A Cowboy Family Christmas. Judy Duarte

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      “That’s a relief. I knew I’d have some big shoes to fill, taking Joy’s place in the kitchen while she’s on her honeymoon.”

      “I haven’t heard any complaints yet. And that’s saying a lot, considering some of the old geezers who live here. They rarely keep their opinions to themselves.” Sully glanced at the letters on the table. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll just take my coffee into the living room and let you get back to whatever it was you were doing.”

      “Actually, I don’t mind the interruption.” Although she really should. With each tick and tock of the kitchen clock, her midnight deadline drew closer. And who knew if the ranch internet would work? She might have to drive into town and find Wi-Fi somewhere. Darn it.

      “You look fretful, which doesn’t do your pretty face any good. What’s bothering you?” Sully nodded toward the stack of letters. “I hope it isn’t bad news.”

      “It’s just...a friend with a problem.” Lainie chewed her fingernail and stared at the pile of unanswered letters. “I’m trying to come up with some wise advice, but I’m not feeling very wise.”

      Sully’s smile softened the lines in his craggy face. “Wisdom comes with age and experience. Back when I was in my twenties, heck, thirties, too, I was under the false notion that I was as smart as I’d ever get.”

      Lainie had thought the same thing after her college graduation, which wasn’t very long ago. Then Craig had taken her for a ride, leaving her with an unearned bad reputation and distrustful of sweet-talking men who couldn’t tell the truth to save their souls. She’d learned a big lesson the hard way, but that hadn’t made her an expert at facing romantic dilemmas.

      “Want me to give it a shot?” Sully asked.

      Was he offering his advice? Lainie wasn’t sure what the dear old man might have to say, but at this point, she’d take all the help she could get. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

      Sully pulled out a chair, took a seat and rested his steaming hot mug on the table. “What’s the problem?”

      Lainie scanned the opening of the letter and caught him up to speed, revealing that her “friend” was twenty-four years old, relatively nice-looking with a decent job and a good sense of humor. Then she read the rest of it out loud.

      “Three weeks ago, I found out the guy I was living with, the man of my dreams, was seeing another woman. We had a big fight, and he moved out. I’ve been crying every day, and I’m desperate to win him back.”

      Sully clucked his tongue. “A man who cheats on his partner, romantic or otherwise, isn’t a prize worth winning back. That’s what I’d tell her.”

      Lainie had once thought Craig was a prize, and boy, had she been wrong about that. It’s a shame she hadn’t had Sully nearby when she’d been taken in by that liar’s soft Southern drawl. But Sully was here now. And providing the wisdom this letter writer needed.

      “That’s a good point,” Lainie said. It was clever, too, and a good response for the column. “I’ll mention that to...my friend.”

      Male voices sounded outside, growing louder until the mudroom door squeaked open. A second later, Nate Gallagher, the acting foreman, entered the kitchen.

      Sully acknowledged Nate with a nod, but Lainie focused on the man walking behind him. She guessed him to be a rancher or horseman, since his stylish Western wear suggested he could afford to hire someone to do the dirty work. He was in his early to midthirties, tall and nice looking, with broad shoulders and a rugged build.

      He removed his black Stetson, revealing sandy-blond hair, which he wore longer than most of the rodeo cowboys she’d met. Not that she’d ever been a buckle bunny or even attracted to that kind of guy before she’d met Craig.

      And after that awful night, she’d sworn off men indefinitely. Yet she found herself stirred by this one’s presence. He also looked familiar. Had she met him before?

      “Meet Drew Madison,” Nate said. “He’s handling the Rocking Chair Rodeo promotion.”

      Just the word rodeo sent Lainie’s heart slamming into her chest. Had she seen him while on one of the few dates she’d had with Craig?

      No, she’d never forget a man like him.

      But if he and Craig ran in the same circles, he might recognize her. For that reason, she’d better get out of here. She didn’t mind being around the older cowboys, some of whom had ridden in the rodeo back in the days before cable television and social media. But a recent connection spelled trouble—and further humiliation.

      Nevertheless, she wouldn’t be rude to a ranch visitor. So she placed the letter she’d been holding upside down on the rest of the stack on the table. Then she got to her feet and said, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

      Then she did just that. If there was one thing she’d learned in her short time at the Rocking C, it was that the cowboys, young and old, loved a fresh brew.

      As the coffee began to perk, Lainie studied the pot as if it might bounce off the countertop if she didn’t stand guard.

      She fingered the side of her head, checking to see if any strands had come loose. She used to wear it long, the curls tumbling along her shoulders and down her back. But after that video had gone viral, she’d pulled it up into a prim topknot—just one of several alterations she’d made to her appearance so she could fade into the background until that ugly incident was forgotten.

      When the coffeemaker let out a last steamy gurgle, she poured two cups, then turned to face the younger men. They continued to stand in the middle of the kitchen, speaking to Sully, who was still seated at the table. She was about to excuse herself and leave them to chat among themselves, but her curiosity betrayed her and she took one last glace at Drew, who’d zeroed in on her.

      “For some reason,” he said, his gaze intense enough to see right through her, “it seems as if I’ve met you before.”

      “That’s not likely,” she said. “I’m not from around here.”

      “Where are you from?”

      She wanted to ask, What’s up with the third degree? Instead, she said, “I’m from up north—originally. But I’m sure we’ve never met. I just have that kind of face. I get comments like that all the time. Sugar? Cream?”

      “I like it black.”

      His gaze continued to roam over her, as if removing her façade one piece at a time. But she pushed through the discomfort and handed him a mug.

      He thanked her but didn’t take a drink. Instead, those baby blues continued to study her as if trying to pinpoint where they’d met. But wouldn’t she remember if they had? A woman wouldn’t forget a man like him.

      No, he was mistaken. She glanced down at the loose blouse and baggy jeans she wore today. She hadn’t used any makeup. Her curls had been pulled into a bun.

      But when she again looked at him, when their gazes locked, her heart soared and her hormones flared. For a moment she wished she’d been wearing that red dress Craig had given her for her birthday and insisted СКАЧАТЬ