Christmas with a Cowboy

by Brown, Carolyn

  * * *

  The first thing Alana wanted them to do at the reception was cut the four-layered cake so that it could be served all throughout the evening. Bridget set the top layer aside to be frozen for the first anniversary celebration, and then cut a small slice. She fed a bite to Maverick, and then he did the same, but he got a small bit of icing on her lower lip. She picked up a napkin to wipe it off, but he reached out and closed his big hand around hers.

  “I’ll take care of that.” He grinned as he leaned down and kissed away the icing.

  Everyone who’d gathered around gave them another round of applause.

  “A toast”—Paxton raised his voice and his glass—“seems fitting this day to have an old Irish wedding blessing. Here’s to you both, a beautiful pair: on the birthday of your love affair. Here’s to the husband and here’s to the wife; may yourselves be lovers for the rest of your life.”

  “Hear, hear!” Hud raised his glass.

  After the applause died down, Paxton raised his glass to his brother, but he was looking straight at Bridget. “And here’s to my brother, who is one lucky son of a gun. And may his wife always check to be sure who’s standing under the mistletoe. Welcome to the Callahan family to both Bridget and Laela!”

  Bridget pointed a finger at him. “Thank you for the toast and for the advice!”

  Paxton grinned and took a drink of his champagne. “Seriously, we’re glad to have you in the family.”

  She smiled and took a drink from her tall fluted glass. Alana touched her on the arm, and she expected another toast, but when she turned to see what her maid of honor might say, there was a red-haired woman standing beside her.

  “I want to introduce you to my good friend, Rose O’Malley. She stopped by to visit with me on her way over to Bowie, Texas. She and I are distant cousins, and it’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” Alana said. “And this is Bridget.”

  “I kind of crashed your wedding and this party.” Rose smiled. “It was lovely.”

  Rose had gorgeous thick red hair that she’d braided over one shoulder. She was taller than Bridget but not nearly as tall as Alana. She had crystal-clear blue eyes that smiled when she talked, and a perfect complexion—peaches and cream, as Nana used to say—with only a few freckles sprinkle across her nose.

  “Thank you,” Bridget said. “It started out as a courthouse wedding, but it kind of grew into this amazing event. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Rose said.

  Hud took a step back and bumped into Bridget. “So sorry.” He turned to apologize and his eyes widened. “Cactus Rose O’Malley?”

  “Hello, Hud,” she smiled.

  “Y’all know each other?” Alana asked.

  “We went to school together a year in Tulia after Daddy moved us from Daisy, and it’s just Rose now,” she said. “I never did like my first name.”

  “O’Malley?” Alana asked. “Are you related to Bridget? Her last name is O’Malley.”

  “Probably not,” Bridget said. “O’Malley is as common in Ireland as Smith is in the U.S.”

  Hud was one of those six-foot cowboys with a swagger—not as much as his twin brother, Tag—but enough to make the women at the party practically drool. He had dark hair and light green eyes, and a square face. Every bit of him screamed masculinity, but right then he looked like a little boy who’d just found a toy he’d lost.

  “Where have you been all these years?” he asked.

  “Here and there, but now I’m on my way to Bowie. My great-aunt owns a bed-and-breakfast and needs my help,” she said. “I hear you’re living in that area. Small world.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” he said.

  Maverick touched Bridget on the shoulder. “It’s time for our first dance as a married couple.”

  Violin music filled the house and then Shania Twain began to sing “From This Moment.” Maverick waltzed Bridget around the small dance area. “I thought we were dancing to something different,” he whispered.

  “Surprise.” She smiled up at him. “This is my song to you. It’s always been a favorite of mine.”

  “It’s perfect.” He kissed her on the forehead. “And I love surprises.”

  When the song ended, Paxton brought out a microphone. “It’s this time when the father of the bride would dance with his daughter. Bridget lost her dad when she was sixteen, but I know in my heart he would’ve loved to be here this day, so if she will allow me, there’s a few of us who would like to step in for her dad.” He laid the microphone on the table and held out his hand as the music started and Bob Carlisle sang “Butterfly Kisses.”

  With tears in her eyes, Bridget put her hand in his. “Daddy would have liked this. Thank you, Pax.”

  “We want today to be special,” Paxton said.

  After a few times around the floor, Tag tapped him on the shoulder and stepped into his place. “Mav is more than a friend. He’s like a brother to me. If either of you ever need anything, I’m here for you both.”

  Bridget had given up even caring if the tears were washing away her makeup. “Thank you,” she said. How did these guys know that her father had asked for a butterfly kiss every night when he was home and could tuck her in at night? Just as the lyrics said something about his little girl being sixteen and trying her wings out in a great big world, Hud took Tag’s place in the dance.

  “This song couldn’t be more right,” she whispered and looked up into his face. “What was that between you and Rose?”

  “She was my first love, but that was a long time ago. We were just kids in junior high school,” he answered.

