All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

  “I know, but we’ll need something for tomorrow if we can’t hike out of here today.”

  Why did she get the strangest feeling he didn’t want to be here while they decorated the tree? It was absurd, she knew. “Go ahead. Can’t wait to hear what you think about our chances of hiking out of here sooner rather than later.”

  He nodded and left, and she found herself staring after him, feeling a little sad. Which was silly. She’d just met him, had no idea what his hang-ups were or, really, what kind of person he was. That was the point of dating, to find out. And that made her smile.

  She and Nate had a lovely Christmas Eve morning. They found scissors and medical tape in a first aid kit, so they cut newspaper to form rings, and taped them together in a long line of garland that they wrapped around the tree. She felt a little guilty depleting medical supplies, so she used as little tape as possible. They took the metal lids from the cans, punched a hole through with a tool they found in the shed, then used the newspaper string to hang them up on the tree.

  “Oh, I wish we had popcorn and thread,” Sandy said, as they stepped back to admire their tree. The lids occasionally caught the firelight and seemed to glitter, which made her happy.

  “Popcorn to eat?” Nate asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

  “No, when I was a girl, we used a needle and a long piece of thread to string the popcorn in a line. Sometimes we put cranberries on it, too. Then we’d hang it up like we just did the paper garland. It was the way they decorated trees back in the prairie days, when you couldn’t go to the store for decorations, or you didn’t have glue and construction paper to make your own.”

  “We had pinecones on our tree last year. They’re gold!”

  She laughed and put her arm around his shoulders. “We sprayed them to look pretty for Christmas. I made those with my mom.”

  “You and me glued Popsicle sticks together and put glitter on them.”

  “That’s right—we’ll get them out when we get home.”

  She heard a movement and turned around, seeing Doug standing there motionless, the door already closed. And she hadn’t heard a thing.

  Nate ran to him. “Mr. Thalberg, what do you think of our tree?”

  Doug smiled down at him. “Mr. Thalberg is my dad. You can call me Doug.”

  Then he looked at the tree, and Sandy didn’t think the smile quite reached his eyes. In fact, he looked a little bit sad, and she found she couldn’t be annoyed with him anymore. Something was wrong.

  “You did a very creative job,” he said to Nate. “I never would have thought of the can lids.”

  “That was Mom’s idea.”

  Doug nodded to her, and she gave him a faint smile. His look lasted a little too long, and she found that although she might be curious about his feelings toward Christmas, it didn’t stop her body from feeling all warm and aware whenever their gazes met.

  They all took a break for lunch, sitting at the little wooden table, Sandy and Nate in the chairs, Doug on the stool. This time, he insisted on the two of them using the spoons, and he’d just “drink” from his bowl.

  As they dug into the chili, Doug looked up at her. “You know I work on a ranch, but I never asked what you do for a living.”

  She tried not to wince, all her feelings of inadequacy flooding back. Taking a deep breath, she smiled briefly at Nate before meeting Doug’s eyes. “I never finished college the first time, so I’m going back to school.”

  “She’s going to be a teacher,” Nate said. “I think she’ll be good.”

  Sandy ruffled his hair, and he ducked away. “I work part-time, too, waitressing at Carmina’s Cucina. My sister and brother-in-law really make all this possible.”

  “We live over their garage,” Nate confided. “Uncle Tom calls it the tree house.”

  Sandy couldn’t meet Doug’s eyes. It sounded as if she was on her last legs, like she couldn’t support her son without help. She knew Marilyn and Tom were glad to help any way they could; she knew she’d have her degree in another year and a half, but . . . there were times when it all seemed overwhelming.

  When she couldn’t even give her kid a regular Christmas.

  Then she felt Doug rest his hand gently on hers. Nate was so busy slurping his chili that he didn’t notice. So she let Doug give her warmth and understanding, everything she read in his gray eyes. She didn’t have to say any of her doubts aloud—he just seemed to know and understand.

