All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jessica Clare

  But when he grinned and leaned in to kiss her, she lost herself in the magic of his lips on hers. The phone could wait. Reality could wait. When she was with Eli, she wanted time to stand still, forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Cass stared uneasily at her phone. It sat on the dining room table, plugged into the wall. It was silly to be intimidated by a piece of technology, but she couldn’t help it. She knew that whatever weird, unhappy feelings she’d been having had to do with that damned phone and the information it contained. Finding out her last name and piecing together her memory had thus far been more like a welcome reminder, a pleasant blanket that she could wrap up in. She didn’t have guilt or anxiety associated with her parents, or New York, or any of the other small bits of information that had been filtering in as she rummaged through her purse and wallet, or as she dressed in her own clothes for the first time in almost two weeks. Those things didn’t make her anxious.

  It had everything to do with whatever information her phone held. She knew it was the key.

  Maybe that was why she was terrified of it.

  Cass swallowed hard and made herself another cup of coffee as the phone charged. Every now and then, it would buzz with some sort of activity, information flashing on the screen now that it had a bit of juice to it.

  She didn’t go check it out. She didn’t even cross the room to make sure everything was going well. She avoided it.

  She finished her coffee, checked on Frannie and the puppies, and snuggled them for a while. The puppies were the most adorable, delicious little furballs. She adored them and could spend hours petting them and watching them snuffle against their mother’s side. If she had to pick one in particular, she was drawn to Joy, just because she was the tiny, white little runt of the litter. Frankie, Myrtle, and Goldie were fat little nuggets, while Noel was all fluff. Joy was petite and tended to get overwhelmed by her bigger siblings, so Cass spent a little extra time with the pup every now and then, making sure she got enough time nursing.

  Of course, because a ranch didn’t wait on anyone’s anxiety, then it was time to feed the chickens again, and change out the hay in the stalls, so she spent the afternoon pleasantly tending to animals. It was warmer now—still freezing, but not so cold that her breath felt like dry ice—and so the chickens could hang out in their yard for a little while and soak up sunshine. She moved the horses from stall to stall as she cleaned each one out, petting noses and giving them some wilted carrots saved for this sort of thing. Eli had worried she’d not pay attention around the horses and get stepped on, but the big animals were gentle and well trained, and she suspected that they were more cautious of her than she was of them. Once everything in the barn was taken care of, she had nothing else to delay the inevitable.

  Reluctant, Cass returned to the house . . . and then took a shower, because she could buy herself another twenty minutes that way. She dressed, braided her wet hair, and then went back to the kitchen and stared at the phone for a good, long while.

  Might as well get it over with.

  Cass inwardly cringed as she picked up the phone and clicked the button. There were a million messages showing on the screen but she ignored them and clicked the button again, which prompted her to the password screen. Automatically, she started to type in a password and wasn’t surprised when the phone unlocked. It was like her reflexes knew all the pieces were there even if Cass herself didn’t.

  The screen was a picture of herself and another woman—a blonde—with their faces pressed together and a beach behind them. They had silly grins on their faces and sunglasses obscured their eyes, but Cass hated that she still had no idea who the woman was. Why was it that she had pieces of her memory in regards to other things, but this woman—who was clearly in her life in a big way—was a blank? It didn’t make sense. Maybe one of the text messages in her phone would fill in the details.

  She flipped to them and scrolled through the alerts.

  Immediately, her stomach clenched in a sickening way. She had twenty-two messages from the same person recently. Not just any person, but Ken.

  Who the heck was Ken? She racked her brain, trying to put a face to the name, but there wasn’t a picture attached to the profile in her phone, just the name. She swallowed hard and flicked over to “Recent Calls” and was dismayed to see that there were at least five attempts to contact her from Ken, for five days in a row. After that, he’d stopped. She switched back to “Messages” and went through the list. Message after message was from the same person. Ken. Ken. Ken.

  Ken really, really wanted to get in touch with her.

  KEN: You’re not answering me. Are you mad?

  KEN: Don’t be like that, Cass. You know you’re my girl.

  KEN: Cass?

  KEN: Call me.

  KEN: You little tease. You’re making me chase you, aren’t you?

  KEN: Haven’t heard from you in a few days. Come on.

  KEN: Thinking about you. Merry Christmas.

  KEN: Thought about sending you a pic but didn’t want to get myself in trouble. But if you asked nicely . . .

  KEN: I hate that we’re not spending the holiday together. What’s up with that?

  KEN: You not here has me all sad and lonely. I feel abandoned. That’s not right.

  KEN: You totally ran out on me, didn’t you? And here I thought we’d be spending the holidays together.

  KEN: I miss seeing your face.

  On and on the messages went, and it was very clear.

  Ken knew her, and knew her well. He knew her enough to know that she was going out of town for the holidays . . . it was obvious she was in a relationship with Ken.

  The realization was utterly devastating.

  She’d cheated on this guy with Eli. She’d sworn up and down that she wasn’t in a relationship, but this phone was the damning proof that she was a ho and a liar. Oh god. Cass felt sick. Was this why she was so full of dread every time she thought about answering her phone? Because she knew deep down that she was a cheater and secretly didn’t care? Eli would hate her.

