A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  She gave silent thanks for his honesty on that point. It was something to hang on to. “And how do you think of me now?”

  “As a fellow survivor, I guess.”

  “Okay.” She started to say more.

  “But I don’t see the need to talk about it,” he added quickly, as if to cut off further discussion. “Just like soldiers don’t talk about the battles they’ve fought in. Better to just forget about it and go on. That’s my motto.”

  This might be tougher than she’d thought. “I respect that position and maybe sometimes it’s the only answer. But in my case—and yours—I don’t happen to agree with it.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.”

  She chose her words carefully. “I don’t believe that we can just bury our memories. In my opinion, they’re still there, and if we don’t get them out and dust them off, they can calcify and block off the good stuff.”

  “You sound like Rosie.”

  “That can’t be a bad thing.”

  “It isn’t.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I know you’re trying to help just like she did, and I appreciate that. But what good would it do to talk about my dead parents? Talking doesn’t bring them back.”

  “But it does!” She gripped his hand tighter because she felt him mentally pulling away. “When I’m at home with my folks, we talk about Selena. Not constantly, but if one of us thinks of her or remembers something she used to do, we share those thoughts. It helps so much. You have no idea.”

  “You’re right.” The warmth in his eyes disappeared and for the first time there was an edge to his voice. “I have no idea because I don’t have your situation.”

  “I realize that, but—”

  “Whitney, can we not do this?” He combed her hair back from her forehead. “Think about it. You have an entire group of people, family and friends, who remember your sister and are willing to share memories. That’s great, but I don’t. The only people who knew my parents really well have moved away and I don’t know how to find them. Besides, their memories and mine would be very different.”

  “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t share those memories with someone.”

  “Like who? Some therapist? No, thank you.”

  “No.” She took a deep breath. “Like me.”

  “But you didn’t even know them.”

  “Then tell me about them! Make them live for me!”

  “I can’t.” Defeat laced his words. “I can’t even remember what they looked like.”

  She gasped in disbelief. “But you have a photographic—”

  “Yes, and when it comes to them, it’s totally disabled. I’ve never told anyone that, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t, either.”

  “I won’t, but Ty, you must have actual pictures of them somewhere.” Unless he’d destroyed them. Her heart ached at the possibility that he might have in a moment of rage.

  “I have the family albums in a sealed box.”

  Thank God. “We could go over them together. I promise you it will help.”

  He looked at her for several long seconds. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

  “You don’t understand what you’re giving up.”

  “Sadly, I think I do.” Sliding his hand free, he stood. “I should probably check the road conditions.”

  She scrambled to her feet, her stomach churning. “Ty, it would be easier than you think.”

  He turned to her, his expression resigned. “I’ve spent fourteen years getting to the point where I don’t want to hit something when I think of that plane crash. You’re proposing that I tear down all those defenses and take a chance I’ll be right back where I started. I’m not doing it.”

  “But then it’s as if the first half of your life never happened! You can’t tell me that’s what you want.”

  “Yes I can. That’s exactly what I want. It works for me.”

  She had trouble breathing. “But not for us,” she murmured.

  “No, not for us.” His glance was tender. “But that was always a long shot, considering the distance between us.”

  She fought the urge to run into his arms and try to talk him out of his stubborn stance. But if she went to him and he rejected her, it would make the pain a hundred times worse. “Five hours isn’t that much.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the miles.” He walked into the kitchen and picked up his phone from the counter where he’d left it earlier.

  This couldn’t be happening. Surely they wouldn’t break up after some of the happiest hours of her life—and of his, too, she’d bet. But she’d known from the moment she’d begun to push him that he might push back.

  She could try to backpedal, but damn it, this was important. She loved him, which meant she wanted to know whether he’d joined Cub Scouts or played baseball or built a tree house. She couldn’t imagine being with someone whose entire childhood was a blank slate. And that he’d choose to keep it that way.

  He walked out of the kitchen with his phone still in his hand. “The roads are okay. I should be fine from here to Cheyenne.”

  No, he wouldn’t be fine. He would be an emotional mess who shouldn’t be behind the wheel. “Stay here tonight,” she said. “Call your office and explain that you don’t want to risk driving back. You must have vacation days or sick days you haven’t used.”

  “I do.” His smile was sad. “But that will only make things tougher on both of us. You want something from me that I can’t give. Let’s cut our losses before this becomes any more painful than it already is.”

  “Ty, are you sure that I’m asking the impossible? Because from where I stand, it doesn’t seem that way. This is something we could work at a little bit at a time. I’m not suggesting that you pour out your life story in one fell swoop.”

  “Like I said, easy for you to say, risky for me to do. I’ve plastered and spackled over the gaping holes in my story, and if I start scraping that patch job away, the whole structure might collapse.”

  “No, it won’t.” She took a step closer. “I’d be there to keep that from happening.”

  “You might want to be, but we live in different towns.”

  He had a point. Electronic communication could only accomplish so much. If she encouraged him to embrace his memories and that created issues for him, a cyberhug wasn’t going to do him much good.

