The Last Christmas Cowboy

by Maisey Yates

  She wasn’t obvious. She was understated, and so often understated tended to get overlooked.

  Which really was what had drawn her to Elliott for her sister in the first place.

  She had seen him around for years, and he seemed very nice.

  He didn’t attract the kind of attention that Logan did. Or even the way her brother, Ryder, did.

  But they were tall and obvious in a chiseled sort of way, both of them very clearly cowboys. Then there were her cousins Colt and Jake. Rodeo cowboys who didn’t just emanate that sort of rugged charm, but who also seemed to carry a layer of danger with them. Women made fools of themselves for them.

  But Iris was steady, and she wasn’t going to like someone like that. No, she was well suited to somebody who was like her. Someone put together. Someone who could manage their life.

  Rose knew it.

  So Logan and even Iris could doubt her all they wanted, but she did know what she was doing.

  She did.

  “Who feels like dancing?”

  Rose thought it was a little bit of a funny question coming from Elliott, since she wouldn’t have thought that he was much of a dancer, but if he wanted to get Iris into closer proximity, then that was great as far as Rose was concerned.

  “Me,” she said cheerfully. “Come on,” she repeated, goading Logan and Iris.

  She knew that Logan was more than capable of dancing when there was a woman on the dance floor he was interested in getting his hands on.

  She’d seen it a couple of times. She had never particularly liked it. It was just one of those things that seemed beneath him. Like he was too... She didn’t know. Something. To behave like other men did and to be motivated by...that stuff. But that was all kind of childish thinking, and she realized that.

  There was a part of her that still hero-worshipped him.

  Because he had been such a large, defining figure in her life for so long.

  Because of the way he had cared for her. Because of the way he had talked to her straight about grief and life and big, hard things that a kid shouldn’t have been explaining to another kid. But they’d had no choice.

  They’d had each other.

  So yeah, she always felt a twinge of discomfort when she saw the way that women responded to Logan, and the way that he responded to them.

  It was uncomfortable. And stranger, it made her feel like she was standing outside a window, looking in at something.

  But the real point was that he did dance, and she knew it. So he could suck it up and do it now. With a long-suffering glance, he got out of his chair, and they all went to the dance floor, where a high-tempo country song was playing. Rose stuck near Iris as her sister reluctantly began to move.

  “You heard the man,” she said, pointing at the jukebox. “You’re supposed to shake it, country girl.”

  The music was too loud for this to be possible, but Rose could swear she heard her sister sniff. “I don’t shake it.”

  Rose laughed, and proceeded to dance, throwing her hands up in the air and shimmying to compensate for her sister’s lack of it.

  Elliott, for his part, seemed to enjoy himself immensely, and the smile that lit up his face highlighted that he was a cute guy. When the song changed and the music slowed, she found herself standing across from Elliott, and then awkwardly drawn in for a dance.

  She saw that Logan had taken hold of Iris, partnering her so that there was no lag, which meant that she was going to have to redirect and quickly and stop looking at Elliott like he had slapped her with a fish. She smiled.

  “Thank you for inviting me out,” he said. His eyes darted over Rose’s shoulder, in Iris’s direction, and she took that as a very good sign.

  “Of course,” she responded. “I’m really glad you came.”

  She danced impatiently with him for a good half of the song, and then saw her opportunity. Neither he nor Iris were particularly bold, and she just had a feeling that they were going to need a little bit of boosting.

  “Partner swap,” she said, separating off and pulling at Iris’s shoulders before giving her a gentle push toward Elliott, and positioning herself in front of Logan. When Logan settled his large hands on her hips, an echo of something very strange shot through her body.

  Surprise. That was all it was. It was very weird because she had just been dancing with a man, but she became suddenly so conscious of the fact that his hold was firmer than she had anticipated, his hands larger. That same energy that he radiated when he did things like disapprove of her felt amplified now.

  His body was also especially warm, which she found strange and foreign and utterly surprising. She looked up at him, his electric blue gaze connecting with hers like a lightning strike.

  “Be careful,” he said, his words hushed.

  “What?”

  “He likes you.”

  “He was looking at Iris while we were dancing.”

  “Yeah, because I might have given him a mean look.”

  Rose blinked. “Well, they’re dancing. Anyway, I think I would know if a man liked me.”

  Logan’s face turned to granite, his features hardening, his jaw going tight. “I don’t think you would.”

  “I do,” she shot back.

  “You have to be careful, kid,” he said. “You’re playing with people, and that could easily bite you in your little ass.” Something about his words made goose bumps raise up on her arms.

  “I will assure you that my ass will remain unbit.”

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “I can,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be fine.”

  He shifted his hand then, a little bit higher on her waist, and she suddenly became very conscious of his thumb. She didn’t know why his thumb. Except that she could feel it. His thumb specifically. Resting precariously high on her midsection. She and Logan came into physical contact fairly often when they did manual labor, but it was imprecise. They would bump up against each other sometimes. Sometimes he would wrap his arms around her while bracing her so that they could wrangle a stubborn calf.

