Her Christmas Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  But she was done with Blake. He wasn’t worth spending a single moment thinking about.

  It was an awkward ride back to her house, but she audibly gasped when they pulled up and her car was in the driveway. “You fixed it already?”

  Caleb shook his head.

  “It’s not fixed?”

  “Needs alternator part.”

  Oh. She wanted to ask if that would take long to get, but a more worrying thought hit her. “Is . . . the alternator expensive?” She’d add it to her list of things she’d have to pay for by pawning things. A Christmas tree for the classroom, presents, an alternator, a new ceiling for the bedroom, a new mattress . . . it made her stomach hurt just thinking about all of that.

  Caleb shrugged, as if that answered everything. She wanted to scream in frustration at him, but she took a deep breath, clutched the cloying roses, and got out of the truck.

  When she got inside her house, though, something seemed . . . different. She set the roses on the counter by the sink and it took her a moment to notice that her faucet wasn’t dripping. Surprised—and pleased—she turned the water on and off to test it. It worked perfectly, and not a single drop spouted from the handle. When she turned the water off, nothing dripped. “You fixed this.”

  Caleb grunted.

  She looked around the kitchen, but the dog wasn’t in his corner. His food bowl was empty, too. “Have you seen Donner?”

  He nodded and walked into the living room. She followed, and to her surprise, he opened the bedroom door and waited, watching her. Amy stepped inside and bit back another gasp of surprise.

  The ceiling, once a gaping wound that led to the attic, had been covered. A blue waterproof tarp stretched from one end of the ceiling to the other, taped at the edges of the wall. He’d done this for her. And there was a freshly bathed Donner on a big, plaid cushioned dog bed at the foot of her bed. Her bed wasn’t a water-bloated mildew-scented mess, either. The bed had been made, a new set of sheets and blankets that she didn’t recognize neatly tucked in. She touched the bed, wondering how he’d gotten the mattress so clean after she’d spent days trying to get the smell out . . . and realized it wasn’t her mattress at all. This one was softer and didn’t have a broken coil at the foot.

  It was a different bed.

  He’d done all this for her.

  More tears misted her gaze, and she stared at her room with a sense of wonder and a growing sense of panic. Amy turned to Caleb, swallowing the knot in her throat. “You did all this?”

  He watched her with those long-lashed eyes, and after a moment, he nodded.

  Amy was overwhelmed. He’d fixed things in a day that she’d been asking to be fixed for months now. He’d gotten her a new bed so she wouldn’t have to sleep on the uncomfortable love seat again. He’d retrieved her car and ordered a part for it.

  He’d even washed her dog.

  She was really going to cry now, because it was wonderful, and yet she couldn’t appreciate it, not truly. “I can’t afford to pay you,” she whispered. It was humiliating. When she was with Blake, they’d had lots of money. Her parents had had money, too. Now that she was alone and on her own, she was utterly penniless, and it was a hard contrast to get used to.

  Caleb just blinked. He walked away from the bedroom door, and she followed him, uncertain and guilty. She waited for him to chastise her, to tell her to come up with the money.

  Instead, with his back to her, he pointed at her living room window. “Gonna caulk that tomorrow. Take a look at the roof, too.”

  “Did you hear what I said? I can’t pay you. This is nice, Mr. Watson. It’s overwhelmingly nice and I can’t get over it. But I don’t have the money. I don’t have the money for anything.” She really was going to cry. Even now she was fighting the tears that threatened to burst free. “Please, just tell me how much an alternator part costs and don’t fix anything else. I can’t afford to pay you and while I appreciate it more than you know, I can’t—”

  “Pay. I know.” He closed his eyes, as if bracing himself for some odd reason, and then slowly spoke. “The part for your car won’t be in for a few days.”

  “Oh.” Maybe she’d have time to get some money together between now and then. “I see—”

  He turned toward the door and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and glanced at it. “My uncle is a vet,” he said after a moment. “We’ll take the dog to him tomorrow. See if he’s chipped.”

