Christmas with a Cowboy

by Brown, Carolyn

  Chapter Two

  One Year Later

  Maverick sang a whole string of Christmas songs along with the radio’s country music station as he drove past the exit to Tulia, Texas, and kept driving north, past Happy and Amarillo, until he hit the exit to Daisy. For the first time in six months, he was going home.

  He was singing “Jingle Bells” as he drove down Main Street and waved at the folks he knew. The fire trucks were putting up decorations on all the light poles down Main Street, and the store windows were decorated. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any better, it started to snow. Now that was setting the scene right for him to be home for the holidays.

  The next song was “Christmas Cookies.” Maverick wiggled his shoulders and kept time with his thumbs on the steering wheel as he headed east toward his grandmother’s ranch. The lyrics talked about eating Christmas cookies all year long because it took fifteen minutes for them to cook, and that left time for kissin’ and huggin’. Maverick loved the Christmas holiday, almost as much as he liked the kissin’ and huggin’ business.

  “Well, maybe it’s a toss-up.” He remembered where he’d been last year at this time. Anytime he saw a red-haired woman who came up to just his shoulder, he thought of Bridget and wondered where they might be if fate had put them together earlier. “Don’t get all melancholy wantin’ for something that you weren’t meant to have,” he told himself and turned up the radio when Blake Shelton started singing “I’ll be Home for Christmas.”

  He swayed from side to side as he made a turn into the lane leading up to Granny’s house, and picked up where Blake left off as he parked the truck in the yard and hurried inside the house.

  “Is that you, Mav?” his grandmother yelled from the living room.

  “It’s me, Mam,” he called back. “I mean Granny.” When he and Paxton had been little kids they’d called her Mam, because when she got bossy with Grandpa, he’d say, “Yes, ma’am.” She’d insisted that they call her Granny, but Mam still came out occasionally.

  He kept singing and two-stepped with an imaginary partner from the foyer to the living room. “Merry Christmas!” He tossed his cowboy hat up on the steer horns hanging above the fireplace mantel and crossed the room to hug her.

  Iris giggled. “Silly boy, it’s not Christmas yet. I don’t even have my tree up.”

  “You would have had it up a couple of weeks ago if you hadn’t played fast and loose with a pear tree,” he said as he removed his coat and tossed it on a recliner. “And now you’re laid up with a busted hip.”

  “No, I’m not,” Granny declared. “It’s a brand-new hip. My body just has to get used to the damn thing.” She pointed a finger at him. “So don’t you be givin’ me no sass about it. I didn’t call on you to come help me for a month or two to listen to you bitch at me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He sat down on the other end of the sofa from her. “Now tell me what’s going on. When you called yesterday, you just said that Buster had to leave and you needed help. You do know that me or Paxton or even both of us could have come and stayed with you in the hospital.”

  “I didn’t need a babysitter then, and I don’t”—she paused—“want one now. But the doctor said if I don’t have help in the house, then he’d make me go to a nursing home until I got on my feet again.”

  “Whatever you need, Granny,” Maverick said. “I’m here for you. All you have to do is tell me. Like I was singing, ‘I’ll be home for Christmas.’”

  “Yes, you are,” Granny told him. “You’ve got your old room, but I put my new housekeeper and cook in the guest room. You remember my friend Virgie, who I went to visit last Christmas? You met her that first day before you went off to visit other parts of Ireland.”

  “Yep.” Maverick remembered a short, round lady who’d insisted that he have a snack before he caught a bus up to Skibbereen. She’d had a thick Irish accent, and two long gray braids wrapped around her head.

  “Well, she died a couple of weeks ago. When I heard her granddaughter didn’t have a home and would be alone for the holidays, I invited her to come here and help me until after the first of the year. I’d hate for Virgie’s only living relative to spend Christmas all by herself, without any family. She arrived three days ago, just when the doctor released me from the hospital,” Granny explained. “She’s off at the grocery store right now, but she’ll be home by the time you get settled in and get the evening chores done.”

