Cowboy Under the Mistletoe. Linda Goodnight

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      “Weren’t you going to the job site?” Jayla’s question fell into the sizzling air and withered away, unanswered.

      If a man could spit nails, Allison thought this might be the time to duck and run. With his warrior size, Brady was as dangerous as a rattler when stirred up. And something had definitely stirred him up this morning.

      Allison was afraid she knew the cause.

      The other siblings exchanged looks. The twins shrugged in unison. No one else had a clue to Brady’s fury.

      With a dread heavier than a forklift, Allison put her half eaten doughnut on a skinny strip of napkin and waited for the ax to fall.

      Voice tight and low, steam all but pumping from his ears, Brady asked, “You haven’t heard, have you?”

      Quinn set his mug down. “Heard what?”

      Blood rushed against Allison’s temples. Oh, yeah, here came trouble.

      “Jake Hamilton is in town.”

      Sawyer’s jaw hardened. “What?”

      “You heard me right. Jake’s back.”

      “Where did you hear that?” Quinn’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.

      “Courthouse.” Brady fisted huge hands on his hips. “I saw the lowlife with my own eyes. Miss Pat’s out of the nursing home and Jake’s moved in, supposedly to take care of her.”

      All eyes swung toward Quinn. Like the rest of them—except Allison—he looked stunned. A long beat passed while they absorbed the news. Then, without a word, Quinn spun on his steel-toed boots and left the room.

      Chaos erupted.

      As if the russet-haired Brady had announced an eminent asteroid collision with downtown Gabriel’s Crossing, everyone talked at once. The general consensus was outrage. Outrage that Jake Hamilton would strut into town years after the fact and behave as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t ruined a man’s life.

      “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” As soon as the words were out, Allison clapped a hand over her mouth. Why had she said that?

      Silence descended in a dark, pulsating curtain. Three pairs of eyes aimed at her like hot, blue lasers.

      She swallowed. Let reason prevail. Please Lord. “Jake’s been gone a long time. His grandma needs him now. We’ve moved on. Quinn’s...okay. We don’t even talk about the accident anymore. Can’t we let the hard feelings end here and now?”

      “You were always on his side.” Sawyer’s accusation hurt.

      “That’s not fair. We were all heartbroken for Quinn, even Jake. Quinn was his best friend! He’s not some kind of evil monster.”

      Dawson slapped his cap against his thigh. “Tell that to Quinn.”

      Sawyer nodded in agreement. “I think the brotherhood needs to pay the hotshot bull rider a little visit.”

      Brady crouched to pat his dog. The shaggy mutt rolled onto his back, feet in the air. “I’m in.”

      Allison exhaled a nervous, worried breath. Her doughnut lay like a rock in her belly. “Just because a man you don’t like comes to town to care for his grandmother is no reason for the four of you to go ninja grudge match.”

      Brady rubbed Dawg’s belly, his eyes on Allison. “When that one man destroys my brother’s future, I’m not likely to ever forget.”

      That was the problem. She came from a long line of grudge holders. Granddad Buchanon and his brother didn’t speak for the last fifteen years of their lives. All because of a dispute over a used tractor. They were supposed to be Christians, but a Buchanon could sustain anger for a very long time.

      Allison saw no point in arguing with her brothers. They were as immovable as a concrete slab.

      “You should let sleeping dogs lie. That’s all I have to say.” She turned and headed around the counter to her computer. “We have work to do.”

      Brady followed her around the desk, Dawg at his side. His voice had calmed, but his tone held reinforced steel. “We’ll handle Jake Hamilton this time, Allison. You stay away from him.”

      Allison gave him a mutinous glare. She was getting real tired of hearing that.

       Chapter Four

      The next morning Jake made the rounds in town. First, to the post office to redirect Granny Pat’s mail where a friendly postal clerk he remembered slightly inquired about his grandmother. Then to the bank and finally to the grocery store.

      Gabriel’s Crossing was a lazy stir of business this early, sunlit morning. Townspeople wandered in and out of stores. Doors slammed. Cars and pickups puttered down a five-block main street still paved with the same bumpy red bricks put there eighty-five years ago.

      A truck with a Buchanon Construction sign on the door rolled past. Jake watched it, curious and wary, though the morning sun blasted him in the eyes, so he couldn’t clearly see the man at the wheel.

      Allison had been at the house again last night. Her visits stirred him up and interfered with his sleep. Her and the musty smell of sheets he should have washed before bringing Granny Pat home. A man didn’t always think of those things, especially a man who was accustomed to sleeping in his truck or cheap motels along the rodeo circuit.

      He both dreaded and longed for evening when Allison would return. She’d promised Granny. Why had she done that? And why couldn’t he find the initiative to be somewhere else when she arrived?

      Heaviness weighed on his shoulders like a wet saddle blanket. That’s what Gabriel’s Crossing did to him. When he was on the road or in his trailer in Stephenville, he seldom dwelled on the tragedy. He’d learned to let it go or go crazy. But here, in Gabriel’s Crossing, where memories lingered around every corner and Allison popped in unexpectedly, he thought of little else.

      He felt as trapped as a bull in a head gate, unable to go forward, and he sure couldn’t go back.

      Inside the quiet IGA, Jake pushed a shopping cart down the produce aisle. He wasn’t much of a cook but Granny Pat needed nourishing foods to rebuild her strength. A woman who’d cooked from scratch her whole life wouldn’t stand for frozen dinners or pizza delivery either. He added a head of lettuce, some tomatoes and a bag of carrots to the cart. Salad. He could do salad. And steak. Big, juicy T-bones with loaded baked potatoes.

      He tossed in a bag of potatoes and headed for the meat. The aisles were narrow, a throwback to earlier times, but he’d not been in the mood for the supercenter this morning. Too many people. Too many opportunities to run into someone he didn’t want to see.

      He wasn’t afraid to climb into the chute with an eighteen-hundred-pound bull, but he was a coward in his hometown. The knowledge aggravated him so much Jake considered reshelving the groceries and driving out to the supercenter. If he hadn’t promised to meet the home health nurse in an hour, he СКАЧАТЬ