Christmas Texas Bride (The Brides 0f Bliss Tx. Book 4)

by Katie Lane

  Of course, he’d always tried to steer clear of saying things to women that might upset them, especially one who had been working so hard to help him. But his dream of having a family came before a woman’s hurt feelings. So on Friday morning, he broached the subject with Savannah as soon as she arrived.

  “The house sure looks nice, but it’s not quite what I had in mind.” He waited for her to either get mad or burst into tears, but Savannah Arrington didn’t seem the least bit upset. She just flashed that brilliant smile of hers.

  “Yes, I know that you wanted your décor to look similar to Summer and Ryker’s. But after coming out here and seeing the house, I knew it was all wrong. Summer and Ryker’s home is an old Victorian. This is a new ranch-style home. Putting nineteen-century antique furniture in it would be like serving mint juleps with Mexican food. They just don’t go, honey.” She lifted a hand to the great room, careful not to wake up Dax who slept in a baby backpack that hung in front of her. “Your décor needs to be western and rugged.” She winked at him. “Just like its owner. If you wouldn’t be comfortable in that little bitty ol’ antique bed I had in my shop, you certainly wouldn’t be comfortable on a little ol’ antique loveseat or a spindly-legged chair.”

  “But I want my son and his wife to feel comfortable here.”

  She patted his arm. “I promise they will be comfortable, honey. Just look at those big cushioned couches I ordered for you. Who wouldn’t be comfortable sitting on those?”

  She did have a point. The couches were damned comfortable. And the leather massage chair she’d order for the master bedroom was like sitting on a cloud with magic muscle-relaxing fingers. Once Ryker and Summer moved in, Cord planned to give them the master suite. He was keeping the chair.

  “But, of course, if you really hate the way I’ve decorated,” Savannah said. “I’ll be happy to send things back and redo it to your liking.”

  He looked around the room. He didn’t hate the way she’d decorated. In fact, he pretty much loved it. He loved the painting of the running horses above the mantel and the Native American pottery she’d strategically placed on the bookcases with the hardcover books about horses and the old west. He loved the rustic bedroom furniture she’d ordered for him and the soft, fluffy comforter that covered his king-sized mattress. And he loved the sturdy dishes she’d placed in the cupboards with coffee mugs that fit nicely in his hand. Even the wooden rockers on the front porch seemed to fit his butt perfectly.

  He hadn’t thought he had a style, but obviously Savannah had found one. She had turned his house into a home that he felt comfortable in. All it needed was his family. And maybe once Ryker saw it, he’d like it too. After all, he was his father’s son.

  “No, don’t change it,” he said. “Let’s leave it as it is.”

  She smiled brightly. “You won’t be sorry. You’re going to love living here. Now follow me and I’ll show you what I’ve done in the nursery.”

  They walked down the hall to the room closest to the master suite. Cord figured Summer and Ryker would want their baby’s room nearby. Savannah opened the door to the room, and Cord was struck speechless.

  Three of the walls were painted the soft blue of a Texas sky at dawn and the other wall behind the white crib was covered in gray barn wood. There was a spotted cow skin rocking chair in one corner, a wooly white throw rug in front of the crib, framed pictures of cute cows, sheep, and ponies, a bookcase filled with books and stuffed ranch animals, a dresser and changing table with little horseshoe knobs, and a rocking horse with big brown eyes and a yarn mane and tall.

  “I kept everything gender neutral since we don’t know if the baby is going to be a boy or a girl,” Savannah said. “I think it will be perfect for either.” When Cord didn’t say anything, she turned to look at him. Her eyes instantly grew concerned. “You don’t like it.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s perfect.” It was perfect. The kind of perfect nursery a father should give his child. Cord couldn’t even remember what Ryker’s nursery had looked like. That was the kind of crappy father he’d been. The sharp hunger for a drink hit him hard in the gut.

  “Are you okay?” Savannah asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be until he got his son back. The doorbell rang, and he went to answer it. It was another delivery—this time, the furniture for the other bedrooms.

