“Yum.” Resa sipped her coffee. “What else do you have in that awesome bag?”
“That’s about it.”
Minutes later, they were all sticky and giggling as Resa licked chocolate from her lips.
With the sun in her eyes, Cheyenne squinted up at her. “I wish you were my mommy.”
And Resa’s stomach did a flip. Her gaze darted to Colson. He seemed as much at a loss on how to respond as she was.
“You have a mommy. She’s just in heaven now.”
“But I don’t remember her anymore. And I need a mommy here.”
“Well, I’d love to be your friend. Maybe like a special aunt.”
Something splattered and the fire sizzled. “Better get back to the house if we’re gonna decorate the tree.” Colson’s words were gruff as he poured water on the flames. Smoke billowed and the fire died.
She could have sat here with them all day. But he was right, if they were gonna decorate the tree and make evening services, they needed to go. She stood, brushed off the seat of her jeans.
“What about the grill?”
“I’ll come back for it after it cools.”
But she couldn’t help thinking his sudden desire for departure had something to do with the developing bond between her and Cheyenne. As if he didn’t want her getting too close.
Maybe he was right. They were leaving, after all.
And why did her heart break a little at the thought? Because of Cheyenne, or her cowboy daddy?
* * *
“I love these ornaments, don’t you, Daddy?”
“I do.” He slipped a cross onto the tree. He loved decorating the tree with Cheyenne. Just not with Resa. He’d assumed once they cut the tree, she’d go home. He’d been wrong.
“My family always has star, angel and cross ornaments to symbolize Jesus.” Resa noticed the ornament he’d placed. “Wait, we have to put the lights on first.”
“Oh yeah.” He removed the cross, set it back in the box with the others.
“Did Mr. Jed make all these wooden ones?”
“Some of them. My dad and grandfather carved some, too.” Resa untangled the last length of lights. “You wanna see how my brother and I used to put the lights on?”
Colson swallowed hard at the mention of Emmett. “Uh-huh.” Cheyenne nodded.
“Wrap them around me.”
“Huh?”
“If you try to hold them all out straight and go around and around the tree, they end up tangled again. This way they don’t. And besides, this way is more fun.” Resa clamped her arms to her sides and spread her feet apart. “Go ahead, wrap them around me.”
“You sure about this?”
Resa looked up at him. “Works great, trust me. To be honest, the first time, Emmett did it to torment me. But after he got in trouble, as he untwirled me he wound the lights around the tree. It worked like a charm, so we did it that way every year until my parents got a prelit artificial tree when I was ten. We usually use these for the roof.”
“Do we put them all in a clump?” Cheyenne made a circle around Resa, winding lights around her.
“Kind of spiral them up and down my legs, then as high as you can reach. They can be pretty tight and I’ll still be able to walk.”
Cheyenne skipped in circles around her, giggling as she went, effectively swathing Resa with Christmas lights.
“Good job.” Resa laughed. “I’d high-five you if I could. Come to think of it, maybe I should have held my arms up, so I could still use them. Oh well.” She shuffled over to the tree, completely unselfconscious, with her arms strapped to her sides from her elbows down. “Okay, now unwind me and we’ll circle the tree as we go.”
“You look like a Christmas light mummy.” Colson leaned his shoulder against a wall. Or the perfect gift wrapped in twinkly lights.
“Or a Christmas tree dummy.” She grinned. “No pictures, please. I do not want to see this posted anywhere.”
“Daddy says never to call anybody a dummy.” Cheyenne unwound a length of lights. “Not even yourself.”
Resa closed her eyes, sufficiently chastened. “Your father is right. Forget I said that.”
Cheyenne tugged on the lights and Resa bobbled slightly.
“Easy. Need help?” He didn’t want to get too close to her, but this looked like it could get dangerous. He imagined Cheyenne tugging too hard or fast, unwinding Resa like a spinning top. His daughter probably didn’t have the strength, but Resa could get dizzy if Cheyenne went too fast.
“Maybe while Cheyenne untwirls me, you can help place the lights—artfully.”
“Artfully?”
“You know, where they kind of swag up and down.”
“Swag?”
“Like this, Daddy.” Cheyenne unwound a section of lights from Resa, placed them on the tree in an intricate swag formation.
“That’s perfect, Cheyenne. You’re really good at this. I’m not picky, but they just look kind of odd if they’re in a straight line.”
The three of them moved slowly around the tree, placing lights just so, unwinding Resa as they went, with a constant stream of giggles from Cheyenne. Few adults would go to such lengths to entertain a child. But then Resa had always been down-to-earth, had never put on airs. There was nothing haughty about her, unlike his mom, or Felicity. That’s why he’d fallen for her. Why she terrified him now.
Their progress stopped. He looked down at Cheyenne, whose head was bent at Resa’s knees.
“Uh-oh. The lights are tangled.”
“Can you get it?” Resa stood still, patiently.
“Can you help, Daddy?” Cheyenne stepped back out of the way.
