Cowboy Christmas Redemption

by Maisey Yates

  He was...

  She didn’t even really have words for it.

  He had made her laugh at the Christmas tree lot yesterday. He had walked her down Main Street like they were dating. And it had made her feel...wonderful.

  So wonderful and light it was easy to forget the way that he had come to her house and taken her with so much intensity. The way that he had made her admit that she’d been attracted to him before...

  She shifted that thought away. She was already doing this whole Christmas thing. She didn’t need to get into her complicated feelings about Caleb.

  It wasn’t even anything she ever thought about. Not really. Being attracted to somebody wasn’t... It wasn’t a crime. It was normal. And she really hadn’t even let her brain open that door. Just the one time, and before she was married, had she ever even let herself think what it might be like to kiss him.

  But she hadn’t kissed him. She’d felt curious about it. In a way that made her stomach tight and her hands sweaty. But she hadn’t even really been able to picture what it would be like to kiss him.

  And now she could kind of see why.

  Because kissing Caleb was not like kissing anyone else.

  Not that she had a whole lot of people to compare it to. Just the one.

  Yeah, she was starting to feel a little bit more comfortable with their interactions outside the bedroom. And while she craved what happened between them in bed... It was... It was very complicated.

  Because it tapped into a part of herself she still wasn’t terribly comfortable with. There was an intensity there that she didn’t particularly like. One that reminded her too much of all of her mother’s screaming breakups.

  One that reminded her too much of what it was like to feel devastated and lonely, ignored by her mother and desperate to have attention.

  That had been one of the things that had relieved her the most about her relationship with Clint.

  She had loved him. And it had been easy. Easy conversation, easy kissing. The sex had felt easy. Easy to be aroused by him, easy to have good, naked fun.

  He had been an easy husband. One who had taken care of her, one who had let small things roll off his back.

  It helped dial back the intensity in her. That gasping, grasping need for affirmation and love that she’d felt all through her growing-up years.

  Caleb did not do that. Caleb seemed to be a lit match to a slick of gasoline down inside her soul, and it was incredibly disconcerting. As delicious as it could be in the moment.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a ceramic angel.

  She looked down at it, feeling unaccountably guilty holding the angelic object and thinking about Caleb naked. She set it down quickly on the side table. “This is maybe overkill,” she said.

  “Daltons don’t know from overkill,” he said. “We go big, or we don’t go.”

  “Right.”

  He positioned the stand in the center of her living room and brought in the tree, getting it situated in the base, tightening the screws so that it sat up nice and tall in her living room.

  “Where’s Amelia?” he asked.

  “She’s in her room playing. I can get her when you’re ready to decorate the tree.”

  “Yeah, that would be good,” he said.

  He brought in a few more boxes, and while he prepped the tree, Ellie went through them. She smiled as she took out some of the more Tammy Dalton pieces. A cowgirl Miss Piggy who was wrapped in Christmas lights, and that Vegas cowgirl that he had mentioned before.

  She took them and put them on her mantel.

  “Those don’t seem very you,” he commented.

  “I love them,” she said. “They’re silly. And not something that I would have done before. Because I would have wanted to make everything perfect. You know, like a Martha Stewart magazine. But life’s not perfect. So let’s have Miss Piggy on the mantel.”

  “Okay,” he responded.

  She bustled around, leaving signs of Christmas everywhere, and when she was done, she felt like she’d been punched in the heart.

  Because the little farmhouse had never looked like this. And it was like an explosion of what was happening inside her all around.

  Changed. Normal. But a little bit crazy. A little bit extra because so much had been kept pushed down for so long.

  And by the time she finished with that, Caleb had all the lights done on the tree.

  “Beautiful,” she said.

  “I’ll go get Amelia,” he said.

  He went up the stairs, and she heard their voices, but not the words. And then she heard one set of footsteps return. She looked up, and Amelia was up in Caleb’s arms, her hands clasped tight around his neck, her legs locked around his waist.

  It made her ache.

  Seeing the two of them together was always a lovely thing; it made her feel good anytime she saw Amelia with all the people who loved her. But this was... It was different. The way that he was holding her, the way that she trusted him.

  She was suddenly so very aware of what Amelia didn’t have.

  A father.

  She took a breath, trying to tell herself that she had expected all this to be a little bit emotional. And she really didn’t want her daughter to see her having a total breakdown. Or Caleb, come to that.

  Caleb got her digging through the ornaments right away, and she delightedly began hanging them all in one clump.

  “You might want to spread them out,” Caleb said.

  Amelia looked at him, stubbornness etched into every line of her face. “They’re pretty like that.”

  “I guess so,” Caleb said.

  Amelia finally looked over at Ellie as if she had just noticed that she was in the room. “Mommy, we have a Christmas tree.” Then she looked around the room. “We have Christmas!”

