Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  But he’d gotten the distinct feeling that Faith was a private person by nature, so every time he’d started to pull up her name on the national database, something stopped him.

  Part of him said she’d feel disrespected if he gathered intel on her like some perp. And after today, he thanked heaven he hadn’t. Another part of him, the part that couldn’t stop thinking about her, knew how pissy she’d be if he somehow gained an upper hand in this little game they were playing. Plus, there was something appealing about getting to know each other at the same time, rather than Noah going in with a detailed map to all her family’s hidden secrets.

  But after seeing the utter terror in her eyes when she’d caught sight of Pax holding a toy gun, he knew there was a history he needed to better understand. He only hoped he could get the sexy snow angel to open up before his curious nature got him into trouble.

  * * *

  New rule: Check town’s Facebook page before getting out of bed.

  Had Faith done so, she might not have spent her Monday morning in her kitchen dressed in pajamas and yesterday’s makeup, no coffee in hand, listening to Molly-Mae Beaumont, Decalin’s mom and residing PTA president, blame Faith for what was now being hailed as SANTA’S BAD SECRET.

  “If you had only called, I could have gotten out in front of this. But that didn’t happen and now parents are concerned,” Molly-Mae said, her voice sweet enough to send Faith into a diabetic coma. “A generous amount of PTA time has been dedicated to organizing the fifth grade’s secret Santa exchange at the park. And while we understand some things are unavoidable, we wouldn’t want some poor child missing out on account of Pax being a no-show, like he was at Decalin’s laser-tag party. You understand.”

  The only thing Faith understood was that the slight echo happening in the background was likely a case of using speakerphone in a room full of eavesdropping PTA moms. Yay, it was a party line. As for Decalin’s laser-tag party, Pax had never been invited. Knowing he was the only boy in his class who had been excluded, he’d received a call, the day of. Decalin wanted to see if Pax could “be a spare” in case anyone had to “tap out for a soda break.”

  Faith had said no on principle; her brother wasn’t some placeholder. And she still stood behind the decision, but whenever the kids from that party got together, Pax was always the odd guy out.

  “Why would you think he isn’t participating?” Faith asked, looking at Pax. He was sitting at the counter in his snowflake pajamas and sleep-warmed cheeks, his precious eyes barely open as he lifted a spoonful of cereal to his mouth.

  Unlike his peers, who would sleep until noon, then spend their first day of winter break at the park, Pax would be spending the morning with Viola at the diner, working off some of those community hours Faith had assigned him for his part in the toy-contraband situation. Both boys had received identical punishments, but while JT could serve his time at the ranch with one or both parents, Faith had to work.

  So after a few hours clearing out the diner’s storage shed, he’d head over to the community center, where he’d spend his time making reindeer heads out of pipe cleaners.

  “With all the talk going around about the unfortunate situation at the diner this weekend, I assumed he wouldn’t be coming,” Molly-Mae said, with a genteel offensiveness that only a woman whose family owned half the town would dare use. “I mean, a patrol car and everything.”

  “It wasn’t a patrol car. It was a work SUV.”

  “Is there a difference?” Before Faith could explain that, in fact, there was a difference, Molly-Mae continued. “How is Pax handling all this? He must be so embarrassed, bless his little heart. Will it go on his permanent record?”

  As if he knew he was the subject of the conversation, Pax walked his barely touched breakfast over to the sink. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he disappeared into his bedroom to get dressed.

  Faith wondered if Molly-Mae could feel the fury coming through the phone. This whole situation was complete madness. She wanted to ask if this was a joke, but didn’t need to. The lives of everyone in her family had been out of her control the moment her daddy pulled the trigger.

  But she was done taking the back seat of her own life.

  She knew what Molly-Mae would say the moment she hung up, just as she knew there were a couple of different ways to handle this situation, neither of which was remotely appropriate for Pax’s ears. So, tightening her robe and slipping on her house boots, Faith stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her.

