Cowboy SEAL Christmas

by Nicole Helm

  “Ouch.”

  “Oh, hush. You know I want to see you too, but don’t you remember how much you loved visiting your grandmother by yourself when you were little? What confidence it gave you?”

  Those summers had been the highlight of her childhood. They’d moved so much when she’d been growing up that Grandma’s house had been home. It had given her a sense of freedom, a sense of self.

  Grandma had been gone for twelve years now, and still the thought of her brought tears of grief to Monica’s eyes. Normally she’d swallow the next words down, but verbalizing them was healthier. Was healing. “I wish she’d met him. I miss her.”

  “I know. Me too. Give me and your dad a chance to give Colin what Grandma gave you, huh?”

  Monica wiped the tears from her cheeks with her bulky gloves. She looked out the windshield at Revival Ranch spreading out before her, the awe-inspiring mountains in the distance.

  It had been a hard choice to move here, to uproot Colin from what he’d known in Denver. She’d done it fully for herself, and that selfishness had been necessary. She knew it had been necessary, but it didn’t negate all the guilt.

  “I’ll ask him tonight.”

  “Ask him or tell him?”

  Monica scowled, since her mother couldn’t see her to scold her over it. “It’ll be a discussion. He should have a say.” She’d never had a say in things as a kid. Mom had run her house as strictly as Daddy had run his troops, and she’d demanded the same amount of respect. Monica had vowed to give her child more say, more autonomy.

  Sometimes she failed, but this was going to be a discussion. “I have to get to work, but I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out details.”

  “Why’d you call today then?”

  Leave it to her mom to ask the hard questions. “Honestly? I was afraid I’d change my mind about it if I waited. But I do have to go. I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too. Talk soon.”

  Monica hit End on her phone and allowed herself some silence to breathe in, to breathe out, to take strength from the mountains. Gave herself time to compartmentalize her emotions away so she could be someone else’s sounding board.

  When she turned off the ignition and stepped out of the truck, breathing in the icy cold, she was ready to don her therapist hat. Therapist and Mom. Those were the two labels that encompassed her whole life. And okay, maybe Daughter too.

  Let yourself have some time to think only of yourself. Monica shuddered at Mom’s words rattling around in her head. But she shoved them away and stepped toward her job.

  Chapter 3

  Thanksgiving morning dawned gray and cold, with the threat of precipitation in the air. Gabe half-heartedly hoped that might keep him from having to help with Christmas-tree selecting.

  God, he hated Christmas. The twinkly little lights, all the damn tchotchkes. The same song playing over and over and over again. Weird warm or sweet drinks when he’d much prefer a shot of whiskey.

  Maybe he’d make his way down to Pioneer Spirit tonight. Hanging out at the bar wasn’t quite as entertaining as it had been when Jack had been his companion, but he could find himself companionship.

  For now, he knew he needed to get through the day ahead. “Suck it up, Cortez,” he muttered to himself. He did not abide moping, and this felt perilously close.

  So he put on his winter gear, downing the rest of his coffee, and focusing on the mission that lay before him: help a woman and her son get a Christmas tree. A clear goal, easily achieved, and all he had to do was put up with a slightly irritating woman.

  Monica wouldn’t know what tools she’d need, and while he was certainly no expert on Christmas-tree cutting, he figured he knew more about it than she did.

  Gabe tramped across the snowy ground between the bunkhouse and the barn. The trees on the property were mostly on the outskirts, so it’d probably be easiest to take the truck out to the north pasture, then hike around for the right tree.

  But as he stepped into the barn, he already heard voices. Female voices.

  “This is everything you’ll need. Gabe will know where to take you,” Becca was saying as she stood next to some ridiculous contraption that looked suspiciously like a damned sleigh hooked up to her horse, Pal.

  “What the hell is that?” Gabe demanded, not even trying for polite.

  Becca didn’t so much as flinch. She turned and smiled brightly at him. “Isn’t it adorable? Absolutely perfect for a Christmas-tree-getting excursion. We’re going to use it for the wedding, so Hick has been working with Pal to pull it.”

