Cowboy Boots for Christmas

by Carolyn Brown

  A blond wearing hot-pink satin with sparkling diamond drops in her ears, a diamond choker around her neck, and high heels that probably cost more than Callie made in a month at her old job at the gym tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I have a question. Are you and Finn an item, or is this just a Christmas date? We don’t see a diamond on your finger or a wedding band either. So what’s the deal over on Salt Draw? I heard that Verdie is back playing nanny to all those children. That true?”

  “Verdie is definitely back, and we’re so glad to have her. I’m Callie Brewster, and you are?”

  “Kinsey Brennan.”

  “I thought Honey was the Brennan interested in Finn and Salt Draw,” Callie said.

  “She is, but I damn sure like the way he fills out those jeans.” Kinsey smiled.

  “No honor among thieves?” Callie asked.

  “That’s beside the point. Now about you and Finn?”

  “We’re not engaged, and we’re not married,” she said.

  “And?” Kinsey asked.

  “But?” Honey said right behind her.

  “But I’m more than a hired hand, and if anyone tests me, I have a license to carry a concealed weapon, and I’m not afraid to use it to protect what is mine,” she said.

  Kinsey laughed so hard that Finn caught Callie’s eye and raised an eyebrow. “Me and you could be friends, Callie Brewster. Let’s go get some punch. Anyone want to go with us?”

  “I wouldn’t cross the floor with that…” Honey’s mouth clamped shut.

  “I still haven’t had that rabies shot,” Callie said.

  Honey turned around and went back to her football feller who was sipping whiskey in the corner.

  Kinsey looped her arm in Callie’s. “Is your gun in that little red evening purse?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of taking Finn out in public without it, and before you ask, yes, it’s loaded. What good is a pistol with no bullets?” she answered.

  “Anyone tell you about the feuding history?” Kinsey changed the subject.

  “I’ve heard a little bit, but refresh my memory while we walk. I assume we’re going to the bar?”

  “No, darlin’. This is the Brennan party. We only get a little champagne at the dinner toast. Back in the beginning days of Burnt Boot, old Grampa Brennan was a preacher man.”

  “And?” Callie turned the tables.

  “And there’s someone I have to talk to over there. I hate to leave you alone, but I have to go. We’ll talk about the feud later,” Kinsey said.

  “I’ll introduce her,” Polly said right behind them. “Come on, let’s get some punch, Callie.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Callie said.

  “You can carry a pistol, but I carry a pint of high-grade Patrón. That tends to cut the sweet in that punch bowl and give it enough kick to get us through the evening,” she whispered. “I will say this for the Brennans. They throw a decent party and they serve up a mean steak that will melt in your mouth. If you weren’t involved with Finn, I’d tell you to make a play for Quaid Brennan or maybe Declan.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “About the men or the tequila?”

  “Both.”

  “Oh, yes. But you’re involved with Finn. His eyes have been on you ever since Kinsey stole you away. And I’m very serious about the tequila. Don’t you tell a living soul that I’m the one who brought in the liquor. Let them think it was a Gallagher who paid someone to bring it in. And if Mavis is serving ham tonight as well as steaks, be sure to partake of it. You can find a good steak anywhere between here and the coast, but Mavis grows her own hogs and has a couple of state-of-the-art smokehouses. Her ham is to die for.”

  Polly waited until no one was looking and dumped a whole bottle of tequila in the punch bowl. Then she dipped up two crystal cups full and handed one to Callie. She was right—it did cut the sweet and give the punch just enough kick.

  ***

  Finn was so damned glad when Declan picked up a small crystal bell and rang it that he could have shouted. He could move across the room to lace his fingers in Callie’s instead of talking about cows, crops, and weather. The other cowboys in the room hadn’t said a word about her, but they had sure enough stared their fill, and it was time they realized that she had come with him, and she’d damn sure be going home with him, too.

  “We’d like to thank all of you for attending our party this year. River Bend is fortunate to have had the best year ever, and we are glad you are here to share the good times with us. Merry Christmas! And now dinner is served,” he said.

