Blue Sky Cowboy Christmas

by Joanne Kennedy

  He knew he could use her pity to his advantage. It was clear she was expecting something more than conversation. But the mere mention of his supposed heroism made him sick.

  “I’d love to get together when you’re ready,” Fawn said. “I know you’ve been through a lot.” She ran her hand up his arm and down again, licking her lips. “I’m a really good listener.”

  The thought of dumping his ugly memories into Fawn’s shell-pink ear made him nauseous. The whole reason he’d gone over there was to keep the ugliness from touching towns like Wynott and women like Fawn. Maybe that was sexist, but it was a primal urge he couldn’t control.

  He sure had a lot of those lately.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she pressed. “You can’t close yourself off, you know. Don’t bottle it up inside.”

  Who was she, Dr. Phil? He remembered the shrinks at the VA in Denver, the things he’d said to shut them down.

  “I guess it’s just not time,” he said.

  Fawn nodded sagely, biting her lip. “What about Sunday night?”

  “That’s probably too soon, too.”

  “I thought we could go to the Dawg,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Wayne wasn’t getting much business on Sundays, so he offers two-for-one pizzas and dollar beers. I think it’s going to break him, because everybody goes.” She tittered. “And everybody wants to see you, so it’ll be perfect.”

  He looked down at her blue, blue eyes and wished he could go back in time to when he’d been a less complicated person—one who’d thought she was perfect. He didn’t feel that way anymore. He didn’t feel much of anything.

  Dang. If this war had made him impotent, he was going to sue the Department of Defense. He’d sworn to give his life for his country, but not that.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for the Red Dawg,” he said. With that kind of deal on pizzas and beer, the place would be wall-to-wall Wynottians, and if Fawn had heard of his exploits, he could bet the whole town knew—or thought they did.

  “Now, Griff.” Setting her hands on those sweet, round hips, she frowned sternly. “You don’t strike me as a man who dips his little toe in the shallow end of the pool.”

  “What?” Were they going swimming? At the Red Dawg? The place was already a senior center, a clubhouse, a grange hall, and a bar. Had Wayne managed to find yet another revenue stream by opening a public swimming pool?

  “You seem like the kind of guy who jumps right into the deep end,” she said.

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  “Good. Pick me up at five thirty.” She wagged an admonishing finger. “Now I can tell you need some time to yourself, but Sunday, it’s time to jump right back into life, okay?” She made a tearing motion with one hand like she was ripping off a Band-Aid. “You know it hurts less if you do it fast.”

  He wasn’t sure what they were talking about at this point, but he did know one thing: he’d rather go back to the desert than go to the Dawg on Sunday. In fact, he’d rather stand up Fawn Swanson than go. Which was weird.

  Why wasn’t he jumping at the chance to be with his dream girl?

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  Chapter 6

  Riley made bacon and eggs for Ed and his family, then slipped out to open the store. She was sure Ed felt bad about how things were going, but although the cot was lumpier than she remembered, she’d slept fine.

  She counted out the till, made change from the safe, then walked the aisles, making sure everything was shown to best advantage for the day ahead. She’d decorated the store for Christmas and was proud of her window display, which featured a life-size Styrofoam snowman wearing a hunter’s cap and a Carhartt jacket, holding a snow shovel and waving a gloved hand. All around him were tools for taming winter: scrapers and emergency kits for cars, andiron sets for woodstoves, and an assortment of practical work gloves and woolen hats.

  In spite of the snowman’s welcoming wave, she suspected it would be a slow day. The sky threatened more snow, and the roads were already a challenge. So she was surprised when the bell on the door announced a customer before she was officially open.

  Turning with a smile, she saw Griff Bailey, of all people, brooding and big as life. Her heart thrummed. Had he come to see her?

  She tamped down that silly notion and kept her smile professional. She didn’t want him to come see her, she reminded herself. This wasn’t the old Griff Bailey but a new and not-so-improved version. The jolt of fear he inspired shouldn’t be mistaken for attraction.

