“Mingle,” she finished for him. “Somehow I thought you might say that.” Emma sighed. “But you know Dutch and Tripp and Travis. Chat with them.”
“Travis has his wife.” He raised his brows. “And it looks like they found the mistletoe.”
She turned in Zach’s arms to see Travis kissing his new bride beneath the mistletoe that he had hung in the doorway of the banquet room.
“Young love,” Emma said. “You know how it is.”
“Can’t say that I do.” He glanced around. “Looks like the single men are outnumbered around here.”
“That’s true. Tonight it’s just you, Tripp and Dutch.”
“No dates invited?”
“Dutch’s sweetheart is the ranch physician, General Rue Butterfield. Rue is out of town at the moment with a family emergency.”
“And Tripp? What’s his story?”
“Tripp? Oh, he’d never bring a date. He’s even more private than you are.”
“Am I private?”
“As locked up as a clam. If you want to pass the time, ask Dutch to tell you about the John Wayne impersonator he saw in Tulsa last week. By the time he finishes with his tall tale, dinner will be served, then we’ll get down to business.”
“What business is that?”
“The Holiday Roundup.”
The song ended and Emma stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Relief and disappointment crowded her at the same time.
“The Holiday Roundup,” he repeated. Zach rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It seems apparent that I showed up at Big Heart Ranch at the wrong time of year.”
“Or maybe it’s the right time, and you just don’t know it yet.”
When his dark eyes met hers, Emma’s heart stopped and everything seemed to be in slow motion as the words she had just uttered echoed through her while Zach Norman turned away.
Maybe it was the right time, and she just didn’t know it yet.
* * *
Zach downed his eggnog and turned to Dutch. “We’re doing what?”
Around them, holiday music continued to play as the party wound down. The old wrangler had just dashed his high hopes of slipping out of the party soon. Zach was certain he had a rash over most of him from being social tonight. He didn’t do social, and yet here he was.
Dutch grabbed the last broken cookies from a tray that only a few hours ago overflowed with Christmas cutout cookies and popped them into his mouth with a loud smack of his lips. “I’m telling you, Miss Emma makes the best cookies. Her chocolate muffins would take a blue ribbon anywhere.”
“Dutch, quit eating and answer me.”
“I told you. It’s chore-pickin’ time.” He nodded to the large box wrapped like a Christmas package that sat at the end of the banquet table.
“Miss Lucy and Miss Emma divide up the chores for the Holiday Roundup and you pick yours from that big box there. Everyone gets two.”
“I never heard of anything so unorganized. This is worse than being voluntarily told in the navy.”
“The gals say it keeps the program fresh. New ideas and perspectives and everyone owns the event.”
Zach released a breath. “I can guarantee there is nothing that resembles my skill set in that box.”
“Don’t matter. It’s the spirit of the season that counts. Making memories. Having fun.” Dutch’s gaze scanned the room. “Did I ever tell you how I was Mary in the living nativity one year?”
“Now you’re messing with me.”
The seasoned cowboy offered a slow shake of his head. “Wish I was. I had to shave my ’stache.”
Zach ran a hand over his face and swallowed.
“Come on.” Dutch nodded to the box. “Best get it over with.”
“You first,” Zach said as he followed.
Dutch put a hand in the box, pulled out two papers and stepped aside to allow Zach to do the same. “What did you get?” Dutch asked a moment later.
“I haven’t opened them yet,” Zach returned.
“I’ll trade you. Sight unseen.”
“Not a chance.” Zach gave a nod toward Dutch’s slips of paper. “What did you get?”
The cowboy grimaced. “Porta potty duty and horse-drawn carriage driver.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Depends on which direction the wind is blowing.”
Zach stared at the seemingly innocuous papers in his own hand.
“Hurry up and open yours,” Dutch said. “Miss Emma’s coming around with her clipboard to document your assignment.”
“Then I better get moving.”
It would be a very good idea to keep his distance from both clipboards and the youngest Maxwell sibling. He was still trying to figure out what got into him earlier. Dancing with Emma. That came out of nowhere.
He was beginning to realize that if he wasn’t on guard at all times, history would be repeated. His history...of acting like a love-struck idiot when Emma was nearby.
Dodging around the buffet table, Zach headed to the other side of the room. He stooped behind greenery to examine the Christmas tree decorations, though his height made it nearly impossible to hide.
“Your envelope is near the back of the tree.”
She found him.
“I wasn’t looking for an envelope.”
“What were you doing?”
He raised a hand and decided against explaining. “How did anyone know to give me an envelope?”
“That’s a very good question,” Emma said. “Lucy’s admin, Iris, reads minds. You can thank her later.” Emma plucked a green envelope from the tree and handed it to him.
Zach shook his head. “This is really not necessary.”
“Deal with it. It’s a Christmas present.”
