by Katie Lane
Which is exactly how she’d ended up in bed with Danny Ray. She just couldn’t resist a rodeo cowboy. She loved the way tight Wranglers hugged toned butts. She loved the way belts with big buckles cinched trim waists. And she loved the way sexy Stetsons shadowed handsome faces.
There was no doubt that Danny Ray and Cord were handsome. Just in different ways. Danny Ray was a pretty boy. Almost too pretty. Cord’s features weren’t pretty so much as ruggedly attractive. His face was a collage of beautiful angles—from his chiseled cheekbones to his square jaw that almost always had a sprinkling of dark stubble. His eyes were the only things that weren’t totally male. They were long lashed and a soft, velvety sable brown that reflected whatever they were looking at.
Today, they had reflected a sex-starved woman. She hadn’t been with a man since Danny Ray had left six years ago. She’d been too busy raising a daughter to worry about sex. So when Cord had touched her, all her pent-up desires had flooded to the surface and there had been no holding them back.
“And why do I have to sit in a stupid booster seat?” Carrie Anne cut into her thoughts. “I’m not a baby. I’m in first grade.”
Christie heaved a sigh of exasperation. Something she’d been doing a lot lately. She loved her daughter more than life itself, but there were times she didn’t much like her. “Because it’s the law, Baby Girl. You have to sit in a booster until you turn eight or weigh more than eighty pounds.”
Of course, kids didn’t care about laws. Carrie Anne continued to complain about the booster seat while Christie went back to thinking about her reaction to Cord.
That was all it was—a reaction. After being without a man for so long, her body had reacted to being held in a handsome cowboy’s arms. But her mind knew better. Both her grandma and mama had spent their lives pining for the no-good cowboys who had left them. Christie refused to do the same. She was through with cowboys. She was through with men altogether. She didn’t need a man screwing up her life or Carrie Anne’s. They could make it just fine on their own.
“Damn straight,” she said under her breath. Of course, Carrie Anne heard.
“Ahh, you cussed, Mama. You told me never to cuss and you just cussed. And if you can break the laws, I don’t see why I have to sit in a booster.”
Christie sighed.
She should’ve taken Carrie Anne back to the trailer that they rented from Spring Kendall and worked on the phonics homework Carrie’s teacher had sent home with her. But the trailer was small and she couldn’t stand the thought of being cooped up in it with her argumentative daughter. So instead, she headed into town.
Bliss, Texas, was the definition of a small town. There were no chain department stores, fast food restaurants, or designer coffee shops. The businesses that lined Main Street were owned by the residents of the town and the owners treated their customers like family. It was one of the things Christie loved about Bliss. It had been just her and her mama growing up. While she had felt loved and secure, she’d envied her friends who had siblings and big families. In Bliss, everyone was family.
Of course, Christie really did have family in the town. They just didn’t know it yet.
“Doesn’t the town look Christmasy, Mama?” Carrie Anne asked.
She was right. All the businesses were spruced up for the holidays with wreaths on their doors and colorful lights around their windows. Twinkle lights draped every tree along the sidewalk and greenery and red bows entwined every old-fashioned lamppost. The holiday decorations should’ve made Christie feel happy, but instead they made her anxious.
She wanted this Christmas to be special for Carrie Anne. Her daughter had been through a lot in the last year with her asthma getting worse, her grandmother dying, and moving away from the only home she’d ever known. Thankfully, the new medication the doctor had prescribed for Carrie Anne’s asthma was working. She hadn’t had any attacks for months. But there was no medicine that could bring back a grandmother.
Christie’s mom had always made Christmas the best day of the year, and Christie wanted to do the same for her daughter. She wanted to get a tree and decorate it with beautiful ornaments. She wanted to get some lights and string them up outside the little trailer they were renting. And she wanted to get her daughter a new bike to replace the one she’d had to leave behind.
