Secret-Santa Cowboy: The Buckskin Brotherhood

by Thompson, Vicki Lewis

  “We get to see her!” Ben’s voice boomed out as he crossed the room toward Henri. “Just for a little while. No holding or kissing yet. CJ’s bringing Isabel out in a wheelchair and she’ll be holding Cleo Marie. You can gather around the doorway, but not too close.”

  Henri let out a happy sigh. “That’s good enough for now. I just want to lay eyes on that little cherub. I can wait on the holding and squeezing part.”

  “Same here.” Leo smiled at Fiona. “Let’s go meet Cleo Marie.”

  She stood by his side as Ed arranged them in a semi-circle in front of the double doors. “If you have gum, take it out.” Ed gave them all the eagle-eye. “I don’t want anybody popping a bubble and scaring that baby. And besides, you’ll look dumb on the video.”

  “Hang on. I’m not leaving this to chance.” Pam grabbed a paper napkin near the plate of cookies and started at the far end. “Give me those wads of gum.”

  Peggy laughed. “Once a den mother, always a den mother.”

  Leo grinned at Fiona. “Better cough it up if you have some. Don’t just stick it under your tongue. Pam has X-ray vision.”

  She held up her wrapped cigar.

  “Alrighty, then.” He peered at her. “You doing okay, Fi?”

  Caught in the intensity of his gaze, she almost swallowed her tongue. “Um…”

  A nurse propped open the double doors and stepped back.

  Leo clutched her hand tighter as a wheelchair rolled out of a room down the hall and turned. CJ gripped the handles and started forward, his mile-wide smile lighting up the entire corridor.

  Isabel looked tired but happy. She kept peering at the wrapped bundle in her arms.

  CJ pushed the wheelchair as far as the open doors. “Here we are.” His voice was husky as he looked down at his little family. “Izzy, can you hold her up a little so they can see her face?”

  “Sure.” Cradling Cleo Marie in her arms, she rearranged the blanket and turned her toward her fans. The little girl’s eyes were closed and one impossibly small fist protruded out of the blanket. A bit of blond hair covered the top of her head like peach fuzz.

  Leo’s breath caught and he moved closer to Fiona. “Isn’t she amazing?”

  “Mm.”

  CJ leaned over Isabel’s shoulder, reached down and stroked a finger over his daughter’s cheek. Then he looked up, his emotion-filled gaze circling the group. “You can’t imagine what it means that you all…” He paused, too overcome to continue. Then he drew in a breath. “Thank you for being here for us.”

  Henri sniffed. “She’s beautiful, CJ. You’re all beautiful, all three of you.”

  “Thank you, Henri.” Isabel smiled. “Thanks, gang.” Then she murmured something to CJ and he nodded.

  “I need to take my ladies back to the room so they can rest.” His glance swept the group one more time. “Merry Christmas.”

  The nurse closed the doors, followed by a collective sigh.

  “Best Christmas present ever,” Henri said, her voice unsteady. “Let’s head home, everybody. We have a lot to celebrate tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Nick caught Leo’s eye. “Ready?”

  Leo glanced at Fiona.

  She nodded, holding up a finger and pointing. “Coat.”

  Uh-oh. Something was off. He’d had a hunch earlier, and she’d avoided his gaze just now as she went to fetch her coat. He remained uneasy on the trip back to town.

  He, Nick and Eva had plenty to talk about. Cleo Marie’s arrival dominated the conversation, although Jake and Millie’s surprise decision to get married was discussed, too. Fiona barely said two words.

  Maybe her newcomer status was part of the issue. But the Fiona he’d made love to in the dark wouldn’t have let that stop her. She knew all the players even if she hadn’t been around that long. She should have dived right in with enthusiasm.

  “If you could drop us beside my truck in the rear parking lot of the Moose, that would be the most helpful,” he said as they approached the town limits. “I’ll drive Fiona over to her place.”

