Blue Sky Cowboy Christmas

by Joanne Kennedy

  Shaking her head in disgust, she felt the towel around her hair as it gave way and flailed to catch it as it spiraled in slow motion down her back to the floor. Her hair was long, a shade of blond so ashen it looked silver. She knew men liked it, but she didn’t want this man to like her hair or anything else about her.

  His gaze followed the towel to the floor, then climbed back up the length of her, stroking her legs, tracing the hem of the bath sheet, and settling on the spot where those foolish butterflies beat their heated wings. Could he sense them somehow? She clenched her legs tighter as his gaze moved up over her breasts to where her hand clutched the towel and on to her face.

  Twisting out a wry sideways smile, she hoped he couldn’t see it trembling at the edges.

  “Don’t get all excited now,” she said.

  “I won’t,” he said. “Not now.”

  A slow smile wiped away his anger, and those dark eyes held her like she was another kind of butterfly—the kind they kept in museums pinned to a board.

  What did he mean, ‘not now’? Like…like maybe later?

  Something deep inside her hoped so, which was not good. Not good at all.

  Griff Bailey wasn’t what she was looking for.

  Not anymore.

  * * *

  Griff shoved his hands in his pockets. He could hook an arm around Riley’s slim waist, let that towel fall, and pull her close, but he saw the fear in her eyes and was sane enough to stop.

  Not now, he’d said, and he’d meant it. But later? Later was up for grabs.

  He took a step toward her. Her eyes widened, afraid, and that fear sparked a loss so keen he wasn’t sure he could stand it. Once, she’d trusted him, and he’d known that was a gift she didn’t give lightly.

  “What are you doing here?” He tried to gentle his tone, but his voice came out raspy and rough.

  Setting a hand on the dog’s wide head, she seemed to find courage. “I told you, the porch fell down. I’m staying here while I fix it. Doing some other work in the house, too, and taking care of the animals. Nobody told me you were coming.”

  “They didn’t know.”

  “Oh.” She turned away, cheeks flushed. “Okay. Guess I’ll change my plans. Go back to Ed’s, or—or something.”

  She headed up the stairs. He wanted to follow her, but he’d been lucky to tame her once, and it clearly wasn’t going to happen again. Back at the quarry, she’d acted brash and bold, but she’d been frightened as a fawn in the grass, and when she’d curled into him as if for protection, he’d felt more of a man than he ever had before or since.

  He wished he could be that man again, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that chance was long gone.

  “I’ll be in the barn,” he mumbled.

  “Okay.” She clutched the towel to her chest. “Um, this is Bruce. Your dad found him on the highway, just before they left, and um, he thought the dog should stay because…” She looked panicked, and he figured she didn’t want to admit his dad had kept the dog so Riley wouldn’t be alone and unprotected. “Because he liked him, I guess,” she said. “His food’s in the kitchen, and he sleeps in the house, not the barn, okay? On the bed. Don’t worry. He’s a good boy.”

  Griff eyed the dog. He didn’t mind sharing his bed, but the dog wasn’t the partner he had in mind.

  “No funny business, okay?”

  Riley sounded stern as a schoolmarm, and Griff wondered how to answer without making a promise he might not be able to keep.

  “No humping,” she continued. “And no pooping in the house.”

  He hoped to God she was talking to the dog.

  * * *

  Upstairs, Riley dressed hastily and gathered her things, hyperaware of Griff’s presence even though he’d stomped off to the barn. The disloyal dog had followed, abandoning her. She’d worried the animal was becoming too attached to her, but apparently not.

  Cramming her feet into her boots and wrapping her scarf around her neck, she grabbed her backpack and racewalked out to her pickup.

  “I’m leaving,” she called.

  The dog came to the barn door, but Griff didn’t answer. That was fine with her. He’d figure it out, and hadn’t he said he wanted to be alone? Let him be alone, then. She had stuff to do.

  Her old Chevy LUV’s engine churned uselessly on the first try but roared to life on the second. Her pickup ran better than it looked—a darn good thing, since its baby-blue paint was scarred with rust—but getting it moving was another matter. The bald back tires spun, caught, then fishtailed and spun some more.

