Wrestlin' Christmas: (Sweet Western Holiday Romance) (Rodeo Romance Book 2)

by Hatfield, Shanna

  “Don’t leave like this.” Trevor put a restraining hand on Cort’s shoulder, drawing him to a stop.

  “How am I supposed to leave? Get down on my knees and thank you for kicking me out? Or maybe I should be eternally grateful that you went behind my back carrying tales to my supposed best friend.” Cort couldn’t believe his family had betrayed him. He thought they’d always have his back, always support him when he needed it.

  Instead, they’d abandoned him.

  “That isn’t what happened. We’re worried about you, son. You need to get over this and move on with your life.” Trevor wished he could make Cort comprehend they wanted to help him, not hurt him.

  “Whatever, Dad.” Cort jerked away from the hand his father still held on his shoulder and continued toward his truck.

  Incensed, he opened the driver’s side door and grabbed Celia’s arm to pull her out. She swung her foot around and kicked him soundly on the thigh before wrenching the door shut and locking it.

  “You don’t seriously think I’m leaving here with her driving?” Cort inquired of his mother as she stood beside his dad at the edge of the yard.

  “Cort, honey, just get in. No need to make this any worse.” Jana closed her eyes against the pain radiating from her son’s.

  “I’ll never, ever forgive you for doing this.” He slid into the truck and slammed the door.

  “We love you, baby,” Jana called as Celia put the truck in gear and started out the driveway. She turned to Trevor and buried her head against his chest as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Will he ever speak to us again? Will he forgive us?”

  “Someday.” Trevor blinked at the tears stinging the backs of his eyes. “We’re doing what’s best for him, honey. He’ll realize it eventually.”

  “Pull over. I’ll let you out and Mom can come get you.” Cort jerked his thumb toward the side of the highway.

  Celia kept her attention focused on the road.

  “At least let me drive.” Cort growled at his sister, putting his hand over hers on the steering wheel. She shoved it away and ignored him, entering the freeway heading west toward the Oregon border. In about four and a half hours, they’d be at the Morgan Ranch where, she hoped, Tate and Kenzie could work a miracle and help Cort find himself again.

  “The first time you stop, I swear I’m kicking you out and taking over the wheel.” Cort speared her with a cold, threatening glare across the cab of the truck.

  “You try anything, buster, and you’re going to rue the day you were ever born.” Celia shot him a warning look.

  Cort remained silent for a few miles then gave her a sidelong glance. “What are your plans, exactly?”

  Celia shook her head, turned up the radio, and kept driving.

  Three hours into the trip, Cort desperately needed to find a rest stop and thought he might die of thirst.

  “How about you stop in Pendleton for a break?” he suggested as they drove out of the Blue Mountains. “Don’t you need to stretch your legs? Find a restroom?”

  “Nope. I’m good.” Celia watched as Cort moved restlessly in his seat. Served him right. If he’d behave himself, she’d gladly pull over at the next rest area. Despite her assurances she didn’t need to stop, she drank one too many cups of coffee before they left and desperately needed a break. After his threats, though, there was no way she’d give him the opportunity to escape until she arrived at Tate and Kenzie’s. “We’ll be there soon.”

  “Right.” Cort stared out the window, trying to think of anything other than his full bladder, empty stomach, and boiling anger at his sister and parents.

  “Here, chew on this.” Celia handed him a package of bubble gum.

  He took a piece and tossed the pack onto the seat between them. It didn’t take long before he began loudly snapping the gum. Each time the earsplitting pop echoed through the truck’s cab, Celia’s shoulders inched closer to her ears. The more it bothered her, the more enthusiastically he blew and popped bubbles.

  After several more miles of him smacking the gum and her cringing, she rolled down his window and jabbed a finger his direction. “Enough! Stop acting like a spoiled brat!”

  Cort spit out the gum and frowned at her as she pushed the button and the window closed. The weather outside was unbearably hot and stifling for mid-August. It made him grateful to be inside the cool air-conditioned cab of his truck even if he didn’t want to be in it with Celia.

