Cowgirl Next Door (Sutter's Hollow Book 3)

by Lacy Williams

  It was Noah's voice that had captured her.

  Or was she captured by the man, and hearing his voice for hours had only tightened the net?

  She didn't know.

  And either way, being so attracted to him was making her nervous. And she really didn't want him to know that.

  "I'm a little thirsty,” Ann asked. “Does anyone else need a drink of water?"

  "Honey Bear likes to drink from the faucet." PJ followed Noah's mom into the kitchen, still talking.

  Lindsey followed more slowly, hanging back in the doorway. Casey remained on the floor, now stroking the kitten gently from head to tail.

  "Noah. What's all this?" Ann called out.

  From beside her, the man winced. Color crept up from the neck of his sweatshirt.

  "What?" Jilly couldn't help but ask.

  Lindsey backed away from the doorway, and Ann poked her head through.

  "Were you going to make Christmas cookies?" the older woman asked.

  "I was thinking about it," he mumbled.

  He was?

  Jilly's surprise must've matched what his mom felt, because the women shared an identical raised-brows glance.

  He scowled as if he knew they'd done it. "You told me I needed more Christmas spirit." He turned on Jilly with the accusation.

  She couldn't help smiling at his consternation. So she had.

  "I guess I don't have to bring out the reindeer antler headband I bought you," she said.

  His lips twitched. "You wouldn't dare."

  "Don't tempt me, bud. It has jingle bells. Honey Bear would love it."

  Ann turned to Lindsey. "Do you want to make Christmas cookies?"

  "Meow."

  Oh no.

  Jilly had hoped they'd put the regression on the day of her birthday party behind them. And now Lindsey was back to her kitty persona.

  Was everyone as thrown off by Noah's mom as Jilly was?

  She was on her toes, about to go to the girl and explain her behavior to Ann, when Noah stopped her with a hand at her wrist.

  "Give her a chance," he said under his breath.

  Give who a chance? Lindsey? His mom?

  This whole thing might be a disaster.

  * * *

  Hours later, Noah walked side-by-side with Jilly down the old cow path behind his house. He had his cane in hand.

  "Your mom is kind of amazing," Jilly said.

  "I know." And so are you. The words stuck in his throat.

  He and Jilly walked through a copse of woods. The trees were mostly bare of leaves at this time of year, their branches creaking in the breeze.

  If they followed the path even farther, they'd reach the little pond over a slight rise. The rancher who'd owned the land before Noah had used the pond to water his cattle. It was spring-fed, a little jewel tucked back on the property. Noah had spent many hours fishing there.

  Might be a fun activity for the kids next summer.

  Or maybe he had no business thinking of next summer.

  He was flying high after spending the day with Mom and Jilly and her crew. When he'd hatched the plan to bake cookies, he'd never imagined things going this well. His mom had wrangled everyone into the kitchen and given each kid a task to be responsible for. He and Jilly had mostly watched, offering help when it was needed. Somehow, they all managed to get covered in sugar and frosting.

  Afterward, his mom had talked them into watching the Grinch movie, a newer animated version from the one he remembered from his childhood. The children had giggled at the Grinch's antics, but it was the deeper message that had resonated with Noah. If the Grinch could find happiness, did Noah have a chance?

  When Jilly had made noises about taking the kids home for dinner, his mom had insisted on springing for pizza. And after the pizza, Mom had nudged Noah and Jilly out the back door, making up a flimsy excuse that Noah looked like he needed some air. No doubt the kids were consuming their weight in Christmas cookies, but if it gave him a few minutes alone with the woman he was falling for, he couldn't find it in himself to care. Hopefully Jilly would feel the same when she had to tuck the sugared-up kids into bed.

  "When did she move away?" Jilly asked.

  Jilly had been quiet this afternoon. He wondered if his mom made her uncomfortable, but the Jilly he knew wasn’t shy about sharing. Maybe something else was going on.

  "She moved away about three years ago,” he said. “She lives in Galveston with my stepdad."

  "It must be hard to be so far away from her."

  "I learned to dress myself pretty well. And having Aiden working with me helps."

  "Oh, no. No, I wasn't talking about that. I meant, it must be so hard not to be able to spend time with her every day."

  He hadn't given a thought to the fact that Jilly interacting with his mom might make her loss more acute. He grabbed her hand. "I didn't even think—I'm sorry if having her here today has been difficult for you."

  "I am... okay."

  At least she hadn't said fine. She leaned a little closer as they walked, and her shoulder bumped his arm. Intentional?

  "Some days are harder than others,” she said. “This season is... Well, Christmas was one of her favorite times of year."

  He couldn't remember whether his dad had liked Christmas. It had been too long, and his memories of his dad were tainted by grief and shame.

  "What was her favorite part of Christmas?" he asked.

  He could hear the smile in Jilly’s voice, even though her tone reflected sadness. "She loved decorating the tree. She had this whole method, including a certain CD she would play, a really awful Kenny G instrumental one. She always made my dad get the tree set up in its stand and help her string the lights at the top of the tree. He usually ducked out after that." Her voice went slightly bitter when she spoke of her dad. "She would bring out these boxes of ornaments. A lot of them were handmade by Iris and me or had a special memory for her. She had this one that was from my great-great-grandpa. A hand-me-down silver-and-white angel."