  “I’ll bring in my stuff and get right out to the barn. You want or need anything before I go? Coffee, a glass of tea, or a beer, or maybe a little two-steppin’ around the livin’ room to loosen that new hip up?” Maverick stood and stretched the kinks from a five-hour drive from his neck.

  “You just give me time to get off this damned medicine, and I’ll drink you under the table, and wear you out on the dance floor.” Granny laughed out loud. “Now, get on out of here and get the cows fed.”

  “Your new housekeeper know anything about cookin’?” He sniffed the air. “Is that a pot roast I smell?”

  “She knows enough to keep your body and soul together.” Granny picked up her cane and shook it at him. “If you ain’t out of this house in ten minutes, I’ll use this to get out to my truck and do the chores myself.”

  “I’m on my way.” He grinned and hummed “Jingle Bells” on his way out of the room, singing all the way out to the barn and to the cows as he tossed hay out to them. Being home for Christmas, even under these circumstances, was great. He couldn’t wait to see all his old drinking, two-stepping buddies at his favorite honky-tonk next Saturday night.

  * * *

  Bridget kept glancing at the pictures on the dining room wall of the two cowboys riding bulls as she slid some rolls into the oven. Had she known that Maverick Callahan was Iris’s grandson, she would have thought twice before accepting the invitation to come to Texas for the holidays. Thank God Iris told her he was all the way on the other side of the state helping friends get a newer ranch up and running. She wouldn’t even have to see him while she was there. She wasn’t sure her heart would recover if she had to say goodbye again.

  She was on her way to the living room to check on Iris when the back door opened and brought a gust of cold wind across the kitchen. A voice that she thought she’d never hear again, and one that she couldn’t forget, was singing something about rockin’ around a Christmas tree. She froze right there in the middle of the kitchen floor—he wasn’t supposed to be there. Her heart fluttered and then raced ahead with a full head of steam. Maverick was there—right there in front of her—and all the memories of that night flooded back to her mind.

  Maverick stopped in the doorway, blinked several times.

  “Bridget?” he said.

  “Maverick.” She breathed. “I had no idea you were going to be here.”

  His long strides had him across the room in a heartbeat. But as much as she longed to sink in his open arms, Bridget extended her palm in a “stop” gesture. His chest hit her hand and she almost groaned aloud at the solid muscle she could feel even through his coat.

  “What are you doing here? It’s so good to—” he started.

  “We can’t do this,” she cut in. “Things have changed.”

  “Are you”—he grabbed her hand and held it—“Granny’s helper? Was it your grandmother she was staying with in Ireland?”

  She jerked her hand free. “Small world after all, isn’t it? But things aren’t the same as they were a year ago.”

  His expression changed as he processed what she was saying. “Are you engaged or…” He shook his head. “No, Granny said that you were all alone?”

  “Not really alone,” she hedged.

  Lord have mercy! She glanced down at her hand, hot from the heat that fired it up when she touched his chest. She wanted to hug him and tell him how often she’d thought about that night, but he couldn’t be burdened with her life—not now, not the way things had turned out. Iris told her that both her grandsons were on
the wild side. They liked to work hard all week and party on the weekends. Bridget had different priorities now. She couldn’t start something with Maverick that had no future.

  * * *

  Maverick was totally confused. If Bridget was alone in the world, why was she so standoffish, and what had changed so much in only a year? He certainly hadn’t turned into a different person.

  A noise across the foyer and down the hallway caught his attention. Was that a baby crying out?

  “Laela is awake,” Bridget muttered and brushed past him on her way out of the kitchen.

  Maverick trailed along behind her. When he got to the room, he was stunned to see a baby girl sitting up in a crib. She had dark hair and big green eyes exactly like his, and she was staring right into his face. She cocked her head to one side and then the other and then stuck out her lower lip and began to whimper.