  “We can take the truck,” Gabe returned gruffly.

  “Take the sleigh. Colin’ll get a kick out of it and you won’t get stuck.”

  “I’m not driving a sleigh.”

  “That’s okay. Monica can handle the horse portion. You’re just along because you know where you’re going. There’s rope in the back to tie the tree down, and the saws you’ll need. It’ll be fun. Don’t be such a grinch.”

  “Being a grinch is fulfilling a lifelong dream, Bec. It’d be cruel to take that dream away from me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Take them out. Enjoy yourself. Be a good little Christmas-tree scout and have everyone back by two-ish. Thanksgiving meal is at three. Sharp. Don’t be late. You know how my mother gets when people are late.”

  “I’m not scared of your mother.”

  Becca only laughed and waved as she walked away. Which was fair enough. Sandra Denton was a scary lady, and Gabe would never admit fear per se, but he doubted they’d be late.

  He turned to Monica where she stood at Pal’s side, gently rubbing the beast. The kid was nowhere to be seen. “Thought I was supposed to meet you at your cabin.”

  “Yes, well, I got to thinking it made more sense to leave from here, and with all the right tools.” She stroked the horse fondly. “Becca made us a big thermos of hot chocolate. Colin’s inside getting that and I’m sure sneaking a few other treats.”

  “Like the Twinkies you don’t like.”

  Her mouth curved, and she looked at him from behind the horse’s head. “Just because I don’t buy them doesn’t mean I don’t like them.”

  “You’re not half as sneaky as you think you are. I watched you throw it away.”

  She sighed. “Sometimes, as a mom, you make sacrifices. And sometimes, as a mom, you lie so your kid doesn’t know the real reason you won’t buy Twinkies is you think they’re disgusting and don’t want to have to watch him eat them, not that you’re worried about what chemicals might be inside.”

  “Being a mom sounds hard.” And if he was honest with himself, it was kind of fascinating to watch her do it. Maybe because, though she’d dealt with somewhat similar circumstances, there weren’t a lot of similarities between Monica and his own mother.

  “You have no idea.” She nodded toward Pal. “Becca mentioned you’re not a fan of the horses.”

  “Not that I’m not a fan,” Gabe replied, hiding his irritation at Becca’s big mouth with the best smile he could muster. “Just never been around them much. Weird little bastards.”

  “My late husband’s family had a horse farm,” she said, her gaze on the horse as she continued to stroke it. “We met in high school on the base, and he used to get to go visit his aunt and uncle on the farm on the weekends. Then I started going with him. There was nothing quite like it.”

  Gabe didn’t have a clue what to say to any of that. Monica never seemed uncomfortable bringing the dead guy up, even around Colin. It was so different than Gabe’s upbringing, where he’d had to beg his mother to even find out what his late father’s name had been.

  “No farm animals in your childhood?” she asked casually.

  “Grew up in the city, then the burbs. Being deployed taught me something about wide-open spaces and how to enjoy them, but not a damn thing about animals.
”

  “It was one of the pluses of moving here for me, that Colin would get to be around horses and other animals. I didn’t exactly have roof-climbing goats or roosters who won’t die in mind, but he certainly gets a kick out of Becca’s menagerie.”

  “Yeah, it’s a menagerie all right.” Gabe studied the sleigh. “Gonna be a tight fit.” There was one broad bench down the center where they’d all have to huddle together to fit.

  “Colin’s small,” Monica returned, clearly as married to this dumb sleigh idea as Becca had been.

  As if on cue, Colin appeared at the barn entrance, two big thermoses in his hands. “Woah! Are we really going to ride that, like, around?” Colin asked, some mixture of skepticism and delight in his tone.

  “Till we get frostbite, I guess,” Gabe muttered, eyeing the horse when it made one of those patently weird horse-breathing noises.