He was getting too close. He knelt, tugged at the strands. Two bulbs were tangled together, and he worked to free them, his fingers brushing the fabric of her jeans. Thankfully, she didn’t wear those second-skin kind.
“There you go.” He stood.
Resa let out a slow breath, as if she’d been holding it. “That was a close one. I thought I was gonna be a Christmas mummy forever.” She winked at Cheyenne.
Why did she take his breath away?
Because she was Resa. Tenderhearted, kind, fun. Because she’d paid more attention to Cheyenne since they’d been here than Felicity ever had. Because around her, his heart beat in a way it never had around his wife.
Cheyenne started circling the tree again, unraveling Resa.
He chuckled.
“What?”
He couldn’t seem to stop laughing as she slowly spun around. The rest of the lights uncoiled without incident.
Finally free, Resa grabbed a heavy rope with a lasso at the end. Again, she let Cheyenne coil it around her, then painstakingly spun in circles to unwind it onto the tree until he slipped the loop over the top branches.
“Ready for some color?” She opened a tub of red ball ornaments, each nested in a rounded compartment.
“Pretty!” Cheyenne did a little bounce.
“Careful, if you drop these, they’ll break.” Resa made sure Cheyenne had a good hold on the wire hook attached to the ball before she let go.
Cheyenne hung the ornament on a branch, then stood back and looked at it with wonder. “Put the bandana and the hat on, Daddy.”
“Sure thing, princess.” He tied the red bandana high up in the tree and set the hat on top, as if it was shading a cowboy’s face.
“That’s perfect.” Cheyenne clapped her hands. “Now we need lots of ornaments.”
“Why don’t you hang the wooden ones?” he suggested. “They’re my favorites.” The crosses, stars and angels symbolized Jesus in rustic simplicity. And they didn’t break. No worries about sliced fingers.
“Mine, too.” Cheyenne went to work on the wooden ornaments.
>
A few minutes later, the tree was all decked out, with few empty branches to be found.
“That looks wonderful,” Colson’s dad exclaimed, as he and Annette entered the room.
“We had so much fun.” Cheyenne scampered to them. “I wrapped Resa up in Christmas lights and then untwirled her to put them on the tree. We did the rope that way, too.”
Dad chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever decorated a tree like that, but it sounds fun. It’s almost time for evening church. Better get ready, munchkin.”
“Wow, I had no idea it was getting so late.” Resa checked the clock on the mantel. “I better get home and freshen up.”
“Thanks, Resa.” Cheyenne darted back and gave her a big hug.
“You’re welcome, sweet pea. That’s the most fun I’ve had decorating a tree since I was ten.”
“Let’s go get your dress on.” Annette led Cheyenne to the stairs, and Dad followed.
Suddenly alone with Resa, Colson felt awkward.
“I’ll put the storage tubs back in the attic,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”
“Okay then.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “See you later.”
As she turned away, headed for the front door, the thing most prevalent on his mind was how good today felt, how he wanted to spend every Christmas like this. With Resa.
This was bad. This was very bad.
Chapter Nine
A yawn escaped as Resa descended the stairs, running her hand down the smooth surface of the twisted, gnarled cedar railing as she went. One cowboy-inspired tree, a happy little girl and an evening church service later, she’d fallen into bed and slept like a log. But her alarm had gone off way too early this morning.
“There you are.” Emmett was sprawled on the couch in the den.
She squealed, clutched a hand to her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to spend time with my sister.”
“It’s Monday. I have to work, and I thought you left after morning service yesterday.” Her gaze narrowed. Emmett? Wanting to hang with her? What was he up to? “Your car wasn’t here when I got back last night.”
“I got in late. Tried not to disturb you. Guess it worked.”
“But you’re always dying to get back to Dallas.”
“Just thought I’d stick around. See how you’re doing with Mom and Dad gone.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ve got a hankering for French toast. Want some?”
Her stomach promptly growled. “Yum.”
“Then allow me.” He stood, ushered her to the back part of the house. “I couldn’t find any bacon. Or sausage, for that matter.”
“There’s bacon right here.” She opened the fridge, fished the package out of the drawer.
“Turkey bacon?” His lip curled. “That’s not what I had in mind.”
“Have you ever even tried it?” She set the bacon on the counter, poured a cup of coffee and took her seat at the island breakfast bar across from the stove.
“Negative.” He dug in the fridge, came out with butter, eggs and milk.
“Cook me up some and you can give it a taste.”
“I’ll cook it for you, but I’ll pass on the taste test.” He dropped a generous blob of butter into a skillet, whisked the eggs, dipped slices of bread in the goo and laid them in the pan. Then separated the turkey strips and set them to sizzling in another skillet.
“You’re not really here to fix me breakfast. Spill.”
He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did Dad ever mention moving our corporate offices to San Antonio?”
“What?”
“No offense, but some of us think our corporate offices are outgrowing that shack where the factory is.”
“That shack is an impressive, massive log structure our grandfather built.” She reached for her coffee, but her hand shook. Maybe she’d had enough caffeine.
