All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  Her brow furrowed in the most adorable way. “Cashew butter.” Then she giggled at his revolted look of disgust. “What? I love cashew butter.”

  “How the heck do you butter a cashew?”

  “No, silly.” Her smile grew wider and wider, and the bigger it got, the more his heart felt like it was expanding. Funny how the two were connected. “Cashew butter is like peanut butter, but made with cashews instead. It’s yummy.”

  “You mean to tell me that you could pick any food in the world as your favorite, and you pick a fake peanut butter?”

  Cass’s giggles grew louder. “It’s not fake!” She mock swatted him, reaching across the table. “It’s delicious!”

  “Then why wouldn’t you eat regular peanut butter? Don’t tell me you eat a cashew and jelly sandwich?”

  “I don’t, because a lot of breads aren’t vegan.” Her brows furrowed again. “But I haven’t been eating vegan since I got here. I . . . I don’t think I like being vegan.”

  “Then don’t be vegan. My favorite food’s a steak.” He gave her a nod. “Nice big juicy one seared in butter. Lots of fat.”

  She wrinkled her nose, but her expression was thoughtful. “I think I’m vegan because of the same reason I don’t have a dog. What that reason is, I don’t know, though. I just feel like they’re connected.” Frannie put a paw on Cass’s leg, and the woman leaned down and gave the dog a smile and a scratch behind the ears. “I wonder why I’m doing those things if I don’t like them?”

  “Dunno.”

  Her expression grew sad. “I wish I could remember. It’s bothering me so much that I have these enormous gaps. It’s like I have pieces still there, but the parts that connect everything are missing.” She touched her forehead as if she could encourage it to process, to remember. “I wish I could shake them loose, so I could finally get who I am. It’s so hard not knowing who you are.”

  It made him feel oddly guilty. But he understood what she meant about not knowing who she was, and that made it worse. “Maybe this memory loss is a good thing. Maybe it’ll show you all the things you need to change in your life.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “Easy to say when you have all of your memories.”

  “I’d be fine with losing some of them,” Eli told her in a dry voice. Just thinking about his past made him want to volunteer for something along those lines. He’d be fine with losing memories of everything before coming to the ranch.

  She fed Frannie another crust of her sandwich and gave him a soft look. “Since I don’t have anything to share, why don’t you tell me about you? I think if you keep talking, it’ll help loosen something up in my head.”

  He immediately shook his head. “Nah.”

  Cass’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, nah? You can’t do that. You share, I share.”

  “Then you share,” he countered.

  “Fine, ask me something,” she retorted.

  “Are you married?” He hated that the words came out of his mouth so quickly. He shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have said anything . . . but now there was nothing to be done about it. It hung out there, between them.

  He expected her to tease him. To get all flirty about why he was asking, when it should be obvious why he was asking. But all she did was rub her ring finger thoughtfully. “I don’t think I am. It feels wrong. Not wrong, I guess. Like the idea doesn’t fit. And I think I’d see something here.” She rubbed the base of her ring finger again. “When I was in high school, my grandmother gave me a ring one year for Christmas and I thought it was just the prettiest ring ever. I wore it and wore it, and I even slept with it on. After a while, my finger had a tan line and this little indention where I wore the ring. I don’t have anything like that, so I can’t imagine that I am. I think I’d feel it if I was married. That there’d be more people I’ve got holes in my memory about, and it doesn’t feel like that.”

  “But someone’s vegan,” he reminded her.

  “Not a romantic someone.” Cass looked thoughtful. “Funny how I can remember that ring from years ago, but I can’t remember my own stupid last name.”

  “You hit your head,” he told her gently. She seemed so disappointed in herself and that bothered him. “These things take time.”

  She nodded, and then reached across the table and took his left hand in hers. “I don’t see a ring indentation on your finger, either. No tan line. You said you weren’t married. Divorced?”

  He wished she’d rub his finger like she’d done hers. He imagined her light fingertips grazing over his skin, and his entire body wanted to shudder in response. “Neither.”