But in order to do those things she needed money, and her finances were already stretched to the limit. Even with two jobs, she was struggling to pay their living expenses and pay off the credit card debt she’d gotten into when she’d spent the summer searching for her father.
Searching for her daddy had ranked right up there with falling for Danny Ray in stupidity. But after her mother died, she’d felt lost and needy. Her father was the only family she and Carrie Anne had left and she’d wanted desperately to give her daughter a grandpa. So once Carrie Anne finished kindergarten, Christie had sold all their belongings and headed to Texas to find her daddy.
She’d found him. And it turned out that he was just another male disappointment in her life. But he had given her one thing. He’d led her to Bliss. She was starting to believe that this was a place where she could forget her past screw-ups and start over. A place that she and Carrie Anne could call home.
“Yippee! We’re stopping at the bakery,” Carrie Anne said when Christie pulled their beat-up Chevy Malibu next to the curb. Before she could even open her door, Carrie Anne had her seatbelt off and was out of the car. By the time Christie got into the bakery, her daughter was chattering away to Ms. Marble.
Ms. Marble was a sweet woman in her late seventies who had been the town baker before Summer took over the job. She had planned to retire completely. But after only a few weeks of retirement, she’d gone a little stir crazy. Now she worked at the bakery on Christie and Summer’s days off. Not only did she make the best cinnamon-swirl muffins that Christie had ever tasted, but she was also a retired schoolteacher and great with kids. She listened intently as Carrie Anne jabbered.
“. . . and Maple told me she loved me by nuzzling her head right next to mine. And Cord says that once I get me some proper boots and a riding helmet, he’ll teach me how to ride her.”
“You’re not riding Maple,” Christie said. “She’s too big of a horse for you.”
Carrie Anne opened her mouth to no doubt start arguing, but Ms. Marble intervened before she could. “How would you like an oatmeal cookie? I baked them fresh this morning. Of course, you’ll need to ask your mother first.”
“Can I, Mama?”
“Yes, and be sure to say thank you.”
Ms. Marble opened the bakery case and let Carrie Anne choose a cookie. When she was munching away, Ms. Marble looked at Christie and smiled. “What brings you to the bakery on your day off?”
“I thought I’d check in and see if Summer needed any help finishing the wedding cake for Tina Foster.”
“That’s sweet of you, dear. The baby hasn’t given Summer morning sickness yet, but it’s certainly made her tired. I tried to send her home, but she stubbornly refused to go.”
“When babies are in your tummy, they make you sick in the morning and tired?” Carrie Anne shook her head. “Now I’m not having S-E-X or babies.”
Ms. Marble’s almost invisible eyebrows hiked up beneath her soft white bangs, and for the second time that day, Christie wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.
Instead, she smiled weakly. “It seems that a little boy at school has been talking about inappropriate things.” She sent Carrie Anne a warning look. “And because it’s inappropriate, if you spell that word again, missy, you’re going to be in big trouble.”
Carrie Anne scowled. “Why would I get in trouble? I’m not the one who spelled it. Jonas Murphy’s brother was.”
“And I’m going to have a talk with Jonas’s parents about that.” She hated to admit it, but Cord did have a good point about talking with the parents instead of the principal. “Now, I want you to sit right down there at that table and do your phonics homewo
rk.” She held out the backpack she’d carried in. Her daughter didn’t look happy to see it. She stubbornly crossed her arms.
“I don’t want to do my homework. I hate phone-tics!”
Christie’s exasperation must’ve shown because Ms. Marble walked from behind the counter and took the backpack. “Hate phonics? Why phonics are the building blocks to new and exciting worlds.”
Carrie Anne stared at her. “What kinda worlds?”
Ms. Marble smiled. “Worlds filled with awkward princesses, silly monsters, magic wizards . . . and beautiful horses. Horses that talk and dance and fly. And regular horses that just become little girls’ beloved pets. I’d love to show you these worlds, but first you have to learn the sounds of all the letters and how they fit together to form words.”