  “What brings you to town?” she asked warily.

  “An empty fridge.” Scowling, he stamped snow off his boots. “There’s a storm coming, and we haven’t got any milk. Or beer. Or food.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

  “You’re staying at the ranch, right?”

  “No,” she said. “But since I’ll be coming back to town every day, I can pick up supplies for you. Just give me a list.”

  He grabbed a box of nails from a nearby shelf and frowned at it. He looked so fierce that Riley wondered why the nails didn’t leap from the box and toss themselves on the floor in surrender.

  When he looked up, his eyes were accusing under arched brows.

  “Why don’t you just stay? House is big enough.”

  “No, thanks.” As warmth crept up from her chest, she turned away so he wouldn’t see her blush. “And you’re not going to find milk in here, you know.” She fooled with the key lathe, plucking a blank from its hook, putting it back. “Or beer.”

  “I know. Just thought I’d check on you.”

  So he had come to see her? She tamped down a ridiculous burst of girlie excitement and called up something stronger: indignation.

  “I’m not helpless, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I just want to know why you’re not working on the porch. With Dad gone, it’s up to me to see the work gets done, and I can’t use the front door. You planning to get to it today?”

  “Maybe.” She frowned. Her body might like Griff Bailey—like him a whole lot—but he would not, could not, be the boss of her. “Your dad and I agreed on when I’d work, and you have no right to interfere.” She jerked her head toward the window and the snow beyond. “Besides, it’s too cold to work outside. I’ll be doing inside renovations now.”

  “I was going to ask about that,” he said. “Half the bedrooms are torn apart, and there’s plumbing parts all up and down the stairs.”

  “I’m putting in some extra bathrooms.” This probably wasn’t a good time to tell him about the dude ranch plan, so she changed the subject. “But hey, since you’re already here to get supplies, I’ll probably stay in town today. No point in braving the storm.”

  Just then, the door to her apartment opened and the Harpies came down the stairs with Trevor.

  Actually, they didn’t come in with Trevor; they pushed him ahead of them, stumbling and reluctant. His hair was still disheveled from sleep, and his pallor had gotten worse.

  “Can I help you?” Riley asked.

  “Ed told us you’d train Trevor.” Diane clutched her nephew’s shoulder. “He needs to know how to run this place, being Ed’s nephew and his only heir, but you’ve gone and started without him.”

  Riley kept her expression neutral. “I’d be glad to train him, of course. I just made you all breakfast first.” She did her best to smile. “Now that he’s here, I’ll be glad to show him around.”

  Riley eyed Griff, who was watching the conversation like a spectator at a tennis game. His gaze lit on Riley, then the women, then the silent, sulking boy, and back again while his hands fisted and relaxed, over and over. He seemed angry, and she prayed he’d keep it to himself. She had enough problems with these people.

  “Show him everything,” Carol said. “He needs to learn.”

  “I’m not stupi
d,” Trevor said. “I’ve been working in management, remember?”

  Griff stepped forward. “Good, because Riley has to go.”

  “What?” Carol’s eyes went wide, and Riley tried not to laugh. Griff dwarfed the two women, and they looked a little scared.

  “She’s working for me,” he said. “My front door’s four feet off the ground, and she needs to build me some steps.” He grabbed Riley’s arm in a proprietary way that made her want to smack him. “I need it done today, so what’s your name? Trevor?”

  The kid, who’d drifted off to finger the merchandise, jerked to attention. “Yeah? What?”

  “You’re on your own,” Griff growled. “You got questions, ask your uncle.”

  * * *

  Griff hoped Riley realized he wasn’t normally this bossy. It was just that the two women got on his nerves. Everybody knew how much Riley had helped Ed when Ruth was sick, and the whole town wondered why his sisters had never showed up when he’d needed them.