  Maverick tapped him on the shoulder, and Hud took a step back. Bridget looked up at her new husband, who had Laela in his arms. She melted into his free arm and they ended the song as a family just as the lyrics said that he must’ve done something right. “I love you, Mrs. Callahan.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  Alana picked up the microphone. “And now it’s time to throw the garter and the bouquet. If we could have all the single guys on this side of the room and the single ladies over there.” She pointed. “Maverick, can I hold the baby while you remove the garter?”

  He handed Laela over to her and pulled out a chair for Bridget to sit in. While Kenny Chesney sang, “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” he danced all around her. She giggled as he inched the garter down a little at a time, then went back to dancing. Just before the last verse, Maverick slipped it off all the way, stood up, and pulled the elastic back with his thumb. Like popping a rubber band, he let it fly, and it landed right in Hud’s hands.

  Paxton patted him on the back. “Thank God, you’re next and not me.”

  “That’s not necessarily true.” Hud slipped it on his upper arm and several people shot a picture of him and Maverick together.

  “And now for the ladies,” Alana said. “Bridget picked this song out special for this event.”

  “Whoa!” Granny and Wanda both yelled at the same time as they slowly made their way over to the group of single women. “Ain’t neither one of us married, so y’all young women better get ready to fight experienced women for that bouquet.”

  “Now you can start the music,” Iris said.

  “And we thought you weren’t going to be bossy anymore.” Maverick laughed.

  “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, or make them unlearn what they know,” she shot back at him.

  “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” started playing, and Bridget gave Maverick a dose of his own medicine. She’d watched Dirty Dancing a hundred times so she knew all the moves to the song and was shocked when Maverick did a fairly good job of keeping up. So her cowboy had a few surprises of his own. When the part came where he looked into her eyes and ran the back of his hand down her cheek, she said, “I really have had the time of my life and it’s just beginning.”

  “Amen,” he said as he swung her out. She picked up her bouquet and slung it over her shoulder. It landed in Rose�
�s hands, and Bridget threw back her head and giggled. “Let’s see what Mama Fate has in store for those two.”

  “I thought for sure Alana would fight for the bouquet,” Maverick said.

  “Can’t fight fate,” Bridget said. “We’re proof.”

  “Thank God.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her one more time.

  Also by Carolyn Brown

  The Longhorn Canyon Series

  Cowboy Bold

  Cowboy Honor

  Cowboy Brave

  Cowboy Rebel

  The Happy, Texas Series

  Toughest Cowboy in Texas

  Long, Tall Cowboy Christmas

  Luckiest Cowboy of All

  The Lucky Penny Ranch Series

  Wild Cowboy Ways

  Hot Cowboy Nights

  Merry Cowboy Christmas

  Wicked Cowboy Charm

  High Praise for Carolyn Brown

  “Carolyn Brown makes the sun shine brighter and the tea taste sweeter. Southern comfort in a book.”

  —Shelia Roberts, USA Today bestselling author

  “Carolyn Brown is one of my go-to authors when I want a feel-good story that will make me smile.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Carolyn Brown writes about everyday things that happen to all of us and she does it with panache, class, empathy, and humor.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  “I highly recommend Carolyn Brown as a go-to author for all things sexy cowboy.”

  —Harlequin Junkie

  COWBOY REBEL

  “A sweet, sexy romance…filled with small town charm.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  COWBOY BRAVE

  “Warmth, humor, and sweet romance…Carolyn Brown always manages to write feel-good stories, and this is definitely a…special read.”

  —Harlequin Junkie, Top Pick

  “Sizzling romance between believable characters is the mainstay of this whimsical novel, which is enhanced by plenty of romantic yearning.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  COWBOY HONOR

  “The slow-simmering romance between Claire and Levi is enhanced by the kind supporting characters and the simple pleasures of ranch life in a story that’s sure to please fans of cowboy romances.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Friendship, family, love, and trust abound in Cowboy Honor.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  COWBOY BOLD

  “Lighthearted banter, heart-tugging emotion, and a good-natured Sooner/Longhorn football rivalry make this a delightful romance and terrific launch for the new series.”

  —Library Journal

  “Cowboy Bold is the start of a new and amazing series by an author that really knows how to hook her readers with sexy cowboys, strong women, and a bunch of humor…Everything about this book is a roaring good time.”

  —Harlequin Junkie, Top Pick

  “Everything you could ever ask for in a cowboy romance.”

  —The Genre Minx

  About the Author

  Carolyn Brown is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author and RITA® Finalist who has sold more than three million books. She presently writes both women’s fiction and cowboy romance. She has also written historical single title, historical series, contemporary single title, and contemporary series. She lives in southern Oklahoma with her husband, a former English teacher, who is not allowed to read her books until they are published. They have three children and enough grandchildren to keep them young.