  “Yes,” she said. “Caleb brought it.”

  Amelia leaned forward and hugged Caleb and knocked him off balance for a moment. He put his large hand over her back and patted her, and Ellie’s stomach twisted. “Thank you for Christmas,” she said.

  “No problem, squirt,” Caleb said, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that his voice seemed a little bit rough.

  “I’m going to play some Christmas music.”

  She took her phone and plugged it into one of the speakers in the room, and set up a Christmas station to play. Gentle piano music filled the room, and they each hung ornaments in relative silence, and Ellie knew that she had made the right choice in doing this. Because Amelia had never looked happier.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. That was really the hardest thing. How much joy she knew Clint would have taken in watching their daughter have these milestones. Have these moments.

  She ignored the tightening in her throat and tried to focus on the moment. On the joy. Because no matter how much of a bittersweet ache existed inside her, there was joy right along with it.

  Because she was here to watch Amelia. Because she had her.

  “I think it’s pretty good,” Caleb said, surveying the tree. Which was beset by a completely lopsided bottom, clearly decorated by a child who thought that more was infinitely better than less.

  “Maybe,” Amelia said, appraising the tree. And then she stuck another ornament right into a cluttered spot.

  She and Caleb shared a smile.

  “We still have to do the star,” Caleb said. “But that goes all the way at the very top. So I’m going to have to do that.”

  “Give it to me,” Amelia said, putting up her hands. “Let me.”

  Caleb picked up the star, and Amelia, holding her forward, and she placed the star right on the top. “Good job,” he said, sitting her back down and patting her back. He turned away from Amelia, reaching to plug the tree in, and as soon as it lit up, Amelia’s laser focus went right to him.


  “Caleb, can you be my dad?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THAT TINY LITTLE voice was like a bullet.

  It tore through his chest, his lungs. Stole his heart. His breath. For a full second his vision blurred, and he couldn’t quite figure out where he was or what the hell he was supposed to do with that sweet, earnest question that carried more weight than any other question he’d been asked in his thirty years.

  Slowly, he squatted down, met Amelia’s serious gaze. “What?”

  “All the girls at preschool have dads. And they’re all very tall. And you’re very tall. And you brought Christmas. And you let me sit on your lap. And you’re handsome.”

  Each and every descriptor on her list made his chest tighten up just a little bit more, and by the time she was done, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to take in another breath. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to breathe right again.

  “I think you should be my dad.”

  “That...” He cleared his throat. “That’s not really how that works.”

  “I don’t understand how it works,” she said, clearly frustrated. “A lot of the moms and dads at the preschool don’t live together. It’s okay if you don’t live together.”

  He looked up at Ellie, who was frozen, her face waxen. And he knew that he couldn’t call on her for help. Because he needed to handle this one on his own. If only he knew how.

  “You had a dad, honey. You know your dad. You’ve seen pictures of him. We’ve talked about them. He...” Caleb cleared his throat. “He died. Before you were born. And he loved you. So much. Even when you were just a little bean inside your mom’s tummy.” He gave some amount of thanks that he had actually talked with her about Clint before. That he had some rehearsed words to call on, because if he had to come up with it all now on the spot, he would have had nothing.

  “I know. But I want a dad that’s here,” she said. “I don’t want one that can’t pick me up. You pick me up.”

  He looked at Ellie again, and she was covering her mouth, a shining tear tracking down her face, partially hidden by her hand.

  He looked back at Amelia, and his heart fractured.

  “I love you, Amelia,” Caleb said. “You know that.”

  Her green eyes shone with sadness, confusion. Tears. And he hated that he’d put that there. He hated it so much.

  “Then why can’t you be my dad?”

  Damn. Damn. Damn the question. Damn the answer he had to give.

  Just damn it all to hell.

  “Can’t I just love you?” he asked, the question cutting his throat on the way out.

  “It’s not the same,” she said. “It’s not. It’s not fair. Everyone got a dad, and I didn’t.” Amelia was crying now, inconsolable at the base of the tree, and Caleb wanted to cut out his own heart. Offer it up as some kind of sacrifice. As something. Because what the hell was he supposed to do in this situation? It would be the easiest thing in the world to say “Sure, call me dad, kid.” Because why the hell not?

  But Clint was her dad.

  He deserved to be called her dad.

  Caleb was never going to replace him. And Amelia was little enough that she could forget. And that wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair.

  Amelia’s little shoulders shook, rising and falling with her breath. “I’m going to ask Santa to make you my dad for Christmas.”

  And then she walked out of the room, trudging up the stairs.

  And Ellie collapsed onto the couch, her hands over her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  “I should have... I guess I didn’t talk to her about it the right way. I thought that I did. I thought that...”

  “Well, I thought that I did,” he said.