  “Tomorrow?” she asked. “You want to do this again tomorrow?”

  He nodded and then left, and she just stared at the door. Interacting with Caleb Watson was baffling. He acted as if he didn’t like her. Like he didn’t want to look at her. Like she was a pain in the ass he was simply tolerating. He sure wasn’t talking to her much.

  And yet . . . he was doing all these kind things for her. And he’d return tomorrow to do the same things.

  She moved into her bedroom, where Donner was still curled up in his bed. He lifted his head as she sank down next to him and offered her hand for him to sniff. When he licked her hand, she petted his soft head. He was clean and dry, and to her surprise, he wasn’t gray all over but a mix of black and white and gray. He looked handsome and smelled so much better. It was just another thing Caleb had taken care of for her.

  “He must feel really sorry for me,” Amy whispered to Donner.

  The dog licked her hand as if in agreement.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For the next few days, Caleb continued to silently show up to Amy’s house and get to work. One day, he crawled all over her roof, patching and shingling until it got dark. The next day, he stayed late and put up a new ceiling in her bedroom. It wasn’t plastered, but with drywall up, it made her feel so much better. Her house was coming together, and it was all thanks to a silent, handsome cowboy that she wasn’t entirely sure didn’t hate her guts.

  He never asked for money, either. He just drove her to school and got to work on her place. He was affectionate to the dog—who wasn’t chipped, it turned out, so now Donner was more or less hers—and always made sure to carry a couple of treats. Donner loved him. Amy was having a hard time finding fault with him herself. Caleb was punctual. He was nice. Useful. Polite. He was also utterly silent and never smiled at her, which only made Amy more self-conscious in his presence. Even charity stopped being so generous after a while, right?

  To make matters even more stressful, her Secret Santa had gone gifting crazy. A fake tree had shown up on her porch the next day, boxed. All it said was From Secret Santa, and she’d been so delighted that she took it to school and her students had a full day of helping her put it up and making paper ornaments to decorate it. They’d loved making it special. Amy had, too.

  She was positive one of the other teachers—or a parent—had heard that she didn’t have a tree and had stepped in, but when she asked around, no one confessed to the deed.

  Another present had shown up at her desk at work, much to her chagrin. This time it wasn’t flowers, but a huge box of chocolates, so she shared them with her students and saved them for rewards.

  The next day, another fake tree was on her porch. This one, she dragged into the house. Caleb said nothing, just frowned at her as he worked on recaulking all her windows.

  At work, this time there were new flowers—carnations—and a lovely rose-gold bracelet. She’d asked Caleb to drive her into Casper so she could pawn it, but he’d just narrowed his eyes at her and gone back to plastering the ceiling in her bedroom, so clearly the pawning would have to wait until she got her car back. It seemed like every time she turned around, Caleb was fixing something new at her house. It was the ceiling. It was the faucets. It was the cracks in the windows that were so bad that her heating bill was through the roof. It was fixing the creaky step on the front porch. It was rewiring the lights because when she plugged in her artificial tree (complete with prewired
lights), everything in the living room went dark.

  He said nothing at all, just went to work as if it was his place he was fixing up.

  It was baffling to her. Caleb said even less than he ever did. When she’d first met him, at least he’d blurt out jumbled sentences, but now he’d fallen into utter silence, and it unnerved her. She’d rather have him talking, even if he said the wrong thing. She hoped he wasn’t angry at her, or offended at her helplessness. She tried to help him out as he worked, but he’d just take the tools from her hands and narrow his eyes at her, and she got the hint.

  More presents rolled in at work, too. A thick jacket in the perfect size. Lined, heavy boots. More flowers. Christmas tree ornaments of crystalline birds that clipped to the branches and made her tree at home look festive and glittery. A box of holiday cupcakes. There was a randomness to the gifts that made them puzzling. Some were practical and appreciated—like the thick scarf and cap that went with the heavy coat—and some were just flighty and ridiculous. On Friday, she got a locket, a stuffed bear, and a fancy coffee maker.