  “Really? You a ladies’ man, then?”

  “Not really,” he said, wondering absently if he should pull his hand from her grip. It felt good there. Felt right. But he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so he just remained very, very still. “Never dated much, either.”

  “Now, that I find hard to believe.” Cass’s smile showed a hint of dimple on her cheek. “You’re a great guy, Eli.”

  He snorted. Didn’t know what else to do.

  “It’s true. You’re kind, thoughtful . . . employed.” She gave his hand a squeeze and then released it, and he immediately felt the lack. “You’re good with animals, and you rescue damsels in distress. All of this is a great dating résumé.”

  Good with animals. He laughed, just because it was the most absurd thing to think of telling a girl when you want to date her. But he loved that Cass could make him laugh and smile, even when he didn’t much feel like it. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future. You know of a lot of women that want a résumé from a guy before they date him?”

  “Only the smart ones, I imagine,” she told him impishly.

  They grinned at each other for a moment and then the silence grew awkward. She fed another crust to the dogs, spoiling them rotten, but he didn’t say anything about it. He finished his sandwich, glanced at the clock, and then took a swig of water. Anything to avoid the intense gaze of those gorgeous blue eyes that were so sad and sweet at once. If he could, he’d give her back her memory right away, even if it meant she left in the morning. He just hated to see her hurting.

  Of course, she couldn’t leave in the morning. The snow through the pass was easily ten feet deep at this point. They needed sun and warm weather for a few days before the roads would become passable again. She was stuck here with him. All the more reason to keep things easy and casual and not push her. So he got to his feet, taking his plate to the sink. “Once you’re finished, why don’t you show me what ornaments you want pulled into the living room? Maria’s got boxes and boxes of them.”

  “I’m finished,” she said eagerly, and followed him. The dogs trailed after her, wagging their tails with excitement in the hopes of more scraps, he reckoned. Or maybe they just liked her.

  He knew how that felt.

  For the next while, she directed him and he retrieved items for her. He found the boxes in the laundry room, neatly ordered and packed carefully. It didn’t seem like enough stuff to him, so he checked the attic, and sure enough, there were boxes of wreaths and garlands and the ugliest damn lights. There was a gigantic papier-mâché reindeer and blankets in Christmas colors that were carefully wrapped against dust and mice, and he even saw a fake tree, which he did not point out to Cass. She loved the real one so much that he’d have gotten her ten of them if she wanted.

  Then, when everything was down in the living room and the place was filled with boxes, they sat on the sofa on opposite ends and drank a hot chocolate. Frannie immediately curled up against Cass’s side, the traitor. Her snowy white head pillowed on Cass’s thigh and he watched as Cass’s delicate fingers stroked her head.

  First time he was ever jealous of his damn dog.

  She sipped her cocoa, stroking Frannie’s head, and glanced over at him. “We’ve made a mess of the living room.”
>
  Eli gazed out at the boxes strewn over the floor. It was a lot. Enough to fill a store, he imagined. “I knew Maria had a lot of Christmas stuff. I just didn’t realize how much. She’s a big fan.” He rubbed his chin. “A big fan or a Santa addict.”

  Cass giggled. “Strange addiction. Where is she, by the way? Maria? You’ve mentioned her several times.”

  “Home with her daughters for the holidays. They live out in California.”

  “And she’s the housekeeper?” At his nod, she continued. “How many people live here?”

  “Five—me, Maria, Old Clyde, Jordy, and Dustin.”

  “Which one’s the owner? The Price of Price Ranch?”

  He glanced over at her while drinking his cocoa. A lot of questions, but she seemed genuinely interested. “No one. The ranch is an investment for some rich guy. He’s the Price. I think he wanted the land but he’s not doing anything with it, so we ranch and raise cattle, and I imagine the years we don’t make money, it’s a tax write-off. Someone explained it to me once but I admit most of that’s over my head.” He shrugged. “I’m the one in the dirt, not the one with the wallet.”