  Hell, she hated herself.

  Pressing her fingers to her mouth. Cass raced to the bathroom and managed to get there moments before she vomited into the sink. Her lunch heaved up, and once she was done, she pressed her face against the cold tile of the counter and willed herself to die. Right there. Right in that moment. How could she be this person? How could she be in a relationship and allow herself to fall in love with Eli?

  Oh god. Eli.

  What would he say? How could she ever face him after seeing this? He’d never want to talk to her again. But it wasn’t like she could keep this a secret. It was something that she had to share. She couldn’t just pretend like nothing had happened, because it felt as if her world had come crashing down around her ears the moment she’d opened the phone screen and saw those texts.

  Cass burst into tears. She felt like she’d lost Eli. No, she knew she had. She was the worst person ever and these messages just confirmed it.

  * * *

  • • •

  Collapsed on the bathroom floor, Cass sobbed for a good half hour, utterly miserable. She didn’t look at her phone. She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see the evidence that she was already in a relationship when she was in love with Eli. He’d never understand how she could do something like that—and she didn’t blame him, because she didn’t understand it herself. How was she this person? How could she just be so utterly convinced that she was not in a relationship? How did her brain forget something so very important? She sniffed and rubbed her finger. She wasn’t engaged, but it was clear she was with someone else. Those text messages made a liar out of her. Ken missed her and wanted her to be with him. Those flirty texts told a very different story than what she’d said to Eli.

  She’d told him she’d known that she wasn’t married. Well, she wasn’
t. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t already committed, and the thought was heartbreaking.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  She stared dully at the bathroom wall, sniffling and feeling sorry for herself. Her stomach churned, but there was nothing left in it. She knew she should get up and feed the chickens, or clean the place. Maybe give the horses a few treats or see if she could help Eli out. He’d promised to show her how to use the Gator the other day. But she didn’t move from her spot on the floor. What was the point? This farm person wasn’t who she was. This Cass wasn’t the right Cass.

  This Cass didn’t get to stay. She didn’t get to be with Eli. The Cass she was already had a man, one named Ken, whom she’d apparently run out on without telling him where she was going.

  She swallowed hard and reached up, snagging her phone from where she’d left it on the counter. She unlocked the screen and stared at the picture of the woman in the photo with her. Think, Cass, she demanded. Think of who this is. You know her. You know you do. But when she tried to recall who it was, the spot in her mind was just blank. It was the same with Ken. She tried to picture his face, but all she got was a big fat nothing. How could she forget such important pieces in her life?

  She had no answer. It was utterly distressing and she wanted to vomit and cry all over again. Sniffing, she swiped a hand over her face, wiping away her tears. She had to pull herself together. “Come on, Scooby-Doo,” she muttered aloud. “Solve this stupid mystery.” Absently, she flicked through some of the icons on her phone, hoping that they would provide clues. There was a diet app, and Instagram, and Facebook, of course. She clicked on “Photos,” and scrolled through them, looking for Ken’s face. Who was her boyfriend? How long had they been dating? Maybe the photos would provide answers.

  But most of the photos were useless. There were pics of locations she didn’t recognize. Pics of birds in Central Park. A few pictures of the smiley blonde in workout wear. One of her in a slinky dress, her hair in curlers.

  There were no pictures of this Ken guy.

  Her Ken guy.

  She swallowed hard.

  It didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she have pictures of her boyfriend?

  Cass stared at the pictures on the phone, then flipped to the text messages. She thought she should probably write Ken, to tell him that she was fine. That she was alive and well and just hadn’t been able to come to the phone. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. How could she possibly explain herself? He’d hate her.

  And he’d have every reason to.

  Choking back the next round of tears, Cass scrolled through the list of names in her contacts. Her parents were there, but she’d feel weird calling them to let them know she’d been recently hurt. Her memory pinged her about a long-awaited vacation to Europe, and she didn’t want them to cut it short. Them returning home wouldn’t solve any of her problems, anyhow . . . and she didn’t want them to find out what a horrible person she was.

  Even as she sat, staring at the phone, an incoming message pinged.

  ROSE: FYI I should be back on Thursday. Ran into Corvelli here on vacation, and he asked to dress me for Oscars. Need you to call my ppl and see if we already have someone lined up so I can tell him no. His shit is fug and I don’t want to be known as the chick who showed up at the awards show w/shoulder pads the size of boats.

  A frowny emoticon followed that note and Cass stared at it. Was she expected to respond? This Rose person made it sound like Cass should know what she was talking about, but she had no clue. Was she invited to an Oscars party, then? Did they know someone famous? She hesitated, then typed a response.

  CASS: Corvelli . . . like the designer?

  Three dots showed up on the screen, indicating that a message was coming in. They disappeared, and then a moment later, Cass’s phone rang. She nearly dropped it in surprise, and managed to fumble it to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Are you fucking with me?” The woman’s voice on the other end was young and hard with irritation.

  “No?” Cass said timidly. “Is this Rose?”