  But after lunch, when she and Nate made plans to head outside and look for ways to decorate the cabin, Doug didn’t come with them. Some moments she felt they connected to their very souls, but then the next, his motivations baffled her.

  Chapter Five

  DOUG HAD FOUND instant coffee in a tin, and now he boiled another pot of water and stood at the window to watch Sandy and her son. He knew he should have gone with them, knew she was disappointed in him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

  But . . . he just couldn’t join in the Christmas spirit, and didn’t want to risk bringing Nate down.

  They were using the saw to cut pine tree boughs, and he knew soon the mantel would have more decorations. Sandy’s expressive face was amazing, laughing at her son, showing him determination and the ability to take a bad situation and make memories the boy would never forget.

  He thought she was a wonderful mother, compassionate, hardworking—and sexy as hell. If you could fall in love on first sight—or first date—then he already had.

  Her husband had left her, she lived in a tiny apartment, held down a job and went to school. She didn’t resent Nate or her life, only had plans to make it the best it could be for him. Whatever he thought of Christmas, he had to think of a way to help Sandy make it good for her boy.

  Hours later, they came back inside, laughing about the three snowmen they’d made—couldn’t he tell it was a nativity scene? they teased. He found himself chopping pine boughs to make them fit on the mantel and using his finger to hold a paper snowflake in place on the window while Nate laboriously ripped a tiny piece of medical tape.

  “We need to save most of it for emergencies,” the little boy confided.

  Doug glanced at Sandy, who winced and shrugged as if in apology. He laughed.

  Doug even managed to come up with his own brilliant idea, dying gauze red with iodine and taping the pieces together to form a makeshift stocking for the mantel. He warmed up dinner while the two of them worked on the project.

  At dinner, Nate seemed a little more subdued.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Sandy asked. “Tired?”

  “Well . . . we’ve had fun decorating for Christmas, I know, but . . . Santa really won’t come here, right?”

  She sighed. “He thinks we’re at home, honey. We can’t tell him at the last minute that things changed. But do you remember what they said in Religious Ed. about Christmas? What the first Christmas was about?”

  “Jesus being born in a manger.”

  “Right! How about if we sit around the fire after dinner and tell the story of the first Christmas.” She hesitated and glanced at Doug. “Maybe we can even act out the parts for Doug.”

  Nate’s shoulders lifted and he gave Doug an enthusiastic grin. “That sounds like fun!”

  So for the next hour, they huddled in a corner making plans, and then Doug was treated to an off-the-cuff version of Joseph and Mary’s journey to the inn at Bethlehem, and what happened next. Sandy played Mary, of course, but to Doug’s delight, she played several animals, too, mainly the cow, who kept lowing and waking poor baby Jesus—who could talk, when performed by Nate.

  At last the little boy fell asleep in his blanket, looking up at his Christmas tree, wearing a smile.

  Sandy collapsed exhausted onto a chair near the fire, after the craziest Christmas Eve of her life. Throughout the performance, she’d kept glancing at Doug, hoping he didn’t think her an utter fool. He’d seemed to enjoy their play. He was so patient with Nate, never minding his questions or h
is intrusions. Other men might be bored silly trapped with a five-year-old, but not Doug. He’d even warmed up to the decorating through the day, helping out even though she sensed he might still be reluctant.

  When they were side by side before the fire, they looked at each other, smiling. And suddenly, the memories of how they’d spent the end of last evening were there between them. She wanted to kiss him again—and maybe she wanted more.

  That was a little frightening, so she decided to find something to talk about. And maybe, since she was feeling so drawn to him, she’d be brave.

  “Doug, I have a question, and if it’s too personal, you just tell me.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “That sounds ominous. But go ahead and ask.”

  “Why are you so sad about Christmas? Even though you seem to have strong feelings about it, you still helped us decorate this afternoon. Nate and I both appreciated it. But still, I knew you were at least . . . ambivalent.”