  “It’s all right, lassie,” Bridget crooned as she took her out of the crib. “I’d like you to meet Maverick. He’d be Miz Iris’s grandson. He’ll be here for a while, and you’ll be gettin’ to know him better in a few days.”

  Maverick looked from Bridget to the baby and back again. He felt like his veins were filled with ice water. Was that his baby? It couldn’t be, or could it? Even though they’d used protection, it wasn’t always foolproof. If this little girl was a Callahan, he’d do right by the child for sure, but so many questions swirled through his mind that he couldn’t catch one of them to find answers to. “Why didn’t you find a way to tell me about her?”

  “Oh!” Bridget suddenly realized what he was thinking. “She’s not yours, or for that matter even mine, biologically. Remember the dark-haired bartender who worked with me at the pub?”

  Maverick’s heart slowed down a little. “Just barely.” He kept staring at the baby, who had his eyes.

  “Laela is her daughter. She and her boyfriend were killed in an automobile accident when the baby was only a few weeks old. I’m her godmother, so she became mine.”

  “Wow,” he muttered, still in shock.

  “Believe me, I didn’t have any idea that my nana’s best friend was your grandmother, not until I saw your picture on the mantel the morning after I arrived. I lost my nana, and Iris offered me this job for a few weeks.” Bridget headed for the kitchen with Laela on her hip.

  “Hey,” Iris called from the living room. “I see you two have met. Is supper about ready?”

  “Yes, in about five minutes,” Bridget called out and then turned back to whisper to him, “I didn’t tell her that I knew you from last year. I didn’t figure I’d ever see you again, not even here. After all, Texas is a pretty big place.”

  “We’ll talk later about all this,” Maverick said and turned to go into the living room. “I’ll come help you, Granny.”

  “So what do you think of Bridget?” Iris managed to get to her feet on her own and get a handle on her walker.

  “She seems like she knows how to cook, but a baby in the house?” He frowned.

  “Laela is delightful.” Iris pushed her walker out into the foyer. “Too bad you and Paxton haven’t given me great-grandchildren.”

  “Granny, we’ve talked about this.” He helped guide the walker around the corner of the door. “When Paxton and I get ready, we’ll settle down.”

  “Yeah, right, but the question is, will I still be alive to hold my great-grands?” Iris fussed.

  “Of course, you will,” Maverick assured her. “You’ll still be drinkin’ me under the table and two-steppin’ when you’re a hundred.”

  “Bullshit!” Iris said as she eased down into a kitchen chair.

  Maverick continued to think about Bridget—how could he not, when she was right there in front of him all through supper—and their night together. Sometimes he doubted that it had ever happened. If it hadn’t been for the picture on his phone, he would have thought that he had dreamt that amazing night not long before Christmas in Ireland the previous year. Holy smokin’ hell! She’d sure enough been right when she said that things had changed. She’d lost her best friend in a car accident and then her grandmother and become an instant mother all in one year. He couldn’t imagine having to go through all that in only twelve months.

  His grandmother and Bridget kept up a lively conversation all during the meal about Bridget’s grandmother, Virgie, and Ireland. Maverick could have sat there all evening just listening to the Irish lilt to Bridget’s voice, but when supper was over Iris needed his help to maneuver her walker back to the living room.

  “You didn’t talk much,” Iris said when she was sitting in her recliner. “You don’t like Bridget and the baby stealing your time with me?”

  “No, it was just a surprise,” Maverick answered.

  “You’ll get used to having them around. Now go on in there and help her with the cleanup,” Iris said. “The quicker you get it done, the quicker I can watch the baby play. She makes me happy, and laughter will make me heal faster.”

  Shaking his head, Maverick started back to the kitchen but stopped in the foyer. He slapped his palm against his forehead. Now that the shock had worn off, he realized that he would be spending the better part of a month in the same house with Bridget. If that one night was any indication of what a relationship with her would be like, then he had a second chance. He’d weigh the pros and cons of a second chance later.