  Slow down. Breathe.

  Putting one hand on her chest, she calmed herself, then eased the accelerator down, slowly releasing the clutch so the car glided over the snow.

  Steering carefully down the long drive, she wondered what to do. There was no way Griff had driven all the way to this remote corner of Wyoming for an afternoon visit. He must be staying at the Diamond Jack, and that was definitely a problem. She’d been living there while she worked on installing en suite bathrooms for all the bedrooms.

  Holy cats, that was a problem, too. She doubted Mr. I Came Here to Be Alone would approve of turning the family home into a swanky, five-star dude ranch, but that was what she was being paid to do.

  The Baileys had asked her to house-sit while she worked, so she’d been taking care of the animals and picking up the mail, too. That had left her apartment above the store available for Ed’s sisters, who had probably moved in already, which made her officially, if temporarily, homeless for the holidays.

  She shivered. She’d been homeless for real before, and she’d never forgotten how the ordinary became dangerous and the darkness, once a sanctuary for sleep, became an enemy even as the light of day made her vulnerable, visible.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the ranch spread out behind her. Dusk had fallen, and the timers had turned on the twinkle lights indoors and out, making the place look as pretty as a Christmas card.

  Surely the season would soften Griff some. He must have had many magical holidays in that beautiful old house. Molly had decorated the place before she’d left, and Riley wished she could see Griff’s face when he came in from the barn and saw the lights. The tree was decorated with heirloom ornaments like Ed’s, only most of the Baileys’ were obviously made by Griff and his sister as kids—Popsicle-stick creations, plaster handprints, and Styrofoam snowmen.

  Riley had loved sitting on the overstuffed sofa in her pajamas once the day’s work was done, enjoying the lights and thinking Christmas thoughts of angels and guiding stars, Santa Claus and carols. She wondered if Griff would do the same.

  Probably not. He didn’t look like a man who had a lot of Christmas thoughts in him.

  Chapter 3

  Griff stood in the shadowed maw of the barn, watching Riley’s little pickup fishtail down the drive. Her old Chevy LUV looked like a toy compared to the Jeep, and it was probably rear-wheel drive, but she’d handled the snow pretty well. Once she got to the main road, it would be clear sailing, so he might as well pack up the rescue fantasies flitting through his head. Riley was stronger than she looked. She didn’t need his help.

  Maybe you need hers.

  Shaking the thought out of his head, he returned to the horse stalls. A few caged light bulbs cast a golden light on the barn’s interior, and the frost-edged windows framed a twilit fairy-tale world that reminded him it was almost Christmas. Snow used to be just one more obstacle that made the endless chores harder, but right now, that didn’t sound so bad. He’d missed snow. Hell, he’d missed chores, too.

  A horse shifted its weight and his mind settled, soothed by the familiarity of the sound. Looking down at his hands, he realized his fists had been clenched so long they hurt. That happened a lot. Memories would surface and he’d struggle to shove them down, only to have more rise. It was like
a video game, but one without levels or any way to win.

  There were no cattle in the barn, which meant they must be in the pasture east of the house, probably sheltering from the storm in the wide loafing shed he and his dad had built. He needed to check on them.

  “Cattle first,” his dad had always said. “Every rancher knows the livestock has to be your number one concern.”

  Griff kind of thought your kids should be your number one concern, but he’d put the goddamn cattle first all his life until he managed to find a way to live without cattle, cattle, cattle taking up all his time and energy.

  “I’d be happy if I never saw another cow,” he told the dog. “But dogs are okay. And horses.”

  Actually, horses were more than just okay. As he inhaled the sweet scent of hay, the musty smell of their breath, and all the less-desirable odors wafting from the stalls, his childhood came rushing back. He’d spent a lot of time shoveling those less-desirable things into a wheelbarrow, and the manure pile outside had seemed like a metaphor for his life, but now that drudgery didn’t sound so bad. Ranch work might be hard, but it was routine and blessedly brainless. Wearing himself out might be the best way to clear his mind.

