All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  She gazed down at the bed with the one pillow. At the single dresser across the room that was devoid of everything atop it but a spare cowboy hat. Maybe he was just a boring guy. And because she couldn’t help herself, she casually sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out the drawer of the nightstand. She was nosy. So what.

  Inside, there was a bit more personality to him at least. There was a wallet with a credit card and a driver’s license. She stared at the picture. It was him, looking dead-eyed into the camera and annoyed that someone was taking his picture. Still handsome, though, even if impatience was stamped across his stern features. Her eyes blurred as she tried to read the tiny writing on the license.

  Elijah Pickett. He even sounded like a cowboy. His birthdate was on there. January 31. She counted back the years to figure out his age. Thirty-two. All right. Elijah was four years older than her.

  Oh.

  Pleasure blossomed through her at the realization of her own age. She was twenty-eight, then. The knowledge had come to her without even thinking about it. Maybe if she pricked at her mind with other small things, the memories would fill in. Encouraged, she slipped his license back into his wallet and replaced it carefully. There was a comb in here, a wood-handled knife with a symbol engraved on it, a gaudy belt buckle with a big E on it that didn’t seem like him at all. There was a leather-covered Bible and a copy of The Call of the Wild that had a page dog-eared about halfway through it. Underneath that there was a magazine, and she absently picked it up. No family photos, no condoms, no nothing by the bedside.

  Cass couldn’t decide if that was charmingly straitlaced or worrisome.

  The magazine looked like some sort of ranching periodical. She absently flipped through it, thinking about her age and hoping that something else would stir loose, when she paused on a picture of a cowboy atop a horse. It was Elijah, holding a lasso of rope above his head while a calf fled in front of him. It was an action shot but there was a look of such concentration and determination on his face that she shivered.

  He was handsome. Really, really handsome. The photo had captured his strength and ruggedness perfectly. Was the article about him? She skimmed it. Some stuff about Price Ranch and the number of cattle they drove, and how the herds they used to run were a fraction of what they were ten years ago and . . .

  And reading made her head hurt. Like, really bad. The words swam and she rubbed her eyes. Maybe she’d read it tomorrow. After all, what was she trying to find out about Mr. Elijah Pickett? If he was married? She could look at his ring finger in the morning, though she suspected it’d be empty. Everything about this room spoke of a guy who didn’t have a woman in his life.

  Or anyone, really.

  She supposed that made her sad, that one lonely picture of his dog on his nightstand. And she thought about the fact that it was almost Christmas and Elijah was here alone, with no decorations or anything to celebrate. It seemed wrong. Christmas was a time for family and love . . . wasn’t it? She tried to think about her own family, but nothing popped up.

  Cass couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was waiting on her, somewhere. But who? And where? She rubbed her bare ring finger. A husband? She didn’t think so. Boyfriend seemed unlikely, too. A kid? An ex? Was someone sitting out there, watching the road and waiting for her to arrive? Gosh, she hoped her memory returned soon, because she hated the thought of worrying people.

  Maybe she’d ask Elijah about it in the morning. Maybe he knew everyone on this mountain and would know who she was visiting. Heck, he could take her back to her car and let her get her things, at least. Perhaps when she had her stuff or saw the car itself, that’d jog something loose. Encouraged, she began to gingerly undress for bed.

  * * *

  • • •

  It was clear that this woman—this Cass—was not a rancher.

  Eli frowned up at the clock on the wall that read nine in the morning. He’d already caked the cows and spread hay for them, did a head count, and made sure they had water. He’d been up since five and hard at work. His guest hadn’t even stirred.

  He wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or not. Just because he didn’t sleep late didn’t mean that she was sick. Still . . . he’d work in the barn for a bit, then come inside to grab a drink of water, and listen outside her door. It was quiet.

  Too quiet, maybe.

  Should he go inside? Eli hesitated outside the door. He didn’t want to barge in if she was sleeping. But if she wasn’t . . .