  “Don’t be a coward, Gabe,” Monica said too cheerfully as she gave the horse one last loving pat. She grinned up at him. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve been brave in the face of a hell of a lot worse than a farm animal.”

  Something in her face went soft, and he felt himself soften with it. Till she spoke.

  “I’d like to hear about that sometime.”

  He flashed one of those grins that was far more bite me than aren’t you funny. “I don’t think I can afford your hourly rate, Doc.”

  She closed her eyes and winced a little. “Sorry. Bad habit.”

  Gabe didn’t say anything to that. He moved into the sleigh, scooting next to Colin, who was all but bouncing from excitement. Gabe made a joke about having a great view of the horse’s butt, which made Colin giggle hysterically. At least that lifted his mood.

  “What happens if it poops?” Colin asked, still laughing brightly.

  “I think it means you get a shit sandwich for lunch.”

  Colin absolutely howled at that, and Gabe ignored the stern look Monica gave them both as she slid into the other side of the sleigh. She took the reins in her gloved hands and gave them a little flick.

  The sleigh lurched forward and Gabe grimaced. He felt like a damn fool riding around in a sleigh, but Colin was looking this way and that as Pal led them down the hill and out toward the north pasture, the sleigh easily cutting through the hard-packed snow.

  It certainly wasn’t fast moving, but it was prettier than any ride in the truck might have been. Some of his irritation at Monica’s switch back to nosy therapist eased. It was hard to hold on to it as Colin’s small, freckled face slowly morphed into big-eyed wonder.

  Gabe was only doing this for Colin, and he’d put up with the shrink for a few hours for the sake of that.

  But this was the last favor he did for them, and that was that.

  * * *

  About halfway out to the area of Revival Ranch that boasted trees that could be cut down and used for decoration, Monica felt whatever guilt had been niggling in her stomach lift. It was hard to stay ashamed of her own actions when a beautiful white-and-gray canvas stretched out before her.

  The ride was surprisingly smooth as Pal trotted along the fence line. Every once in a while, she glanced at Colin, who looked possibly as happy as she’d seen him since they’d moved here last summer.

  She tried not to look at Gabe, even when he instructed her to turn here or go there. But when her gaze did drift his way, he was sitting next to Colin looking hard and stoic. Unreadable. Untouchable.

  She should heed those looks. She’d only ever had patients who’d come to her because they wanted to or been forced to, so she hadn’t quite learned the delicate task of just…waiting.

  Then again, she was friends with Becca just fine without any attempts to psychoanalyze, so maybe it wasn’t so much history as her own perceptions. She’d decided Gabe needed therapy because of what she knew had happened to him. Maybe that wasn’t fair.

  “Stop here,” Gabe instructed as they came upon a small clump of evergreens. Some cattle were huddled together around the trees. When Monica had expressed some dismay at the poor cows in all this frigid weather, Becca had laughed at her and explained the cows were fine. They were fed and watered and had trees to block the wind.

  Monica was sure Becca knew what she was talking about, but it still made Monica feel a bit sorry for them. No matter that they looked content huddling there.

  “Well, pick a tree,” Gabe instructed, clearly not looking for a leisurely outing.

  Monica looked at the trees and wrinkled her nose. “They’re all so tiny.”

  Gabe’s eyebrows lifted until they were hidden underneath the stocking cap he wore. “Did you move into a mansion with twelve-foot ceilings without my knowledge?”

  She scowled at him. “No, but surely we can fit something taller than this.”

  “They look smaller out here. In your cabin, you’ll wish you’d gone smaller.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Tell me you’ve got a little more sense than your mom, runt.”

  Colin straightened in his seat, then looked at her very seriously. “We should at least check them out up close, Mom.”

  Monica tried to hide a smile and replied just as seriously. “You know, I think you might be right.”

  They piled out of the sleigh and walked through the little cluster. Close up and right next to them, Monica begrudgingly realized Gabe was right. Most of these wouldn’t even fit in the cabin, let alone something bigger. There were maybe two possibilities, and they looked so regretfully tiny.