  His sigh lifted his chest, and he looked away from her toward the embers of the fire. “I don’t know how it’ll sound to say it out loud, but I’ve been dreading Christmas, dreading the false happiness, dreading celebrating when I saw nothin’ in the future to celebrate.”

  She inhaled softly, trying not to show how startled she was. “But I don’t understand. Your dad doesn’t have long to live, right?”

  “Yeah, and believe me, I spend every moment with him that I can. I would enjoy Christmas with him, if that’s all there was. But his illness changed everythin’ in our family.”

  For the first time, Sandy felt a shock of understanding, of sadness. Her MS had driven away her husband, Nate’s father, and put them in terrible financial difficulties when he ran up her credit cards. And much as she knew it wasn’t her fault, that her ex-husband was a bastard whose true personality would have eventually been revealed another way, she still felt the sadness of her life having been changed.

  “Talk to me, Doug,” she said softly. “You shouldn’t keep things like that inside.”

  He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he’d shut her out again, but suddenly he started talking as if he’d had no one to unburden himself to before now. Before her.

  “When we began to see how really sick Dad was, how much the runnin’ of the ranch was down to just Brett and me, it was as if somethin’ inside Brett was set free. His unhappiness with the ranch, how he was sick of worryin’ about the future when small ranches just can’t be all that profitable anymore. He’s gonna leave, I know he is.”

  And then he turned somber eyes on Sandy.

  “It’ll all be on me, the runnin’ of the ranch, seein’ to my mother’s future—to the family’s future. I don’t mind hard work, but Sandy, what if I’m not good enough? What if I just can’t make it work, when so many of my ancestors did?”

  Her heart broke for him, but she gave him an earnest smile and reached for his hand. She was worried he might pull away in his despair, but he didn’t.

  “Doug, just the fact that you’re worried, that you’re so conscientious, means you’ll do everything you can to make the Silver Creek Ranch profitable again. That’s all your parents ask of you. Knowing you, I’m positive your father trusts he’s leaving the ranch in good hands. Just having you as a son must make his last months peaceful. You’re the one assuming the worst, focusing on the worst.”

  He stared at her as if he hadn’t seen it that way, had been so preoccupied with what could happen.

  “You can’t do that—and believe me, I’ve learned the hard way. I’ve been luckier than you in a sense, because I have Nate. He makes me think about him rather than myself. Otherwise I sometimes think I’d obsess on all I can’t change.”

  He squeezed her hand and released her. “You’re too young to be so wise.”

  She chuckled. “I’m just experienced—and now I’ll shut up, because that sounds bad.”

  It was his turn to chuckle. Returning her gaze to the fire again, she felt more peaceful than she had all day. He was a man struggling with great responsibilities—the death of his father, maybe the future absence of his brother, a family tradition all focused on him. But she had no fear that he wouldn’t succeed. He was the sort of man who believed in holding himself to a higher standard than anyone else—he was a man worth getting to know better.

  “So how did our second date go?” she asked playfully.

  He groaned and rolled his eyes. “I gotta admit—you have cause for complaint. I haven’t been the best company today.”

  “That’s my call to make, not yours. I suggest you let me sleep on my response.”

  He smiled. “It’s been a long, tirin’ day for you. I had no idea kids took so much work.”

  “But it’s worth every minute,” she said, looking down at her son.

  And then she realized he was lying on the edge of the fire’s warmth, as close to his Christmas tree as he could get.

  “Can you help me slide him over, Doug?”

  “Do you need him to be between us?”

  She met his amused gaze and sighed. “I don’t remember the last time I blushed, and you’re making me do that way too much.”

  “I’ll take it as a good sign. Let the boy have that first sight of his tree on Christmas morning. I’ll be a gentleman.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Maybe I’m worried I’m not much of a lady.”

  Their gazes met, their amusement died and was replaced by yearning so powerful she was nearly breathless with it. By the time they readied for bed and each lay down, she was vibrating with a tension that felt amazing and wonderful and frightening all at the same time. Doug lay a foot behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, hear the depth of his breathing, and she’d never felt so safe.