  Savannah told the delivery guys where she wanted it placed. After the beds were set up, Cord tipped the guys and helped Savannah start putting on the clean sheets and bedding. They had only done two rooms when Dax woke up and started to fuss. Savannah headed to the kitchen and returned only moments later with Dax out of his backpack and a bottle. She handed both to Cord.

  “Would you mind feeding him while I finish up? I’ve never met a man yet who knows how to make a bed properly or arrange throw pillows.”

  “I’m not really good with babies either.” Cord tried to hand the baby and the bottle back to her, but she completely ignored him and picked up the comforter.

  “That’s nonsense. If you wrangled wild horses, you can wrangle one little ol’ precious baby.”

  Cord didn’t agree. But when Dax started really crying, he tucked him into the crook of his arm and carried him into the great room. He sat down in the cushioned rocker in front of the huge picture window and held the bottle to Dax’s mouth. The baby immediately latched on like a calf to his mama’s tit.

  Cord looked out at the window at the pasture where Maple and Ruckus were grazing and tried to ignore the baby and the pain the tiny, warm body made him feel. But finally he couldn’t help but look down. Big bluebonnet eyes the color of his mother’s stared back at him. Eyes that held curiosity . . . and trust.

  It was the trust that made Cord realize what an idiot he was being. It wasn’t this little guy’s fault that he had some major issues. He smiled. “Hey, little one, what do you think of this old cowboy?” Dax studied him intently as he drank his milk. “Yeah, I know,” he said in a low voice. “I’m pretty screwed up. But I’m working on it.”

  Dax flashed a milky smile around the nipple of the bottle. But before Cord could take that as encouragement, the baby let out a big fart.

  Cord laughed. “Just gas.” He cuddled the baby closer and rocked. “I happen to know a song about that.” He started singing. “Beans, beans, the musical fruit . . .”

  By the time Savannah came out to retrieve her son, Cord and Dax had formed a manly alliance. Cord even burped him—following Savannah’s instructions—then carried him out to the car and buckled him into his car seat.

  “You’re a natural,” Savannah said once he’d closed the back door of her SUV.

  “I’m learning.” He just wished he had learned a little faster.

  Once they were gone, he headed out to the pasture. An afternoon storm was forecast, and with the drop of temperature, he figured the forecast was right. He wanted to make sure Maple and Ruckus were bedded down in their stalls before he had to go pick up Carrie Anne from school.

  The storm hit on his way into town. Central Texas rarely got snow, but damned if it didn’t look like snow flurries mixed in with the drizzle of rain. Of course, a few minutes later those flurries turned to sleet. Thankfully, the elementary school had a covered walkway in front that the kids could wait under for their rides. But when it was Cord’s turn to pull up, he still jumped out and held his sheepskin coat above Carrie’s head as she got into the backseat of his truck.

  “It’s snowing,” she crowed when he got back in the car.

  He laughed as he pulled away from the curb. “I wouldn’t call this snow. It’s more like ice. Now buckle yourself into your car seat.”

  “It’s not a car seat. It’s a booster seat. Car seats are for babies.”

  “Whatever it is, your mama wants you buckled in it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have spent the money on another one for me to have in my truck when I pick you up.”

  “She didn’t spent money. She charged it. And she was
real worried that our card was all full up and that little machine at Walmart was going to beep real loud and reject it. But, lucky for us, it didn’t.”

  It bothered him to no end that Christie was struggling to make ends meet and refused to accept help. And he had tried. He paid her a good hourly wage for doing his social media and blog. But she flat refused to take money from him until she’d paid him back for fixing her car. Now she flat refused money because he was watching Carrie Anne after school. And he didn’t even want to get started on her refusing to tell the Hadleys that she was their kin. The Hadleys would be happy to help her until she got on her feet. Of course, he doubted that she would take their help either. Cord hoped like hell Christie won the gingerbread contest. Then maybe she could relax and enjoy the holidays with her daughter.

  “Can I ride Maple today?” Carrie Anne asked.