  Like Faith, the sun hadn’t fully awoken, and the sky was a golden blue. A few mourning doves called to each other, and the neighbor’s car was running on idle, a smokestack of steam escaping into the frigid morning air.

  “You’ve heard the news?” Faith said, lowering her voice as if about to impart a secret of national security.

  “Honey, everyone in three counties has heard by now.”

  “Oh boy.” Her slow exhale froze on contact with the crisp air. “I know everyone saw him in the SUV, but it was part of Pax’s initiation as a Junior Texas Ranger. It’s a way to honor kids who display the characteristics of becoming outstanding citizens.”

  Faith would find a lump of coal in her stocking for that lie. But it was worth it to hear Molly-Mae choke on her jealousy. “Outstanding citizens?”

  “I know. Isn’t it amazing?” Faith’s fingers and ears stung from the low temperature, but she didn’t even consider going back inside until Molly-Mae had not one bad thing to say about her brother. “There’s a lot of competition for this kind of honor, so we were over the moon when Officer Tucker picked him up to deliver the official news. And right before Christmas, too.”

  “I’m president of the PTA and didn’t know about this.”

  “No, I don’t expect that you would. It’s not something they advertise, as it would be a huge liability if they chose the wrong kind of kid. Part of his award was a ride-along with a real Texas Ranger. He even ran the sirens. Not in town of course.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “The best part was that all of this came from the anti-bullying campaign Pax used when running for class president. And how important it is to win by merit and not intimidation tactics, which is why it will look so great on Pax’s college application.”

  “But he didn’t win,” Molly-Mae snapped.

  “He didn’t need to. Being a Junior Ranger is about ethics and quality of character, not who’s the most popular or who handed out personalized swag to the student body.”

  That candidate would have been Decalin. The swag was personalized ball caps for every fifth grader.

  “They should have told the parents about this before the election.”

  “That’s a great idea. You know who you should talk to about that? Texas Ranger Noah Tucker. I have his contact info from when he took Pax on the ride-along.” She rattled off the e-mail address she’d come across on Google when stalking Noah. He didn’t have much of an online presence, but his officer photo on the Texas Ranger Web site made for good dreams. “But before you reach out, I’d make sure Decalin has his essay on How to Combat Economic Prejudice in the Heartland written and edited.”

  Faith heard several gasps on the other end of the phone, confirming that Molly-Mae wasn’t alone.

  “Essay? They’re eleven.”

  Faith grinned. “They’re only looking for the best when it comes to Junior Rangers. So if I were you, I’d take the two-thousand-word minimum with a grain of salt and shoot for three or four. Anyway, thanks for calling, but Pax won’t be able to make it after all. He’s got another fun day of Junior Ranger stuff ahead of him. Have a good time at the park though, and Merry Christmas, Molly-Mae.”

  “Merry Christmas.” Molly-Mae disconnected the call, but not before Faith heard someone on the other end say, “How prestigious can it be? They let a Loren in.”

  Faith’s tender spots took a direct hit and that old humiliation and insecurity resurfaced from the pit of her stomach to spill over. />
  She’d become accustomed to the looks and whispers about her infamous family. Developed thicker skin to soften the blow. Worked tirelessly to atone for her parents’ selfish decisions and insulate Pax from any of the fallout.

  He was a sweet kid and at an age when other people’s opinions could influence the direction of his life. And, like Faith, he hadn’t had a say in who his parents were or how they behaved.

  So as quickly as she disconnected, she dialed another number. She didn’t think about her long hours at the hospital, her after hours waitressing and baking, or the wrapping party with chocolate and wine. She focused on what mattered—a way to change the town’s opinion about what it meant to be a Loren.

  Set things straight because, while Faith and Pax shared their mom’s last name, that was where the similarities ended.

  This new generation of Lorens didn’t lie and they didn’t cheat—and they sure as heck didn’t run when things got tough.

  So when Ester answered on the other end, Faith asked, “Do you still need help? If so, count me in.”