Carrie Anne scrunched up her face in thought for a second before she nodded and took a chair. “Okay, but Cord already taught me some. C-A-T spells cat.”
Ms. Marble joined her at the table. “Then you already have a head start.” She looked at Christie and winked. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you go see if Summer needs help?”
The bakery kitchen smelled like Christie’s mama’s kitchen used to smell. The air was filled with the scent of vanilla, spices, and love. Her heart tightened with sadness before she noticed Summer sound asleep and slumped over the prep counter with a frosting knife in one hand and a piping bag in the other. In front of her was Tina’s half-decorated wedding cake.
Christie stored her purse under the counter before donning an apron. She washed her hands, and then took both the knife and piping bag from Summer and sat down to finish decorating the cake.
Her mother had been a wonderful seamstress and baker. Christie had never gotten the knack of sewing, but she loved to bake. In high school, she had worked at a Walmart bakery where she had learned how to decorate cakes. So it didn’t take her any time at all to finish applying the pretty white scrolls of icing to the rest of the cake. When she was done, Summer woke up and blinked.
“Did I fall asleep again?”
Summer was the oldest Hadley sister—not that most people would count seconds and minutes as being older. Summer had been born only seconds before Autumn and minutes before Spring. But even being a triplet, she’d taken on the oldest child’s persona. She was controlling, strong-willed, and assertive. But she was also nice. She’d given Christie a job and treated her like a friend.
“Just a little catnap,” Christie said.
Summer looked at the finished cake. “Liar.”
Christie laughed. “Okay, maybe you slept a little longer, but it comes with being pregnant. I used to want to sleep all the time when I was first pregnant with Carrie Anne. You’re lucky you own your own business. I got fired from my job when Mr. Nash found me sound asleep in the back room of his western wear store.”
“You sold western wear?”
Christie turned the cake on the decorating wheel to make sure she hadn’t missed a spot. “That was where I met Danny Ray. He came in looking for some new Wranglers. I took one look at his nice bee-hind in those jeans and lost my morals and my wits.”
Summer laughed. “Nice-fitting jeans can do that to a woman. I never noticed Ryker’s butt until he switched from suit pants to jeans. Now all he has to do is walk by and flash those sweet buns at me and I heat up like a toaster oven. Which is exactly how I ended up in the same predicament as you.”
Christie wanted to tell her that she wasn’t close to being in the same predicament as she had been in. Summer had a husband who loved and cared for her, not a no-good rodeo bum who would skip out on her right after her child was born. But instead of being a Debbie Downer, Christie kept that information to herself and smiled.
“The exhaustion will go away soon. Now I better get this cake into the refrigerator before my handiwork melts in the heat of this kitchen.”
After Summer helped her put the cake in the refrigerator, Christie whipped up a batch of cupcakes that she planned to decorate to look like reindeers and santas. While she was creaming the butter and sugar, Summer’s sister Spring walked into the kitchen. While Summer was controlling and assertive, Spring was easy-going and carefree.
“Hey, y’all! Isn’t it a gorgeous day?”
Summer rolled her eyes and spoke close to Christie’s ear. “I feel like I’ve run a marathon and my little sister, who’s also pregnant, comes bouncing in here like Tigger.”
Christie held back a laugh and shut off the mixer. “Hey, Spring. How was work?”
“Busy, but that’s how I like it.”
Spring was an office assistant for her husband, Sheriff Waylon Kendall. She was also the town fixer. If you had a problem, Spring was the one to call. She had rented Christie her vintage trailer when Christie didn’t have a place to live. She’d also helped her get the assistant job with Cord. Spring had the ability to see a need and take care of it. This was proven when she set an opened magazine down on the counter. The “Win $5,000” in the title of the article immediately drew Christie’s attention.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Spring smiled brightly. “‘The Best Gingerbread House in Texas Contest’ that’s being put on by the Regal Hotel in Austin. I found it in an Austin magazine and I think you should enter.”