  Griff knew why they were here now. They must have heard Riley had made the store successful, and now they wanted a piece of the action. Hell, they wanted all the action for their precious “only heir,” who looked about as enthusiastic as a death-row inmate—after the execution.

  Shaking her arm out of Griff’s grasp, Riley straightened her shirt and glared. Maybe he’d played the part of the difficult boss with a little too much gusto.

  “I’m sure you can wait until this afternoon,” she said. “As you can see, I have another commitment.”

  “Let the kid do it.” Griff jerked a thumb toward the Only Heir. “My front door opens onto thin air. I had company this morning, and she had to climb in.” Too late, he realized how that sounded. Riley would think he’d found himself a floozy. “Plus, I need help with that dog. He sat for you. When I tell him to sit, he just looks at me and walks away.”

  Ed walked in just then. His eyes were puffy and his thinning hair, still reddish despite his age, was sticking up around his bald spot.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “You said your helper here would train Trevor, but she snuck down and opened the store herself,” said Carol.

  Griff was glad to see Ed straighten his spine.

  “Guess we were too busy enjoying the delicious breakfast she made to do it ourselves,” the old man said. “Thank you, Riley.” He turned back to his sisters. “Trevor wasn’t even awake last I saw.”

  “You should have woken him.”

  He should have woken himself. Griff waited for Ed to put the women in their place.

  “Sorry,” Ed said instead. His shoulders rounded again, and the harried look returned. “Riley, you go on and fix that porch for Griff. I’ll show Trevor the ropes.” He put his arm around the Only Heir’s shoulders. The boy continued to look down at the floor as if he had the grace to be ashamed.

  You ought to be. Mama’s boy.

  Griff took Riley’s arm a little more gently. “Let’s go.”

  He noticed one of the women pursing her lips as she watched them and quickly removed his hand. She looked like one of those church ladies, the kind who’d judge Riley if she found out about her past. Heck, she was probably judging her by her tattoos already. Riley was more covered up than usual, but he could see her sleeve tat peeking out from her cuff, and a feather from the tail of her phoenix waved just above her collarbone.

  He liked knowing it was a phoenix and remembering the last time he’d seen it.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Just upset about the door.”

  Riley turned to Ed. “You okay with this?”

  “Sure.” Ed was okay with everything she did, and Riley knew it, but she always treated the dithery old man with respect.

  “Just so you’re sure,” Riley said. “Because my first loyalty is to you. This store is always number one.” She leveled a hard glare at Griff. “You need to understand that.”

  Shuffling his feet, he pretended to be cowed. “Okay. Sorry. But can we please go fix my porch?”

  “Sure. I’ll get my coat and tools.” She ignored the sisters’ pursed lips and narrowed eyes and gave Ed a hug. “See you later, okay? I’ll be staying here tonight.”

  One of the women started to protest.

  “In the office,” Riley said. “There’s a cot in there.”

  Riley might not know it, but she was staying at the ranch tonight. Tonight and all the rest of the nights these women and the Only Heir were around.

  She’d probably hate him for butting in, but somebody had to stick up for her, and Ed obviously wasn’t going to.

  Chapter 7

  There was no sense clearing the sidewalks until it quit snowing, so Wynott’s plows hadn’t been out yet. The blanket of snow smoothed the town’s rough edges and rounded its corners.

  Griff stopped at his truck, but Riley kept on walking.

  “We should ride together,” he said. “Snow’s pretty bad.”

  The look she gave him made the temperature drop another five degrees. “I think I can handle it.”

  “It would make things easier. Plus we have to go to the store.”

  “There’s no reason for us both to go. And it won’t be easier when you have to drive me home later, after more snow’s fallen, and then drive back.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at the ranch, then.” He felt strangely disappointed. Had he really been looking forward to grocery shopping with a girl? He must be really hungry.

  He watched her stomp off to her dinky little truck. If she made it to the ranch in that thing, he wouldn’t have to find a way to make her stay. The forecast called for ten inches, and the Chevy LUV couldn’t handle that.