  “I’m afraid not, Half Pint. It’s too cold. Besides, we need to get you some boots and a safety helmet before you start riding.” He had already bought both, but he wasn’t about to give Christie another reason to work for free. He planned on giving the boots and helmet to Carrie as Christmas presents.

  “Other kids ride without boots and helmets,” Carrie Anne grumbled. “My friend, Sue Lee, rides barefoot.”

  “I don’t care what Sue Lee does with her horses. With mine, you’re going to wear proper boots.”

  “You’re just saying that ’cause you sell boots.”

  “Yep. Now how was your day at school?”

  “Good. I had a race with Douglas Jeffrey on the playground and won by a mile and a half.”

  After Christie had told him about Carrie Anne’s asthma, he couldn’t help but worry about her running. “You probably shouldn’t run too fast. Do you take your inhaler to school?”

  “Yeah. I have one in my backpack and the nurse keeps one in her office, but I don’t need it anymore because of my new medicine. And you know what else I did today? I got to draw a picture of what I want for Christmas. It was the bestest picture in the whole entire class ’cause I’m a real good drawer and use lots of different colors. You want to see it?” Cord heard a zipper being pulled open before a piece of paper hit him in the back of the head.

  He reached back and took it. He waited until they were stopped at a stop sign before he looked at the picture. It was of a big Christmas tree with lopsided branches, round colorful circles for ornaments, and a bright yellow star on top. Under the tree was a bicycle and purple cowboy boots. Next to the tree were four stick figures. He could pick out Christie because she had long yellow hair and an oven mitt on one hand. And he could pick out Carrie Anne because she was smaller and had shorter yellow hair, but he didn’t know who the other two stick figures were.

  “Who’s standing around the tree?” he asked.

  “Mama, me, you,” she paused. “And my daddy.”

  Cord felt honored to be included. He also felt sad. Had Ryker drawn pictures like this in school? Had he included a stick figure of Cord with hopes that his father would some day show up on Christmas?

  He handed the picture back. “That’s a beautiful picture.”

  “Cord?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you crying?”

  “Nope.” He swallowed hard. “You want to stop off at the bakery for a cupcake?”

  The squeal almost broke his eardrum. “Yes!”

  But when they got to the bakery, the door was locked and the lights were out. Cord knocked on the door, and only a second later, Christie came running to unlock it. He ushered Carrie Anne inside and lowered the coat he’d been holding over their heads to protect them from the sleet.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “The storm knocked out the power so we had to close. I’m glad you stopped by. I was just going to call you and tell you to take Carrie Anne to the trailer and I’d meet you there.” Christie smoothed Carrie Anne’s hair off her forehead. “You okay, Baby Girl?”

  “Yeah. There’s no lights? Can we light candles? Can I have a cupcake?” Carrie bounced with excitement. “And can I see the gingerbread house?” Before her mother could answer, she raced back to the kitchen.

  Christie quickly followed after her. “Be careful and don’t fall. And don’t you dare touch the gingerbread house. The royal icing isn’t dry.”

  When they got into the kitchen, Cord expected to find a gingerbread house with a candy roof and little gingerbread people. Instead, there was a huge gingerbread cowboy boot sitting on the counter with a door above the heel and windows on the shaft.

  “It’s a boot,” Carrie Anne said with obvious disappointment.

  “No, it’s not.” Christie smiled at her daughter. “It’s a house. Just like the story of a little old woman who lived in a shoe and had so many children she didn’t know what to do. But this is a boot where a happy Texas gingerbread family is going to live—as soon as I get them made.”

  “Make a girl like me, Mama!”

  “Of course. You’re the first one I’m going to make.”

  Cord walked around the counter and examined the boot from all sides. It wasn’t close to being finished, but it had all the details of a well-made boot—from the looped pull straps to the stacked cookie heel and smooth rounded toe. “You’ve done a fine job.”

  There wasn’t much light coming in from the high windows, but there was enough to see the pride on Christie’s face. “Thank you.” A teasing smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “I thought I’d call it ‘A Big Boot-iful Texas Christmas.’”

