A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

HANK WAS OUT THE DOOR a few minutes later.

  Ally paced the room. The tree that had seemed so festive moments earlier appeared flat and unexciting now.

  She guessed the old saying was right—beauty was in the eye of the beholder. The question was, how did Hank see Lulu? As his savior?

  Ally didn’t have a big bank account. If she did…

  But she didn’t. She might not even have a job.

  She glanced at the clock again. It was late, but chances were, Porter was still up. She went to get her phone. Seconds later, her call went through, and her colleague answered on the first ring. “Hey, stranger,” he said. “About time you returned any one of the half-dozen calls or email messages I left for you.”

  “Sorry. I’ve been a little busy. How are things with you?”

  “Glum. The current job market in Houston is bleak. I might have to go back to Phoenix, where I grew up.”

  “Do you have a lead?”

  “On several things, as a matter of fact. With all the retirees still moving to the Sun Belt for their golden years, the demand for financial analysts and advisers is growing every day. I can give you the name of the recruiting firm I’m using. It might not be so bad if we both got jobs and moved there at the same time.”

  To Arizona? “I don’t know, Porter. I’m a Texas girl, born and bred….” To date, she had never thought much about it. But now…? “I’m not sure I want to live anywhere but the Lone Star State.”

  “Look. You don’t have to decide anything tonight. Just send in your résumé and a cover letter to the contact I emailed you this morning. Think of it as insurance. Chances are, if a firm in Arizona gives you an offer, you won’t lose your job in Houston.”

  Chances for success were definitely better if they had multiple options, instead of just the one. Ally forced herself to be practical. “I like the way you think.”

  Porter chuckled. “Thank you.”

  She paced back and forth. “Any further word on the layoffs?” Unlike her, Porter always had his ear to the ground for workplace gossip. If there was something to know, her friend would be aware of it.

  “Nope. Just that the new management intends to keep a skeleton crew on to manage the transition, and the rest of the cuts are going to be massive, and brutal.”

  Which meant, Ally told herself sternly, she had to be practical. She couldn’t just follow her heart….

  She thanked Porter for the info. They chatted some more and then hung up. Restless, she took care of Duchess and the puppies. By the time she had finished, it was well after midnight, and there was still no sign of Hank.

  He was not off making love with Lulu. Or looking for a liaison. Lulu was probably just using her connections to help Hank find the additional financing he needed to be able to make an offer on Mesquite Ridge.

  But on the off-off chance that Hank was out doing something that would signal the end of Ally and him… She figured she better do as Porter advised and develop a much better plan B.

  HANK TIPTOED IN AT 3:00 A.M. Ally had said she wouldn’t wait up, and she hadn’t. She was fast asleep on the living room sofa, an angelically peaceful look on her face—and what appeared to be a half-finished quilted Christmas stocking in her hands.

  Hank considered picking her up and carrying her to bed, but knew he’d wake her, and then he’d want to make to love to her. Trouble was, given the time and where he’d been, it was unlikely that Ally would welcome his advances.

  So, he figured, as he went upstairs and got one of the blankets off her bed and covered her up, this would have to do.

  Kissing her would have to come later.

  In the meantime, he needed a little shut-eye himself. He had a lot to accomplish and a short amount of time to get it all done, if he were to make Ally’s dreams come true and give her a truly merry Christmas, to boot.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sound of footsteps jerked Ally from her reverie. Her heartbeat accelerating, she turned to see Hank striding toward her, two steaming mugs in hand. He greeted her with a cheerful smile. “You’re up bright and early.”

  And you, Ally thought, as she put the fabric samples she had been studying aside, got home awfully late.

  Determined to keep her hurt feelings to herself, she waved off his offer of a fresh cup. “Thanks.” She forced herself to be polite as she rose from the living room sofa. “I’m already at my limit.” For caffeine and a lot of other things….