“Presents are for little kids.”
She scoffed. “Who told you that?”
My mother when I turned six and my parents divorced.
“It was understood at my home.”
“Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry. While the holidays aren’t simply about presents, certainly a child should experience the joy of giving and receiving.”
“It’s really a moot point, Emma. I don’t do Christmas.”
“You don’t believe in Christmas?” She offered a dramatic sigh. “Sort of makes you like Scrooge, doesn’t it?”
“Does that make you Tiny Tim?”
She cocked her head in thought. “I’d like to think of myself as one of the benevolent characters who show you the error of your ways.”
“Right. Right.” He stared at her ridiculous blinking reindeers. “For the record, I never said I don’t believe in Christmas.”
“Could you elaborate then? What is it about Christmas that you have a problem with? I mean besides presents and Christmas parties. And by the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you sure have a long list of things that you have issues with.”
“Emma, you’re sort of an overanalyzer. Anybody ever mention that?”
Her eyes rounded. “You have issues with me, too?”
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”
“I’m a therapist. I analyze. It comes with the territory.”
“You’re a child therapist and I’m not a child.”
Emma shrugged. “The same principles apply to grown-up children.”
“You aren’t my therapist.”
Her lips formed a thin line, and Zach could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“I’m trying to figure out what happened to make you so disillusioned. And why does it seem like you’re angry with me? We used to be friends.”
“That was a long time ago. We
were kids.”
She jerked back as though she’d been slapped.
Zach immediately regretted opening his big mouth. Emma was everything good and right in the world, and he had managed to dim her light with his special brand of darkness.
“May I see your assignment slips?” The words were clipped and flat.
“Sure.”
He pulled the crumpled papers from his pocket, smoothed them out and glanced at the words. What harm could come from putting up lights and greenery?
“Oh.” She released a long-suffering sigh.
“Oh?”
“You’re on my team.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“There’s no need to apologize.”
“Sure feels like I ought to.” He shrugged. “So where do I start?”
“Excuse me, Emma, Zach. I hate to interrupt.”
Both Zach and Emma turned to find Lucy standing close with a concerned expression.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked her sister.
“I’ve maxed out. I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to bail on you.”
“Do you need a ride home?” Zach asked.
“Oh, how sweet of you to offer, but Travis and AJ are dropping me off. They live right down the road.” She glanced around at the room and frowned before she put a hand on Emma’s arm. “I feel horrible leaving you with cleanup.”
“Go, Lucy,” Emma said.
“Are you sure?”
“Cleanup is my specialty. You of all people know how true that is.”
“I’ll help,” Zach said. The words slipped from his mouth before he had a chance to outrun them.
Lucy and Emma turned to him, startled expressions on their faces.
He offered an embarrassed chuckle. “Come on. I think I can handle a little disaster recovery, ladies.”
Emma bit her lip, saying nothing.
When Lucy stood on tiptoes from her five-foot-two-inch height and planted a kiss on his cheek, Zach froze.
“What was that for?” he murmured.
“Just to say thank you.” She offered him and Emma a benevolent smile. “Take good care of my sister.”
“Oh, good grief,” Emma said. “Lucy, will you please go home?”
“I’m going.”
“Call me in the morning to check in,” Emma called after her. “And stay home if you need to.”
“I just might.”
“Good.” Emma grabbed a trash bag.
“Let me help with that.”
“Zach, you really don’t need to stay,” Emma said.
“I’m on your team.”
“That’s the Holiday Roundup.”
“Let me help you get out of here and home to your children.” He paused. “Besides, I just promised your sister...”
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the vinyl floor tiles. “Do I look like I need to be taken care of?”
Five foot four and 100 percent self-sufficient. That was Emma. Everyone leaned on her and she leaned on no one. Some things never changed. He bit back the retort on the end of his tongue. “A promise is a promise,” he murmured.
“Okay, fine.” She waved a hand in the air. “Start with the tree and be sure all the envelopes have been removed.”
“What do you want to do with the tree?”
“My supplies are in that closet over there. Put a giant trash bag over the tree and tie the bag at the bottom. Then we’ll stick the entire thing in my car.”
When Emma grabbed a chair and stepped up on the seat to reach the hanging snowflakes, Zach considered suggesting that he tackle the ceiling, but decided that the better plan was to keep his mouth firmly shut. Instead, he kept a close eye on her while he bagged the tree and then started taking down the hanging lights on the back wall.
One by one, Emma removed each snowflake. She brushed the silver sparkles from her clothes and hair while she assessed the other decorations in the room.
Eyes on the mistletoe, she dragged the chair to the doorway and reached for the berried greenery. Her fingers barely skimmed the curling red ribbon tied to the stem.
