Jolie stared out at the bleak sky, the falling snow, and the road ahead of them with only the tracks of previous cars visible.
“Somehow I don’t think global warming has quite hit Montana yet, and if it has, and this is what it looks like, I say let’s ramp it up a few notches. I’m willing to do my share. I’ll use real hair spray from a can, and buy the biggest gas guzzler money can buy.”
Riley snickered. “Okay, I admit that from a Vegas perspective this might look a little nasty, but really, you’re going to love it here. We just have to keep you warm.” She cranked up the heat, which instantly helped. “Is your coat in your suitcase?”
“This is my coat,” Jolie told her, feeling defensive. She’d taken an entire afternoon shopping at several stores to find the tailored wool jacket she was wearing. It had cost her . . . well not her exactly. It was her parents’ credit card, but still. It had cost her three hundred dollars at Nordstrom’s, and that was after a twenty-percent sale discount.
“That’s all you have?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No wonder you’re cold. That’s a great jacket for Vegas, but not for Starlight Bend. What you need is a real coat, one with fur or stuffed with heavy down.”
“To fight this global warming thing?”
“To fight a Montana winter. And what’s on your feet? I didn’t notice your shoes when we were at the airport. I’m assuming you brought some warm snow boots.”
“Not exactly.” Jolie wore black leather boots with three-inch heels that she’d also picked up at Nordstrom’s the same day as the wool jacket.
“This is Montana in December. Your phone would have given you the average temperature. What were you thinking?”
“That I’d fly in, you’d pick me up and take me to a warm cabin for four days and on the fifth day you’d drive me back to the airport once Christmas was over. Are you saying we may have to go out in this stuff?”
Jolie once again glanced out the window at the bleak, frigid looking terrain. This time her teeth rattled.
“I’m saying we will go out in this stuff, and you will need to be ready for it.”
If Jolie was as petite as Riley, she could simply borrow a coat and boots, but Jolie was at least two sizes bigger with regrettably much larger feet.
“I thought the whole point of this trip was about my experiencing a downhome Christmas? How does going out into the freezing cold fit into that vision?”
“We chop down our own tree, for one. And for another, there are a few events in town you don’t want to miss.”
“What, like dog sled racing and ice carving? Either way, I’m fine with missing them, and I’ve never been good at physical labor. Chopping down your own Christmas tree sounds, well, like work.”
Riley glanced over at Jolie wearing an unhappy look on her otherwise cheery, cherub face. “We don’t have any dog sled races, but we do have a fun ice carving contest. And this year we have a craft show at a local high school. Plus, we have carolers in the park, and it’s just nice to walk through town when it’s all decorated for Christmas. I thought you’d be excited. I know how much you loved Christmas while we were in college. You even suggested a class about the history of Christmas and Santa, and volunteered to teach it. Whatever happened to all that holiday enthusiasm?”
Jolie hated to disappoint her friend. Plus, Riley was right. Jolie did love Christmas, and there was a time when she naively thought a college might be interested in offering such a class. Regrettably, she was dead wrong. No one wanted to even talk to her about it.
“I still think about teaching,” she told Riley. “Just not about teaching Christmas History. Seems it’s not politically correct to offer it at college. But I’ve always wanted to chop down my own Christmas tree.” This was a bald-faced lie, but she didn’t want to disappoint her friend. “It sounds so organic, so one with nature, so like Montana. I can’t wait to jump right into the fun! Give me a hatchet and I’m there.”
“We use a chainsaw. It’s a lot easier.”
“Right. A chainsaw sounds like the perfect tool for the job, and you know what a stickler I am for the right tool. Can’t do a good job with the wrong tool is what I always say.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Jolie confirmed, but this time she meant it.
Jolie thought of Riley like a sister, and there was no way she could possibly disappoint her own sister. Besides, Jolie really did love Christmas and knew that her friend shared that love, so why not embrace it? “Let’s buy me an overcoat and a pair of warm Montana boots. I want to be ready for our foray out into town or into the woods to chop down that tree.”
