The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby

by Stella Bagwell

  “It’s white,” Ranie Evans repeated. “White is boring.”

  “I like snow,” Ranie’s sister, Shay, offered from her high perch in the booster seat. Shay was almost five, her personality as sunny as Ranie’s was sullen.

  April didn’t blame Ranie for her anger. In the past month, the girls had been at their mother’s side as she’d lost her fight with cancer, then spent a week on their aunt’s pullout couch before they’d landed in Colorado with April.

  Even this wasn’t permanent. At least that’s what April told herself. The idea of raising these two girls, as their mother’s will had stipulated, scared her more than anything she’d faced in life. More than her own battle with breast cancer. More than a humiliating divorce from her famous Hollywood director husband. More than rebuilding a shell of a life in the small mountain town of Crimson, Colorado. More than—

  “Can we make a snowman at the cabin?” Shay asked, cutting through April’s brooding thoughts.

  “You don’t want to go outside,” Ranie cautioned her sister. “Your fingers will freeze off.”

  “No one’s fingers are freezing off,” April said quickly, hearing Shay’s tiny gasp of alarm. “You’ve both got winter gear now, with parkas and mittens.” The first stop after picking up the girls at Denver International Airport had been to a nearby sporting-goods store. April had purchased everything they’d need for the next two weeks in the mountains. “Of course we can build a snowman. We can build a whole snow family if you want.”

  “What we want is to go back to California.”

  April didn’t need another check in the rearview mirror. She could feel Ranie glaring at her from the backseat, every ounce of the girl’s ill temper focused on April.

  “Mom took us to the beach every Christmas. Why wouldn’t Aunt Tracy take us to Hawaii with her? Why couldn’t you come to Santa Barbara? You used to live in LA. I remember you from when I was little and Mom first got sick.”

  April tightened her grip on the steering wheel as memories of her friend Jill rushed over her. Taking the turn around one of the two-lane road’s steep switchbacks, she punched the accelerator too hard and felt the tires begin to spin as they lost traction.

  Ignoring the panicked shrieks from the backseat, she eased off the gas pedal and corrected the steering, relieved to feel the SUV under her control again.

  “It’s okay,” she assured the girls with a forced smile. April was still adjusting to driving during Colorado winters. “The road is icy up here, but we’re close to the turnoff for the cabin.” She risked another brief look and saw that Ranie had reached across the empty middle seat to take Shay’s hand, both girls holding on like the lifeline they were to each other.

  It broke April’s heart.

  She pulled off onto the shoulder after turning up the recently plowed gravel drive that led to Cloud Cabin. The quasi “remote wilderness experience” was an offshoot of Crimson Ranch, the popular guest ranch in the valley, and had opened earlier in the fall. The owners happened to be April’s best friend, movie actress Sara Travers, and her husband, Josh. April had first come to Crimson with Sara three years ago, both women burned out and broken down by their lives in Hollywood.

  April knew this town could heal someone when they let it. Crimson—and Josh’s love—had done that for Sara. April also recognized that she’d held herself back from the community and hadn’t truly become a part of it.

  Throwing the SUV into Park, she turned to the backseat and met the wary gazes of each of her late friend’s precious girls. “I’m sorry your aunt couldn’t change her plans for the holidays.” She took a deep breath as frustration over Tracy’s callous attitude toward her nieces threatened to overtake her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to California for these weeks. I have a work commitment here that can’t be changed.”

  “I thought you were a yoga teacher.” Ranie snatched her fingers away from Shay’s grasp. “Who does yoga in the snow?”

  “No one I know.” April wanted to unstrap her seat belt, crawl into the backseat and gather the surly girl into her arms and try to hug away some of the pain pouring off her. “There’s a guest coming to stay at the cabin for Christmas. I need to get there and make sure everything is in order before he arrives. He’s a writer and needs to finish a book. He wants the privacy of the mountains to concentrate.”

  She was already behind, the detour to the airport in Denver pushing back her arrival at Cloud Cabin a few hours. “My job is to cook for him, manage the housekeeping and—”

  Ranie offered her best preteen sneer. “Like you’re a maid?”

  “Like I take care of people,” April corrected.

  “Like you’re taking care of us because Mommy died.” Shay’s voice was sad but still sweet.

  “I am, honey,” April whispered around the ball of emotion clogging her throat. She smiled at Ranie, but the girl’s eyes narrowed, as if she knew being with April was anything but a sure bet for their future.

  April turned up the brightness of her smile as she looked at Shay. “Only about a quarter mile more.” She turned to the front and flipped on the radio, tuning it to a satellite station that got reception even in this remote area. “How about some holiday music? Do either of you have a favorite Christmas song?”

  “‘Rudolph,’” Shay shouted, clapping her hands.

  April pulled the SUV back onto the snow-packed road. “How about you, Ranie?”

  “I hate Christmas music,” the girl muttered, then added, “but not as much as I hate you.”

  Despite the jab to her heart, April ignored the rude words. She turned up the volume and sang along until the cabin came into view. A driver was bringing Connor Pierce, who was flying into the Aspen airport, to the cabin. The fact that the windows were dark gave her hope that she’d caught at least one break today, and he hadn’t arrived before her.

  April needed every advantage she could get if she was going to successfully manage these next two weeks.

  * * *

  “No kids.”

  Connor Pierce growled those two words as soon as the willowy redhead walked into the kitchen.