  He removed a cinnamon-infused toothpick from a box in his console, stuck it between his lips, and returned his gaze to the passing scenery.

  Celia followed the freeway around the outskirts of Pendleton while Cort recalled all the years that he participated in the Pendleton Round-Up. The first thirteen years of his life, he faithfully attended the Pendleton rodeo as a spectator, and it remained one of his favorites. He’d won the steer wrestling event half a dozen times over the years he participated as a contestant.

  As memories flooded through him, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat.

  “I’m sorry, Cort. I truly am, but this is for the best.” Celia voice carried a hint of empathy, aware of his memories and internal struggle to come to terms with the loss of his career.

  “Best for whom? Mom and Dad? You? It certainly isn’t best for me, not that any of you care.” He kept his eyes closed, unwilling to see the compassion or concern on his sister’s face, although it filled her voice.

  “We care. More than you can imagine. If you weren’t out drinking and carousing every night, you’d know that Mom spends her evenings praying you’ll come home in one piece. Dad paces the floor, frantic with worry. How can you not see what you’ve put this family through?” Celia asked, both her tone and temper on the rise. “You aren’t the first person to have to give up something you love and find a new path. You certainly won’t be the last. However, you are, quite possibly, the most pitiful. It wasn’t like you could be a steer wrestler forever, anyway. Why is your forced retirement throwing you for such a loop?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Then enlighten me. Help me understand so I can explain it to Mom and Dad.”

  Cort mumbled something and shook his head.

  “What did you say?” Celia kept one eye on the road and the other on her brother.

  “I said if I knew maybe I could explain it to you.”

  “Well, be sure and share the details when you figure it out.” She snapped her mouth closed before she said something further to irritate Cort.

  They rode in silence until she turned off the freeway onto the road that would take them to the Morgan Ranch. Cort flicked his toothpick out the window and studied his friend’s well-tended fields.

  “Looks like they’re done with wheat harvest,” Celia observed, nodding toward the vast acres of harvested wheat fields.

  “Yeah. Tate said they had a bumper crop this year.” Cort had always liked the look of the rolling hills covered in golden wheat. He missed them when his family moved to the Boise area. While the ground there was fertile, it was flat where his parents farmed.

  “I’m glad for the farmers around here, then. Dad isn’t sure how the sugar beets are going to turn out this year since water has been so scarce. Good thing the hay and beef market is strong.” Celia turned down the driveway to Tate and Kenzie’s house.

  “Dad’s worried about the beets? Why didn’t he say something to me?” His dad never mentioned any concerns over the crops or a lack of water. Then again, he’d tuned out most of what his father said, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to care.

  “Maybe you weren’t listening,” Celia suggested as she waved at Kenzie and braked to a stop in front of the big farmhouse.

  Before she could get out of the truck, Tate opened her door and lifted her out into a big hug. He’d always been like another older brother. When he wed Kenzie a few years ago, Celia felt like she’d gained a much-loved sister.

  “Hey, stranger, great to see you.” Tate set her on her feet then t
hey walked around the truck to where Kenzie hugged Cort. “Can you stay long?”

  “No. I have to leave this afternoon, if someone can give me a ride to the airport. As much as I’d like to leave him stranded, Cort’s truck stays here.” Celia smiled at Tate’s handsome face.

  Dimples danced in his tan cheeks while his sapphire blue eyes twinkled in the early afternoon light. Nearly as tall as Cort, it was no wonder his beautiful wife was head-over-heels in love with him. He was good-looking, good-hearted, and a great father to their young son.

  She hoped some of his maturity and kindness would rub off on her brother.

  “Where’s Gideon?” Celia asked, expecting to see the baby in his mother’s arms when they pulled up at the house.

  “It’s nap time.” Kenzie smiled as she hugged Celia then looped their arms together as they walked into the house. She glanced over her shoulder at the two men standing at the end of the walk. “I’ll pour the iced tea while you two take the horses to the barn.”

  “We’ll be in soon.” Tate nodded to his wife before slapping Cort on the back. “Let’s get them unloaded.”