She was beginning to feel it now . . . beginning to feel that old Christmas magic that she’d always loved so much.
Maybe this trip would work out after all. She just needed the proper clothes.
“I know just the place,” Riley said, grinning once again, as she took an exit off the expressway that led to something called Big Sky Living, a rustic looking outdoors store that undoubtedly carried exactly the kind of Montana designs Jolie would end up donating to the nearest Goodwill once this Christmas escape was over.
~~*~~
Four days before Christmas and Red Wiseman still hadn’t bought one present. Not that he had very many people to buy for: his mom, Ida, her twin sister May, and May’s husband, Uncle Ted. Still the task needled his thoughts on a daily basis. He felt like the bad son for having waited this long, but he’d been so busy with the ranch, fussing over his very pregnant thoroughbred mare, Miss Ida May, and giving Western style riding lessons to some very special kids at his indoor arena. December had slipped away like icicles melting in the sun.
His uncle only ever wanted fishing lures and a good bottle of scotch. Anything else and he’d scoff at wasting money.
Now, as he sat in the bright yellow kitchen, at the rectangular wooden table that his dad had built when he was a kid, he’d finally gotten around to asking what his mom and his aunt wanted.
“A new coat,” his mother said as she pushed her plate of half-eaten meatloaf and potatoes off to the side. She never did like her sister’s meatloaf or anything May cooked for that matter. Red had to agree, but he was too much of a gentleman to admit it out loud. He’d rather eat dirt than hurt May’s feelings. The woman had the heart of a saint and the cooking ability of a bad fry cook. “That’s what you need, May, and I could use one myself. A warm one . . . one of them down feather coats. May, you been wearin’ that same blue wool parka since my Buster passed ten years ago this April fifth. That threadbare thing wouldn’t keep a rat warm on a sunny day, much less a grown woman during one of our winters.” She turned to Red. “I saw the perfect coat you could buy her last week at Big Sky Livin’. They had plenty of ’em hangin’ on the rack. I’m particular for a white one and May here likes blue.”
“It matches my eyes,” she said without looking up. Unlike Red’s mom, May wasn’t much of a talker, and rarely asked for anything even when she really needed it.
May’s eyes were indeed blue, a cobalt blue, the same color as Red’s. His mom’s eyes were more gray than blue, which was the only real difference in the sisters. If it wasn’t for their eye color, no one could ever tell them apart.
“May wears a medium now with all the weight she put on over the summer eatin’ all them blueberry pies she made from that new bush she put in the previous spring. That thing grew enough blueberries to feed an army, and May here acted like an entire battalion.”
“I like pie,” May clarified as she cleared the table, stacking the dishes as she went. “Especially blueberry pie. Anyway, that’s my excuse. What’s yours?”
“Ice cream. I gain five pounds just looking at the container,” his mom said, then she turned to Red. “Seems like we’ll both be needin’ a medium.”
“Got it,” Red told them as he typed the information into a note app on his phone.
“You don’t have to be buying me anything this Christmas,” May told him while loading th
e dishwasher. “Spend the money on one of them kids who really needs it. Grant somebody a wish instead.”
“May, you need a new coat,” his mom countered. “Those kids always get taken care of by our townsfolk. They don’t need you giving up a warm coat.”
“I’m just saying, there shouldn’t be a kid in this entire county who doesn’t get a present on Christmas Day, and I’d rather my coat money went to one of them.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Red told her, trying to quell May’s concerns before they got the better of her.
“Humph,” May sighed, then closed the door on the dishwasher with a little too much force.
“Okay, I’m off,” he told them, pushing his chair back and ignoring May’s hint of a temper tantrum. He’d had every intention of granting a wish this year like he always did. He just didn’t like to announce it to anyone. Red liked to keep his charity work close to the chest, that way if a day came when he couldn’t afford to give, no one would pressure him into contributing something he didn’t have.