  He sighed. “How about we skip the drama, wish each other well and go our separate ways?”

  The idea made her feel like throwing up. “Is that what you want?”

  “What I want isn’t possible, so let’s not go there.”

  “At least tell me.”

  His gray eyes gleamed in defiance. “All right, here goes the impossible wish list. I wish my parents were alive because you’d love them and they’d love you. I want us to miraculously live in the same town so that neither of us has to give up our job. And as long as we’re talking miracles, I want my parents to be alive but I also want to be a part of Thunder Mountain Ranch, because I’m crazy about my brothers and Rosie and Herb.”

  She swallowed. “Not everything on that list is impossible.”

  “All of it is impossible except the Thunder Mountain part. I don’t know what magical world you’re living in, but in my world my parents are still dead and you and I live in different cities and love our jobs. We need to give it up, Whitney. Some things are not meant to be.”

  “You sound as if you really believe that.”

  “It’s hard-won wisdom.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I’ll go pack up my stuff.” Turning, he walked down the hallway toward her bedroom.

  Whitney stood in the middle of the living room and waited for him to come back out. Surely going back to the place where they’d shared so much passion and love, definitely love, would cause him to change his mind. She’d never had such a strong connection to a lover. She knew he hadn’t, either, because she’d seen the emotion shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t just leave.

  But when he w
alked into the living room wearing his coat and hat and carrying his duffel, she knew that he would do exactly that. His face had lost all expression. It was like looking at a stranger.

  He swallowed, the only sign that maybe he didn’t have himself completely under control. “Goodbye, Whitney.”

  “So you’re really going to do this.” It was less a question and more a statement of disbelief.

  “Obviously I’m not the right guy. I need to get out of your life so you can find him.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d offered him her heart. Maybe not in so many words, but he had to know. She’d never fallen this hard for someone and his rejection hurt like hell.

  “Whitney, don’t look at me like that.” His mask of indifference slipped a little and his voice softened. “This is for the best. You’ll realize that eventually.”

  She drew in a ragged breath. “It might be for the best if you’re determined to wall off a huge part of yourself. If that’s your final word on the subject, then you’re not the right guy.” Her throat tightened. “But if you ever change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  Stupid man. “You probably won’t, but if you ever do, you know where to find me.” She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. She would not reach for him.

  He nodded. “Okay.” And he turned and left.

  She didn’t move. Instead, ever the optimist, she stood there praying that he’d get partway down the hall and realize that he’d just abandoned his chance to live a whole life. For the rest of the day and well into the long, cold night, she kept expecting her intercom to buzz or her phone to ring. This was the man who’d driven through a blizzard to be with her. If he gave himself time to analyze that crazy trip, he might figure out why he’d made it.

  Life had forced them both below the surface where they’d had to face grim reality at a very young age. Something in his psyche must have recognized the depth of emotion in hers and they’d bonded on a soul-deep level. No wonder their lovemaking had been so intense.

  With a bond that strong, how could he imagine hiding a whole section of his life from her? Yet he’d been doing it with everyone else for years, including his beloved Rosie. Maybe he was capable of living like that, and if so, she really was better off without him.

  As the days passed with no word from her stubborn cowboy, she finally admitted to Rosie one day that they weren’t together anymore. Rosie didn’t look happy about that. Then she must have passed the word to the others, because Phil, Damon, Lexi and Cade came by the shop soon after.

  Lexi and Phil each gave her a hug and whispered that Ty was an idiot. Cade and Damon didn’t say a whole lot, probably out of loyalty to their brother. But they ordered bigger cups of coffee than usual and left generous tips in the jar. At least losing Ty didn’t mean she’d lost the connection to everyone at Thunder Mountain, which was comforting.

  Gradually she began to accept that she’d fallen for the wrong guy. Worse yet, they’d broken up during the holidays, a time of love and good cheer. She worked extra hard to catch the Christmas spirit because she loved this time of year and she’d be damned if Ty was going to spoil it for her.

  But instead of catching the Christmas spirit, she caught a cold. As she sniffled her way through the last couple of days before leaving for Cheyenne, she looked forward to having her mom baby her with chicken soup and back rubs. The excitement of Thanksgiving weekend with Ty had convinced her that she’d have a joyous holiday this year. But apparently she was in for a crappy one.

  18

  TY CONSIDERED NOT driving up to Sheridan for Christmas, but he’d promised Rosie, so here he was on Christmas Eve, almost at the turnoff to the ranch. Good thing Brant would be there. Ty could use some of Brant’s easygoing personality right now.

  Brant wouldn’t pester him about the breakup. Brant didn’t even know Whitney, although knowing her wouldn’t have changed his attitude. He was strictly a live-and-let-live kind of guy.

  If Ty had announced he’d found the perfect woman, Brant would have been happy for him. But if Ty mentioned the breakup while they were here, Brant would probably shrug and say there were more fish in the sea. He wasn’t into drama.

  Rosie, on the other hand, was a worrier who believed each of her boys needed the love of a good woman. Until recently Ty had been happy to agree with her.

