. The look of anguish he gave the flames made me wonder what he saw there. He stumbled back, but I had to look away; I had to watch as the fire burned away my home.

  I kept my eyes fastened to where that wide, bay window used to be. It was nothing but angry, billowing, black smoke now. Every once in a while, there was the red-hot stare of the smoldering fire, and I felt like it winked devilishly at me. I was determined to face it down and see it die in the ashes, but the EMTs tugged me away.

  "I will not put on that sweatshirt, I'm fine," I snapped.

  The EMT with the freckles shoved the blaze-orange sweatshirt back at me and shook her head. "You're going to go into shock at some point, and that cocktail dress is not going to keep you warm."

  "Here, take my jacket," Teddy said.

  The EMT melted away with her mouth hanging open as Teddy Brickman appeared in the doors of the ambulance. I scooted forward, determined to escape their ministrations while they were distracted with his highness, but Teddy stopped me.

  "Kiara, please. You're going to get cold. Put this on."

  I shoved his tailored jacket back in his face. "I'll be fine. There's this big bonfire nearby."

  "After something like this, people go into shock. You're going to need your strength," Teddy said in a strange echo of my father's usual sentiments.

  "Hey, I'll take that sweatshirt," I called out the open ambulance doors.

  The EMT with the freckles popped back up instantly with a broad smile for Teddy. "Here you go, ah, Ms. Davies."

  "Is there anything else you can do for her?" Teddy asked.

  I scowled, "I'm fine."

  "I can call your family, just give me their numbers," she said, eager to please.

  I ground my teeth. "I already told you that my family is out of contact."

  The EMT batted her eyelashes at Teddy. "I offered, but that's what she said before."

  Teddy turned away from the starry-eyed EMT and scrubbed a hand across his stubbled chin. "Where on Earth can your family be that we can't call in this day in age?"

  I took in a deep, jagged breath through my nose and hoped that Teddy hadn't noticed. It took a few seconds before I could banish the tremor from my voice and said, "My father and brother are both overseas, most likely in Afghanistan, though I am not cleared to know more precisely."

  "Military?" Teddy asked, complete surprise covering his face.

  "Marines," I bit out. The admission made me straighten my spine under the borrowed sweatshirt.

  "A long career for your father," Teddy started to piece it together. "That's why you always seemed to be alone over here."

  "Over here?" I snapped, shoving him aside as I climbed out of the ambulance. "As if you have any ties to this place. You thought it was some sort of abandoned garden shed!"

  "I never said that," he protested. His hand caught my upper arm, and again, I felt that hidden strength in his grip. "I would never say that. I always, ah, admired your home. I'm sorry about everything."

  "Let go of the young woman," Donna Martin called. She pushed aside firefighters and brandished her walking stick. "I swear to the great Lord in heaven, if you are threatening to send your lawyers her way, I will chase you off this property myself!"

  Teddy let go with a surprised smile. "Donna Martin. It's so nice to see you again."

  "Step aside, Boy Brickman. Kiara, de
ar, are you all right? Please tell me you didn't get hurt. I saw the flames from my window," she said as she wrapped a wiry arm around my shoulders.

  "Kiara, please. What can I do?" Teddy asked.

  "Go home," I said with a tremor in my voice.

  It was too much—the look of anguish and the complete sincerity on his face. His sympathy was obvious and all the more impossible to bear because of that. The firefighters admired him even as they sweated to put out the fire. Even Donna Martin was gruffly pleased that he was there and remembered her.

  She squeezed my hand and whispered, "You go ahead and make him pay. He can afford it. And he really wants to help."

  The last was said with such a tapering off of admiration that my spine went ramrod straight. I wasn't going to be Teddy Brickman's charity case.

  "Go home, Teddy," I said again, stronger. "I'm sure your lawyers will be along soon to tell you it was all an accident and that you have nothing to worry about."

  He nodded and headed off across the lawn just as the young police officer with the shiny, black hair passed him. The policeman tipped his hat and had to blink a few times in order to wipe the awe off his face. He'd just casually exchanged greetings with Teddy Brickman.

  "It was his fault," I told the awe-struck police officer. "Teddy Brickman and his guests got out of control and tipped a burning pine tree onto my home."

  The officer nodded, his hair reflecting the hot spots that still smoldered where my family's home once stood. "It has already been ruled an accident by the fire department. Seems the fire chief sends guys out to review your property since it is largely uninhabited. They noticed that pine tree on Mr. Brickman’s property was dead. They had yet to inform Mr. Brickman of that fact, so he is not to blame."

  "So, I should sue the fire department?" I asked.

  The young police officer stammered, "Wait, why? Why would you do that?"

  I gestured with futile anger to the glowing pit that used to be my home. "Everything I had was just burnt to the ground."

  He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, you're right. I was just speaking with the fire chief, and he was saying what a relief this must be to you. Now you can sell the property and live comfortably. You and your whole family."