  The phone rang, and Eli headed over to the kitchen and picked it up. “Yeah?”

  “Good morning,” Doc Parsons said cheerily. “I thought I’d check on our patient. How is our girl feeling?”

  Eli frowned into the phone. “Don’t know. She hasn’t woke up yet.”

  “Hasn’t woke up? Did you watch her last night to make sure she was all right?”

  “Well . . . no.”

  Doc made a noise of distress on the other end of the line. “How did she seem?”

  How did she seem? “She doesn’t have her memory, but other than that, I guess she seems all right.”

  “No memory?”

  “Nope. Unless she’s faking.” Though he couldn’t think of a reason why she’d fake her memory loss. And she’d seemed downright distressed over the whole thing.

  “You tell me—does she look like she hit her head hard enough for something like that?”

  Eli thought about the bruises and the gash on her brow. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Were her pupils a normal size? One wasn’t larger than the other?”

  “I didn’t check.”

  “Check today. It’s possible she has a concussion. If that’s the case, I’m going to need you to watch her while she sleeps.”

  Watch her while she slept? Was the man serious? “Doc, I’ve got a ranch to run here. I can’t sit around and watch some stranger sleep all day long.”

  “If she sleeps all day long, that’s a bad sign,” Doc told him. “Look, we got a ton of snow overnight, or I’d suggest you bring her over here so I can watch over her. As it is, you’ll just have to do the heavy lifting on this one. Watch her closely, keep her away from screens and reading, or anything else that could tax her brain. We don’t know for sure if she has a concussion or not, but if she is having trouble with memories, let’s not do anything to make it worse. Oh, and no strenuous activity.”

  He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t sound like she could do anything but sit on the couch. “All right.”

  “Just keep her calm and relaxed.” Doc chuckled as if that was funny, and Eli felt a surge of irritation.

  Keep her calm and relaxed, and watch her every damn minute of the day. He wasn’t asking for too much at all, was he? “So what am I supposed to do with her?”

  “Be hospitable,” Doc said cheerfully. “Call me if you need anything else. I know you’re impatient, but treat her as good as you would one of your sick calves. I’m going to have some tea and then cake my cows again before we get another round of snow. Weather forecast is looking kind of bleak.”

  He cursed. If that was true, and looking at the skies, it most likely was, Eli needed to cake his, too, but apparently he also had to babysit. “Thanks, Doc.” He hung the phone up and paced toward his bedroom. Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty.

  Eli knocked on her door—his door, really—and waited impatiently for her to open up. He wasn’t prepared for the sight of her. She’d changed out of her clothing sometime during the night and now wore one of his shirts, the buttons loose around her neck and revealing a hint of creamy cleavage—and her bruises. Her dark hair was tousled and spilled around her shoulders like a cloud, and both of her eyes were deeply shadowed with bruises. She was a mixture of sexy and broken all at once, and he didn’t know how he felt about that.

  He kept staring at his shirt, though.

  “Good morn
ing,” she said softly, and then bit her lip. “I don’t suppose you have aspirin?”

  Jerking his gaze away from the glimpse of thigh under the hem of his shirt, he realized that her eyes were slitted, as if the light pained her. Heck. Here he was wondering if she was wearing anything under his shirt and she was in pain. He was an idiot. Just treat her like one of your sick calves, Doc had said. If she was in his care, he’d have fired himself for how he was treating her. Just went to show that he was way better with animals than with people. “I do. Follow me.”

  Mouth dry, he turned on his heel and marched back toward the kitchen, his thoughts whirling. He hadn’t told her to change into his shirt, but it made sense that she did. Of course she should. She was hurt and needed to be comfortable. The problem was his own reaction to the sight of her like that, because it reminded him just how long it had been since he’d had any sort of relationship with a woman. Years, really.