  But in the past couple of weeks he’d had to face facts. He’d found a good woman and he’d had to let her go. He’d come closer to a commitment with Whitney than with anyone he’d dated, and that was why she’d started asking about his past.

  What was more, she’d had every right to do that. So would anyone considering a serious relationship with him. For some reason he hadn’t figured that out before, but now he realized that ultimately his choice was between digging up his buried past or staying single.

  Contemplating that crummy realization had put a real crimp in his holiday cheer. Worse, he missed Whitney with an ache that refused to go away no matter how hard he worked or how many games of racquetball he played with his office buddies. Thoughts of her, both the sexy kind and the sweet kind, popped into his head on a depressingly regular basis. He dreamed about her every damned night. In spite of himself, he lived for those dreams.

  He arrived at the ranch house at dusk, after the Christmas lights running across the roofline had come on. The last time he’d seen those lights he’d been with Whitney on their way to a celebration.

  She’d be in Cheyenne by now, which was a good thing. If she’d stayed in Sheridan for Christmas he might not have been able to keep from going over there. She wouldn’t have, though. Family was important to her and she’d be tucked into her old bedroom at her folks’ house tonight.

  He’d be out in the cabin he and Brant used to share with a couple of other guys. The bunks and desks might be different, but the cabin still had the power to bring back memories, the kind he could deal with. Too bad those memories wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Whitney.

  After parking his truck next to Brant’s, he headed for the house carrying his duffel and a large shopping bag full of gifts. Brant must have been watching for him because he came out in his shirtsleeves grinning like a little kid. Or a big kid. The expression a bear of a man fit Brant to a T.

  He slung a beefy arm around Ty’s shoulders and hustled him into the house. “Mom will be happier than a puppy with a new chew toy when she lays eyes on you. We saw on the news there was a pileup on the highway. She tried calling your phone and when you didn’t answer, well, you know how she gets.”

  “Didn’t hear the phone. What pileup?” His brain went on tilt. “Northbound or southbound?”

  “Both. A tractor-trailer jackknifed north of Casper and with the roads being icy, it was a mess. You didn’t see anything?”

  “Nope.” Dear God, was Whitney okay? “Must have happened after I drove through there.” Please let her be okay.

  Brant chuckled. “You always were a lucky bastard.” He opened the door and ushered Ty through it. “Let the rejoicing begin! The honorable Tyrone Slater is in the building!”

  “Thank God!” Rosie rushed out of the kitchen and hugged him so tight he almost dropped the bag of gifts. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “Sorry. I can’t always hear it, especially if I have music on.”

  Herb came over for his hug. “Glad you didn’t end up in that rodeo, son. I honestly hate to see anyone out driving on Christmas Eve. Seems like a recipe for disaster.”

  “It sure is.” His foster mom twisted her wedding band, a definite sign she was nervous. “And I suppose you know Whitney was driving down to Cheyenne this afternoon.”

  Brant looked puzzled. “Who’s Whitney? Do I know a Whitney?”

  “She’s the manager of that new coffee shop, Rangeland Roasters and she’s the woman Ty...used to date.” Rosie turned her attention to him. “I know you two aren’t speaking, but if you still have her number, would you—”

  “I was
planning to call her after I unloaded my stuff.”

  “Let me help.” Brant relieved him of the duffel and the bag of presents.

  “Go into the rec room,” Rosie said. “Nobody else is here yet.”

  “Thanks.” He unbuttoned his sheepskin coat as he walked through the kitchen and into the rec room. As usual, the pool table had been covered with a tablecloth and chairs were grouped around it in preparation for serving the Christmas Eve meal.

  Telling himself that Whitney was fine, that she had to be fine, he pulled out his phone. But as he listened to hers ring, his chest tightened and his pulse rate shot up. When the call went to voice mail he swore. Then he took a quick breath and left a message. “Hey, it’s me. Call when you get this.”

  After he disconnected he stood in the rec room, his eyes closed and his hands shaking. He couldn’t go back in the living room like that. She was probably fine. It was Christmas Eve. She might have turned off her phone so she could have uninterrupted time with her family.

  All logical, but logic wasn’t working for him. What if she’d ended up in that crash? What if she was hurt, scared, cold or...no, he couldn’t even think about that or he’d lose it.

  When his phone rang and her name popped up on the screen, the adrenaline rush was so strong he almost fumbled the call. “Whitney? Are you okay?”

  She sounded hoarse. “I’m fine.”

  She didn’t sound fine, but at least she sounded alive. “Have you been crying?”

  “No, I have a cold. Why did you call?”

  “Mom was worried. There was a big pileup near Casper and she asked me to make sure you weren’t in it.” He was such a damned coward. Couldn’t even admit he’d been in total panic mode.

  “Yeah, I heard about that. I went through there before it happened.” She coughed. “Fortunately I was already here when it hit the news.”

  “Good. So your parents didn’t have to worry.”

  “No. Sorry Rosie did, though.” She coughed again. “Please tell her Merry Christmas for me. Herb, too, and anybody else who’s there.”

  “I will. I’m sorry you’re sick.”