Christmas Cowboy (A Standalone Holiday Romance Novel)

by Claire Adams

  "No joke, Teddy boy, Kiara's cooking is the best." Charlie thwacked him on the back again.

  Teddy recovered the air my brother had knocked out of him and caught my eye. "You haven't told them?"

  "Told us what? Kiara never tells us anything," Charlie said.

  I shook my head, searching for a change of subject. "Madison, have you heard from Ivy? Will she be back for dinner too?"

  She shrugged. "I can't believe you didn't tell them about quitting law."

  The whole room moved in slow motion. My father frowned like he always did when he realized he'd missed another milestone in my life. My brother's sparkling eyes and smothered smile got ready to say “I told you so.” I braced myself.

  Then I felt Teddy's hand. He'd slipped it behind me and pressed it against my lower back, a gesture of support. He propped me up as I faced my family.

  "My heart wasn't in it," I told my father.

  "Told you that was a waste of money. No way my sister could sit still while people argued over petty things. Though I had my money on her getting kicked out or convicted of contempt of court," Charlie said.

  Teddy stepped between me and my brother. "She would have been brilliant at it. Kiara's one of the most diplomatic people I know. It's just she's more interested in cooking."

  "Cooking?" My father scrubbed his chin, his eyes studying Teddy's hand at my waist. "Like catering? I could see that."

  "You're not mad?" I asked, glad Teddy's hand was there to hold me as I swayed with relief.

  "Your brother's right; the Davies are not good at sitting behind a desk. Cooking needs a lot of energy, organization, and creativity. That's why you're so good at it."

  "What do you know about cooking?" my brother asked my father. "You've been living on rations most of your life."

  My father punched him hard in the shoulder. "Except for all those wonderful meals your sister cooks."

  Charlie rubbed his sore shoulder. "True."

  As they scuffled, Teddy caught my waist with his other hand and turned me towards him. It was cramped in the kitchen, and I took advantage of the excuse to be so close to him.

  He was dressed down, but the collar of his white shirt was still crisp despite being unbuttoned. I caught my lip in my teeth as I lingered over the dark stubble along his jaw. His aftershave breezed through me like a wind stirring up the ocean waves.

  "Sorry. I didn't know you hadn't told them," he said. "I was just stopping by to give you these reference letters. One from my father, one from Vincent Jeffry, and personal recommendations from our guests."

  "Thanks," I said. I clutched the manila folder in both hands to stop from reaching out to touch him.

  Teddy's hand slipped from my waist. "Good luck."

  "Speaking of meals, can we please have that fancy beef you make?" Charlie asked.

  I turned to him. "You mean Beef Wellington?"

  When I turned back, Teddy had slipped out the door. He was halfway up the path through the dunes when he turned and waved. I mouthed the words “thank you” and wished I could say more, but it was too late.

  #

  I couldn't wait to be driving home from the interview. Armed with the strong recommendations and reference letters Teddy had gathered for me, it seemed like my future was all but assured. I imagined driving back triumphant from the interview with the windows open and the radio all the way up.

  Except every time I pictured it, I drove past my bumpy driveway and down to the elegant gates of Teddy's estate.

  Maybe it was because the cottage was starting to feel cramped. Ivy and Madison had invaded my room and advised me on my entire interview look. My father and brother were crowded at the bottom of the stairs and took pictures as if it were my first day of school. When I left, they were already eating leftover Beef Wellington in great, big sandwiches and fighting over teams for Scrabble.

  It was hard to leave, but I felt like a swelling wave of love and support was sending me on my way. The world was bright and cheerful, and I had every reason to hope my new career path was about to open up in front of me.

  I drove the new-to-us pickup truck my father had purchased into the service entrance of the massive townhouse. The interview was a chance for me to show off my skills and possibly secure a regular dinner party circuit among Mr. Brickman's top colleagues. All I had to do was prepare a small luncheon for a newlywed couple and hope it passed muster amongst their elegant friends.