  Not that he wanted one with this one. She was pretty, but too fragile and helpless for his taste. ’Sides, it wouldn’t be right.

  But he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t affected by the sight of her vivid blue eyes as she gave him a pained look and clutched at her head. Her steps weaved a bit as she moved forward, and he stopped to put an arm around her waist. He could feel the material of the shirt bunch up against his arm, but he stared straight ahead, because he wasn’t gonna look. Gawking at an injured woman’s thighs seemed like a straight shot to hell.

  “I can walk,” she protested.

  “No you can’t.” He ignored her attempts to break free and guided her down the hall to the kitchen, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “Last thing we need is you crashing into something else and breaking your head open. Again.” He helped her toward the table at the far end of the kitchen and hauled a chair out for her. “Sit.”

  She did, and he noticed that she thumped into the seat rather wearily.

  With his charge deposited, Eli found some aspirin, poured her a cup of coffee, and then sat down across from her. “The coffee’s a bit old but it’s still hot.”

  With trembling fingers, she took the aspirin from him, then washed them down with a sip of coffee . . . and nearly choked. “How old is this coffee? Five years?” She coughed into her hand.

  He couldn’t help but grin at that. “More like five hours. I like mine strong.”

  “Five hours?” She took another tentative sip of the coffee and grimaced. “You must get up early.”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m sorry I slept so late.” She sounded ashamed, and he felt like a real ass for thinking the same thing not so long ago. “I feel like I’m being the rudest guest and I never thanked you for saving me, Elijah.”

  Something fierce rippled through him at the sound of his name on her lips. “No one calls me Elijah.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip and looked so uncertain that he felt like a jerk all over again.

  “Eli,” he told her, and was rewarded with a smile that made him want to smile back at her.

  “My nickname’s Cass. At least, I think it is.” She gave a tiny shrug. “I’m not the best authority on those things at the moment.”

  She was trying to make a joke out of it? That was cute, and he appreciated a sense of humor. “I’ll take your word for it. How are you feeling this morning?”

  Her fingers cupped the coffee mug and she stared down at it. “Like I got smacked in the face with a big immovable object?”

  “Because you did?” He gestured that she should lean in. “Let me look at your eyes. Doc told me I should make sure your pupils are the same size.”

  Cass blinked at him in surprise. “Someone else is here?”

  “No, he’s on a ranch on the other side of the mountain, but I called him when I found you. He’s a vet.” At her smothered laugh, he couldn’t help but grin, too. “I know. But that was who I knew was available, so I called him.”

  “As soon as my head stops hurting and it stops snowing, I’ll be out of your way, I promise.” She obediently leaned forward so he could gaze into her eyes.

  Lost in the bright blue of them, Eli blinked and had to take a moment to focus on what she was saying. “Your eyes look all right,” he told her gruffly. “And I’m not sure where you think you’re going.”

  She blinked, her long lashes drawing his attention back to her eyes. Damn it, why did he find her so pretty? She was nothing but trouble he didn’t need. “Oh, well, I figured once it stopped snowing I’d be on my way.”

  “Two things,” Eli drawled, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “One. That snow ain’t going anywhere for weeks, most likely. There’s several feet on the ground and we’re due to get another round later today. Mountain’s not going to be drivable for a while.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, and she sounded so woebegone he felt like an ass. “What’s the second thing?”

  “You got any idea of where you’re going?”

  She chewed on her lip. “I’m sure something will come to me.”

  “That’s kinda what I thought. Look, neither of us are happy about this, but it is what it is.” He hated that she flinched. He was just trying to be honest, damn it. “You’re stuck here until you get better and until the roads clear. Might as well get used to it. Until then, Doc tells me that you’re not allowed TV or computer screens or reading.”

  “I’m not?” Cass blinked at him.

  “Nope. No strenuous activity, either.”

  “So . . . I’m supposed to what, sit on the couch and twiddle my thumbs?”

  “You can pet Frannie.”