  Double doors opened into a massive room filled with round tables covered with snowy white cloths waiting for the guests. A poinsettia sat in the center of each table, and wall candles filled the room with soft light.

  Several waiters lined the walls, and starting with Declan and his sister, Leah, they checked a chart in their hands and led the guests to their tables. Finn and Callie were seated near the middle at a table with Quaid Brennan and Kinsey, Polly and Gladys, and one other couple that Callie had never met.

  Kinsey made introductions. “This is our foreman and his wife. They’ve been with us for years.”

  Callie leaned in close to Kinsey’s ear and asked, “Why are you willing to sit at the table with me? You have to know about the thing with Honey.”

  “We invited Finn because he owns Salt Draw, and you are his plus one. And, honey, what you did to Betsy was far better than what you did to Honey,” Kinsey answered.

  Waiters came around with bottles of champagne and filled fluted stems so effortlessly that Callie didn’t realize her glass was full until Declan rang the bell again and stood up. “We’ll have our traditional Irish blessing to serve as grace tonight before the waiters bring our food. ‘The light of the Christmas star to you, the warmth of home and hearth to you, the cheer and goodwill of friends to you, the hope of a childlike heart to you, the joy of a thousand angels to you, the love of the Son and God’s peace to you.’”

  “Amen,” Gladys said loudly, and everyone in the room echoed it.

  Dinner started with a lovely potato soup, followed by a crisp salad, and then the entrée, which was the best steak Callie had ever eaten. The small dessert carts rolled around the room held cheesecakes of every kind and description, pecan pie with or without vanilla bean ice cream, pumpkin cake, and chocolate mousse. After that, coffee was served in china cups with the River Bend logo imprinted in gold on the side.

  Callie leaned over and whispered softly, “Think Wild Horse can outdo this?”

  Finn smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “I’d really rather be home eating fried chicken with the kids.”

  “But Verdie said we have to socialize.”

  “And we can’t argue with her. This reminds me of the officer’s ball over there. Remember?”

  “Honey, it wasn’t nearly this fancy, and the steaks weren’t this good either.”

  “Hey now. You wait until you taste my steak,” Finn said.

  “What makes it so special?”

  He didn’t give a damn if it was bad manners or not, he cupped his hand over her ear and said, “Because I will feed it to you with my fingers, and the only thing either of us will be wearing is a smile.”

  Crimson filled her cheeks, and he chuckled.

  ***

  “What did he just say to you?” Kinsey asked.

  “This place would catch on fire if I said the words out loud,” Callie answered.

  “Well, shit! I do like a cowboy who talks dirty. I might give you a run for your money even yet. I figure I can shoot as good as you can,” Kinsey said.

  “But can you outrun a bullet?” Callie asked.

  “I’d love for you to be in the Brennan family with your attitude.” Kinsey smiled. “Looks like it’s time to move back into the cattle pens while they take out the tables and get this room ready for dancing.”

  Finn pushed back his chair and pulled Callie’s back as she stood. Soft Christmas music played as he put
his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. “Good food. Beautiful woman by my side. Only thing that would make it better would be if we were alone and not in a crowd of people.”

  “Amen,” she said.

  The Brennans were efficient, because in fifteen minutes the big doors opened to a different room altogether. Small tables for four circled the room, leaving the shiny hardwood floor ready for dancing. Tables were covered in red-and-green plaid with a red jar candle flickering in the middle of each one. Longer tables had been set up on each side of the double doors with finger foods, cheese cubes, tiny bite-sized sweet tidbits, and a punch bowl on each. Polly winked when Callie caught her dumping another bottle of tequila in the punch bowl after it had been refilled.

  Good grief! Callie thought. Where is she hiding that much liquor anyway? She must have brought one hell of a big purse in here.

  The band’s guitar player struck a chord. The lead singer stepped up to the microphone and, with only the guitar behind her, started singing “White Christmas.”