  “Got it.” Nick pulled into the alley that led to the rear parking lot and glanced at his dashboard clock. “Hey, it’s after midnight. Merry Christmas, you two.” He left the truck running as he hopped out and put down his seat to let them out.

  “A very Merry Christmas.” Eva swiveled in her seat. “We’ll see you both tomorrow, right?”

  “Right.” Leo grabbed the Santa suit and helped Fiona out. “Thanks again for the ride, bro.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Fiona echoed.

  As Nick pulled away, Leo handed her into the passenger seat of his truck. “Sorry it’s so cold.”

  “I’m fine. You’re…” She gestured at his shirtsleeves, her gaze on his chest.

  “Like I said, I run hot.” Not hot enough to keep from shivering, but he was sick of putting on the Santa jacket. He hurried around to the driver’s side, climbed in and started the engine. Before buckling his seatbelt, he put the Santa suit in the backseat and managed to wiggle into his very cold jacket.

  Then he buckled up, put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. “The Moose is still going strong.”

  “I’m not—”

  “I’m not suggesting we go in.” But he longed to recapture the mood they’d created when they were dancing.

  Cleo Marie’s birth had been awesome and Jake’s engagement to Millie was a bonus. They’d be married before New Year’s Eve. Or maybe on New Year’s Eve. A cymbal crash, as Jake would say.

  Several of his brothers were over the moon tonight—CJ was a new dad, Jake was engaged to Millie at long last, and Matt and Lucy could start working on that baby they wanted. Good news. But no point in denying it, his budding relationship with Fiona had taken a hit.

  He lobbed a conversational softball. “Crazy night, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like Jake said, we usually don’t double up on the life-changing events. This was unusual.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He pulled up in front of her shop. “Just so you know, you don’t have to make that dinner tomorrow.”

  “I know.”

  “Unless you want to.” He reached for the ignition.

  Her hand darted out, stopping him. “Don’t.”

  Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach. “You want to take a spin around the square?”

  “No.” She turned to him, staring at a point over his shoulder. “I was hoping… Eva and Beth said…”

  She was struggling to finish a sentence. Not a good sign. “You did great tonight. I know it was a lot, but we just have to—”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I can’t… do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Talk. To you.”

  “Fi—”

  “No, Leo. Just… no.” She pulled her hand away and unfastened her seat belt.

  He opened his door and the dome light flicked on. “Let me come in. We can discuss this. Work it out.”

  She paused, her breath hitching as she met his gaze. “No.”

  Panic set in. “This isn’t over. We’re not over.”

  Her gaze skittered away. “Yes, we are.” She reached for the door handle.

  “Wait! You have to know I’m in—”

  “No!” Her voice was filled with anguish. She scrambled out, flung the door closed and ran across the ice-crusted sidewalk.

  “Fi!” He leaped out. She’d fall for sure.

  But she didn’t. She was inside in no time.

  He had a key. But using it would be futile. She didn’t want him there.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sleep was not Fiona’s friend, not even when she abandoned her memory-laden bedroom and settled on her couch. She finally gave up, dressed in her most comfortable sweat suit and made coffee. Once the coffee finished brewing, she ate a balanced breakfast—a Christmas cookie in each hand.

  Ending a hot affair on Christmas Eve sucked, but it had one
thing going for it. She had a full day alone to gather her forces. Her two best friends were with their sweethearts so she wouldn’t have to put on a brave face for them. The shop was closed, so she wouldn’t have to force herself to smile at customers, either.

  On the flip side, she’d have to fill the day with something or she’d go bonkers. She sorted through the options. She was too restless to read or watch movies. Aha, she could go jogging! And pull a hamstring. She’d never jogged a day in her life.

  A long ramble through the countryside? Nope. Without a major distraction, she’d spend it reliving the past four days. And nights. Cleaning her apartment had the same drawback without the change of scenery.

  She meandered downstairs and turned on the shop lights. Hey! She’d scheduled the store’s inventory for January, but she was the boss. It was almost January. She could start today.