  Cass sighed. “I don’t blame you. It seems a lot simpler to be the cowboy rather than the rich guy. Nice, too. So how many cattle do you guys have? A thousand? Two?”

  He choked on his drink at the thought. “More like four hundred and that’s plenty. You need a lot more people to have a thousand head of cattle. We used to once upon a time, but when Price bought the place, he downsized. He might downsize again if we have a few bad years.” Eli didn’t like to think about that. “For now, though, he lets us run the place and as long as we make a profit, it’s all good.”

  “And do you?”

  “Most times, yeah. Sometimes the weather happens or the cattle get sick, and no matter how much you scramble, you’re in the hole. But overall we do well.”

  Her smile was sweet. “You talk like this place is yours.”

  Did he? Eli grunted. “I know it’s not. I think someday I’d like to save up and buy my own ranch, maybe. I like it here, though. This is the only . . . ranch I’ve ever known.” He’d almost said home. Damn it.

  But she caught his hesitation. “This is the only place you’ve ranched at? Is that a word? Ranching? I guess it is? Anyhow, how long have you been here?”

  “Ten years.” Bandit stuck his head on Eli’s knee, likely jealous of Frannie and the fact that she was on the couch and getting petted. He scratched the dog behind his ears so he wouldn’t feel the lack. “Came here fresh out of the army just looking for something to do with myself. I didn’t have any place to go and a buddy of mine had talked and talked about his family’s ranch out west, so I hitchhiked out here from Texas. I asked around in several towns but no one wanted the help. Lot of ranches are family run.” At her understanding nod, he continued. “I was just a stupid punk with a chip on his shoulder back then, so I imagine it was easy to turn me away. Only person that didn’t was Old Clyde. I bought him a drink at the bar in town with my last few dollars and he told me he didn’t have time for bullshit, and if I wanted to ranch, he’d spend a summer teaching me . . . but he wasn’t going to pay me.”

  Her eyes widened. “So wait, you’d do all the work for free? That’s a horrible trade.”

  Eli just smiled, picturing Old Clyde. The man was the epitome of a crusty range cowboy even back then. His jeans were stiff and weathered, his legs were bowed from spending so long in the saddle, and his face had more grooves than a vegetable patch. He was also a damn fine horseman and a lifetime cowboy.

  “It was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I hated it at first, but by the end of the summer, I asked to stay. By then, I’d shown I could work hard and wouldn’t complain, so they kept me around. Paid me a salary this time, too.” He winked at her. “Been here ever since. It’s a good place for a man.” Funny how he’d been so restless when he was younger, and found so much contentment here in the mountains among a bunch of smelly cattle. But it was home.

  He might not have been born a cowboy, but it was in his blood now.

  Cass looked fascinated. “You were in the army, you said? Did you hate it? Is that why you left?” She watched him closely.

  She had a knack for picking up on the one thing he didn’t want to talk about. “Sure are a lot of questions,” he drawled, giving her a sideways look.

  She blushed, and he had to admit, it was real pretty, despite the bruises and all. “I guess I’m trying to fill the holes in my memory with knowledge about you. If I’m being too pushy, let me know.”

  Now he felt guilty for shutting her down. “You’re not. I’m just a cranky old cowboy.”

  That made her laugh. “Oh please. You are neither cranky nor old. I see no wrinkles or gray hair. Thirty-two, right?” At his nod, she rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-eight, so if you think you’re old, I guess I’m practically gray haired myself. Pretty soon my head will be as white as Frannie’s and I’ll look like a crone.” And she rumpled the dog’s fluffy white coat.

  “Nah,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful.”

  Cass’s lips parted. The room fell silent again and Eli cursed himself for saying that. Why was it that when he was around Cass, he couldn’t guard his tongue? Why did he just blurt out things about how beautiful she was and crap like that? Next he’d be writing her love poems or some stupidity like that. Clenching his jaw at his own foolishness, he took another sip of cocoa and stared pointedly at the tree. “You remember your childhood?” he asked, since it’d change the subject, and he was desperate for that. “Or is that one of the blanks?”