Heading for the back door, and grabbing his coat and Western hat off the hooks, Red readied himself for the harsh outdoors. He’d already turned up the heat in the barn to make sure Miss Ida May was comfortable, and took the other horses out for some exercise. Miss Ida May was a bit more jumpy now that her time was close, and he didn’t want any of the other horses spooking her.
“And I promise to check out the Wish Tree,” he said as he cracked opened the door.
“’Bout time,” May said. “I don’t need no dang coat.” Then she stomped out of the room in a huff.
“What’s got her in such a tizzy this morning?” Red asked his mom.
“She didn’t win the lottery.”
“She never plays the lottery.”
“That’s why she’s in a tizzy. She claims they called her numbers.”
“She can’t win if she doesn’t play.”
“And she won’t play because she thinks she can’t ever win. There’s no reasoning with her.”
“Should I still pick up that coat for her for Christmas?”
“Absolutely, and while you’re at it, you might tell her about the wish you pick off the tree. That’ll make her happy, and it might do some good for you as well to finally admit to some of the nice things you do.”
“Mom, you know how I feel about blowin’ my own horn.”
“A little horn blowin’ can’t hurt once in a while, ‘sides, it will give us all something nice to think about on Christmas morning knowing some local child got his or her Christmas wish. You been workin’ far too much these last couple months. Doin’ a little somethin’ for a child that needs some extra lovin’ might be just what you need in order to stop thinkin’ so much about this here ranch and Miss Ida May. I keep telling you, she’s going to be fine.”
“I know. It’s just that I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
“Nothing will, and when the foal is born, some of your students will want to come and see it.”
“I’ll make sure they all get a call.”
“You don’t need to fret over that. I got ’em all on speed dial on my phone, both past and present students. I’ll make sure they get a call and arrange for them to come over in a group. You don’t need nothin’ else on your plate. You got enough goin’ on.”
Miss Ida May had foaled a stillbirth last year that Red still blamed himself for. Not that he could have done anything about it, according to the vet. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances this time. He was extra cautious with her and so far everything looked good for a healthy, live birth.
“I’m not working any harder than Dad did.”
His mom walked over to him, lovingly ran two fingers down the side of his face and said, “By now, your dad already had a bride and a baby on the way. You ain’t been out on a date in so long I can’t remember the last time you brought a young woman home.”
He put his arms around his mom and gave her a hug. “That’s ’cause I haven’t found anyone like you.”
“Thanks for the compliment, son, but we both know it’s because you’re always working. It’s high time you took a break and had some fun. Want to know what I really want for Christmas?”
“A healthy foal from Miss Ida May?”
“That’s a given. What I really want is the perfect girl for my son.”
“I’ll ask Santa to put one under the tree for me.”
“Promise?”
Whenever his mother really wanted him to do something, she’d make him promise to do it, which forced him to try to make it happen. Even when he was a kid, he’d work extra hard to keep his promises. He hated to disappoint her, especially with something like this, which he knew was impossible.
“Mom.”
She gave him a look.
“Okay, I promise. A girl under the tree.” But Red knew the chances of that happening would take a Christmas miracle.
Chapter Two
Jolie looked through a rack of puffy down-filled coats inside the more rugged looking REI type of store—an REI on steroids. Not only was there a huge decorated Christmas tree dominating the center of the large sporting goods store, but scattered throughout the store were taxidermied animals: a bear, a fox and an impressive-sized elk’s head sporting massive antlers. It all told her this place was a far cry from what Vegas had to offer.
This was rough-and-tumble Montana, where hunters and cowboys ruled, not weekend gamblers and long-legged showgirls.
Jolie chose to ignore the dead animals, despite the fact that they were creepy and sad looking, and instead concentrated on finding a coat that didn’t make her look like she weighed four-hundred pounds.