  "Do you still have it?"

  "No." Her breath caught a little. "I think it might be in a box in Iris's attic. We didn't do the tree that first year after Mom died. And I'm not sure whether Iris has been back up to see what's there."

  "You should ask her if you can look for it. Wouldn't she want you to have it?"

  He only felt it because their hands were connected, but tension coursed through her, a minuscule tightening of her muscles.

  "I'm not sure that's a great idea right now."

  Why not? Jilly was usually so open. He waited to see if she would mention what was bothering her.

  "Is it... because of me?" Iris hadn't sounded happy when she'd come upon them playing flag football.

  She sighed softly. "It's about me. They haven't told anybody except their closest circle, but my sister and Callum are having a baby."

  The words hit somewhere deep inside of him, a pain he'd buried for a very long time. He swallowed hard and squeezed her hand, not sure what he should say.

  "It's complicated. I'm happy for her. And I know I shouldn't be jealous"—her voice turned soft—"but I am."

  Jilly was jealous about Iris's pregnancy? He didn't get it.

  She continued before he had a chance to ask. "I didn't have the capacity to think about it while I was going through the treatments. All I could think was that the same cancer had taken Mom. What if I didn't make it? For a while, I was just relieved to have beaten it. Mom hadn't, but I was still here. But then... I started grieving for the things I lost."

  She was trembling a little now. He didn't know if it was from the cold or from sharing her grief with him. He stopped walking and pulled her in close. She folded into his arms, and just like every other time, they fit.

  Her chin moved against his shoulder when she spoke again. "I can't have kids. The treatments made me infertile."

  Oh, Jilly.

  "I'm sorry." He whispered the words in the hair above her ear. Words that were so inad
equate. It was like the trite things everyone had said to him after the accident. He knew there was nothing he—or anyone else—could say to make this right for her.

  Jilly loved Lindsey and PJ and Casey. She would've loved a child of her own.

  It must be terrible to watch her sister go through something she wanted so badly. Iris was getting everything that Jilly had dreamed about.

  She laughed a little, and the sound was soggy. "It's silly, right? I'm not even much of a mom. I've made so many mistakes with Casey and PJ and Lindsey. "

  "Are you kidding me?" This was one thing he could set her straight on. "You've done amazing things with those kids. Better than I would. Better than probably anybody else. You drive them to their activities and therapy. You cook and clean for them. And when things get rough, they know you love them."

  She hugged him tighter, saying nothing.

  They stayed like that, tucked together. Somehow sharing her grief relieved some of his. Was this what it was like to have a true partner?

  For all the times he felt like he was floundering on this friendship, it was changing his life. Today, he had hoped to keep Jilly and the kids at his place for an hour. It had turned into an all-day affair and, by far, been one of the best days of his life.

  But tomorrow, it was back to business as usual. He'd only have Jilly in snatches. It was way more than he deserved.

  Could he be happy with that, now that he had a taste of something more?

  16

  "What's a good gift for a woman?"

  On the other end of the phone line, Aiden did not immediately respond to Noah's blurted question.

  His face went hot, but they were now ten days out from Christmas, and he needed to know.

  And Noah didn't have any friends—other than Jilly—to ask for advice.

  "I guess it depends on who she is to you," Aiden said slowly. "Is she a business acquaintance? A friend?" He cleared his throat. "Something more?"

  Wouldn't Noah like to know.

  Since last weekend when his mom had visited, things had changed. It'd been a subtle change, but it was there. Jilly and the kids still came over faithfully once a day to see Honey Bear. Jilly always greeted him warmly and made conversation.

  Between visits, he found himself texting her frequently. Mostly in response to her texts, though he’d initiated several conversations.

  And at night...

  He'd been the one to start it. That first night, Mom had been getting ready for bed, and he'd called Jilly to make sure she and the kids had gotten home safely.

  A crock of an excuse, considering she lived so close. He'd wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice one more time.

  She hadn't called him on his baloney, and they'd stayed up talking long after the light under his mom's door had gone out.

  Noah was addicted. He couldn't get enough of Jilly.

  Which was... not good.

  He didn't want to want her this much. So much that he constantly wondered what she was doing. That he ached for the smallest touch of her hand. That he just wanted to be near her, in her presence.

  He needed to keep her friendship, but he wanted so much more.

  So no, Aiden. He didn't know what to call her.

  "It's for Jilly," he admitted in a rush. "I—I don't even know if we'll see each other on Christmas, but I want to get her something."

  "Do you want me to order a flower bouquet?"

  "No. Not flowers." Flowers were romantic, maybe, but they wilted too quickly. He wanted something that would last.

  "Something for her house? The other day she said she was still doing repairs."

  He shook his head even as jealousy spiraled through him. When had Aiden talked to Jilly?

  It wasn't any of his business. He knew it was probably nothing. Aiden was too young for her, even though they'd joked about it once.

  But knowing that couldn't contain the hot emotion rolling through him.