  A knowing look on his face, Hank set the beverage he’d brought for her on an end table, safely out of harm’s way. “In case you change your mind,” he said casually.

  Not likely, now that another potential investor was in the picture, Ally thought, with unprecedented resentment simmering deep inside her.

  Ally had promised herself she would never again get in a situation where the acquisition of land took precedent over everything else. The fact that Hank could ditch her on a moment’s notice at eleven o’clock at night, when they’d been close to making love again, proved that he felt otherwise. Clearly, the ranch was more important to him than the two of them.

  So Ally had no choice. She had to take a step back from the fierce attraction she felt for Hank, and think about what was in her best interests.

  It didn’t matter how capable and kind he seemed, standing there in the morning light. Or how good he looked and smelled, fresh from his shower. She could not allow herself to forget her own need for long-term financial security, throw caution to the wind and make love with him again.

  Not when his obsession with acquiring the ranch had him putting Mesquite Ridge first, her second. Or maybe, considering Lulu Sanderson’s involvement, even third…

  Hank inclined his head at the bolts of fabric scattered across the living room. “What’s all this?”

  “I’m still planning to put the ranch on the market on December 24.”

  Ally ignored the shadow that passed over Hank’s face. This was business—not personal, no matter how much he might want her to think otherwise.

  Deliberately, she pushed on. “The broker from Premier Realty, Marcy Lyon, is coming out to do a walk-through inspection and take some photographs for the MLS listing on the 22. She and I will nail down the final asking price at that time, which as you know could be quite a bit higher or lower than the tax appraisal Corporate Farms is using. I want it to be higher, of course, so I’m trying to do everything I can, within the constraints of my budget, to get the place looking the best.”

  Hank glanced around in admiration. “You’ve already had the place painted, and made draperies as well as slipcovers for all the furniture in here.”

  “We still need splashes of color to brighten up the space. And I don’t want to buy any more fabric—I’d prefer to use the remnants from my mother’s sewing room. So I’m trying to figure out which to use for pillows and a throw. I’m even thinking about making a wall hanging or two, since we don’t really have any art, and the walls are looking a little bare. It would be easy enough to do.”

  Hank pointed to several bolts of colorful cloth with a splashy modern art motif. “I don’t know if you want my opinion, but I like those.”

  Ally nodded. Call it coincidence, but they were the ones she had chosen, too.

  Hank stepped closer, his expression intent. “Look, I know we said we wouldn’t talk about the offer I’m planning to make on the ranch until I get everything pulled together—”

  She cut him off with a quick lift of her palm. “It’s still a good idea.”

  Hank gave her a steady, assessing look. He wanted to confide in her. What did she want? The answer to that was easy enough. She wanted to protect her heart and get her life back on a secure track once again.

  “Are you sure?” he asked finally.

  Ally nodded. It hardly mattered whether Lulu was drawing on her handsome divorce settlement and personally loaning Hank the money he needed to make a down payment on a mortgage, using her business school connections to line up another investor to help him out, or
going in on the ranch with him. All options left Ally feeling like a third wheel. It didn’t matter whether she wanted to be with Hank or not. She couldn’t live like that again.

  “WELL, I MUST SAY,” Marcy Lyon concluded when she had finished the tour of the property, “you have done an incredible job in a short amount of time, fixing up the interior of the ranch house.”

  Ally had to admit it looked better. The soft gray walls and gleaming white trim showed off the wide plank floors. Ivory slipcovers covered a multitude of sins on the aging furniture. Antique Texana accessories, throw pillows and fabric wall hangings provided color throughout. And of course, there was the Christmas tree she and Hank had decorated. It still lacked something on top, and Ally reminded herself she still needed to take care of that.