Riley chatted up a male clerk she seemed to know, which only made sense considering the town had something like two thousand residents. Jolie couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to live here. Vegas came in at over two million residents, and on any given weekend, that population could increase to well over three million.
With that kind of population, randomly running into anyone you knew was about as likely as winning a Mega Millions jackpot.
“This is Gus,” Riley said as she approached Jolie with the adorable male clerk tagging along right behind her. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen years old. “I used to babysit for him and his little sister when they were kids, so be nice to him. He holds a special place in my heart.”
Then she turned on her boot heels and walked back over to the counter where she spotted an older man to talk to.
Jolie turned to the young clerk. “Knowing Riley like I do, I can only imagine the adventures she took you and your sister on when you were kids. They must have been epic.”
“Actually, she was pretty sedate when she babysat for us. But she did teach me how to shoot a rifle to hit my target.”
Hardly sedate.
“Riley can shoot?” This was news to Jolie. She’d never even considered the possibility that her friend could handle a firearm, a loaded firearm.
“She won a couple local tournaments when she was my age. She’s great with a bow and arrow as well.”
Jolie stared over at her friend who was now chatting with a tall cowboy, an amazingly gorgeous cowboy with a trimmed beard and dark hair peaking out from under a black cowboy hat. He turned towards Jolie who’d been staring at him . . . more like gawking at him . . . winked and flashed a set of pearly whites that would make any smoker jealous.
Jolie instantly looked away. No one had ever winked at her before, at least not since she was five, and she didn’t quite know how to interpret it. Was it a flirting thing or was it a condescending action? And what the heck was Riley telling him that made him wink?
“Riley says you’re in need of a coat,” Gus said, breaking Jolie ’s trance.
“Yes, thanks, a toasty warm coat.”
“How warm?”
“Warm enough.”
“Enough for what?”
He obviously didn’t understand her warmth needs and required
precise information.
“Enough so I can walk outside and not freeze to death.”
“Then you’re not familiar with Montana.”
Familiar wasn’t exactly a word she would use. More like she was completely ignorant, totally uninformed, and clearly oblivious about winter in Montana.
“Not really. No. I’m from Las Vegas.”
“And I’m guessing it doesn’t get very cold there.”
“Sometimes our fountains freeze.”
“Our lakes freeze and you can drive a bus over most of them.”
“I need a coat for that.”
“Okay then, I have this great sub-zero coat that will keep you warm and toasty no matter what the temperature.”
He showed her a billowy white number with a fur-lined hood. Her fashion sense kicked in and told her not to even try it on. That it was perhaps the most unstylish coat she’d ever seen. Even the winking cowboy raised an eyebrow as he approached.
“That’s exactly the coat I’ve been looking for, Gus,” the cowboy said, in a sultry voice that resonated somewhere deep inside Jolie’s body and caused her breath to hitch. “I need a blue one to go along with this white one. Is it a medium?”
“It is, but you’re too late, Red,” Gus told him before Jolie could find her voice. “I’m showing it to a customer. If she doesn’t want it, then it’s yours.”
Both men stared at her, waiting for her response. The cowboy smelled of freshly brewed coffee, mixed with something sweet, like vanilla or maple sugar. His eyes were stormy blue and looked a little menacing in a seductive sort of way. His skin had a tan glow to it, as if the sun enjoyed kissing him whenever she had the chance. Jolie could only assume that even in all this snow and cold the man spent most of his time outdoors. He wore one of those old-time, tan leather dusters that she only saw on movie cowboys. His jeans were frayed against his brown boots, and his chafed hands reflected his rugged occupation. She’d always been a sucker for a man’s hands, long fingers, trimmed nails and hints of callus on his palms, like he knew how to fix things. As opposed to the men who worked in gaming in Vegas who required a manicure once a week so their nails wouldn’t catch on the felt when they dealt cards, or placed a bet for a customer on a craps or a roulette table.
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 32