  She pursed those pink, fascinating lips of hers. He’d never been so taken with a woman’s mouth before, but then again, he’d never met anyone that affected him quite like Cass. “I think most of it. It’s pretty boring. Only child, loved by family but felt the need to leave the nest the moment she turned eighteen. Went to college, got her heart broken a few times, and then took a job . . .” She frowned, her brow furrowing. “That’s the part where it gets fuzzy.”

  “S’all right,” he told her. “Just making small talk. Don’t let it bother you.”

  She looked frustrated that she couldn’t remember. “It’s one of those things where it feels like you have the answers on the tip of your tongue but it’s not coming to you.”

  “I understand.” And now he was going to be thinking about her tongue all night. “Don’t push yourself too hard. It’ll come back in time. Until then.” He paused and gestured at the obscene amount of ornaments and boxes of decorations covering the floor. “You’ll have your hands full.”

  Cass sipped her cocoa, looking thoughtful. “We have more than enough for the tree and the living room, but it seems a shame not to use everything. I wonder if the chicken coop can be decorated.”

  “Say what?”

  She snort-giggled into her cup, and it was the most charming thing he’d ever heard. “I’m just kidding. You should see your face, though.”

  The laugh that rumbled out of him felt good. Real good.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next day, Cass kept busy. She fed the chickens and it was sunny and only bitterly cold instead of Antarctic cold, so she let them out for a little while. Eli kept telling her that she didn’t have to “walk” chickens like dogs, but she felt guilty at the thought of them all stuck in their coop all day long, so she let them out for a little bit and supervised. Once they were sufficiently “aired,” Cass went back inside. Frannie barely looked up from her spot by the woodstove, thumping her tail to let Cass know she was excited to see her. Just . . . not all that excited. “Don’t get up,” she told the dog as she headed into the living room and surveyed her task for the day. All the boxes of Christmas decorations on the floors bothered her, so she vowed to get all the decorations up and out of the way as soon as possible.

  Plus, she wanted to see w
hat the boxes contained. In a way, opening each one and discovering the treasures inside was a lot like Christmas all on its own. It felt a bit like snooping, too, but she told herself that Eli wouldn’t have gotten all the boxes out if it was a problem.

  Just thinking about Eli made her feel all warm inside. She glanced out the large window in the living room and could see him out in the snow, a distant blur atop horseback. Later, he’d be a distant blur on a tractor, or the thing he called a “spooler,” which unraveled all the hay for the cattle. He was a tireless worker, and she felt a little guilty she couldn’t help out more.

  She also couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said last night. You’re beautiful. She’d gone to bed giddy over those two words, and this morning, she felt just as flustered and full of joy at the same time. Wasn’t she too old to have a crush? She was, but did her mind care? Nooo. It made her want to giggle like a schoolgirl every time Eli looked in her direction. And who could blame her? Tall, dark, handsome, and cowboy. It was the stuff romantic movies were made out of.

  Plus, he was nice. Attentive. Patient. And he looked at her like she was something special. She’d gone through a mental list of all of the ex-boyfriends she could remember, trying to think if anyone had ever looked at her like that. Unless she was missing several names (and that was a distinct possibility given her patchwork brain), it was a very short list, and none of them had ever made her feel as breathless with anticipation and hope as Eli did.

  Cass told herself she was making too much of things. That he wasn’t interested, and that was why he kept pulling away from her.

  But he’d told her she was beautiful, and her face was wrecked with bruises. And he didn’t seem like the type to lie, which also made her heart flutter all over again. She gave her cheek a little smack. “Get ahold of yourself, Cass. If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen.”

  Of course, then she spent the afternoon daydreaming about him. About kisses and crawling into bed together. About what would happen if she—oops—ran into him while he was coming out of the shower. Would he carefully towel off those washboard abs she’d gotten a glimpse of? Invite her to lick them?