  And apparently, she’d never been so comfortable, either, because in the middle of the night, she’d distanced herself from Nate and snuggled right up against Doug, her backside into his hips, her back to his chest. Half awake, she realized what she’d done, then stiffened right up. Doug’s arm came down around her waist.

  Into her hair, he breathed, “Relax, it’s okay.”

  She shuddered and let herself go limp, one muscle at a time. His arm was a pleasurable heavy weight, his body so warm molded to hers.

  “I have to add more wood to the fire,” he said. “Can I come back to this? It’s like my own little Christmas present.”

  Smiling, she hesitated. “Can we make sure to separate before Nate sees us?”

  “I promise.” He spoke with all the solemnity of a witness in court.

  On a happy sigh, she said, “Okay.”

  And when he returned, filling in the coldness behind her, it was like she’d let him into more than her sleeping space—she knew she’d let him into her life.

  ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, Sandy awoke with a start as Nate said, “Mom, look!”

  She came up on her elbow and realized Doug was at least two feet behind her. She glanced at him over her shoulder, but all she got was an extremely innocent smile.

  “Honey, what is it?” she asked Nate.

  “There’s a present under the tree! Did Santa find us?”

  She sat up and shot another look at Doug, who said, “Nope, your mom was right about Santa, Nate. I’m sure you have lots of gifts at home. That’s from me.”

  She felt a shock of surprise and tenderness, and she started to blink rapidly, so her son wouldn’t see her cry.

  Nate gaped at Doug. “You got me something?”

  “I made you something, like they did in the old days when they didn’t have stores.”

  “Can I open it, Mom?”

  “Of course,” she said quietly, but she couldn’t stop looking at Doug, hoping her gaze showed her gratitude. He kind of ducked his head, and she almost thought he reddened. Her cowboy—blushing? Naw, as he’d put it.

  Doug had wrapped the little gift in newspaper and tied it with a string bow. It opened up easily in Nate’s hands to reveal a tiny carved figure, a bit crude, but there was no mistaking i
t, with that little Stetson on its head, and a lariat dangling from its hand.

  “When did you have time for this?” Sandy asked, amazed.

  “While you were outside yesterday.”

  “It’s a cowboy!” Nate said. “Just like you, Doug.”

  Sitting cross-legged before the hearth, Doug smiled indulgently. “Well, I wanted you to remember the time you were trapped at Christmas with a cowboy.”

  “I like it! Maybe you can teach me to be a cowboy, too.”

  Sandy felt her own blush heat when Doug shot her a look.

  “Sure thing,” he said in that slow, sexy drawl.

  DOUG WAS FEELING mighty happy as Christmas morning went on, making him whistle Christmas songs, and Nate was playing a guessing game naming them. The boy liked his gift—and so did Sandy. Doug kept getting blushes and secret smiles, and it was about all he could do not to swing her into his arms and kiss her. He was constantly trying to plan the best fourth date—since today was their third—and kept changing his mind.

  They celebrated Christmas dinner at midday, because Doug had resolved to hike out of there and go for help. He knew where he was, after all. It was just a matter of slogging through the snow.

  It was a special meal, even without enough bowls and plates for everyone. Sandy had found a canned ham the first day, and had saved it just in case. So their Christmas dinner was overflowing with rabbit and ham, several canned vegetables and fruit, and there was much laughter as they played a game of creating new reindeer names.

  Afterward, Doug decided he wanted to replace more firewood next to the hearth, just in case he was delayed returning. He wanted Sandy and Nate to be warm at least through tomorrow.

  “Can I come?” Nate asked.

  “Sure,” he said, even though there was a delay as Nate put his cowboy in the center of the table and got into his snowsuit.

  At the wood bin around back, Doug put a couple small logs into Nate’s outstretched arms, and then even more into his own. He turned, forgetting Nate would be practically underfoot, and ended up staggering sideways to avoid him and dropping several of his logs.