  Chapter Five

  Thanks to a hailstorm and vicious winds, Faith didn’t get home from her shift at the hospital until after 8:00 P.M. The house was freezing, Pax was staying at JT’s, and all she wanted to do was crawl under the covers and sleep until New Year’s. And it was only Monday.

  But since launching Operation Cookie Monster, she’d spent every night of the past week in her kitchen, baking and freezing ginger bear cookies.

  Tonight was her last night of baking, and tomorrow she’d begin the painful process of frosting fifty-dozen ginger bear cookies.

  The idea of fifty-dozen cookies was far different than the reality of how much dough it took to bake fifty-dozen cookies in her stamp-sized kitchen.

  After cranking the heater to Oahu-in-summer, she slipped on her apron and got to work. With the oven preheating, she pulled out the dough, which had been chilling since last night, and sprinkled flour on the cutting board. Then, one by one, she cut out each little bear face, placing it on the cookie sheet, then topped it with a dough Santa hat. The layering would give her cookies depth and make them stand out from the cookies of the past.

  “You are so cute,” she cooed to the first batch of the night, then slid them into the oven.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. And what better late night snack than leftover apple pie? Which she popped into the microwave.

  Never having much downtime, Faith didn’t know what to do with leisure, so she decided to watch the plate spin around and around. Afraid she might be standing too close, she took a small step back, then watched the seconds count down.

  Anticipating the ding, she’d just touched the handle when an ear-piercing crack shot through the night, filling the air with charged static. Suddenly, everything plunged into complete blackness.

  Faith’s stomach hollowed out as her body dropped straight to the floor, knocking over the mixing bowl, sending a cloud of flour exploding on impact. Old instincts kicked in and she covered her head with her hands, curling herself into a tight ball.

  Her heart ricocheting off her ribs, her eyes tightly shut, she remained completely still, except for the involuntary chattering of her teeth. Her lungs burned to release the trapped oxygen and her pulse thundered so loudly she was certain it was audible.

  And in that split second of time, Faith was a six-year-old girl again, huddled behind the couch, feeling so helpless and afraid, she was dizzy with dread.

  Still unmoving, she strained to listen through the roar in her ears, waiting for glass to shatter or the sound of footsteps pounding toward her, but all she heard was a thick, suffocating silence.

  Out of nowhere, a low rumble started overhead, shaking the house and rattling the windows.

  Relief seeped into her tightened muscles and she opened one eye, then the other, right as another bright flash lit up her kitchen like Rockefeller Center at Christmas. It wasn’t until the thunder rolled again that Faith allowed herself to breathe, to believe that it was only a storm and her life wasn’t in danger.

  Swallowing the wave of hysteria clogging her throat, she pushed herself up on shaky hands. Another flash of light cut through the night sky, illuminating the moist handprints she left behind on the hardwood floors, and glistening off the beads of sweat covering her arms. And only because laughing was better than crying, she allowed a small laugh to escape, which sounded a little closer to a teary croak.

  “One Mississippi,” she counted shakily, refocusing on the rhythm of the words and trying to slow her heart. “Two Mississip—”

  Boom!

  Faith let out another laugh because Mother Nature was not playing nice tonight. “Seriously, you couldn’t even let me have the second Mississippi to collect my shi-gle bells?”

  Boom!

  Not that it would have helped. Two Mississippis didn’t come close to cutting it when dealing with the haunting memories that stalked her. Which was ridiculous when she really thought about it. It had been over twenty years since that night but she could have sworn that she smelled discharged gunpowder in the air moments before everything went dark.

  Then a downpour of hailstones the size of softballs bounced off the roof, confirming it was simply a winter storm; the rest of it had been in her head. That didn’t mean she didn’t jump when her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

  “Hello?” she answered, surprised that she sounded calm and collected. Not like she was in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

  “Hey, it’s Shelby. Pax wanted to call and make sure you were okay.”