  Her coworkers were fascinated. The other teachers stopped by at recess or after classes were over to see what Amy had received that day. They oohed and aahed over the jewelry and flowers and gave her puzzled giggles at the more practical presents. Ironically, she was most excited about the coffee maker, because it would make heating water for her ramen that much easier.

  “You’re sure you don’t know who it is?” Mrs. Lawrence asked her for the third time that Friday.

  Amy shook her head. “Everything’s signed Secret Santa.”

  “Sure they are.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “You can’t keep a boyfriend secret in this town. Wait and see.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” That part was getting frustrating, too. With the constant barrage of gifts and flowers, everyone assumed she had someone. You didn’t receive jewelry out of nowhere, after all. Even Amy knew that, and each time a new piece showed up, it made her uncomfortable.

  “Well,” Mrs. Lawrence said with a know-it-all expression on her face. “You should go out with whoever’s sending these to you. It’s clear he’s in love.”

  Amy laughed awkwardly. “Maybe I should.” It was flattering, even if it was a little mystifying. She couldn’t figure out who the gift giver was. Every time she thought she had it figured out, a new gift would show up and mystify her. The gifts really did seem like Blake, trying to woo her back . . . except for the trees and the coat and the coffee maker, all things designed to make her life here more comfortable. She thought maybe it was a parent or a friend, or even the principal, who’d been known to cheat on his wife in the past. Awkward. But then she’d received a massive bouquet of mixed red and white flowers. There was a large poinsettia or two, red-edged white roses, and sprays of white flowers. It was beautiful . . . only the small white flowers looked like lily of the valley, a poisonous plant. Amy wasn’t sure . . . but she was also going to be darn careful, and she’d immediately taken them to the school office to lock them away. Her class was made up of the youngest kids in the school. Who was so thoughtless to send flowers to a kindergarten teacher without checking to see what was in the bouquet?

  It made no sense. None of it.

  Every now and then, she wondered if it was Caleb . . . but he seemed just as surprised as she was every time she showed up with flowers.

  Besides, she was pretty sure he didn’t like her at this point. His silence told her he was doing things out of the goodness of his heart, not because he wanted to date her. He acted more like she was a nuisance than anything.

  It wasn’t Caleb.

  So . . . who was it? And why? Someone who gave jewelry to a stranger wanted something from them. But . . . what?

  It was constantly on her mind, to the point that she constantly texted Becca throughout the day. Like when the locket came in on Friday—she immediately texted Becca. She’d grown close to the beautician over the summer when she kept showing up at the salon, just desperate for female conversation that wasn’t about classrooms or school starting. Becca was about the same age as Amy, single at the time, and they’d bonded right away. It was so nice to have a girlfriend in town, one who wouldn’t immediately assume Amy was secretly seeing a rich man because of all the gifts. Someone who’d be just as mystified as she was.

  AMY: So in addition to the flowers and the coffeepot, I just got a locket.

  BECCA: WTF

  BECCA: Is there a picture inside the locket? Anything?

  AMY: No, the only thing inside says that it’s 10-carat gold and the stone in it is a real ruby.

  BECCA: This is insane.

  BECCA: Do you think it could be a stalker?

  AMY: Well, crap, now I do!

  AMY: Do you think I’m in danger?

  BECCA: Right now, no. But if it keeps escalating, it might be a problem.

  BECCA: I would just keep a log of everything and don’t wear the gifts.

  AMY: I was going to pawn the jewelry, but I guess I’ll hold on to it for now. Shoot.

  AMY: Becca, I’m at my wit’s end. Who could it be? I swear I haven’t been giving anyone in town the wrong ideas.

  BECCA: You’re sure it’s not Caleb?

  AMY: God no, he hates me. You should see the dirty looks he gives me every time he picks me up.

  BECCA: Caleb’s harmless, I promise you.

  AMY: He’s the nicest, and he’s fixed so much for me, but he’s not doing a good job of hiding his dislike.