  "You're lucky," the young wife said. She peeked out the kitchen door and assessed her perfectly decorated table and the guests mingling around. "There are no special instructions with this crowd. Just a light luncheon for six."

  "I'll have the first course prepared in ten minutes and the main dishes ready within twenty-five," I told her.

  I sorted through the ingredients list given to the interviewees and found everything I needed. The young wife watched me for a moment and then pushed open the kitchen door to join her friends.

  As the door swung shut, I saw Whitney. She waved, and my whole body prickled with the possible menace she could aim at me.

  Somehow, in all the rumors flying around about Teddy, Whitney had been careful to edit out my presence. According to her social circles, I didn't exist, except here I was preparing a spring mix salad and salmon rolls for her and her friends.

  "So," the older husband said as I carried a large silver tray into the dining room, "our dear friend says you had the misfortune of working for Teddy Brickman."

  "I helped cater one of his parties, yes," I said.

  Whitney batted her eyelashes at me. "I'm sure you were hoping that was going to turn into a regular gig. Too bad."

  My cheeks heated, but I served the first course and answered all the questions with an even tone. Whitney dropped the subject until I returned with the second course: a bright and savory butternut squash soup.

  "And it's a good thing for the economy that Teddy is no longer working for his father's corporation," she said.

  "Not a head for business," her friend's new husband agreed.

  His young wife shook her head. "That makes it even sadder. What's he going to do now?"

  Whitney tossed her hair and looked at me. "Who knows? I'm just glad he and I went our separate ways first. I'd hate to be all tangled up in family drama."

  I blinked at her and almost dropped a ladle full of soup.

  "This is delicious," one of the other guests remarked to me.

  "Thank you."

  Whitney made sure to cut the pleasant exchange short and share more gossip. "Honestly, I think breaking up with Teddy Brickman might be the best thing that's ever happened to me."

  "I think Roger Dallas might be the best thing," her friend added.

  "Oh, stop. He's just being a good friend." Whitney beamed. "Though, we do have plans to go to the opera later this week."

  My heart stumbled around my chest as I served the luncheon guests. They sat in their designer clothes and tailored suits and picked at their plates the same way they picked at their peers. Every course I served came with a new piece of news from Whitney.

  "Of course, his father was always planning to retire and sell his shares of the company," the new husband said. "His son just pushed him into it."

  "His illegitimate son," Whitney's friend pointed out.

  "Yes, exactly," Whitney agreed and dabbed her mouth with a white linen napkin. "That was just the loophole the board had been looking for, but Mr. Brickman beat them to the punch. He can retire in style; it's Teddy whose business prospects are ruined."

  "Speaking of prospects," the new husband said, glancing up at me, "you should consider selling this sauce. It is the best thing I've eaten all week."

  "Oh, so you like rustic food?" Whitney asked. "I was never partial to marinara sauce myself."

  I wouldn't let her shake me and kept my polite smile in place, no matter what she said. The only problem I had was controlling my galloping pulse.

  Teddy was officially single, and the ultimatum was off the
table between him and his father. I wanted to race through the rest of the interview and drive straight through his gates to find out what happened.

  Was Teddy finally free?

  "Well, I heard the final nail in Teddy Brickman's coffin is this thing with that Madison girl. She tried to blame it all on poor Cameron Falcon, but it was really Teddy she was directing her drama at."

  Whitney's friend leaned forward as she told her juiciest piece of gossip. "He's the one that got her pregnant. When Whitney told him she wanted to move on, he went and found the first willing shoulder to cry on and then, whoopsies!"

  "Oh, so that's why he left for Europe in such a hurry. I bet we won't see him back for another year or so," Whitney said.

  Later, after I had politely shaken hands with everyone and thanked them for the opportunity, I could still feel the tremors in my fingers. I was so angry that my hands shook, then strangled the steering wheel as I raced back to Long Island. The interview had been a sham, just an excuse for Whitney to torture me and make sure I knew that Teddy was gone.