  His mind apparently didn’t want to be clear, because it drifted back to Riley. He remembered the way she’d looked in that towel, the way her eyes had lit on his, just for a moment. The way they’d answered his need with her own, he could swear. He imagined reaching for her, taking her hand, leading her up the stairs, and then…

  And then the barn roof exploded with a percussive bang and he dropped to the floor, hands locked over his head, heart pounding, ducking to avoid the beams and shingles that would rain down any moment.

  Bomb.

  He could feel his brain shrinking to the back of his skull, trying to hide. The horses would need help, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even lift his head. Everything inside him was boiling, buzzing. It was all he could do to hold himself together.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to breathe.

  * * *

  Riley tapped on the side door that led to Ed’s apartment behind the store. When he didn’t answer, she opened it and stuck her head in.

  “Ed?”

  There was no answer, but a wash of golden light from the Christmas tree in the living room calmed her nerves. She’d decorated the place last week, heaping pine boughs on the mantel, decorating a fresh-cut fir with the red-and-gold ornaments Ed and his late wife, Ruth, had collected. Riley found the glow relaxing, but as she hung her scarf and coat on a hook in the hall closet, she heard a woman laugh, high and tinkling—false, but festive.

  Some people try too hard. But don’t judge. You probably will, too. These women mean so much to Ed.

  What if they hate you? What if they send you away?

  Riley found herself in a familiar place: hanging on the edge of a cliff, clinging to respectability with her fingernails, her grip slipping every time she allowed herself to remember her past and who she’d been.

  But look at who you are. That was what Ed always said. And since these women loved him, too, they’d surely get along. Ed’s parents had passed away when he was young, and they’d practically raised him. Riley had always thought they were the reason he was so mild-mannered and kind, and she had to love them for that.

  Taking a deep breath, she made her entrance, hoping no one could see she was shaking inside.

  Ed was in his ratty old chair, like always, looking a bit lost. The sisters stood nearby. Sharp-nosed and thin, they were female versions of Ed, but with hair coiffed so perfectly it didn’t look real. They weren’t tall, but they were very upright, as if they’d spent their teen years balancing books on their heads to perfect their posture—because they had. Ed had told Riley so, and she’d tried it herself, mincing around the room with one of his old-fashioned ledgers on her head. Ruth had died not long before, and he’d needed that smile.

  The two women sensed her presence at exactly the same time and turned to look at her in unison. It was creepy, the way they mirrored each other, but Riley smiled brightly and held out her hand.

  “Hello. I’m Riley, Ed’s, um, helper in the store. I’ve waited so long to meet you. He talks about you all the…”

  “Hmm.” Carol looked her up, then down. She was the one with the blond hair, Riley remembered, and Diane was the dark one.

  Dropping her hand, adjusting her Henley to cover her tattoo, Riley wished she’d worn something nicer. Or bought something nicer. Her work didn’t demand much of a wardrobe.

  “I, ah, came straight from a job.” Her voice kept breaking. It did that when she was nervous and made her sound like a twelve-year-old boy.

  “I thought you worked here,” Diane said. “When we got here, Ed was doing everything.”

  Ed stood, wiping his hands on the thighs of his jeans. “Riley works most days, but I pitch in so she can do outside jobs. She’s an expert at home renovation. Got her certificate and everything.”

  The sisters just stared.

  Riley edged toward the kitchen. “Well, I’d better check on dinner.”

  Hopefully her coq au vin would thaw them out. Bustling into the kitchen, she grabbed an apron from a hook by the door, popping the straps over her head. As she tied it around her waist, she looked up and gasped.

  There was a man—youngish, slight, disreputable looking—in the kitchen. He was emptying the liquor cabinet, lining up bottles on the countertop. Dusty and mostly unopened, they held weird booze Ed had gotten for gifts, like plum wine and black cherry brandy. Riley didn’t drink, and Ed only had a finger of whiskey now and then, so the cupboard mostly stayed closed.

