Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

  On his way out of town, he’d stopped at the market.

  Now, he snatched up the gift he’d bought and hustled into the main house and through the kitchen to the hall. He’d leave the flowers on the coffee table for her to find after supper. That ought…

  He stumbled to a halt in the living-room doorway. His jaw dropped.

  Damn. She’d beat him to it.

  Pine boughs were draped around every window. Holly sprigs decorated every sill. Yellowish-colored poinsettia plants sat here and there on the floor. Bright red ones in wicker baskets nearly covered the top of the coffee table.

  He backed a step out of the room and saw what he’d missed on his way in—the wreath on the hall wall and the pine garland wrapped around the stair rail.

  Against all that deep, bright color, his handful of flowers looked straggly and sick.

  He strode back to the kitchen and buried the tissue-wrapped package in the trash. Better to look as if he’d done nothing than to offer something so puny by comparison.

  Seconds later, as he shoved a hand through his hair in frustration, the door opened and Marissa stepped inside.

  “Gabe? I heard the truck. You’re in early. Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah.” Still peeved at himself, he didn’t want to mention going to town.

  She slipped out of her coat and hung it on the peg by the door. “We’ll eat at the regular time, then?”

  “Yeah, the boys’ll come in same as usual.”

  He knew she’d made them all a good meal. She’d stuck to her end of their agreement. Well, one way or another, he would come up with something to prove he was doing his part, too.

  “I decorated a little today for the holidays.”

  “Yeah, I saw.”

  “Doc’s house looked so nice when we were there for the party, it made me feel envious.” She laughed. “I also bought a live tree at the hardware store.”

  He nodded. That news, added to what Delia had told him about Marissa’s baking for the diner, told him she planned to stay through Christmas, at least.

  Hell, that only meant another four days.

  “The tree was too big for my car, so they’re holding it for me. Do you think you could pick it up with the truck?”

  “No problem. I’ll go now. Need to get a few things, anyway.” That would cover his making a trip to town today, and she’d never know about the flowers unless somebody from the market flapped their jaw.

  He reached the back door before a question stopped him. So caught up in gift buying—in courting his own darned wife—he’d forgotten. “Had your appointment with Doc today?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “He said everything is as it should be, and as long as I take my vitamins and feel okay, I don’t need to see him again for two weeks.”

  “Two weeks, huh?” His eyes met hers and locked. “That makes the appointment exactly three weeks from the day you got back here.”

  “Yes.” She stared him down.

  He’d have curried Sunrise with a toothbrush before breaking that gaze.

  A few seconds later, she glanced away.

  He eased over to stand beside her, kept his voice low and smooth as he said, “That’s a familiar time frame, isn’t it, honey?”

  She stared at him again, then closed her mouth on whatever she’d planned to say and crossed her arms over her belly.

  Almost against his will, his eyes dropped to her middle. He forced himself to look up again.

  “Yes, it’s a familiar time frame,” she said finally. “Three weeks. That’s the same length of time we had been married when I…left.”

  He had to wonder if she’d stay as long this time around. Under his jacket, he shifted his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling of dread that had oozed into every bone in his body.

  TO MARISSA’S SURPRISE, Gabe had kept his promise and gone into town for the Christmas tree she had bought. She stood at the sink, dumbfounded, as he carried the twine-wrapped bundle through the kitchen.

  Her emotions topped another crest on the roller coaster she had been riding all afternoon and evening.

  After an uneventful dinner in the bunkhouse, she had returned alone to the main house.

  As she’d lifted the kitchen’s waste-can lid to dispose of some trash, she’d spotted an edge of green tissue paper wrapped around a bunch of pale-yellow and white chrysanthemums.

  Flowers.

  Stunned, she’d dropped onto the nearest chair. Her heart seemed to swell.

  Gabe was courting her. Because she had demanded it? Or because he really wanted to? And why hadn’t he given them to her?

  Her mind worked crazily, spinning fantasies about what this might mean.

  Of course! He had seen all the decorating she had done and, for some reason, felt his flowers didn’t measure up. How touching. And how wonderful that he had tried, at least, to make her happy.

  She wouldn’t embarrass him by letting on that she knew what he had done. She understood trying to impress someone and not meeting standards.

  Finally coming back to the moment, she hurried down the hall in anticipation of what would happen next between them.

  Keeping her distance protected her from the danger of giving in to his advances. But constant avoidance would only prevent them from ever solving their problems and reaching a happy ending.

  She was determined to have Gabe spend time with her. If he would listen as she told him how she felt, if he could understand and relate to what she said, maybe he would open up and share his own thoughts with her. He had strong feelings; she knew it. She had seen the emotion in his eyes that afternoon, before he’d turned and left the kitchen.

  Maybe a few relaxing hours together, without any of the cowboys around, would do the trick.

  After all, they should be celebrating the good report of her doctor visit. Instead, they had let it cause conflict between them. They should be sharing the thrill of their baby-to-be. Instead, Gabe had focused on a part of their history she didn’t want to relive.

  Yet he had attempted to court her.

  And now, she found, as she entered the living room, he was setting up the Christmas tree for her.