  He'd left without saying goodbye to me.

  My phone rang, and I had to pry my fingers off the steering wheel and fumble with it. "Hello?"

  "Kiara, it has been way too long, and I'm dying for another dinner surprise night," Tanya said. "Or are you a full-blown chef by now, and I should just stop by your restaurant?"

  "I think that's a better plan than cooking for the rich and completely vapid," I said.

  "So that means the interview didn't go well?" she asked. "They do say that you're interviewing your potential boss as much as they are interviewing you."

  "I can't do it," I said. "I can't be around those people all the time."

  She snorted. "And that's why I'm not going in for corporate law. Ugh. I'm thinking I'm going to go into contract law. So, what's your plan?"

  "Sauce," I said.

  "Sauce," Tanya repeated. "As in make a killer sauce and sell it online?"

  "Oh, I was thinking farmers' markets and all that," I said.

  "If you're talking about your killer pizza sauce and that delicious cream sauce then, no, you've got to think bigger. I'm seeing you creating gourmet sauces that you can sell for a fortune to the same people you can't stand to be in the same room with," she said.

  We talked and brainstormed the whole way home, and I almost drove right by my driveway before I remembered that Teddy was gone. "They weren't all bad."

  "So tell me about him," Tanya said.

  I sat in the car facing the cottage and shook my head clear. "Sorry. I'm home, and it looks like everyone else is, too," I said.

  "You go enjoy that," she said. "Just make sure you call me back later and tell me all about what happened with your guy."

  "I don't have a guy," I said.

  "Yet," Tanya announced and hung up the phone.

  I was reaching for the front door when it flew open and the twins rushed out. "Where are you going?" I asked.

  "Madison needs cute maternity clothes. We're going to go trade our social media marketing skills for some free fatty fashions," Ivy said.

  "Social media marketing?"

  "Duh," Madison said. "We post pictures all over with me wearing the clothes. That's like a thousand or more followers. That's how we got lots of free stuff."

  "And it works?"

  The twins smiled and jumped into a waiting cab. "We'll show you when we get back. Don't wait up, though!"

  I watched them go, feeling an odd mix or irritation and love. They used the cottage as nothing more than a home base for their social rounds, but at least they thought of it as home. I would see them a lot more, and that would be a great help when my father and brother had to leave.

  An empty cab rolled down the driveway and brought a chill over me. I turned to the cottage and pushed open the front door. There in the hallway were two military-issued duffel bags. I marched inside and shut the door as if I could close out the cab and keep my family together forever.

  I stopped myself before I locked it and called out, "Dad? Charlie?"

  How many times had I called out to find they had already gone? It felt like the cottage was colder, and I wrapped my arms around my waist.

  "Glad you got back. I've been called up to base, and your brother has to report to the hospital for his physical assessment." My father strode down the hallway, dressed in his uniform.

  "But they aren't going to clear him, are they?"

  "Sorry, kiddo, but I'm a quick healer," Charlie said. "It might be desk duty for a while, but they still need me overseas."

  It was impossible to hold back the tears. That morning, I had been surrounded by the cacophony of family, and they had sent me out the door all hopeful. The least I could do was try to give them the same send off. I swiped my tears off with the cuff of my sweater and forced a smile into place.

  "You don't have to do that, Kiara," my father said. "We know you're strong. You love having us here, but we're just getting in your way."

  "But what if I need you?"

  My father shook his head and took me by both shoulders. "You don't need us tripping you up."

  Charlie moved his boots from my path and sat down on the stairs to pull them on. "But we'll call and pester you as much as we can."

  I nodded, not trusting my voice anymore. I hugged them both tight, rasped how much I loved them, and walked them to the door. Quick goodbyes were the only kind my father and brother could stand, and they were gone within minutes.

  No one was around to see, so I sunk to the floor in the entry hall and sobbed. The hoarse cries hurt my throat, and I knew I was stronger than that, but I was so tired of being alone.