  He stepped into the kitchen, picked up the two toys that Laela had thrown on the floor, and put them back on the high chair tray. “Bridget, I’m real sorry that you lost your friend and your grandmother both in such a short time.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t begin to imagine losing Granny and Paxton.”

  “Paxton is your brother,” she said.

  “Yes, but he’s also my best friend.” Maverick rolled up the sleeves of his chambray work shirt, and picked up a towel to dry the pots and pans as she got them washed.

  “I wish Iris would have told me that you were coming.” Bridget handed him the lid to the roasting pan. “I might have been a little more braced for the shock.”

  “It would have been nice if she’d told me that she’d hired you. I thought she was using home health care.”

  “Well, what now?” Bridget said. “Like I said before I’m not the same girl I was back then.”

  “Did you ever think about me?” he asked.

  “Of course I did.” She frowned. “I wished that I’d gotten your full name, maybe a phone number, or an address, but then I’d remind myself that would have been silly. Our paths would never cross again, and the chances that I’d be in Texas were slim to none and you’d probably never be back in Ireland.”

  “Same here.” He leaned against the cabinet and locked eyes with her. His way. “But here we are, so what now? I still see that sassy, beautiful bartender when I look at you.”

  She picked Laela up from the high chair. “And I still see the sexiest cowboy in the world, but that don’t mean much, since we were only those two people for one night.”

  “I guess we’ve got a month to figure out just who we are now.” Maverick grinned.

  * * *

  Bridget fell backward on the bed and covered her eyes with her hand. There was something magical in that night last year. No one had ever made her feel like she had in his arms. She’d tried to convince herself that she was just one in a long line of women that he’d had a one-night stand with, but she still couldn’t get him out of her mind.

  Laela’s whimpers brought her back to reality. Bridget jumped up so fast she got a head rush, before she realized the baby was just fussing in her sleep.

  “Bridget, darlin’, could you come here?” Iris’s voice came down the hallway from the living room.

  Bridget hurried out of the room and bumped right into Maverick.

  “I’m so sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t know you were in the hall, and she called for me.”

  “I just heard her say something,” Maverick said and then raised his voice and said, “We’re on the way,
Granny.”

  “Shhh…” Bridget frowned. “I just got Laela to sleep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Maverick stepped aside to let her go first.

  Bridget hustled up the hallway, across the foyer, and into the living room, with Maverick right behind her.

  “Why are you here?” Iris looked up at Maverick. “I called for Bridget.”

  “I didn’t hear a name,” Maverick said. “So we’re both here. What can we do for you?”

  “I’m tired.” Iris grimaced when she got to her feet. “I’m going to bed early, and I need Bridget to bring a bottle of water and maybe some cookies to my bedside table.”

  “Let me help you.” Maverick held the walker steady.

  She slapped his hands. “I have to do a few things for myself. I’m just not able to push this damned walker and carry water at the same time.”

  “They sure didn’t take out any of your bossiness with that old broken hip, did they?” Maverick asked.

  “I’m not bossy,” Iris argued.

  “The day you stop being bossy is the day that St. Peter calls you home.” Maverick chuckled.

  She shot a dirty look his way and then smiled. “I have to be bossy with wild grandsons like the good Lord gave me. But now, I can rest easy and heal now that you’re here. Bridget and I could’ve run this place and just been fine if Buster hadn’t had to take a couple of months off.”

  “Or if you hadn’t taken it upon yourself to climb up in that pear tree.” Maverick fussed at her. “What were you thinkin’? And why didn’t you let me and Pax know about your accident until you’d already had the surgery and come home?”

  Iris crossed her arms over her chest. “Stop fussin’ at me. I’m not helpless. I’m just laid up for a few weeks until this damned hip heals. And when it does, I’ll kick you all the way back to Sunset with it.”

  “That’s my granny.” He chuckled. “Full of spit and vinegar.”

  Bridget giggled. “You remind me so much of my nana.”