  Finn waited for the first Brennans to take the floor before he picked up Callie’s hand and asked, “May I have this dance, Miz Callie?”

  She stepped into his arms, and instant heat flowed through her veins as one hand possessively rested on her lower back and one loosely held her hand. The fabric of his black Western-cut jacket kept her from feeling the muscles in his shoulder, but his heart kept time with hers, and his eyes were glued to hers.

  The candlelight flickered in his crystal-clear blue eyes rimmed by the blackest lashes she’d ever seen on a man. She was wallowing in them when suddenly he twirled her out and then brought her back in a move that sent her arms around his neck, and both of his hands came to rest a little lower than the small of her back.

  “I’m wondering how this dress would hold up in a hayloft,” she said.

  “I’m glad I’m wearing a jacket, or everyone in this place would know I’m about to bust out my zipper,” he whispered.

  “We can’t leave yet, can we?” she asked.

  “Playdate isn’t over until midnight,” he said.

  “Then we’d best dance with other people so we don’t catch the place on fire.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to dance with you.”

  “Jealous?” she asked.

  “Hell yes.”

  Quaid Brennan tapped Finn on the shoulder and said, “May I cut in?”

  The minute that Finn stepped back, Honey looped her arms around his neck, and just like that, they’d changed partners.

  “You are beautiful tonight, Miz Callie. I’m going to cut to the chase without the flirting because this song is about to end. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?” Quaid was pretty with his blond hair, green eyes, and chiseled, ruggedly handsome face, but he wasn’t Finn O’Donnell.

  “Thank you but no thank you.”

  “Are you and Finn more than boss and hired hand?”

  “You might say that.”

  “My ranch is bigger than his,” Quaid teased.

  “It’s not the size of the ranch, darlin’. It’s the heart that runs it,” she answered.

  The song ended and Quaid was quickly replaced by another cowboy. “May I have this dance, ma’am? I’ve been watching you from across the room, and you float like an angel with your feet not even touching the floor.”

  He pulled her in for a two-step as the male singer started a traditional tune from Alabama called “Christmas in Dixie.”

  He was Quaid’s opposite with a crop of jet-black hair that looked like he’d just crawled out of bed, brown eyes rimmed with black lashes, and heavy brows. Put him in a three-piece suit and Hollywood could make him into a member of the Italian mob.

  “I’m Cam Brennan, and I’d be honored if you’d come to dinner here at the ranch after church this Sunday,” he said.

  “Thank you, Cam, but I’ve got four kids at home that I’m responsible for. I don’t think I’ve ever known a Cam before,” she said.

  “Mama liked Cameron, but Daddy shortened it,” he said. “You sure I can’t change your mind about dinner? How would it be if I challenge Finn to a duel and whoever is left standing gets to have your company on Sunday?” he said.

  “Finn O’Donnell was a sniper for the army. That’s classified, so don’t go tellin’ anyone. I only know because I was his spotter. We’re both pretty good with firearms, so my advice, Mr. Cam Brennan, is that you don’t mess with either of us.” She smiled sweetly.

  “I like a feisty woman. If you ever decide to get out of a puddle and go swimmin’ in the ocean, come on over to River Bend. I’ll give you a job doin’ anything you want. Hell, you can just sit on the porch and look pretty, and I’ll pay you double whatever Finn is giving you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Callie said as the song ended.

  Chapter 23

  The clock on the pickup dashboard read twelve ten when Callie buckled her seat belt. She was irritable because she’d seen far too many women staring up into Finn’s pretty blue eyes all evening, and she had only gotten the first dance, the last one, and part of one in the middle of the evening with him.

  “Tired?” He started the engine and drove down the long lane toward the road.

  “To the bone. I’m glad the kids are home tomorrow. The boys can help you feed in the morning. And I’m damn glad that it’s Saturday, so we don’t have a workout. Are you aware that I haven’t had any target practice since I got here, though?”

  “Then we’ll set up some targets in the barn tomorrow and do some shooting. You feelin’ like you might need to shoot something?” Finn asked.