  As she watched, the stranger took out the one bottle that mattered, an expensive anniversary bottle of Jack Daniels she’d bought after Ed’s doctor had told him a drink now and then would be good for his heart. Ed, being Ed, had never cracked the seal. He’d said he was saving it for her wedding, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him she was living her happily-ever-after now at the store. Her life was as good as it was likely to get.

  As she watched, the stranger cracked the seal.

  “Hey,” Riley said. “What are you doing? That’s Ed’s.”

  The man turned. She’d thought he might be with Carol or Diane, but he didn’t look like their type. Pale, with a sickly sheen to his skin, he was thin in a wasted sort of way. A druggie sort of way.

  She started to back out of the room, but then the stranger spoke.

  “You must be that girl. The one who lives with old Ed.” The guy said “girl” like he was saying “cockroach,” and he made it sound like she and Ed were up to something dirty. That ticked her off.

  “I work for Ed and rent the apartment upstairs,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Trevor. Ed’s grandnephew.” Rummaging through the cupboards, he found a glass and poured himself a massive draft of Jack. “So I don’t have to ask Ed anything, because he’s my great-uncle.”

  “Oh. Um, excuse me.” Riley moved past him to check on the stew, acting busy so she’d have time to think.

  When she opened the oven, the fantastic smell that wafted out told her Ed had put the dish in right on time, even though she’d forgotten to call and remind him. Her mind racing, she moved reflexively around the kitchen. Open the stove, close the stove. Lower the temperature, get the foil, wrap the rolls. Ed hadn’t mentioned a grandnephew. Open the fridge, get out the broccoli. Certainly not one with, well, issues. Close the fridge, find the colander. Rinse the broccoli…

  Ed walked into the room with Carol and Diane just as Trevor drained his glass. Riley wondered if Carol was his grandma or if he belonged to Diane. Her money was on Carol, because she was blond, too.

  “Trevor, put that back.” Turning to Ed, Carol said, “We rarely drink, of course. But it’s a special occasion, especially for Trevor. He’s been living in
Denver, and it’s so nice to have him with us. Plus we haven’t seen you in so long.”

  She gave Riley a narrow-eyed glare, as if that was her fault, but nobody had stopped them from coming. They could have come when Ruth got sick or at least attended the funeral.

  Ed touched his sister’s arm as if pleading for understanding. “Riley’s made a nice meal for us, and look at the decorations! I never could have done it without her.”

  “Those are Ruth’s decorations,” Diane sniffed.

  “That’s right. Riley and I met because of Ruth,” Ed said. “Ruth fainted while she was running the store one day. Riley took care of her until I got home, and then—well, we decided to keep her.” His smile was forced, but his words warmed Riley’s heart. That was just how it had happened. “Ruth loved Riley like a…” He caught Riley’s wide-eyed warning look. “She just loved her.” He tilted his chin up, looking like a little boy defying his mother. “And so do I.”

  Poor Ed. His face was red, and veins stood out on his forehead. Riley hadn’t seen him this stressed since Ruth died, and she worried for his heart. His blood pressure was a concern already, and she tried to keep his stress level low.

  “Why don’t you all go relax out by the tree?” she said. “I’m just here to make dinner for you.”

  As the sisters stalked out of the kitchen with their noses in the air, Riley eyed Trevor. He definitely had the pallor of a drug user—a frequent user. She should know—she’d been one once and fought her way out. This guy didn’t look like he had much fight in him, although he was slurping down Jack Daniels like he was fighting sobriety—or maybe withdrawal.

  She chopped up the broccoli, wondering how someone like him, with a family who loved him, fell into drug use. For Riley and most people she knew, drugs had seemed like the only escape from the unrelenting ugliness of poverty and abuse. That wasn’t an excuse. There were no excuses. But at least it was a reason. Trevor probably did drugs for fun.

  Gathering silverware, she paused. Four or five? Much as she’d been looking forward to this dinner, she wasn’t sure she wanted to eat with the Harpies after all. Maybe she’d eat out here by herself.