  She went to the couch and shifted aside the bags of ornaments she had placed there earlier. She glanced at the pine boughs and holly and poinsettias, and felt a touch of satisfaction. She had put her stamp on the room, made it feel partly hers, which made her feel more at home and welcome.

  So did Gabe’s intention to court her.

  But when he had finished making sure the tree stood straight and secure, he turned away.

  Her heart sank. He couldn’t talk if they spent the evening apart. Or, worse, in separate houses.

  “Aren’t you staying? I thought we might do this as a team.”

  He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I haven’t decorated a tree in years.”

  “I can beat that. I’ve never decorated a tree in my life.”

  His gaze flew to hers. “Never?”

  She shook her head. Holding her breath, she began taking out ornaments and setting them on the couch.

  To her relief, he reached into one of the bags for a string of lights and began unwinding them from their cardboard holder.

  “So, how come you never had a tree?”

  She winced, sorry now she’d blurted out that information, knowing what painful issues it would raise. But she’d been desperate. She needed him to stay.

  “I didn’t say I never had one, just that I’d never decorated one.”

  “How come?” he asked again. He began weaving the lights around upper branches.

  “When I was younger, I lived with my mother. She didn’t like live trees. And we moved so much, she didn’t want to cart an artificial one around with us.”

  No Christmas trees, no dollhouses, no bicycles. Nothing to slow them down when she had a fight with the latest boyfriend and decided it was time to move on.

  “That’s rough.”

  The sympathy in his voice surprised
her. It gave her hope that he might take a first step. Gave her courage to go on.

  “Yes, it was rough,” she agreed. “Then, I moved in with my father. He always hires an interior designer to come in to decorate his house for the holidays.”

  “He wouldn’t let you help?”

  “No. I wouldn’t have done things the right way. His way.” To her dismay, her voice wobbled.

  Gabe must have picked up on it because he grew still. When he spoke again, he said just the words she didn’t want to hear.

  “What did he think about how we got married? It wasn’t done the right way. Wasn’t the usual courtship—as you made sure to remind me. How does he feel about the baby?”

  She tightened her grip on a loop of shiny gold garland. “He doesn’t know.”

  “About the baby?”

  “About the baby, our marriage, quitting my job.”

  “You didn’t bother to tell him?”

  She frowned. “It’s not a case of bothering. It’s a matter of figuring out how.”

  “So you’re worried about him? Worried how he’s going to react to the news?”

  Reluctantly, she said, “It concerns me, yes.”

  “And your mother?”

  “That doesn’t worry me at all. We haven’t talked since I moved in with my father.”

  “Whoa. Hold on here.” He held out a hand and began counting off, turning down a finger at a time. “Your mother doesn’t care. Your father won’t like it that you haven’t done things right. You haven’t got any brothers and sisters—you told me that before. You haven’t got a job. And you’re carrying my baby.” He glared at his hand, now closed into a fist, then raised his eyes to her. “Seems to me like you need a place to raise our child—permanently.”

  “No,” she burst out. Then she lowered her voice and said, “I’ve told you before, Gabe. I’ll give our relationship a chance. That’s all I promised.”

  “Not good enough, Marissa.”

  “I’m tired of hearing that.” She dropped the garland onto the couch and stood. “You sound like my father, always insisting that things be perfect. Your way. But I’m not buying that.”

  Her anger suddenly spent, she shook her head and sighed. “I tried to tell you when I was here before, Gabe. I told you again in the note I left. Things don’t have to be perfect. They don’t always have to be my way, either. But I have no intention of staying in a marriage without an equal partner.”

  He stared at her, his face a mask, proof of the stranglehold he kept on his feelings. Yet he couldn’t hide the emotions that flickered, one after another, through his eyes.

  See, Gabe, you do care.

  Then why couldn’t he say so? Her pulse pounded in time with the clock in the corner. Her head swam. Her stomach heaved.

  Afraid she would faint or, worse, throw up on his cowboy boots, she sank to the edge of the couch. And watched in fury mixed with despair when he walked across the room without a backward glance.

  And without uttering a word.

  Chapter Nine

  Marissa’s steps dragged as she crossed the yard to the bunkhouse at the usual time, well before six in the morning. She hugged her coat around her. It was colder than normal. Or maybe the cold came from the hopelessness she felt.

  After storming out of the living room the night before, Gabe had kept to himself the rest of the evening, leaving her staring at the Christmas tree with its one strand of lights trailing on the carpet where he had dropped it. She had gone to bed, where she tossed and turned half the night, aching over her inability to reach him.

  With a sigh, she pushed open the door to the bunkhouse kitchen. There was only one good thing about this entire rotten morning—she had felt no sign at all of the nausea that hit on a regular basis. Thanks to Sarah and her suggestion to eat a few dry crackers before stepping foot out of bed.

  Though today, she would gladly have stayed there till noon.

  Inside the bunkhouse, she found Warren waiting. She smiled at the older man. They had taken to sharing a pot of tea midmorning, if Gabe wasn’t around, and had become friends.

  As he often helped with the meals, his appearance this morning didn’t completely surprise her. But generally, she arrived to an empty kitchen.