  "What about a kitten or puppy?” Aiden suggested. “The children would like that."

  He shook his head again. "It would add more work for her." He wanted something he could be sure she'd appreciate. "I'll think of something." He needed a subject change. "Any word from Ms. McDane's agent about the contract revisions we asked for?"

  "Nothing yet."

  He wanted to get this thing wrapped.

  His cell phone chimed a text message, and his heart leapt when he saw it was from Jilly.

  "Let's take a break," he told Aiden. Now his concentration was completely shot. "Why don't you get some lunch, and we'll reconnect in a half hour?"

  Aiden agreed and rang off. He probably thought Noah was crazy. Noah made a mental note to send him a big Christmas bonus.

  It was crazy. Crazy that his voice was shaking as used voice commands to pull up Jilly's text.

  Is there anything worse than waiting to go into the principal's office?

  He winced, compassion for her spiking. What happened? PJ or Casey?

  There was a slight delay, then, Lindsey, actually. She had a meltdown in class and tore up another little girl's painting. And called the teacher a word I won't repeat when the woman tried to calm her down.

  What? Lindsey was still quiet and sometimes reserved, as if she was holding part of herself back. He'd never witnessed her lose her temper.

  What happened to provoke her?

  I don't know, Jilly typed. I guess I'm going to find out.

  She sounded calm and collected, but this was only a text message. He knew she cared about Lindsey and must be upset.

  He hesitated for several seconds. And then took the plunge.

  Do you want me to come up there? he sent.

  Not necessary.

  That had been quick.

  She was probably right. It would take a car service too long to pick him up and the school was in town, miles away. By the time he arrived, Jilly's meeting with the principal would be over.

  Her quick dismissal still cut somehow.

  He set the phone on the desk in front of him. Wiped his hands down his jean-clad thighs.

  His phone chimed with another message, and he almost knocked it off the desk, he reached for it so quickly.

  I was thinking of taking the kids to Sutter's Park tonight. See the light displays. Want to come with us?

  His mom had mentioned it in passing when she'd been in town. During the Christmas season, the town created a walk-through lights display around the walking trail at the town's only recreational park. People raved about it. Apparently, there were millions of twinkle lights in different designs.

  A second text from Jilly fired through quickly. That was stupid. I wasn't thinking. Of course you don't want to come. Ignore.

  He typed out a reassuring message, but then erased it.

  She was giving him an out.

  It didn't offend him that she'd invited him along to an activity that was geared toward sighted people. He'd spend his night anticipating the little catch in her breath as the beauty of what she was looking at dawned on her. The kids might run ahead and then he'd hold her hand...

  But he still hesitated.

  Did he want to spend the evening with Jilly and the kids? Yes.

  Did he think maybe his heart was over the line into the danger zone of getting too attached? Also yes.

  Should he stay home, allow for some distance so that maybe he could keep from getting pulverized...?

  * * *

  Jilly really wished she could stop shivering.

  "Are you cold?" Noah asked.

  "How'd you know?" she asked lightly, playing it off. They were standing close, not quite touching. She'd been trying to hide the fact that she was cold to the bone ever since they'd gotten out of the car.

  Some bright idea she'd had.

  Several yards up the walking trail, PJ and Casey were mugging underneath a giant arch of lights in the shape of a gift box with a bow on top. Lindsey was taking their picture with her birthday camera.

  "Every time you shiver, you
r breath... I don't know. It's like you hold your breath or something."

  She nudged his shoe with hers. "I didn't know you were paying such close attention."

  There were places in the park so brightly lit it was like daytime. This was not one of them. In the dim light, she couldn't tell if he was blushing, but he looked away, his expression reading slightly embarrassed.

  "It's my own fault," she said. "I forgot my scarf at home." And she should've worn two pairs of long underwear. Or checked the weather to see that a cold front was blowing in tonight. After ten minutes in the bitter temperatures, she'd unobtrusively checked the weather app on her phone only to find the weatherman was calling for a snowstorm overnight.

  Radar could be wrong, and the storm might pass them by, but the cold front certainly hadn't.

  "I read online that there's a hot chocolate stand around here somewhere," he said.

  "On the other side of the park." She'd memorized its location, but it wasn't any use to her right now.

  "Ah." Noah unzipped his coat and began shrugging it off.

  "What are you doing?" she cried softly. "I'm not taking your coat."

  "I've got on two sweatshirts," he argued. "You need it more than I do."

  He was a master at juggling his cane while he slipped out of the coat and then he swung it around her shoulders, stepping even closer so that she felt a brush of the heat from his body.

  The coat enclosed her in his heat and scent, and she burrowed in, sliding her arms into the sleeves as he fumbled with the zipper.

  "Are the kids watching us?" he asked.

  Kids? What kids?

  She could hear their excited chatter—totally unfazed by the cold—and raised up on tiptoe to see them over Noah's shoulder. They were chasing each other around the light artwork in a figure eight pattern.

  "They're not paying attention," she said.

  And he slipped his hands under the edges of his coat, gripping her hips.

  He pulled her a half-step closer, and his lips descended on hers.

  His lips were cool, but his touch heated her from the inside.