  For more information you can visit:

  CarolynBrownBooks.com

  Facebook.com/CarolynBrownBooks

  Instagram.com/CarolynBrownBooks

  Twitter @TheCarolynBrown

  Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas

  Sara Richardson

  When bullfighter Tucker McGrath’s mom suffers a minor heart attack just before Christmas, he agrees to take her place in the town’s annual Christmas pageant. But wrangling a bull sure is easier than directing a bunch of kiddos! There’s also the temptation of his former high school heartthrob, Kenna Hart, who just so happens to be the pageant’s music director. Kenna’s still reeling from a devastating divorce, and she knows Tucker “No-Strings-Attached” McGrath is not worth falling for, but the more time she spends with him, the more she realizes how he’s changed. And now he might just be the cowboy who can make all of her Christmas wishes come true.

  Keep reading for a bonus novella

  by Sara Richardson!

  New York Boston

  Chapter One

  “Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an—”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best song to sing right before we get ready to tell the Christmas story.” Kenna Hart pulled up in front of the old Episcopal church that now served as the town hall and winked at her boys in the rearview mirror. “We need to be on our best behavior for the rehearsal.”

  “Okay.” Benny and Jake looked at each other with a shrug before breaking out into song again. “Grandma got run over by a reindeer…”

  Shaking her head, Kenna took her time parallel parking the Jeep along the snowy curb.

  Outside the car’s frosted windows, the sights and sounds of Christmas gave the town that magical snow-globe ambiance. Farther down Main Street, garlands were strung above the road, anchored to wrought-iron lampposts adorned with red velvet bows. Since it was nearly dusk, the lights displayed on the storefront windows were just starting to come on, with some twinkling in different colors while others gave off a more traditional white-light welcome.

  She tried to take a minute to appreciate it—to let that cheer all around her soak in and lift her spirits, but the decorations weren’t enough to nudge the burdens of the last year off her shoulders.

  “Come on, Mom!” Her oldest son Jake released his seat belt. “We’ve gotta get our costumes on and get in there!”

  “Yeah!” four-year-old Benny added. “What if they start without us?”

  Her son’s enthusiasm warmed her heart. He’d been looking forward to being part of this pageant for over a month now. Her youngest had always been so shy, but with everything that had gone on over the last several months, he had grown even more timid, almost like he didn’t want to connect with anyone because he feared they wouldn’t stick around. But now it finally seemed he was starting to come out of his shell, and she had to do everything she could to fuel his excitement about getting up on that stage.

  “They can’t start without us.” Not when she was volunteering to help with the music. Birdie McGrath had run the pageant for decades, and as the local music teacher, Kenna had always loved helping out. But that was before.

  Before her husband had committed eight counts of felony insurance fraud, cheating people in town out of their hard-earned money. Before his conviction. Before the divorce. Before the financial troubles that had plagued her since. Before her life had fallen apart, Kenna had lived for the holidays—for the family time and the festivities and the charming small-town celebration that seemed to give Christmas even more meaning. But this year, all she wanted to do was hide from the pitying looks and the whispers and those overly empathetic expressions people gave her when they asked if she was doing “okay.”

  She didn’t even know what okay meant anymore.

  “Moooommmm.” Jake squeezed through the space between the two front seats and tumbled into the passenger’s seat. “Can we please, please, please hurry?” Instead of puppy-dog eyes, his were more like a fawn’s—big and bright and always overly emphatic. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to be a wise guy.”

  “You were born a wise guy,” she teased, ruffling his blond hair. Which had turned out to be a blessing. Somehow, through the darkness that had descended over the last year, her boys’ humor and laughter had lit her way. They had been resilient and patient and strong, and even if she wasn’t feeling Christmas, she still had to make this the greatest one they’d ever had because they deserved her best. So she got out
of the car. “All right, you two.” She helped them climb down onto the icy sidewalk and then located the bag that held their costumes. They were both simple—a white robe and halo for Benny, who would be part of the angel choir, and a shimmery satin cape and crown for her little wise guy.

  “There.” She finished tying the knot on Benny’s robe and stood back to admire her children. “It’s really not fair to the other actors,” she said, frowning.

  Jake’s eyes looked worried. “What’s not fair?” As the oldest, he was the fair police.

  “How cute you two are,” she fussed, even wrinkling her nose as she lightly pinched his cheek. The inevitable groans came at her.

  “Mom, I’m seven,” Jake grumbled. “You can’t call me cute anymore. Especially not in front of anyone else.”

  “Yeah,” Benny agreed, crossing his arms over his chest in a harrumph, but his smile still beamed.

  Before she could snap a picture, both boys bounded straight for the doors, right across the knee-deep snow that covered the hall’s front lawn. “You’re not wearing your boots,” she reminded them, but even the snow couldn’t slow them down. Within seconds, they had disappeared into the building.

  Kenna, however, took her time navigating the icy walkway. As she approached the door, it flew open and Carly Lammers marched out. Just her luck. Kenna had had Carly’s daughter Violet in music class last year and the woman was seemingly perfect in every way—from her sleek black always perfectly styled hair to her $500 thigh-length Frye boots. Her husband happened to be a pediatrician in Vail, and she was always showing off the new necklace or bracelet or earrings he’d brought her from one of the high-end shops that catered to tourists in the famous ski town.