  “Who else would it be?” A pause. “You are fucking with me. Well, I don’t find it funny, Cass. God. I am stressed out of my mind. I don’t want to go to the damn Academy Awards in some avant-garde potato sack shit that Corvelli thinks looks unique. I want to look like the hot piece of ass that I am.” She sounded furious.

  “Lily,” Cass began.

  “Rose!” The voice on the other end was incredulous. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Right. Rose. Sorry.” She rubbed her forehead, because she was getting another headache. “So this is going to sound crazy, but apparently I was driving up to my parents’ cabin for Christmas and I crashed into a tree and hit my head and lost my memory.”

  She paused, waiting for the inevitable flood of questions such as, “are you all right,” “how badly were you injured,” “is there anything I can do to help,” and things of that nature.

  Rose made a sound in her throat. “And?”

  Cass was baffled. “What do you mean, ‘and’?”

  “And I mean, that’s terrible, sweetie, but what does this have to do with me?”

  Cass swallowed hard, surprised. “Um, that’s just it. I don’t exactly remember you?”

  “Really?” Rose sounded fascinated. “At all?”

  “Well, your picture is on my phone but I’m not ringing a bell. I’m sorry.” Her voice was small. “I can remember some things, and others are huge blanks.” Things like boyfriends and cheating.

  “Oh wow. That’s crazy.” The crankiness had gone out of her voice. “Does it hurt?”

  “My head?” Cass rubbed her brow. “Not now, but it was really bruised up for a while. I have a cut on my forehead, too. A long one, about three inches over my left eyebrow. I’m pretty sure it’s going to leave a scar.”

  “Ew. Glad I’m the model, then.”

  “You’re a model?”

  Rose laughed. “Wow, you really don’t remember? Rose Gramercy? I was on the cover of Vogue for their Spring Fling issue? GQ’s Hottest Woman of the Year? Sports Illustrated?”

  “Good job,” she said faintly, because what else could she say? It filled in some of the gaps, though. Like the memory she’d had of watching a TV show live. That must have been . . . because of Rose? “Do I work with you?”

  Rose giggled. “Well, not as a model. You’ve got really wide hips. I don’t mean that as an insult. You know I have to smoke my way down to a size two for fashion week every year. You’re my assistant.”

  “Oh.”

  “So why were you going into the mountains for Christmas?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “By yourself?”

  Did Rose know Ken? “Looks like it. I rented a car and everything. A nice cowboy saved me.”

  “A cowboy? Oh brother.” She laughed again. “Wow, you are just having all kinds of adventures out there, aren’t you? Hanging out with a bunch of hicks, banging your head . . . you’re probably even wearing flannel right now.”

  Cass glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing one of her dark sweaters that her suitcase was full of, but she also had on a bright red plaid flannel shirt she’d borrowed from Eli and couldn’t bear to return. She flushed. “Just a little flannel.”

  Rose laughed again, and someone murmured something in the background. “Oh my. You are going to have to tell me all about your adventures when you come back. I could use a good laugh. My vacation has been positively dreadful. Is this vegan?”

  “What?”

  “Not you, dummy. I’m talking to the waiter here. Vegan?” Another murmur of conversation and then Rose gave a long, gusty sigh. “Didn’t I tell you that I wanted vegan cheese? I’m pretty sure I did. I don’t eat animal products.” Her voice was stiff with irritation. “I was on a fucking PETA poster last year. Why would I shove
my mouth full of cow leavings? Get me cheese made from cashews. I don’t care how long it takes, just do it.”

  For some reason, Rose’s constant switching between imperious and chatty seemed familiar . . . and it made Cass feel small and unsettled. She was Rose’s assistant? Did she even like the job? Or did she constantly exist in this state of anxious hopefulness, waiting for a kind word from Rose and flinching at her cruel ones?

  If so, she didn’t like herself very much.

  Again.

  “So, ask me about my Christmas,” Rose said brightly, her attention back on Cass.

  “Oh. Um, how was your Christmas?”

  “Well,” Rose said primly. “You will never believe who I ran into in the Riviera.” She launched into a long story involving the fashion world and a friend that was snorting lines in the bathroom at a soiree, and Cass tuned out. Rose was nice enough, she supposed, as long as the conversation was on Rose. Cass didn’t know whether to be annoyed by her or amused. She didn’t seem to care about how Cass was feeling at all. She just wanted to know when Cass would get back to work . . . probably because it affected her. It was like the vegan thing. Cass hadn’t been vegan since Eli had rescued her, and she realized now that she wasn’t vegan because she liked it—it was because Rose was vegan and Cass was her assistant. She suspected Rose didn’t like animals much, either, because Cass had fallen in love with the horses and the dogs and even the silly chickens in the short time she’d been on the ranch. Some of the things she was learning about herself didn’t match . . .

  And some she wanted to change forever, because she hated them.

  “And so I told Ken that—”

  “Ken?” Cass echoed, tuning back in. “My Ken?”

  “Your Ken?” Rose tittered on the other end. “Are you serious? Cass, that’s so cute. I’ll have to tell him you said that. He’ll get a real kick out of hearing that.”