  “Oh, well,” she replied tartly. “That should burn a whole five minutes. Thank god.”

  A laugh erupted out of him. “It ain’t ideal, I know, but you don’t want to mess your head up worse than it already is.”

  “No, I guess not.” She ran a long finger around the rim of the mug, and he noticed that her nails were short and natural. “I don’t suppose you got my purse and my cell phone from my car, did you?”

  He hadn’t even thought about it. He’d been so rattled at the sight of her, covered in blood, that he hadn’t thought about anything else. “I didn’t. If you need it, I can try to go back in a few days once the worst of the snow passes.”

  “A few days?” she echoed.

  “Not safe to take the horses out in this weather. They’re not fans of it, either.”

  “Oh. Of course.” Cass toyed with the mug. “Well, I guess I’ll just . . . sit around here. Are you going to keep me company?” She gave him such a hopeful look that he felt longing stir in his body.

  Damn it. Not appropriate. “No.” And he jumped to his feet and reached for his hat on the counter. “I’ve got work to do. No time to sit around jawing.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  That hadn’t gone well.

  Cass finished sipping the terrible, terrible coffee, wondering what she was supposed to do with herself. She couldn’t read, couldn’t watch TV, couldn’t do anything, really. She looked over at Frannie, but the dog was asleep by the woodstove. Napping wasn’t a bad idea.

  She needed to eat something first, though. Getting to her feet, Cass rummaged through the tidy kitchen. It was clear that although Eli was here by himself, someone had thought of him. Plastic bags of Christmas fudge had been left out, tied with green and red ribbons, and there were a few plastic containers labeled For Christmas Dinner. That was sweet. A wife, maybe? She really needed to check his finger. Cass toyed with the collar of the shirt she’d borrowed. It probably made him feel weird to see her dressed like this. All right, she would change, then, after she ate.

  She found some bread and jam and made herself a couple of pieces of toast, and then found that her eyes were heavy. A quick nap, then. When she got up, she’d make a list of things to ask Elijah—no, Eli—that she could do around the place. Maybe there was something she could
help out with so he’d stop looking at her with such frustration in his eyes.

  When she woke up, she dressed in her jeans again and her shoes, but she kept his shirt on. Hers had blood all over it, and she decided that the first thing she’d do was laundry. Searching through the rooms of the cozy ranch house felt a bit like more snooping, but she told herself that Eli wouldn’t want to be bothered. A quick glance outside had shown her that it was snowing harder than ever, and she could just barely make out a distant figure on a tractor of some kind, spreading hay in one of the nearby snowy fields. He was busy. She’d just be self-sufficient and stay out of his way, then.

  The washing machine was old, and maybe she wasn’t much of a homemaker, but it felt like solving a puzzle to try to turn the darn thing on. Eventually she got it started and added a cup of powder to the machine, then sat on top of the washer and waited for it to finish. As it worked, she swung her legs and noticed that the laundry room doubled as storage, because she saw some boxes labeled Christmas.

  Would it be all right to decorate? she wondered. Or would Eli hate the thought? She made a mental note to ask him. And then because she kept thinking of even more things to ask him, she hunted for a pen and paper and began to write things down to ask about.

  What kind of car was she driving when he found her?

  Did he know where she was going?

  Who else lives here?

  Can she decorate for Christmas?

  Is he married?

  She blushed at the last one and then scratched it out. It shouldn’t matter if Eli was married or not. He was just a nice man who was helping a stranger out. That was all.

  And surely a guy as good-looking as he was would already be taken. She couldn’t help but think about the strong arm he slung around her waist, helping her to the kitchen. It made her feel dainty, cherished. Not that it mattered, she told herself. He was just being nice. She remembered the fudge in the kitchen, tied up with thoughtful little bows. Definitely taken. She thought of the Christmas ornaments and such, carefully put away. He wasn’t celebrating because his family wasn’t here. She felt sorry for him.