  But this was pointed. Targeted.

  This had an echo.

  She had never felt a touch that had an echo.

  The song ended, and he let go of her, the withdrawal abrupt. She felt slightly dizzy, like she had been in an insulated box, and suddenly she was back out in the open, all the sounds amplified, the air feeling colder. It was like her senses had been reduced for a moment, narrowed down entirely to Logan and their dance.

  She hadn’t been entirely aware of it until it had ended.

  She also felt unaccountably sheepish. Like somehow he had taught her a lesson even though she refused to agree with him.

  She had no idea what the lesson was.

  But she was done dancing.

  She made her way back to the table and grabbed her beer, pulling it to the edge and taking a long sip. Elliott, Iris and Logan stayed out on the dance floor for a while longer. Then Elliott and Iris returned, and Logan stayed.

  Rose watched as he found a blonde with exposed skin that looked as soft as a calf’s ear. Rose wasn’t often jealous of other women. Her body was serviceable, after all. It allowed her to do the chores that she needed to get done.

  But women like that made her very aware of the fact that her hands were rough. That she did hard labor and it had a hard effect on her appearance.

  Rose’s hair was dry from the sun. Even though she used sunblock she was often a bit wind chapped and sunburned. She had calluses on her palms and she didn’t think she had ever radiated the kind of dewy smoothness that Logan’s current dance partner did.

  “I better call it a night,” Elliott said. “But maybe I can give you my number and you can send me that recipe.” Elliott addressed Iris for that last part.

  “Of course,” Ir
is said.

  The two of them traded numbers, and Rose bit back a sound of triumph.

  She was right. And it was going to work. Logan, with all of his dour skepticism, was wrong. He was going to lose the bet, and she was going to be able to set him up, too.

  She looked back at the dance floor. He was doing a decent job of setting himself up, she supposed.

  She still didn’t like it.

  That was hookup stuff. And that had nothing to do with real companionship.

  She could remember still the way that Logan had looked when she had bandaged his hand all those years ago. That sadness on his face. And the way he tried to cover it up. So that he could care for her.

  He needed somebody who could shoulder the kind of burden that he carried. Who could deal with the kind of grief they’d been through. It was tough to find someone who could.

  They had lost so much, all of them.

  Logan needed somebody who would be able to understand that.

  And what about you? What do you need?

  She deflected that question. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t need to think about it. She had been honest when she had said to Logan that she wasn’t in a space where she felt like she needed anyone at all. And she didn’t think it was a double standard.

  She was twenty-three. She didn’t need to worry about it, not yet.

  And anyway, there was something about thinking about it that reminded her too much of the yawning void she had felt after her parents had died.

  She wasn’t alone anyway. She had all of them in such a deep, profound way.

  When Elliott left, she turned to Iris. “See?” she practically chirped. “I was right. He’s nice.”

  “I guess,” Iris said.

  “What?”

  Iris shook her head. “It’s nothing. You’re right. He’s nice. And... perfectly sensible.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Rose said, suddenly feeling the first twinge of uncertainty over the whole thing. Because it had gone well, but Iris didn’t seem overjoyed or giddy or anything like that, and the fact that Rose seemed more excited about it than her sister didn’t seem quite right. “Isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is,” Iris said. “I mean, we all know how difficult life can be, right? Making sensible choices when it comes to the men that you date is arguably the most important thing somebody who’s been through the kind of experiences we have can do.”

  “Of course, our sister is marrying an ex-convict at Christmas.”

  “Our sister the police chief,” Iris said, shaking her head.

  Rose found her gaze wandering back over to Logan and his mystery lady.

  “Yeah, I would rather not see that,” Iris said, her lip curling. “Too much like watching a family member hook up.”

  Rose pondered that. And she decided that must be the truth. It must be why it felt like there was a rock in her stomach. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah.” Affirming it. That was what it was. Definitely like if she were watching one of her cousins, or even worse, Ryder, trying to get it on with a random girl.

  She had walked in on Ryder and Sammy making out before anyone had known they were together, and she had felt decently emotionally scarred by that. Since Sammy felt like a sister and all. It had felt like a violation of everything she believed to be true about their dynamic, and the family dynamic. So she imagined that had to do with the discomfort that she was experiencing at the moment.

  “Why can’t we do that?” Rose asked.

  “Because I don’t like blondes,” Iris said dryly.

  “You know what I mean. Why did they get to do that? Why don’t we?”

  “You don’t want to,” Iris said sagely.

  “Maybe I do,” Rose said. Privately, the idea of approaching some random guy and dancing with him made her want to jump out of her skin, but she wasn’t going to admit that now. Not since she had made it an issue.

  She just... She’d never met someone who made her want to do that. Had never seen someone on the other side of the crowded bar and felt enticed to cross the room to talk to them.

  “Well, go right ahead,” Iris said. “I would support you.”