  Maybe he should have waited to speak until she’d spotted him standing in front of the window. Unprepared, she’d jumped into the air, dropping the bag of groceries as she clutched one hand to her chest.

  Her wide brown eyes met his across the room, a mix of shock and fear in her gaze. Scaring a woman half to death was a new low for Connor, but he couldn’t stop. “They need to go,” he snapped, fists clenched at his side. “Now.”

  To the woman’s credit, she recovered faster than he would have expected, placing a hand on the back of a chair as she straightened her shoulders. “Who are you?”

  The fact that she didn’t scurry away in the face of his anger was also new. Most people he knew would have turned tail already. “What kind of question is that?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The kind I expect you to answer.”

  “I’m the paying guest,” he said slowly, enunciating each word.

  “Mr. Pierce?” She swallowed and inclined her head to study him more closely. He didn’t care for the examination.

  “Connor.”

  “You don’t look like the photo on your website.”

  “That picture was taken a long time ago.” Back when he was overweight and happy and his heart hadn’t been ripped out of his chest. When he could close his eyes and not see a car engulfed in flames, not feel his own helplessness like a vise around his lungs.

  She didn’t question him, although curiosity was a bright light in her eyes. Instead, she smiled. “Welcome to Colorado. I’m sorry you got to the cabin before me.” She bent to retrieve the groceries, quickly refilling the cloth bag she’d dropped. “I was told your flight arrived later this afternoon.”

  The smile threw him, as did her easy manner. �
�I took an earlier one.”

  After placing the bag on the counter, she walked forward, her hand held out to him. “I’m April Sanders. I’ll be making sure your stay at Cloud Cabin is everything you want it to be.”

  “I want the kids gone.” He didn’t take her hand, even though it was rude. She was tall for a woman but still several inches shorter than him. Her long hair was pulled back in a low knot, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her neck above the down coat she wore. The light in her eyes dimmed as her hand dropped.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I saw you come in,” he said, hitching a finger toward the window overlooking the front drive. “Are those your daughters?”

  She shook her head.

  “They can’t be here.”

  “They aren’t here. They’re with me in the smaller cabin next door.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Their voices had drifted up to him when the girls spilled out of the car. The older one, her dark blond hair in a tight braid down her back, had kept her shoulders hunched, arms crossed over her chest as she took in the forest around the house. Connor had felt an unwanted affinity to her. Clearly, she was as reluctant to be trapped in this idyllic winter setting as he was.

  It was the younger girl, bright curls bouncing as she pointed at the two log cabins situated next to each other on the property, who had brought unwanted memories to the surface. She’d given a squeal of delight when a rogue chipmunk ran past the front of the SUV. Her high-pitched laugh had raked across Connor’s nerves, making him want to claw at his own skin to stop the sensation.

  She was dangerous, that innocent girl, threatening his stability on a bone-deep level. “I’m at this cabin to work.” He kept his gaze on the window. “I need privacy.”

  “I’ll make sure you have it.”

  “Not with kids around.”

  She’d moved so quietly Connor didn’t realize April Sanders was standing toe-to-toe with him until he turned back. Up close, with the afternoon light pouring over her, she looked young and too innocent. He’d never seen anything as creamy as her skin, and he had a sudden urge to trace his finger along her cheek and see for himself if it was as soft as it looked.

  It was a ridiculous thought. Connor didn’t touch people if he could help it. Not for three years, since that drive along the California coast when he’d held his wife’s hand for the last time.

  Although he knew it to be untrue, he’d come to believe he could hold on to the memory of his wife and son more tightly if he kept himself cut off from physical contact with anyone else. He’d never felt the need before now.

  The fact that this woman—a stranger—made him want to change was almost as terrifying as the deadline looming over his head. He took a step back.

  “They have no place else to go,” she said, the gentle cadence of her voice at odds with the desperate plea he didn’t want to see in her eyes. “I promise I’ll keep them out of your way.”

  Connor stepped around her, reaching for the sheet of paper on the table at the same time he dug in his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling Sara Travers.”

  “No.” April snatched the paper with the contact information for Crimson Ranch out of his hand. “You can’t.” The sheer audacity of the action gave him pause.

  “Are you going to hold me here against my will?” He almost laughed at the thought of it, but Connor also hadn’t laughed in a longer time than he cared to remember. “I’ll call my editor. He’ll contact Sara. I assume she’s your boss?”

  “Please don’t.” Her voice hitched on the plea, making alarm bells clang in Connor’s brain.

  “You’re not going to cry,” he told her. “Tell me you’re not going to cry.”

  She took a breath, blinked several times. “Sara is my boss at the ranch, but she’s also my friend. She and Josh just left for a holiday vacation, and I don’t want her to worry.” April’s voice had gone even gentler, almost defeated. Another long-buried emotion grated at his nerves. “She doesn’t know about Ranie and Shay yet. If you tell her...”

  “She’ll make you get rid of them?” he asked, allowing only a hint of triumph to slip into his tone.

  “She’ll want me to keep them.”

  He was intrigued despite himself. “Who are those girls to you?” When she only stared at him, Connor placed his cell phone on the table. He couldn’t believe he was considering the possibility but he said, “Tell me why I should let them stay.”

  Copyright © 2016 by Michelle Major

  ISBN-13: 9781488002854

  The Cowboy’s Christmas Lullaby

  Copyright © 2016 by Stella Bagwell

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