  The process would engage her brain and help her block unproductive thoughts about a certain cowboy. And how his blue eyes had warmed when he’d pulled her close on the dance floor. And how she’d melted down at the hospital and in his truck….

  Groaning, she marched upstairs, refilled her coffee mug and grabbed the rest of the cookies. Inventory. Her saving grace.

  Hours later she congratulated herself on her choice. She was damn close to finishing the job. She’d finished the cookies, too, requiring her to switch to a different food group—an elegant box of dark chocolates from one of her customers.

  Eating sweets all day had given her a sugar high, but better high than low, right? At least she’d switched to decaf when she’d started shaking so much she was dropping things.

  As the light coming through the front windows began to fade, she debated whether to go upstairs and fix some real food for supper.

  Supper. It was almost dusk! How could she have forgotten?

  Ten minutes later, armed with a thermos of hot chocolate, a package of pretzels and Winifred’s journal, she drove her five-year-old red Honda hybrid over to the Apple Grove cemetery. She’d bought a red car because it was her favorite color, but it wasn’t the best choice for a covert stakeout.

  Couldn’t be helped. Beth and Eva both had ginormous trucks which would stand out even more, especially Beth’s with the Racy Lace logo on both doors. Not many people knew she had a car because she kept it in a covered space behind her building and seldom used it.

  Everything she needed was within walking distance, including the cemetery. Except she’d last about five minutes standing out in the cold waiting to see if anybody left a holiday wreath on Winifred’s grave.

  Fortunately, Winifred was buried in her family’s plot near the front entrance. The Bartons had secured it more than a hundred years ago, so they’d scored a premier location.

  The parking area to the left of the entrance was empty. No surprise, there. She could have parked right across from the gravesite, but she wanted to leave that for Winifred’s secret lover. Instead she chose a spot four spaces over.

  She could see fine. Dusk had fallen, and Winifred’s white marble headstone gleamed in the light from the lampposts on either side of the tall, wrought iron double gate that stood permanently open. No wreath yet on Winifred’s grave.

  The two similar stones on either side of Winifred looked like many of the ones in the cemetery, weathered and crusted with lichen. Trees had grown behind the plot, two stately pines on either side of an oak, leafless now.

  Because she knew the story of Winifred’s soldier fiancé dying just days before the wedding, the placement of the stones made sense. Witnessing her grief, her parents had concluded she’d never marry. They’d chosen to give her the middle plot and they’d taken one on either side, surrounding her with their love.

  Leaving the motor running, Fiona turned off the headlights and opened her thermos of hot chocolate. Her phone pinged.

  Eva. Are you there?

  Yep. Nothing yet.

  Eva had remembered. By now she’d be at the Buckskin and would have heard the latest. She probably wouldn’t bring up that subject in a text conversation, though.

  Then Beth texted. Any news?

  Waiting. After texting that to Beth, she set up a group text for when she had something to report.

  Maybe nothing would happen, but she’d read Winifred’s journal, the words and the emotions that hadn’t been put into words. Winifred had loved that man and he’d loved her back. Who else would sneak over here on Christmas and put a wreath on her grave?

  She pulled a pretzel out of the sack and munched on it as she sipped her hot chocolate. The snack kept the caper from turning into a scene from A Christmas Carol. She had no interest in meeting any ghosts tonight.

  Her phone pinged, then pinged again. Identical texts. Anything?

  She answered them on the group text she’d created. Still waiting. I promise I’ll text you if anything happens.

  No sooner had she sent it than headlights appeared in her rearview mirror. She shut off the engine and put her hot chocolate in the cup holder. Maybe he, and she had to believe it was a man, hadn’t seen the clouds of condensation coming out of her tailpipe.

  But her presence would be noticed. Chances were good he’d deposit the wreath and leave, not wanting to make contact with whoever was here. She slid down in the seat so the car would look unoccupied.