  Faith took stock of her body. She was in one piece, no one was in the room with her, and it had been nothing but a little scare.

  “Tell him I’m fine,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t dropped to the ground like someone in the middle of a shoot-out at the O.K. Corral. “I’m fine,” she repeated. It was something she’d become adept at telling people—including herself.

  But instead of Shelby’s answer, Faith got some rustling on the phone followed by heavy kid breathing.

  “You okay?” It was Pax, and he sounded worried and small.

  “You bet, buddy. I was just heating up some apple pie for dinner,” she said. “How are you doing? Did you see the lightning?”

  Thankfully, Pax hadn’t yet been born when that awful night happened. But he’d woken Faith up from enough bad dreams to know that loud noises could sometimes freak her out. And with a heart the size of Texas, he wanted to make sure his older sister was okay after the thunderstorm.

  “The lightning was pretty cool, I guess. But I told JT I might go home,” he said quietly. “You know, if you don’t want to eat dinner by yourself.”

  “And miss out on a sleepover? I don’t think so.”

  “Ms. Luella made us clean the kitchen before we could play. And only board games. No screen time.”

  Exactly what she needed. A normal moment to find her balance. “That’s what happens when you break the rules. You should be happy Ms. Shelby allowed you to come over at all. You and JT are grounded, remember?”

  “Yeah,” he grumbled, and she could almost picture him toeing the floor, which brought a smile to her face.

  “Now hand the phone back to Ms. Shelby and be sure to brush your teeth before bed.” She gripped the phone to her ear. “Hey, Pax.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  “Love you, too.”

  There was more rustling and breathing—this time it was from Faith’s end as she tried to keep her emotions in check—then Shelby was back. “He’s a great kid, Faith. You’ve done an amazing job.”

  “Thanks.” She swallowed. “And thanks for watching Pax tonight.”

  “Are you kidding? JT’s been driving me nuts being on house arrest. I don’t know who’s suffered more, the kids or us,” Shelby said. “Cody kept them busy, cleaning out the attic, feeding the animals. They’re exhausted.”

&nbs
p; “I bet. Pax has been tired all week. Between helping Mrs. McKinney out at the diner and working off more of his hours helping Mr. Wilkins at the tree lot, he’s come home tired every night. Not to mention covered in sap.” Pax’s community service had been meant to teach him a lesson, but it had also given Faith a place to park him while she was working extra hours.

  She hated that, while his friends were home spending quality time with their family, Pax and Faith had barely had a moment together that wasn’t driving to or from work. If Shelby hadn’t volunteered to keep him tonight, Pax would have been sitting in the break room at the hospital until her shift had ended.

  Something had to change—it wasn’t fair to Pax.

  “Have I mentioned what a good friend you are?” Faith said through the emotion pushing at her throat.

  “Hey, it will be okay,” Shelby whispered. “I remember how hard it was before Cody, juggling hours at the hospital and raising JT. You never blinked when I needed help, bailing me out more than a few times when I couldn’t get home on time. Plus, you know Pax is always welcome here. So are you, Faith. Anytime you need a break, come on over.”

  “Thanks.” Seemed like she’d been saying that a lot lately.

  Faith needed to figure out a better way to juggle making a living and Pax’s busy schedule. It would only get fuller the older he became. And she didn’t want to miss out on the important stuff.

  “But I think you’re giving up more than I am,” Faith said. “When I take JT, it only cuts into my Game of Thrones marathon, not quiet time in bed with a sexy rancher.”

  Shelby snorted. “Sweetie, with the house this full, we’ve had zero time alone. I told Cody all I want for Christmas is one uninterrupted hour of ‘adult’ quiet time. Although, if the house is empty, we won’t have to be quiet.” They both laughed.

  Cody was a great guy, and he and Shelby had the kind of relationship people aspired to. Faith had never seen her friend so happy. Ever since Cody moved back to Sweet and the two reunited, it had been like watching some epic love story unfold.