  “Unfortunately, it’s not enough,” Marcy said reluctantly. “The plumbing, electrical and roof are all forty years old. There’s no dishwasher or disposal. The kitchen is nice and big, but the linoleum floors and counters are terribly dated, and the appliances are ancient. The bulk of the acreage is in similarly bad shape.” She sighed with regret. “This puts Mesquite Ridge squarely in the category of a fixer-upper, and lowers the price a good ten percent. That, combined with the commission you’d have to pay on what should be a two point five million dollar property—but currently isn’t—minus the existing mortgage debt… At the end of the day you’d have very little.”

  Ally felt her heart sink. “So in other words, the last offer I received from Corporate Farms…”

  Marcy looked her square in the eye and put her pen back in her briefcase. “Is really unbeatable, if money is your only criteria.”

  Ally watched her continue to pack up her belongings. “And if it’s not?”

  She closed the clasp on her briefcase with a snap, then pressed her lips together. “May I be blunt?”

  Nodding, Ally said, “I need you to be as direct with me as possible.”

  Marcy began to pace. “You can’t expect to sell to Corporate Farms—knowing full well they intend to drive everyone else out of business so they can create an outfit bigger than the King Ranch right here in Laramie County—and think it will be okay.”

  “If I were to do that…” Ally swallowed and looked the real estate broker in the eye “…I’d never be able to come back, would I?”

  Marcy shook her head. “I don’t see how you could.”

  HOURS LATER, HANK WALKED into the living room where Ally sat beside the Christmas tree. Duchess was curled up next to her. The puppies were sleeping in a comical heap across her lap. It was a blissful scene, except for the faintly troubled look in Ally’s eyes.

  Hank tossed his leather jacket over the back of the chair and loosened the knot of his tie. He wished he could tell Ally about the meeting he’d just been to. But like everything else about the negotiations he was involved in, the details were top secret until the deal was set. And that wouldn’t be for another thirty-six hours.

  In the meantime, though…moments like this didn’t come along all that often. He took out his cell phone, determined to capture the moment. “Hang on a minute. I’ve got to get a picture of this.”

  For a second he thought Ally might burst into sentimental tears, which was not surprising, given how attached she had gotten to all the dogs. Then she got that fiercely independent look in her eyes he knew so well. She mugged dramatically, then picked up Gracie and held her to her chest. She used her other hand to soothe the equally hyper-alert Duchess. “Since when are you into taking pictures?” she chided.

  The walls were coming up around Ally’s heart again, higher than ever. Hank wanted to tear them down.

  “Since I found the perfect Christmas card photo.” And the perfect woman. “And because,” he added honestly, “this is something I want us all to remember for a long time to come.”

  Some of the fight drained out of Ally. “You really think the dogs are going to remember?” she asked softly, pressing a kiss on top of Gracie’s head.

  The pup opened her eyes and looked up at Ally.

  If Gracie wasn’t focusing on Ally’s face, Hank decided, she was darned close…. Certainly, there was love and affection reflected on her cute little mug as she snuggled there.

  Realizing Ally was still awaiting an answer to her question, he said, “I’m sure the dogs will recall all the love and attention they’ve received from us. In fact,” he predicted, working to disguise the small catch in his throat, “I think they are going to be as sad to leave Mesquite Ridge tomorrow as we will be to see them go.”

  To his chagrin, Ally noticed the unusual huskiness in his voice. She made another face and teased, “I didn’t think ranchers got emotional about stuff like this.”

  For some, the acquisition and loss of pets was a normal part of the ebb and flow of ranch life. Something accepted without much thought. For Hank, dogs were part of the family. Which was why he’d been thinking about getting one as soon as he had his own ranch.

  “What can I say?” He shifted angles to make sure he captured the tree and the fireplace in the next frame. Smiling, he joined their makeshift family. Holding the cell phone out in front of him, he took a photo of all of them together. “You bring out my sentimental side.”

  This time Ally’s smile was from the heart. “And your familial one,” she added softly.

  That was true, too, Hank noted. Never had he wanted to have a family of his own more than he did right now, with Ally, Duchess and Gracie…

  Whenever she let her guard down, Ally seemed to want that, too.