  She had to wonder if what Iris had said earlier was true of her too, as she sat so resolutely rooted to her chair. If there was something inside of her that made her feel a lot more...cautious about all of it. To her, love felt like a precious commodity. Not something vast and infinite, but a shiny gem you might run out of. She had been so young when her parents had died. So much of what she was had been shaped around that tragedy. And around all the things and experiences she hadn’t had since.

  Logan had been sixteen. So while she knew he had been profoundly affected by losing his mother, he had also been a good bit of who he was by the time it had happened.

  Rose hadn’t even begun to become who she might be.

  She wondered if she still hadn’t.

  For a moment she wondered what would happen if she did walk up to one of the men on that dance floor. Wrapped her arm around his neck and smiled. If she led with a bold joke, which she had no problem doing with men she knew. Of course, she didn’t do it to be flirtatious with them. But what if she did?

  Except... Suddenly in her mind she had a clear picture of replacing that blonde in Logan’s arms.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Okay,” she said. “I don’t really want to. And you can call Elliott. You’re right. He’s nice.”

  “I think you’re the one who said that,” Iris said. “So you’re just saying that you’re right.”

  Rose shrugged. “Life doesn’t hand us wins, Iris, you have to seize the ones that you’re owed.”

  “I’m not saying that you have a win,” Iris said. “But given that I haven’t actually...gone out with anybody in...”

  Rose bit her lip.

  Iris narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to say something about how I never go out?”

  Rose shrugged mutely.

  “You’re just trying to behave so that I don’t defy you for the sake of it.”

  “I don’t have it in me to behave. Not for any reason at all.”

  The blonde touched Logan’s face. Rose turned away. “I’m ready to go.”

  Iris looked at her skeptically. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great. I’m really glad that you hit it off with Elliott.”

  “Hitting it off might be overstating it. But I am willing to give him my sourdough recipe. Which isn’t nothing.”

  “Good. Well, I’m glad of that.”

  They slipped out of the bar, after settling her tab with Laz, and wandered down the street. They paused briefly in front of the now vacant bakery storefront. “Wouldn’t it be something to own a piece of this?” Iris looked longingly at the building. “To have a place right here on Main Street.”

  “You want to own a bakery?”

  Iris laughed. “Not seriously. I’m not that much of a dreamer.”

  “No,” Rose said wistfully. “I don’t suppose you are. I don’t suppose I am, either.”

  Iris laughed. “You are a dreamer, Rose. That’s why you meddle in people’s business. But I like that about you. I quit having those kinds of dreams a long time ago. But I’ve found a version of reality that I like quite a bit.” She squeezed her sister’s arm. Iris smiled. “It’s a good thing, too. Because nobody can keep a business going in this building, and I have no reason to believe I would be able to do any better. So it’s a very good thing that I’m just too practical to ever take something like that on. Plus I don’t have the money.”

  Rose didn’t feel glad of any of that. Rose just felt sad. Sad and sorry that life had taken her sister’s ability to dream away from her.

  But it made her more determined to do the dreaming for her. And it made her feel even more certain of her decision to t
ry and get Iris and Elliott together.

  “It’s not that nice anyway,” she said, looking at the beautiful redbrick building and lying horribly about its aesthetic appeal.

  “Yeah. I get to bake bread and cake for you.” Iris nudged Rose’s shoulder with her own, and the two of them began to walk toward the truck. “I know you might not believe it, Rose, but taking care of you makes me happy.”

  For some reason, it just made Rose want to cry.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LOGAN WAS THANKFUL that by midday his chores had not put him in proximity to Rose. Damn that girl.

  He was still fuming over last night. She was being dense as hell. And she didn’t seem to think so. In fact, the little hellion was dead set on arguing with him, sure as shooting that she knew when a man was attracted to her.

  She didn’t. And if she had any damned clue what had been going through his mind...

  He’d had half a mind to teach her a real lesson. Right out there on the dance floor in front of God, Iris and everybody.

  He hadn’t. He wouldn’t. And until he got that through his thick head, it was best he didn’t see her.

  He was out in the far north pasture, having just driven the cows from one field to the next. The ride had done him good, though not enough good.

  He maneuvered his horse around and looked behind him, at the broad expanse of green rolling to the base of imposing mountains, covered in jagged pines with sharp peaks rising up above the treetops.

  He had spent the first sixteen years of his life on a modest street just off the main drag of Gold Valley. His mom was best friends with Linda Daniels, and he had spent hours here on the ranch. Ryder had taught him to ride a horse.

  Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened in his life if he hadn’t ended up living on Hope Springs Ranch. He hadn’t exactly planned on growing up to become a cowboy. Mostly because he didn’t know that was an option. He wouldn’t have been able to figure out the steps a kid took to get from the life he’d been born into to a life on a range. Sure, he knew that Ryder’s dad did it. But Ryder’s father had also been the chief of police in Gold Valley, in addition to being a rancher, and his uncle had worked odd jobs at other ranches to make ends meet.