  But then again, their cabin was tiny. Teeny tiny.

  “I think this one would fit,” Colin said, hands on his hips, looking very serious and adult as he studied it.

  “I think you’re right,” Monica said, trying to be just as serious. “Let’s get the tools then, and Gabe can cut it down for us.”

  “Aren’t you going to let Colin chop it?” Gabe asked, smiling lazily as he stood next to the sleigh.

  Monica tried not to scowl. It was the deal they’d made. Damn it.

  “Seriously? I get to use a saw?” Colin asked, so awed it almost made Monica forget a saw was, you know, a sharp blade of potential death and dismemberment. Almost.

  Gabe happily pulled a saw and an ax out of the sleigh, and suddenly it looked less like a picturesque novelty and more like a little wagon of destruction.

  “First an ax, then a saw.”

  Colin’s jaw actually dropped and his head seemed to move in slow motion toward her. “Are you really going to let me?” he asked.

  It was that shock that had her relenting no matter how her gut revolted at the idea. He was so shocked she was going to let him use two very simple tools, and she clearly needed to unclench a little bit.

  Does unclenching really have to involve sharp, unwieldy potential weapons?

  “She’s really going to let you,” Gabe chirped, striding over to the tree. “Now, with sharp tools and cutting things down, safety is key. You have to listen to my instructions and do what I say, okay?”

  Again, Colin’s head swiveled back to her, then to the tree and Gabe. “O-okay. Yeah, I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Maybe it made her a coward, but Monica turned away. She could not watch her baby wield an ax or a saw. She could barely breathe listening to Gabe instructing Colin on how to hold the ax, how to angle the blade away from him.

  She stared hard at the mountains, calling on a few techniques she taught her patients. Breathing. Visualizing. Centering.

  So, yes, she’d developed a certain level of anxiety about safety since Dex had died. After all, Dex’s helicopter hadn’t crashed because someone had shot it down. It had been some safety failure during a routine drill.

  It was quite normal to fixate on safety from then on out because safety mattered. Her worries weren’t uncalled for.

  But s
he couldn’t let them overshadow the life her son would need to live.

  They were sawing now, and Monica cringed at the sound. Sharp metal teeth against heavy, living tree trunk.

  Why had she agreed to this?

  She focused on the mountains and the fact they’d endured for centuries. Those peaks had seen a million Christmases and stood through them, never crumbling, never bending. Mountains didn’t get anxious over what they couldn’t control. They stood there looking majestic, being majestic.

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a picture of the beautiful mountains surrounded by bright winter blue, the sleigh sitting there in the forefront. A Christmas postcard come to life.

  “Seriously?” Gabe muttered.

  She turned her head and stared straight at him. He would not make her feel foolish for taking a pretty picture. “Seriously.” Then she lifted the phone and snapped a photo of him and Colin next to the cluster of trees.

  He scowled. “Delete that.”

  “Never,” she replied sweetly, not at all threatened by that stern military order. She’d grown up with stern military orders. Let him try to intimidate her.

  Gabe grumbled something, then turned back to Colin. The tree they’d chosen lay in the bed of snow next to the stump.

  “You’ll want to search it for bird nests or other wildlife before you put it up at your place.”

  Colin peered at the branches as Monica stepped closer to do the same.

  “Shouldn’t we have checked before we cut?”

  Gabe shrugged. “They’ll find some other place to live.”

  “That isn’t very—”

  In a quick move she didn’t see coming at all, Gabe snatched the phone out of her grasp and immediately began scrolling.

  “Hey! Give that back!” But when she reached for it, he only held it up higher, out of her reach, looking up as he continued scrolling.

  “Gabe, give that back,” she demanded, using the sternest mother voice she had. She held out her hand, considered counting to three as though he was a toddler.

  Gabe only grinned at her, and she refused to let that all-too-charming curve of his mouth with the faintest dimple under his dark-whiskered cheek do anything to any part of her. Especially the particularly female parts of her.