  Cort climbed behind the wheel of his truck, wanting to pull out on the road and keep driving. Instead, he drove up by Tate’s massive barn and unloaded his horses into an empty corral. Tate tossed hay over the fence and checked the water tank while Cort ran into the barn to use the bathroom.

  He returned to the corral as Tate gave Stoney, his favorite horse, a good scratching on his neck.

  “Surprised he remembers me,” Tate said as the horse bumped his head against his chest. “I haven’t seen him for a while.”

  “How could he forget you after all those miles we traveled together?” Cort’s memories tugged uncomfortably at his thoughts. He quelled them before they overwhelmed him again and plastered on a fake smile.

  “Where should I park the trailer?”

  Tate pointed to an empty space next to one of his trailers near the machine shed. Cort expertly backed into the spot he indicated.

  His friend helped gather his belongings from the back of the pickup before they walked to the house.

  “Just leave your stuff here, for now.” Tate motioned to a bench by the back door. Carefully wiping their boots on the doormat, they entered the mudroom then the sunny kitchen where Celia and Kenzie sat at the table, consumed with giggles.

  “What’s so funny?” Tate washed his hands before joining them at the table. He accepted the glass of iced tea his wife handed him.

  “Celia was telling me about an impossible bride she worked with last weekend.” Kenzie grinned at her husband, dark brown eyes sparkling with humor.

  “How’s your photography business going?” he asked.

  Celia had a talent for taking photos of weddings and family portraits, as well as rodeo photography.

  “Great!” Celia took a cookie from the plate Kenzie handed her. “I’m booked solid through the holidays.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Kenzie motioned for Cort to join them.

  After sitting for so long, his knee ached with a brutal force. He refused to limp as he made his way to the table, hoping his stilted walk came off as an arrogant swagger.

  Cort accepted a cookie and an icy cold glass of tea from Kenzie then sat back and studied the orderly, homey kitchen. No wonder Tate traded in his rodeo career for staying at the ranch full time. From the many meals eaten around their table, Cort knew Kenzie was a remarkable cook. She was also hard-working, funny, and completely dedicated to his friend.

  Their baby, Gideon, was almost two. From what Tate shared, the little guy was turning into quite a handful. Like father like son, no doubt.

  Kenzie and Celia carried the conversation with Tate throwing in an occasional comment while Cort sat in sullen silence.

  “Will that be okay with you, Cort?” Kenzie asked, looking at him.

  “Sorry, Kenz. I missed what you said.” Cort didn’t sound particularly apologetic.

  “Do you have any requests for dinner? I’ll pick up something when I drive Celia into town to catch her flight. Would barbecue be okay?”

  “Anything is fine.” Cort helped himself to another cookie. Between no breakfast and Celia not stopping for so much as a bottle of water, he was famished and thirsty. When he drained his tea glass, Kenzie refilled it and slid the cookie plate closer to him.

  “I hate to ask, but can I please see Gideon before we leave? I won’t wake him up, but I’d love to see him for a few minutes.” Celia stood and rested her hand on Cort’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Uncertain what she wanted to convey, he shrugged off her fingers. She scowled at him then turned her attention back to Kenzie.

  “Gid will be up from his nap soon, anyway. Come on.” Kenzie hurried up the back stairs with Celia following close behind her.

  The two women returned to the kitchen with Celia carrying Gideon in her arms. The baby rubbed at his sleepy eyes while his golden brown curls danced around his head in a tousled mess. He inherited Tate’s dimples and smile, but got his molasses-colored eyes from his mother.

  Gideon glanced around the faces in the kitchen. He grinned and reached out his arms to Cort with a happy squeal. “Tort!” he exclaimed. “Me, Tort!”

  Tate and Kenzie laughed as Celia handed the wiggling toddler to her brother.

  “Hey there, Gid.” Cort took Gideon from his sister and patted him on the back. “How are you?”

  “Good.” Gideon launched into some fast-spoken babble none of the adults understood.

  Kenzie picked up her purse and smiled at Celia. “Now might be a good time to go, while he’s occupied.”