  Another tear slipped down Ellie’s cheek, and she wiped it away. “I should go talk to her.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No. Because...you’re not her father. I’m sorry. What do you want me to say?”

  He didn’t know why, but the words lanced him like a sword. “No,” he said. “You’re right. I’m not. Go ahead.”

  She got up, wiping her cheeks as she went, and he wondered if he should leave.

  But no. He was tangled up in this, and he wanted to be here just in case.

  He waited. Braced himself. But Ellie came back only a few moments later.

  “She’s asleep. I think she must have exhausted herself.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s not even... It’s not even bad. She loves you because you’re so great to her. But she doesn’t understand. Any of it. And she doesn’t know him. She’ll never know him.” A sob shook her shoulders. “That’s the thing that gets me. More than anything else right now. It’s that. That relationship. He would have loved her so much.”

  “He did,” Caleb said. “There was never a man more excited to have a baby, Ellie. Trust me.”

  “You knew how excited he was?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was avoiding you, but he didn’t know it. He didn’t know about the reading lessons. He didn’t know that I... He didn’t know. He talked about you and the baby all the time. He never quit talking about it. He was happy. And I don’t know if that makes it worse. But you know, some people... Some people live their whole lives and never feel that happy about anything. But he was that happy about you. About her. It really, really sucks that he’s not here now. Because he should be. But he was happy.”

  She nodded. “I know he was. But it still...”

  “I know. I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know what to do. Someday, some man might feel like her dad. God knows what your future holds, Ellie, but you’re not going to be alone forever.”

  “No,” she said. “Let’s just... Let’s not talk about it. I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Ellie...”

  “I was afraid that Christmas would remind me too much of him. But it’s not even that. It’s... She doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember. She can’t. And she won’t.”

  “I don’t know the answer,” he said. “Because one thing forces his memory aside, and the other forces her to have a hole in her life.”

  “I know.”

  “But I’m not her dad either way.”

  “I know that, too. Well,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He got up, getting ready to leave. “Don’t go,” she said. “You started all this. The least you can do is...give me something nice.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She had been pretty hard-line about not having sex when Amelia was in the house before. In fact, they’d only been together a couple of times because of that.

  “I wanted to protect her,” Ellie said. “But I can’t protect her. She has to know about the world way too young. And she’s asleep right now, and I’m going to let her sleep. And I can’t... I can’t take away any of the pain that she might feel. I can’t fix any of this. So...just make me feel good for a little bit.”

  “You know it’s not fun with me, Ellie.”

  “I don’t want fun. I want to feel something. Something other than this. And I know you can make me. Caleb, nobody makes me feel like you. Nobody ever has.”

  And that was a double-edged sword, twisting like a knife in his chest. Because it wasn’t happy. And it wasn’t love. But it was just theirs. And that was something.

  She made him crazy, this woman. And she made him sane. He didn’t know what the hell to do with himself, didn’t know what the hell to do with her. And somehow, he knew exactly what to do all at the same time.

  She needed him. This particular brand of passion that they had.

  And he couldn’t be what Amelia needed. He couldn’t even be what Ellie needed all the time. Beca
use he couldn’t be Clint, and he never would be.

  It was the story of his entire damn life.

  But he could give her this. And no one else could. By her own admission, no one else could. And so he pulled her into his arms, and he kissed her. Kissed her with all the feeling that had been inside him for so long. Everything that he had denied.

  Because had he ever stopped loving Ellie Bell? He didn’t think he had.

  He had told himself that he didn’t because it was impossible. And it was impossible still. But hell, he was ready to marinate in that. He was ready to drown in it. To put his head under and consume it. Be consumed by it. She was everything. And if he was nothing in the sight of that, then that was just fine.

  Kissing her was like a drug. He wanted more. Only more. Always more. There would never be an end to it. Never be an end to this. She made him want. She made him feel.

  And more than anything else, she made him wish that he were different.

  She was the only person that he had ever tried to be different for.

  Ellie.

  His sweet Ellie, who had changed his entire world the first time he’d laid eyes on her, and had changed it every day since.

  That was the thing. He couldn’t say he didn’t believe in love at first sight, because something in him had shifted from the moment she had walked into the room. But even more powerful, things had shifted inside him all the days since.

  Love might have hit at first sight, but it had changed and deepened, taken root over the years, and that was something that left him in awe, and completely enraged and terrified him.

  Because what could he do with it?

  When he had been young, when he had been a boy, he had thought that maybe...

  Maybe that day on the hill, watching the sunset, they could have shared a kiss that might have created a lifetime. But what would he have done with it?

  He didn’t even know what a lifetime was at that age.

  And she had said herself that she didn’t think she would have been able to handle this thing between them back then. And he could see why.

  It was enough to leave him scorched and reduced to ashes even now. What would it have done to them then?