  Then it came back. Deep inside me, the strength welled back into my bones. If I was the only person I could depend on, then I had to get up off the floor and find my way.

  I walked through the empty cottage to the little desk. Grabbing the chair, I turned it so my back was to Teddy's equally empty mansion and sat down. The laptop glowed as I typed furiously. First things first, I needed a website.

  Chapter Twenty

  Teddy

  The second story featured a long gallery of expensive artwork and creepy, ancestral portraits. I normally avoided it at all costs because the scowling faces of my family put me off. I used to imagine they all whispered about the little, illegitimate boy who didn't belong. Now that everyone knew, I didn't care what the portraits whispered anymore.

  In fact, I knew if I stayed in the house any longer that I would start having whole conversations with the artwork. The only problem was there was only one place I wanted to go.

  Plus, the gallery had large picture windows overlooking the gardens and lawns. It made it easier to see all the way over to Kiara's cottage, and I watched as two cabs departed within minutes.

  Vincent Jeffry gasped, and the undignified sound was the only reason I smiled. "Didn't mean to scare you," I told him.

  "You're not often in the habit of visiting the portrait gallery." Vincent Jeffry tugged his uniform jacket back into place. "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"

  "Have you been to visit your friend, Ms. Davies, lately?"

  Vincent Jeffry slipped out of the awkward spot with his normal dry sarcasm. "My job doesn't leave much time for visiting, sir."

  "Feeling overworked?"

  My butler's face changed, and he drew himself up taller. "No, sir. In fact, I was seeking you out to make sure I have not missed an event on the calendar. There seems to be nothing this week."

  "That's right," I said. "No guests. Looks like the party has moved on."

  "And will you be moving on as well, sir?" He stood ramrod straight with his hands behind his back, but there was an earnest worry on his face that betrayed his formal pose.

  "I'm under house arrest, or didn't my father tell you?" I clapped Vincent Jeffry on the back and walked with him towards the grand staircase. "My father has very strongly suggested that I excuse myself from society while all the rumors run rampant."
>
  My butler nodded. "They will run out of energy and be forgotten."

  "I'm sorry, my friend, but you no longer work for the most eligible bachelor/playboy billionaire. Like my father, I'm being forced into early retirement," I said. "I will be staying in tonight and do not expect any guests."

  Vincent Jeffry started to descend the stairs, but stopped when I turned back to the second story gallery windows. He cleared his throat. "Sir?"

  "I'm fine."

  He paused and weighed his next words very carefully. "Would you like me to inquire about Ms. Davies?"

  I shook my head. It was ridiculous. Here I was, holed up in a mansion like some character out of a Bronte novel. Kiara didn't need that. She deserved better. It didn't help that when I had that generous thought, I immediately pictured Roger Dallas kissing the back of her hand. The flare of jealousy and prodding competitiveness was a welcome change from my inertia.

  "She's gone. I know it."

  Vincent Jeffry gave me a puzzled look and then nodded. "Anything special you would like for dinner, sir?"

  "Something easy. Order a pizza," I said.

  My butler looked horrified, and it was suddenly very funny. Everything I craved reminded me of Kiara. There was no way around it. I had to get her back.

  I was set up on an antique settee that I had dragged to the corner of the ballroom. A fire blazed in the oversized fireplace near me and offered the only light in the cavernous room. It was stark, but it was the perfect set up for me. I paced around the glossy, parquet floor when I needed to think, and flopped on the crushed-velvet settee when I got discouraged. And in between, I peered into darkness in the hopes that Kiara's cottage lights would come on.

  Vincent Jeffry found me there an hour later. He carried in an elegant stand and silver tray, set it up, and placed a heaping plate of pizza slices on top of it. "I took the liberty of opening a red wine for you, sir."

  "Thanks," I said. "Hey, wait, could you do me another favor? Could you look out that window and tell me if you see lights on in the Davies' cottage?"