  She had used his idea, and he couldn’t help feeling a little happy about that. He winked at her. “I think you’ve got a winner. Now let’s get home before this storm gets any worse.”

  The storm did get worse as they headed home. Concerned for their safety, Cord followed Christie and Carrie Anne all the way back to their trailer. When they got there, he became even more concerned. The little vintage trailer they lived in was rocking back and forth in the strong wind like a fishing bobber. He hopped out of his truck and stopped Christie from getting out of her car.

  “You can’t stay here in this kind of weather,” he yelled above the howling wind and the sleet pelting the roof of her car.

  “We’ll be fine,” she yelled back. “Now will you move out of the way so I can get out?”

  Stubborn woman, he thought as he stepped back. He held his coat over their heads as she helped Carrie out of the backseat. But before Carrie could climb out of her booster chair, the sleet worsened, pinging off the hood of the car and the aluminum siding of the trailer like a spray of gunshots. Carrie Anne let out a scream and jumped back in the car.

  Christie hesitated for only a second before she closed the back door. “Fine. We’ll stay at the motor lodge in town.”

  “No, you won’t,” he said. “I’m not going to let you drive back to town on slick roads. You’ll stay the night with me.”

  She glanced up at him beneath the shelter of his sheepskin coat, and he could read the consternation in her pretty hazel eyes. He quickly revised his words. “In the guestroom. I’d never think otherwise.”

  But as he breathed in her gingerbread scent and lost himself in twin pastures of earthy green, Cord wondered who he was lying to the most:

  Christie . . . or himself.

  Chapter Seven

  “A fire? We’re gonna have a fire?” Carrie Anne hopped around like a jumping bean. “Can we roast hot dogs and marshmallows? Can we, Cord? Can we?”

  Worried that her daughter was going to knock over the expensive-looking lamp sitting on the end table, Christie tried to corral her. “Settle down, please. You’re going to break something.”

  “There’s nothing she can break that’s not replaceable.” Cord lowered the load of firewood he’d brought in from outside into the tinderbox on the huge stone hearth. “But I’m afraid a weenie roast is out. I don’t have any hot dogs. Since I eat breakfast and dinner at the diner, all I buy at the grocery store are sandwich items.” He knelt in front of the fireplace
and strategically placed the wood inside. “I think I have the makings for ham or peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “With jelly?” Carrie continued to bounce.

  The side of Cord’s mouth tipped up as he stuffed some crumbled newspaper under the wood he’d stacked. “With the ham or the peanut butter?”

  “With the peanut butter.” Carrie Anne scrunched up her face. “Ham doesn’t go with jelly, silly.”

  Cord laughed. “Then PB and J it is.”

  Christie wanted to decline dinner and head back to her trailer. She felt uncomfortable staying the night with Cord. But the thick layer of sleet on his cowboy hat and the shoulders of his coat told her that the storm had not abated.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He glanced at her. “That’s about the fifth ‘thank you’ you’ve given me since we arrived. And I think that’s more than enough. I’m not just doing you a favor. You’re also doing me one. I hate rattling around in this big ole house by myself. Now why don’t you take off your coat and relax?”

  She hadn’t even realized she was still wearing her coat. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she took it off and walked over to the hall tree to hang it next to Carrie Anne’s. Spying her daughter’s backpack, she lifted it off its hook and carried it to the dining room table.

  “Before you eat dinner, you need to get your phonics homework done, Carrie Anne.”

  That set off whining theatrics. “But I have the whole weekend to do my homework, and I want to watch Cord start a fire.”

  Cord picked up a long butane lighter and lit the newspaper under the stack of wood. “There you go.”

  Carrie Anne watched with disappointment at the flames that were already licking the stacked wood. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. Now go do your homework like your mama says.”

  Christie waited to hear more whining, but Carrie Anne surprised her by skipping over and sitting down at the table. Christie didn’t know why that annoyed her. Maybe because Carrie Anne listened to Cord better than she did her own mother.