  “Need anything at the store?” he asked.

  She turned and walked backward, facing him. She was dressed for the weather in a puffy white coat, boots that looked like buckets on her skinny legs, and a weird furry trapper’s hat with earflaps that tied under her chin in a goofy, girlie bow. With her hair stuffed up into the hat, she looked even more like a kid than usual, except for those spooky, haunted eyes.

  “Nope. I told you, I’m staying in town,” she said. “You can take care of Bruce and the other animals, right?”

  “I guess.”

  She grinned. “Come on. You’ve done it all your life. Did you forget all that cowboy stuff already?”

  “No.” She wanted to tease him? He’d show her teasing. Fixing his eyes on hers, he gave her a slow, smoldering smile. “I remember lots of things.”

  She turned away, blushing, and he relished a rush of triumph. For some reason, this conversation had become a competition, and he wanted to one-up her.

  He wanted to do a lot of other things, too. Why hadn’t his thoughts been this randy when he’d had Fawn Swanson sitting on his sofa? Maybe because he wasn’t right for someone like Fawn anymore. Riley might be skinny as a weasel—no, wait, that’s not right; delicate as a ballerina, that’s it—but though Fawn was spunky and athletic, Riley was way tougher.

  When she turned to walked backward again, the blush was gone. “I’m just glad you remember, because I’ve forgotten all about it.” She grinned as if she’d won. Maybe she had, because he’d basically admitted he remembered that night at the quarry. That made him vulnerable, not to mention weak in the knees. Except…

  “Forgotten about what?” he asked.

  The blush returned. She looked away, then bit her lip and gave him a charming, crooked smile. “Oh, you know. Stuff.”

  She tried to toss her hair and nearly dislodged her ridiculous hat as her heel hit the drift that covered the sidewalk at the corner. Flailing her arms in the air, she sat down hard in the snow.

  He hurried over to help her up. “Oops-a-daisy.”

  “Oops-a-daisy?” She brushed snow off her shoulder. “Is that a military term?”

  He felt his own face he
ating and shrugged. “It’s something my mom used to say.”

  Refusing his proffered hand, she rose with all the dignity she could muster—which wasn’t much, considering she wore a hat that looked like a mangy muskrat, a coat that made her look like a marshmallow snack, and oversized Frankenstein boots. Tossing him a scornful look, she stomped off, and he wondered how she managed to look sexy in that getup. He couldn’t see an inch of skin or even her shape, but he remembered what was under that coat. Her skin, her shape—even her scent.

  He shook his head, dislodging the memory. He needed to keep his distance from Riley. She’d been broken long before he’d met her, and the last thing she needed was a broken man—which was what he was. That incident in the barn had proved it.

  Turning away, he told himself he shouldn’t have gone after her. There were other doors in the house, for heaven’s sake, and nobody was going to get hurt unless he got drunk and forgot the porch was gone.

  That was another good reason to keep Riley around. He’d been resisting the urge to anesthetize himself ever since he got home, and having her around would help. Not because she’d fix the door but because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of those haunting, all-seeing eyes.

  * * *

  The old steps to the Bailey ranch house had barely survived the collapse of the porch, so it took Riley a while to move them up to the door so Mr. Bossy Butt Bailey wouldn’t fall on his bossy Bailey butt.

  “What do you think, Bruce?”

  She’d been worried the dog would shift his allegiance to Griff, but his all-out prancing, dancing, slobbering greeting had eased her mind. He’d followed her everywhere since she’d returned, and now he grinned up at her with worshipful eyes while she tugged on the temporary railing, leaning her backside against the front door. It seemed a little rickety—a conclusion that was confirmed when the door suddenly swung inward and she fell into the house, tearing the rail from its moorings.

  From her not-terribly-comfortable seat on the foyer floor, she glanced up at Griff, then down at the railing in her hand. “Guess I need to beef this up.”