  BECCA: Should I say something to Hank? Get him to straighten him out?

  AMY: No! I feel guilty for saying anything at all. Just that it’s not him.

  AMY: I did think it was my ex, but some of the gifts don’t make sense. Like they wouldn’t be from him.

  BECCA: Greg?

  AMY: Ugh, I hope not.

  BECCA: If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think it’s him, either. Flowers sound like him, jewelry and a coat do not.

  BECCA: Maybe it’s one of those cowboys at Sage’s ranch? The vets? Have you met any of them?

  AMY: I don’t think I have?

  BECCA: I’ll ask around. Maybe one of them has a kid going to school. Let me see what I can find out.

  AMY: Thank you, Becca. I appreciate it.

  BECCA: Until then, stay safe! And don’t take rides from strangers! ;)

  AMY: I have to take a ride with Caleb, remember? He’s still waiting on that part.

  BECCA: Okay, if you have to get a ride with a stranger, Caleb’s the one to trust. Later!

  AMY: Later.

  The conversation did nothing to settle her nerves. By the time Caleb showed up on Friday afternoon to drive her home, Amy was rattled. Did she have a stalker? She clutched the coffeepot to her chest, the new jewelry in her purse, and tried not to think about it as she got into his vehicle. She’d moved to Painted Barrel to start her life over, to get away from Blake and his controlling attitude and her parents’ disapproval of their divorce. She just wanted a fresh, simple, easy life.

  And now she had a freaking stalker?

  Amy took a deep, shuddering breath. She could handle this. She could.

  “You okay?”

  She jumped at the sound of Caleb’s gravelly voice, her heart pounding. She tried to smile over at him. “Fine. Great. Thank you for asking.”

  He gave her a curious look, those long lashes blinking, and then turned the truck on.

  They drove in silence as they always did, and Amy clutched the coffeepot. To think she’d been overjoyed to get it, and now it was as tainted as the rest of the presents. She’d put them all in a box in the kitchen and decide what to do with them after the holidays. Hopefully her Santa would reveal himself between now and then. If not, it was all going into a donation box somewhere. She wouldn’t even pawn it for money; she would just get
it as far away from her as possible.

  They got to her house and Amy immediately went into the kitchen as Caleb followed her in. “Any news on the part for my car?” she asked, even though she suspected the answer.

  “Monday,” he said.

  Of course. A few more days without a vehicle, which meant she couldn’t go grocery shopping or to a pawnshop or anything. She had no cash, no word on her alimony, nothing. Amy pursed her lips and set the coffee maker down, pushing it to the back of the counter. She went back to the living room, and Donner was on her love seat, curled up on one cushion and getting dog hair everywhere. She couldn’t be mad, though, because his tail started thumping happily as she approached, and when she sat down, he immediately crawled over to her and started licking her face as she rubbed his ears.

  For a blind dog, he knew just how to cheer her up. She hugged him close, burying her face in his soft, thick fur.

  Okay. She could do this. Donner needed her.

  And she still had a few things up her sleeve, a few options to explore. So she straightened her shoulders and looked at Caleb as he went to the window and ran his hand along the edges, testing for air. “I need to run some errands. Would you help me? If you’re busy, I understand, but I need to get these done before the Christmas Carnival at the school tomorrow night.”

  He nodded, once.

  “I can pay you for gas and for your trouble. I just need to go by my accountant’s office first.”

  His eyes narrowed but he said nothing.

  “Give me just a minute to get ready,” she promised him brightly. She snuggled Donner a little longer and wanted to take him with her. A dog at her side would make her feel safer if she had a stalker. But she remembered how scared he was alone in her backyard, and when she’d taken him to the vet, so it was best that he stayed inside where it was safe and warm and familiar. She put extra food in his dish and waited, petting him a bit more as he sniffed the floor until he found his bowl. Then she washed her hands in the bathroom, pulled out a very specific purse from her closet, and reached for her new, warm coat.