A Cowboy For Christmas. Rachel Lee

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      “Dad has plenty,” Abby answered wryly, thinking of the huge living room with its equally huge furniture, including two oversized sofas and full-sized piano. White carpeting. She wondered how often she’d be spot-treating it.

      Just then Rory came in the back door and joined them.

      Rally drained the bowl and looked around.

      “Does he need more water?” Abby asked. “I can get it.”

      But Rally seemed to have another interest. He walked slowly over to Abby, who tried not to shrink. Heavens, she was almost eye-to-eye with him.

      “Rally, sit,” Regina said mildly.

      The dog obeyed, but Abby had to laugh because even as he sat in front of her, his tail was wagging like mad. “He does seem friendly.”

      “Hold your hand palm up and let him sniff you,” Regina said. “Then you can pet him and you’ll be friends for life.”

      Friends for life sounded like the best alternative with an animal so big. She glanced at Rory and found him watching with amusement.

      Still unsure but determined not to show it, Abby held her hand out as directed. Rally leaned his head forward and sniffed at her hand. His breath was powerful, matching his size, she guessed.

      “Now you can scratch him behind the ear,” Regina said.

      Abby did so and enjoyed the way the dog suddenly grinned and wagged his tail even harder.

      “Friends for life,” Rory said. “But seriously, Abby, Regina cleans up after him and feeds him.”

      “Right,” Regina said. “Can I see my room now? And you said you have a big studio. Am I allowed in there?”

      “Any time you want.”

      The two of them headed upstairs to pick the girl’s room, but Rally remained behind. Abby stood looking back at him, wondering if he wanted more petting, more water, or just to hold her prisoner. She had no idea.

      Drool started to drip from his jaw. He extended a big tongue to slurp it away. And for some reason that made him look less dangerous to her. Big, sappy dog, she thought.

      She extended her hand again, and this time he leaned into it, encouraging her scratches. Okay then. Not a prisoner.

      Almost laughing at herself, she moved. He backed away, watching with his head cocked. After she refilled his water bowl, he drank half of it. Apparently satisfied now, he amazed her by loping for the stairs, following Regina’s voice.

      This could work, Abby thought. Well, it kind of had to. And thank goodness this was such a big house. The dog had made this huge kitchen feel small. Briefly.

      Regina seemed nice enough, a great relief since she’d been expecting a hellion. Of course, that could change, but right now everything appeared to be all right.

      She caught herself as she started pulling out the ingredients for dinner. She had developed a terrible habit of expecting everything to turn out badly. Everything. She didn’t even know that child, but here she was making assumptions that it would all go to hell.

      “Thank you, Porter,” she muttered to her absent ex-husband as she began to slice thawed chicken breasts into small cubes for chicken Alfredo. She needed a major attitude adjustment of some kind. She just wasn’t sure how to do it.

      For what seemed like ages she’d been living in a sea of pain and betrayal, and it wasn’t as if she could wash it away with a shower. Trust had been shattered, suspicion had become a way of life and apparently so had the belief that everything would go south eventually.

      Not a very optimistic outlook for a twenty-six-year-old woman. She had a lot of years left, and unless she wanted to become a paranoid recluse, she needed to get over this hump.

      Hump? Right now it looked bigger than the Rocky Mountains she could see out back.

      * * *

      For over a week, everything went well enough. Regina came home from school, grabbed a snack and either disappeared to her bedroom or out to the barn to do her schoolwork. She pretty much left Abby alone. While Regina was at school, Rally hung out with Rory, whether he was in the barn or walking the fields. Abby grew sick of cleaning the same bathrooms and bedrooms and doing the laundry and keeping up with the dust.

      Dust ended up everywhere, not surprising given that autumn had dried out the area and quickened the breeze, but on so many polished surfaces, from kitchen to floors to railings, it was a nuisance to keep up with and couldn’t be ignored.

      She served Rory and Regina their dinner in the dining room, and ate her own in the kitchen before she cleaned up the dishes. Usually Rory showed for dinner, and she could hear him and Regina chatting and laughing. A couple of times he didn’t return from the barn, leaving his daughter to eat alone. She didn’t seem to mind.

      For the first time it struck Abby that this job could bore her to madness. She needed something to do for herself, a project or a hobby. She’d always had a job, but nothing like this one that made so few real demands on her.

      Every room had a TV tucked somewhere, including her own, and a satellite dish outside provided a wide selection of viewing, but TV couldn’t occupy her for long.

      She was used to being much busier. Except for cooking, this job could have been handled in two or three days a week.

      Well, Rory had told her she was free to do as she liked, so she could go to town and visit friends who would probably only try to sympathize with her about Porter and Joan, or question her about the habits of her famous boss. Neither appealed to her.

      Standing in the middle of the stainless-steel kitchen that desperately needed something to bring it to life, she looked out the wide window over the sink. In the distance she could see trees tossing in a freshening wind and tumbleweeds rolling like gigantic bowling balls. Toward the mountains, she saw heavy, dark clouds building.

      A change in the weather would be nice. Any change would be nice. “Gah!” she said aloud.

      Regina should be the one bored to death, she thought, but the girl seemed quite happy. Also willing to ignore Abby. She thought about Regina’s room, and while it was beautifully decorated, it was rather Spartan in an emotional sense. It lacked personal belongings, other than a few things she had brought with her. Was that how she had lived with her mother?

      If so, she felt sorry for the girl. She wondered if she should offer to take her to town to get some decorations to make the room her own. But maybe that would be overstepping.

      It was almost a relief to hear the front door open, even if it meant only that Regina would race to the pantry, grab a snack and a can of soda from the fridge and vanish again. Movement. She needed movement. Life. Activity. More than dust and bathrooms, laundry and cooking.

      Regina popped in as always, with a shy, “Hi,” then headed for the fridge.

      Abby broke the routine. “How was your day?”

      Regina paused, can of soda in hand, and turned to look at her. The refrigerator door swung shut behind her. Then she smiled, that same heart-melting СКАЧАТЬ