“That Travis. No respect for short people,” she muttered. With a soft grunt of frustration, Emma stretched toward the swaying bundle yet again, setting the bells from her bracelet into a cacophony of noise. The angle of the mistletoe still made it difficult to reach.
“I got it.” Zach’s hand touched hers when they reached for the mistletoe at the same time. When Emma swayed, about to fall, he acted on instinct. His hands spanned her waist as he caught her and set her on her feet on the floor. “You okay?”
She nodded, releasing silver sparkles that danced from her hair onto the smooth skin of her face.
Zach stepped away from the land mine situation and kept his hands firmly at his sides.
What had he gotten himself into?
Christmas couldn’t arrive too soon because working with Emma was pretty much the single most hazardous duty he’d ever been called upon to do. Could he work alongside a woman he might very well still be in love with without getting his heart broken a second time?
One of the random sayings from SEAL training ran through his head and he realized he better hold the words close, because yeah, it was time to get comfortable being uncomfortable.
Chapter Four
Zach wiped the sweat from his brow and caught his breath after hiking up the steep stairs to the loft of the equipment barn. He adjusted his knee brace and stood straight. Towering stacks of plastic storage bins lined the entire far wall. Surely, not all of those bins were filled with holiday lights. Or were they?
A moment later, the door to the barn creaked open and the humming of a holiday tune reached his ears.
“Are you up there?” Emma’s voice echoed into the rafters.
“Yes, Rudolph. I’m up here.”
“Funny,” she muttered.
Emma grunted as her boots hit each step. “Whose bright idea was it to store these up here last year? This stairwell is ridiculously steep and it sure could use a railing.” Her dark head popped up onto the landing and she glanced around. “How did you get up here with your knee?”
“Slowly,” he said. “Give me your hand.”
“I’ve got it.”
“Stop arguing. Give me your hand.”
Emma blinked at his command. “Yes, sir. Take these bags first.”
“I smell coffee.”
“That’s because I brought coffee.” She lifted the bags in the air and Zach grabbed them.
“What’s in the other bag?”
“Chocolate muffins.”
Emma held out a hand and Zach hauled her into the loft. They stood inches from each other. He reluctantly released her hand and kept his eyes on the planked floor as his heart pounded loud enough for her to hear.
“Thank you.” In one dainty movement, she removed her hand from his and dusted off her Wranglers. “Here.” Emma handed the other bag to him.
Zach peeked inside at the muffins. “These are still warm.”
“Uh-huh. I made them this morning.”
He stared at her.
“What? Baking is therapeutic for me.”
“You may be the therapist, but my gut tells me that this is not normal.”
“Give your gut a muffin and tell it to stop complaining.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. Merely observing.”
“Right.” Emma pulled two plastic to-go cups from the other bag.
He glanced down at the coffees. “Which one is mine?”
“They’re both cream only.”
Zach narrowed his gaze. “How did you know I take cream?”
She shrugged. “Good memory.”
“I guess so.” He grabbed a muffin and took a bite, eyes widening. “Dutch was righ
t. You’re in the wrong business.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why aren’t you baking for a living?”
“I don’t have time.”
“Emma, I’ve been here five days, and already it’s clear that you milk more minutes out of twenty-four hours than anyone else on this ranch.”
“That may be true, but I can’t be a therapist, a mother, a Big Heart Ranch Band-Aid, run RanchPro and open a bakery.”
“I can think of at least one thing on that career list that can go away.”
“Me, too, but you refuse to help with RanchPro.”
He sighed. “And we were doing so well up to this point.”
“That’s because we haven’t seen each other since Monday. Travis has had you knee deep in calves.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you sooner.”
She raised a hand. “It will all work out. It always does.”
“Does it?” He cocked his head and looked at her.
“Sure. This is what life is all about. Unexpected blessings. Lucy’s baby news, Travis’s wedding and then the calves decide this is the time to make an appearance.”
“You sure find a way to put a happy spin on everything.”
“Why not?” She looked at him, back straight with indignation. “What’s to be gained from being negative?”
Zach considered the question but didn’t answer. When he was around Emma, he wasn’t able to justify his rotten attitude. Her journey to today was no less difficult as his own. Yet, she remained an encouragement, and for the first time he considered rethinking his stance.
She took a swig of coffee and pulled out a clipboard. “Not all of these bins are for our team.”
“Glad to hear that. Which ones do I need to take out of the loft?”
“The blue, red and green ones.”
Zach blinked. “That’s over half of them. What’s inside the blue, red and green bins?”
“The blue bins are the lights. The red ones are outside ornaments and the green bins are velvet bows.”
“There must be fifty bins of lights.”
She tapped on the clipboard and fingered through several pages. “Fifty-two. Very close.”
“What do you do with fifty-two bins of lights?”
“After you haul them down with the bale elevator, you plug them in and make sure they work.”
Christmas with the Cowboy Page 5