“Precisely my point.” He sprinkled cinnamon over the toast. “We need to move into the next century.”
“We’re right in the middle of town, where our grandparents built our reputation. What site could possibly be better for this business than right where we are?”
He calmly flipped each bacon slice. “Not the store. Or the factory. Just corporate sales and designs. We’re a thriving business. We shouldn’t be stuck in an ancient store with our designer in a barn.”
Resa frowned. “San Antonio is an hour away. And I’m inspired right where my office is.”
“Most companies don’t house their offices with the store and factory. We could have skyscraper offices with nice views. Especially if we take our stock public.”
“Public?” She shook her head. “That’s not the vision Mom and Dad have. Rusticks has always been down-to-earth. A family business.”
“It was just an idea. We can discuss it further after you’ve had time to think on it.”
“No further discussion is needed. Our corporate offices aren’t going anywhere. And our stock won’t go public. Why would you even think I’d consider such a thing?”
Emmett’s mouth clamped shut as he flipped the toast, then glanced up at the picture of their parents. “It was Dad’s idea.”
Resa’s jaw dropped.
“But Mom disagreed. She’s always so overly cautious, while Dad’s a bit more adventurous. Which is where every argument they’ve ever had during their entire marriage has stemmed from. Maybe you could talk to Mom.”
“No. I’m not talking to Mom. She’s right.”
“So you’re taking sides?”
“You are, too.”
“Touché.” He removed both skillets, turned the burners off and scooped the bacon and a thick slab of French toast onto her plate, set it in front of her. “I’m just trying to ease the tension between them.”
“I haven’t detected any tension. And besides, Mac would have a say in any decision also.”
“Pretend I never mentioned it.”
He set his plate beside hers, came around the island and took his seat.
In silence, she scooped fresh peaches Marilyn had canned onto her toast while he drowned his in maple syrup.
“So what’s up with you and Colson? Picking up where things left off?”
If only she could turn back the clock and do just that. “That train pulled out of the station a long time ago. He has responsibilities and he’ll be leaving when Mom and Dad come back.”
“You really had it bad for him. And he hurt you. You shouldn’t be stuck working with him.”
“It was a long time ago. And it’s only two more weeks now.” But this had been the longest week of her life.
“Counting the days, huh?”
“Emmett.” She rolled her eyes.
They stopped talking, the silence broken only by forks scraping plates.
“Where’d Colson get the kid?”
Resa looked out the window, to find Colson holding Cheyenne’s hand as she skipped down the path to the barn. “That’s his daughter, Cheyenne.”
“Daughter?”
“Remember? He married Felicity Birmingham.”
Emmett’s sharp intake of breath drew her gaze to him.
“What?”
“Nothing. We ended up at the same college. She was too young to die.” He stood, rounded the island. “I better get my things and jet.” Dishes clattered as he set them in the sink.
“Hey, that’s Grandma’s china. Careful!” she called over her shoulder.
“Sorry.” He bolted for the stairs.
Leaving her to frown after him, until the doorbell rang. She hurried to the foyer, then hesitated. Could it be Colson?
Colson Kincaid in her face every day. O
h, how had she let this happen? There had to be another foreman who could take over at a moment’s notice.
Bracing herself, she opened the door.
There he stood, handsome as ever, and alone this time. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Morning.”
“Where’s Cheyenne?” She looked behind him.
“At the barn with Annette. What about Emmett? Did he leave?” The foreboding in his tone tugged her gaze up to his. “I heard a car late last night.”
What was it between Colson and Emmett? They were so wary of each other. “He’s upstairs. He just made me the most wonderful French toast. Do you think Cheyenne might want some?”
“No!” Colson’s jaw clenched. “I mean—she already ate.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Did he not want Cheyenne around Emmett or something? Her brother certainly wasn’t the most stand-up guy, but he wasn’t a danger to children. Just companies.
“Has Mac ever mentioned my dad wanting to move our corporate offices or going public?”
“That was an abrupt subject change. No. But we don’t really talk company business. Why?”
“Emmett mentioned it. Apparently Dad wants to move our headquarters to some upscale skyscraper in San Antonio and take our stock public.” Which would irrevocably change the legacy of Rusticks. “But Mom doesn’t.” Surely Dad couldn’t seriously want to go against everything his father had worked so hard to build.
“Let me guess whose side Emmett is on.”
She speared Colson with a narrowed gaze.
“I’m just saying, Emmett’s all about lining his own pockets. What do you think he’s doing here, fixing you breakfast? I mean—it sounds like he’s buttering you up or something.”
“I won’t stand here and listen to you trash—”
“I know he’s your brother. But I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”
“You’re lecturing me about trust? I trusted you once and got third degree burns.” Her chest squeezed as the words slipped out. Great! Now he knew how badly he’d broken her heart.
He winced. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get hurt. A woman in your position, heir of a vibrant company—it would pay you to be careful.”
A Texas Holiday Reunion Page 9