  Whoever he was drove a truck. It rumbled closer and parked in the exact space she’d left for him. Her view was limited because she’d hunkered down so low, but the top part of the truck was visible. It didn’t shine in the lamppost light. Its paint job had faded and it had a dent in the back fender.

  The driver’s door opened. Her pulse hammered as the driver climbed down with slow, measured movements. Didn’t look like a woman, but she shouldn’t jump to conclusions just because she so desperately wanted it to be a man.

  Whoever it was walked around to the passenger side. Was someone else in there? That would blow her entire theory. But no, the driver closed the passenger door and walked toward the open gate carrying… something.

  When he stepped into the light, she clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t let out a whoop. He was holding a wreath.

  Grabbing her phone, she sent a text to Eva and Beth. He’s here. Just took a wreath into the cemetery!

  Eva responded first. Do you recognize him? What’s he driving?

  An old truck, faded paint.

  Could be anybody. Try to get a better look at him. Tall? Short?

  On the tall side. Looks slim. Older. Have to believe it’s a guy.

  Beth chimed in. I’ll ask Jared who drives an old truck around here.

  Thanks. Fiona scooted up enough so that she could see over the dash. The person went straight to Winifred’s grave, leaned the wreath against the headstone, and dropped to one knee.

  Fiona’s breath caught. That simple act of devotion brought tears to her eyes. That was a guy. No question about it.

  Several seconds passed. The man struggled to his feet—another clue, and walked slowly out of the cemetery, shoulders slumped.

  Her heart ached for him. She’d had some wild idea she’d be able to ID him, but not in this dim light. To do that, she’d have to get out of her car and confront him. That would be so wrong.

  He approached his truck and walked to the driver’s side. Then he turned to face her car. He stood there for several seconds. Then he started in her direction.

  Her phone was going crazy with texts from Beth and Eva. She silenced it and repositioned herself in the seat. The man rounded the hood of her car and tapped on her driver’s side window.

  She rolled it down and gazed up at Orville Dubois. She’d been right.

  “You’re the lady from the paper store.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I have something that belongs to you. From Winifred.”

  He frowned. “I can’t imagine—”

  “Will you come sit with me?” She pushed the button to unlock the passenger door.

 
He smiled, revealing a trace of the dashing man who’d captured Winifred’s heart. “I’d be a fool to refuse an invitation from a beautiful lady.”

  As he walked around to the passenger side, she tucked the thermos and bag of pretzels behind her seat. She laid the journal in her lap.

  He climbed in, bringing with him the scent of a spicy cologne.

  “You smell nice.”

  “It was her favorite cologne.”

  “You loved her very much.” She didn’t look at him. Gazing out the windshield seemed more respectful.

  “More than you can imagine. She was my heart, my soul, but she rejected me.”

  Fiona made an educated guess. “On Christmas Day?”

  “On Christmas Day. I asked her to marry me. I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life. I wanted to go to sleep in her arms and wake up to her smile. She said it would never work. We were creatures of the night. That’s all we’d ever be.”

  That was a sucker punch to her gut. “You ended it?”

  “She did. I would have gone on forever, accepting whatever crumbs she would give me, but she said that wasn’t fair. I should find a woman who’d be the partner I needed.”

  “Because she loved you.”

  “But I didn’t want anyone else. Several times I tried to reconnect with her, but she wouldn’t see me.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “It’s very sad. But I thought it was very private, too. Evidently not.”

  “It’s still sort of private. My friend Eva bought Winifred’s house.”

  “I know that.”

  “She found this in a box in the attic.”

  “A journal?”

  “About your love affair.”

  He sucked in a breath. “You’ve read it?”

  “Yes. And full disclosure, so have Eva and my friend Beth. But that’s it. Only three of us.”

  “And now you’re giving it to me.”

  “That was my idea, if I could figure out who you were. She didn’t identify you in the journal.”

  He took a deep breath. “Because I was never real to her. I was a fantasy. And I wanted to be her partner.”