Summer glared at her sister. “What about me? I’m a baker—” Some unspoken message must’ve passed between the two sisters because Summer quickly changed her tune. “You’re right. I can’t even finish a cake without falling asleep. This would be much too big a project for me to take on right now.” She looked at Christie. “So it’s all up to you to represent Blissful Bakery.”
“Me?” Christie appreciated the vote of confidence, but she didn’t agree. “I’m not close to being as talented as you are at decorating. And I’m certainly not as talented as the experienced pastry chefs who will more than likely be vying for that five thousand dollars.”
Summer shrugged. “Chef is just a fancy title. You’re a baker. And a damned good one.” She waved a hand around the room. “Not to mention that you have access to everything a hoity-toity chef has access to.”
“She’s right,” Spring said. “Of course, if you can’t use the money . . .” She started to pick up the magazine, but Christie grabbed it. Five thousand dollars would pay off all her debt with plenty left over to give Carrie Anne the kind of Christmas she deserved.
“I’ll enter, but there’s no way I’m going to win.”
Summer sent her a stern look. “Of course you won’t win with that kind of attitude. You’re going to need to be all in if you want to show people what you’re made of. Now do you want to build the biggest, best gingerbread house Texas has ever seen and win that contest hands down, or not, Christie Buchanan?”
Christie wanted to win the contest. She wanted to win it in a bad way. And Summer was right. If she was going to get that prize money, she needed to quit being an insecure wimp and start acting like the talented baker she was. She might not have graduated from some fancy pastry school, but she had graduated from the school of hard knocks. She could do this. She had to do this.
For Carrie Anne . . . and herself.
She straightened her shoulders and pumped a fist in the air. “Damn straight, I’m gonna win!”
Chapter Three
“Can I help you?”
Cord turned from the antique bed he’d been looking at to the blond bombshell with the pretty blue eyes. Although they weren’t near as pretty as a pair of hazel ones that he couldn’t seem to get out of his mind.
He took off his cowboy hat. “Yes, ma’am. I need a bed.”
She flashed a friendly smile. “Why, Cord Evans. I didn’t recognize you with the hat on. I’m Savannah Arrington. We met at my cousin’s wedding to your son Ryker.”
“I remember. You’re Raff Arrington’s wife. And congratulations on your new son.”
Her eyes lit up and she started chattering like Carrie Anne. “Thank you. Dax is about the cutest thing this side of the Mississippi,
if I do say so myself. Although Carly Arrington’s newborn son is pretty darned cute too. Have you seen Zane Junior? ZJ is a carbon copy of his daddy. I can’t wait for him and Dax to start playing together. Dax usually comes to the store with me—Raff helped me make the sweetest little ole nursery for him in the back room—but today he’s home with his daddy doing daddy and son things.”
As always, when Cord thought of all the years he’d missed being a daddy to his own son, his gut tightened with guilt, sadness, and a strong need for a stiff drink. He took a few slow breaths and rolled the beads of his hatband between his fingers. Ryker had made him the hatband for Father’s Day when he was five—right before Jenn had taken Ryker and left for good. The plastic beads had become Cord’s talisman. A reminder of what he had lost to alcohol . . . and could still lose.
“And that’s how it should be,” he said before he changed the subject. “Now about that bed. Is this the only one you’ve got? Because it doesn’t look quite big enough.”
Savannah laughed. “Which is exactly why Raff wouldn’t let me put it in our new master suite in the cabin. He said he didn’t care if it was over a hundred years old, he wanted a bed with plenty of space for rolling around with his woman.” An image of rolling around in a big bed with a woman with miles of hair the color of an autumn wheat field popped into his head, but he pushed it right back out again.
“As long as it’s big enough for me, I’ll be good,” he said.
Savannah glanced around. “Unfortunately, my inventory is mostly antiques that are full-sized. What about ordering one online?”
“I’m not real good at ordering online. The air mattress I ordered is a perfect example. Besides being uncomfortable as heck, it got a small leak last night and is now flatter than a pancake.”