  “Okay.” Celia bent over and kissed the baby’s head. “Behave yourself, big brother. Don’t make me have to come back here and kick your sorry backside into next week for acting like a jerk.”

  “Like to see you try, sister, dear.” Cort’s smile lacked both warmth and conviction.

  “Anything you want me to tell Mom and Dad?” Celia asked at the door.

  “Nope.”

  “Okay.” Celia hugged Tate and whispered something in his ear. Tate nodded his head, kissed Celia’s cheek, then gave Kenzie a hug and kiss before she opened the door and the two women rushed outside.

  “Me go wif Mama.” Gideon slid off Cort’s lap and hurried across the floor toward Tate.

  “No, Gid. You’re staying home with the guys.” Tate picked up his son and tossed him in the air. “How about a cookie?”

  “Tookie?” Gideon asked.

  Tate handed the baby a cookie then settled him in his highchair. “That will keep him busy for a few minutes.” He grinned at Cort as he poured milk into a sippy cup and set it in front of Gideon. “Let’s talk about what sort of work you feel up to doing.”

  “What have you got in mind?” Cort asked. It would kill him to tell his lifelong friend he didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be part of the sweet, loving family Tate and Kenzie created.

  “We’ve got another cutting of hay to put down, cattle to work, and I’ve got two new horses to train. If you’re up for it, you can…”

  Cort wondered just how long he’d be forced to depend on Tate and Kenzie’s hospitality before he could hit the road. He didn’t know where he’d go or what he’d do, but he certainly had no plans to make his visit at the Morgan Ranch an extended one.

  Chapter Two

  Cort swiped a hand over his face to dislodge the grit from his eyes, sighing as he returned his attention to the hay he baled. As he glanced behind him, he realized he’d missed a lot of hay. In fact, he’d just driven across two windrows, creating chaos in the field.

  The wee hours of the morning arrived before he finally left a bar in town where he’d spent the evening and half the night. In his drunken state, he barely managed to get himself home.

  An hour after he’d fallen into bed, Tate pounded on his door with his morning wake-up call.

  His drinking spree left him with a pounding head, churning stomach, and the inability to see straight.
The whomping sound from the baler made his head feel as if it might split in two. He’d forgotten his sunglasses and the bright morning light forced him to squint.

  The first week he stayed with Kenzie and Tate, they kept him so busy he didn’t have time to do anything beyond surviving one day, then another.

  Unable to stay away from the local rodeo, he drove into town the last night of the event. Several of his friends from the rodeo circuit invited him to join them for drinks afterward. The next thing he knew, he fell back into the routine of going to a bar most every night and returning to the ranch in the predawn hours.

  Although they hadn’t voiced their concerns, Kenzie and Tate were both disappointed in him. Every morning he vowed he would change, get his life headed in the right direction. Every night he gave in to the desire to drink away his memories, his sense of failure, and his pain.

  Cort grimaced as Tate pulled up on a four-wheeler, waiting for him at the end of the windrow.

  A few feet from the end of the row, the tractor rumbled to a stop. Cort shut it off and climbed down.

  As he ambled over to where Tate leaned against the four-wheeler, he plastered on a devil-may-care grin.

  “How’s that for some fancy baling?” Cort waved a hand behind him at the havoc he’d wreaked in the field.

  “Fancy isn’t exactly the word I’d use.” Tate stared at the half-baled rows and smashed hay. “Did you forget to open your eyes before you started the tractor?”

  “Something like that.” Hot embarrassment stung his neck and cheeks at Tate witnessing what he’d done before he had a chance to clean up his mess.

  “Cort, I know working for me isn’t what you want to do. I know you resent your folks and Celia for forcing you to leave. I also know you’re mad at Kenzie and me for our part in it, but this isn’t you.” Tate pointed to the shambles of his once-neat windrows to emphasize his point. “You aren’t the drunken guy who can’t get his act together. You’re my best friend and I want to see you happy again.”

  “Unless you can turn back the clock and prevent the accident or possess magic healing powers, this is as good as it gets.” Cort took off his ball cap and ran his hand over his head, annoyed because Tate was right.