  Silence fell as they looked into each other’s eyes. Ally sobered, as if suddenly recalling all that still remained unsettled, all that could drive them apart. She was right to be concerned, Hank admitted reluctantly to himself. It was time to have a serious discussion, at least about the things they could talk about at this juncture.

  Such as her meeting with Marcy Lyon.

  Hank pocketed his phone once again. Figuring this was one conversation best had with no distraction, he helped Ally return the puppies to the warming box, next to Duchess in the whelping pen. The warming box was situated next to the mother dog. When they’d all settled down to sleep once again, Ally motioned for Hank to follow her.

  “So how did your meeting go?” he asked, while they walked back into the living room.

  She sank down on the sofa, propped her feet on the coffee table and released a long, slow breath. “Premier Realty’s appraisal did not come out as I had hoped.”

  Hank tensed, not sure whose side he was on—hers or his. Maybe both… He sat next to her, being careful to give her plenty of room. “How bad was it?”

  Ally passed a weary hand over her eyes. “So bad Marcy is refusing to list the ranch for me, because she doesn’t want every bit of profit I might make from the sale of the property to go toward her commission.” Briefly, she explained, then looked over at him and shook her head in exasperation. “What kind of person shoots themselves in the foot professionally that way?”

  Hank replied frankly, “The kind who lives in Laramie, Texas. Neighbors here help each other out. They don’t take unfair advantage for personal gain.”

  “Like Corporate Farms would.”

  Hank nodded, knowing he would give anything to find a way to keep Ally in his life. Even his dream of one day owning this ranch, if that’s what it would take. Because she was worth any sacrifice to him. The question was, what was he worth to her?

  She released a beleaguered sigh and turned toward him, tucking one foot beneath her, her other knee nudging his. Her green eyes were full of strength and wisdom. “I’m a financial analyst.” She shifted closer, the fragrance of her hair and skin inundating his senses. “I know the smart thing to do, fiscally, would be to accept CF’s deal and not look back.”

  Hank gazed at her thoughtfully, really wanting to understand her. “And yet…?” he prompted softly.

  She tensed, seeming on guard once again. “They’d destroy the house, the barn and everything that is famil
iar about this place.”

  And that, Hank noted, was something Ally couldn’t bear. He reached over and covered her hand with his. “I thought you hated Mesquite Ridge.”

  Her fingers grasped his and she bit her lip. “I did, too. At least I thought I did.” She paused to look deep into his eyes. “But now that I’ve been here again and started fixing up the house, I’m remembering some not so bad times.” She shrugged. “Like sewing with my mother. Learning the ins and outs of finance and bookkeeping with my dad. As much as I hated their frugality, I have to admit no one could stretch a dollar better than the two of them.” Ally pushed her free hand through her hair, mussing the silky strands. She shook her head, her eyes glimmering moistly. “I feel like I have no good options.”

  Unable to bear seeing her in so much distress, Hank shifted her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “That’s not true. You have me. I am this close—” he held his index finger and thumb half an inch apart “—to being able to help you.” This close to being able to tell you everything I feel…everything I want us both to have.

  She scowled briefly. “Please don’t say that,” she begged, splaying her hands across his chest. “Really. I can’t bear any more half-baked promises. Not tonight.”

  Tenderness swept through him. Not sure when he had ever felt such devotion, he shifted her closer still. Heaven help him, he wanted to make love to her here and now. And one day soon, their time would come.

  “Then what can I do?” he asked quietly.

  The caution that she’d been feeling the last few days, about the two of them, fled. She leaned into him and allowed herself to be vulnerable to the undeniable sparks between them once again. “Help me to forget I may soon have to sell the only real link to family that I have left. Or that tomorrow I’m going to find out whether or not I’m going to be laid off from my job.” Her voice cracked emotionally. She looked at him with raw need. “And that Duchess and Gracie and the rest of the puppies are going to be taken away….”