  “Hello, Warren,” she said. “You’re here early.”

  Not meeting her eyes, he mumbled a greeting.

  Her pulse tripped in alarm. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t heard any movement from Gabe’s room that morning. Had something happened on the ranch during the night? To one of the cowboys? To any of the horses?

  To Gabe?

  “What is it, Warren?”

  He shrugged. “Boss headed out, wanted me to tell you he raided the icebox before he left.”

  “Meaning he won’t be here for breakfast.”

  “May not be here for dinner, neither.”

  “Oh. Well.” Fighting to hide the wobble in her voice, she turned away.

  She busied herself with making breakfast, managing to converse with the cowboys, see them off for the day and clean up the kitchen, all while acting as though nothing had happened.

  And it was true. Nothing had happened, to anything but her relationship with Gabe. A relationship that seemed to be nonexistent.

  A relationship that, such a few short months before, had been so magical…

  Though her days at the Las Vegas convention had been filled with workshops, Marissa’s nights had been her own. Early in the week, she had made a reservation for a show in her hotel’s dinner theater. She’d stood amid a group of people waiting to pick up their tickets.

  “I draw the line at Elvis impersonators.”

  The deep Texas drawl, the words spoken so close to her ear, seemed meant for her alone.

  Right—talk about wishful thinking. She didn’t know a soul in the crowd. Still, she couldn’t help turning around, couldn’t resist checking to see if the rest of the man lived up to his voice.

  One look told her he did. One glance into a pair of light brown eyes set in a tanned face. Like dollops of rich caramel atop a creamy chocolate mousse.

  She stared like a starved chocoholic.

  “Impersonators?” She echoed his last word and forced her gaze to the billboard beside the theater entrance. “There aren’t any in this show. Tonight’s entertainment is a magician.”

  “I was talking about those guys in the wedding chapels who dress up like Elvis to marry people.”

  “And you were saying this to me?” She looked around for the woman he must have mistaken her for.

  “Sure was.” He readjusted his Stetson.

  “I don’t get the connection, unless you were propositioning me, cowboy?”

  “Sure was,” he repeated, with a laugh that crinkled the tanned skin around his eyes.

  She laughed, too, feeling safe with so many people within arm’s reach. And willing to engage in an innocent flirtation with a handsome man. She certainly could use the practice.

  “That’s rushing things a bit, don’t you think, considering we’ve never met.”

  “I know what I want when I see it.” And then he looked her over, from head to foot.

  Refusing to let his examination unsettle her, she did the same. Her gaze traveled upward from a pair of leather boots, to formfitting jeans, to a plaid Western shirt that strained against his biceps as he crossed his arms. When she reached those light brown eyes again, her insides unsettled themselves without any help from him at all.

  Pull yourself together, girl. He’s probably killing time until his date shows up.

  Ahead of them, the theater box office opened. The crowd surged forward, eager to claim their reserved tickets.

  Marissa kept waiting for the woman who would claim this cowboy.

  “So,” she asked, “what brings you to town?”

  “Rodeo up north, then a detour here to meet a friend.”

  At the counter, she received her ticket, then moved aside. The cowboy gave his name as Gabe Miller.

/>   Gabe.

  Hard. Rugged. To the point. Just like the man himself.

  Marissa looked at her watch. “I hope she’s not late.”

  “He. Caught an early flight out this afternoon.”

  “Oh.” Her heart gave an extra hard thump.

  Maybe the charming Gabe Miller wasn’t waiting for someone, after all. Maybe he wasn’t teasing with his outrageous flirtation.

  Maybe she should get her head examined.

  A moment later, an usher appeared. “Are you together?”

  “Sure are,” Gabe announced. He tipped back his hat. The lights blazing above the theater’s entrance caught him full in the face, making her heart do double time. “Right, Marissa?”

  “R-right,” she stuttered.

  He reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Let’s go see some magic tricks.”

  As he escorted her into the theater, Marissa shook her head at her own boldness. They were in a public place. Surrounded by people. And, no matter the strength of her instant attraction to Gabe, they would go their separate ways after dinner and the show.

  But the fact remained, she had just agreed to spend several hours with a complete stranger.

  The usher led them to a rectangular table for eight. She sank into one of the seats closest to the stage, trying to steady everything that had been thrown into a kaleidoscopic whirl—the room, her pulse, her heart.

  As Gabe settled beside her, resting his arm on the back of her chair, she noted his aftershave, a subtle woodsy scent that made her unsteadier yet.

  They still had to wait for the house lights to dim, for the curtain to rise, for the entertainment to start.

  But for Marissa, the magic had already begun—

  In the bunkhouse kitchen, the telephone rang, its loud jangle yanking her from that magical past and dropping her, with a bone-jarring thud, into her unhappy present.

  LATER THAT DAY, Marissa tried to keep her mind on the activity in the ranch-house kitchen.

  After suffering through breakfast without Gabe, she had been surprised to hear Mrs. Gannett’s voice on the phone. Gabe’s ex-schoolteacher had called as spokesperson for a group of the local wives, who wanted a lesson in candy making. Needing a diversion from her misery, Marissa had invited them for that afternoon.