  “A whole bunch of somethings. If I took out one of the families, then there couldn’t be a feud, could there?”

  “I was thinking that I’d stay in bed until about ten o’clock, you’d take care of chores, and then we could go play army until noon.”

  “You’re the boss,” she smarted off.

  “Hey, I was teasing. What’s got a burr under your saddle? I thought the evening went fine, except I didn’t like all those cowboys dancing with you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned back, and shut her eyes. “Then why didn’t you dance with me more?”

  “It’s called being polite. Shit!”

  He hit the brakes, and the truck went into a long, greasy sideways slide.

  “What?” She grabbed at the dashboard.

  “Those fools. Don’t they know that a pup will freeze in this kind of weather?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Someone just tossed a puppy out the door of a car and then drove away. I almost rear-ended their car before I could get stopped on that slick snow and ice,” he said.

  For a split second she could see the red taillights disappearing down the road, but then the new falling snow covered them completely.

  “How far back?” she asked.

  “It’s snowing like hell, and I might have run over the dog before I even saw him.”

  “Then I’ll walk back until I find him. I won’t let a little puppy freeze to death,” she said.

  “In that getup? You’ll ruin your shoes and your dress and catch pneumonia to boot,” he said.

  “We are going back to get that dog,” she said. She’d have nightmares if she left a poor defenseless puppy out there in six inches of snow with the promise of another two inches before morning.

  “Bossy after dancing with all those big important ranchers, aren’t you?” He put the truck in reverse and backed up slowly. “If I run over that dog and kill it, I don’t want a single tear or whimper out of you.”

  Her forefinger came up in a blur. “You kill that dog, and I’ll sling snot all over this truck and there won’t be a damn thing you can do about it.”

  ***

  If the pup hadn’t had a black spot on its head and if it hadn’t been huddled down close to the side of the road, Finn would have never seen it. He braked, slid a few feet, and opened the door to find not one but two bu
ndles of white fur whimpering in the snow. He reached down without getting out of the truck, picked up one by the scruff of the neck, and set it down behind Callie’s seat.

  “See, that didn’t kill you, did it?” Callie said.

  He started for the second one and the critter ran. White dog. White snow. Woman who was turned around in the seat talking baby talk to the puppy hunkered down in the floorboard of the backseat. He could shut the door and go and no one would be the wiser, but he couldn’t leave that puppy out there to freeze.

  He engaged the parking brake and crawled out of the truck.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Keeping you from slinging snot,” he said gruffly.

  Stepping out in the blinding snow, he caught a movement to his right. He whistled and the pup whined but kept backing down into the ditch. The ground was uneven and slick with several inches of snow on top of a thick layer of ice. One second Finn was bending to catch the dog; the next he was sprawled out on his stomach, snow in his nose, his mouth, and down the front of his shirt. But, by damn, he had that critter by the leg.

  “Finn! What is going on?” Callie yelled.

  He came up with the wet dog and carefully carried it back to the truck. “There were two of them, and this one is shy. I had to run her down.”

  “My God, Finn, are you all right?”

  He put the whining pup on the back floorboard, crawled into the driver’s seat, and started home. “Are you happy now?”

  “Coming from the man who takes in strays more often than I do,” she said.

  “They are not living in the house. We will put them in the barn. They’ll be big dogs, and we’ve got enough animals in the house.” His focus was straight ahead. If he looked at her and she cried, he’d give in, and this was one fight he didn’t intend to lose.

  “Yes, sir, boss man. I was going to suggest the same thing. I believe they’ve got some Great Pyrenees in them, so they’ll get big quick. But they’ll be great cattle dogs,” she said. “I can’t wait until the kids see them. I’m glad there are two. One would be lonely.”

  Her tone had changed, but Finn wasn’t ready to make up, not yet. He hadn’t liked the way she’d flirted with all those Brennan cowboys, and he damn sure hadn’t liked the way they had looked at her.