Yuletide Cowboys: The Cowboy's Yuletide Reunion / The Cowboy's Christmas Gift. Arlene James

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       Chapter Three

      There was no cell phone reception at Sarah’s ranch.

      None. Zero. Zip.

      Not inside the cabin and definitely not outside in the bitter cold. The freezing wind was blowing snow down the collar of his shirt and he was turning into an icicle. He should have listened to Sarah when she’d told him to bundle up. His thick wool coat would be a welcome commodity right now, but he’d intended to be outside for only a moment. The joke was on him.

      He’d intended to dial Grandma Sheryl to touch base with her. Assure her he was safe and that he’d still be home for Christmas. Let her know that he was still planning to bring the horses as soon as the snow let up. While he was on the phone, he’d also wanted to ask her why she’d purchased Sarah’s draft horses—and speaking of Sarah, why Grandma had failed to mention that the horses belonged to his high school sweetheart. That couldn’t possibly have been an oversight on her part, and Marcus was more than a little bit suspicious that this whole setup was part of some misguided matchmaking scheme Grandma Sheryl had concocted.

      If only she knew just how far off she was.

      He waved his phone in the air one more time for good measure, praying for even a single bar to pop up. He wasn’t surprised when he got nothing. At this rate it would be a blessing if he even managed to make it home in time for the holidays.

      He especially didn’t want to miss out on Christmas this year. According to Grandma Sheryl, his older brother, Matt, was already at the ranch. There had been tension between the two boys since the day their father died. They weren’t close. The whole family hadn’t been together in years. Though he doubted Matt felt the same way about him, Marcus was looking forward to seeing his brother again, even if things remained strained between them—and even if he had to share news from their mother that might serve to pull them further apart. Their mother had recently contacted Marcus and wanted to reconcile with him and Matt. It was certainly not the type of thing one said over the phone.

      He envied Matt, who was already at the ranch with Grandma, enjoying her homemade cookies and fudge. His mouth was watering already. They were going to be worried if they didn’t hear from him, but there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it, short of sending smoke signals. Hopefully the storm would die down by tomorrow and he’d be able to be on his way.

      Despite the deep longing to be home for Christmas, the thought of driving away from Sarah clouded his chest with emotion. It had been so many years since they’d seen each other. At one time she’d been the most important person in the world to him. Now that they’d run across each other’s paths again, or more accurately, had been craftily thrown together by his mischievous grandmother, it seemed a shame just to leave without renewing their acquaintance. Much had happened to him during the years they’d been apart, and he imagined she had many stories to tell, as well.

      Then again, maybe they would do little more than exchange numbers and stay in touch this time, and not let twelve years go by without seeing one another as they had last time. Could they even be friends now?

      “Where’s the baby?” he asked as he returned to the cabin, welcoming the warmth that enveloped his frosty limbs. He shivered and rubbed his hands over his biceps. He expected Sarah to come back with an “I told you so,” but she didn’t say a word.

      She was still seated on the raggedy armchair, her elbows propped on her knees. Her somber gaze was fastened to the contents inside the coffee mug she held clasped in her hands, and the slight hint of a frown hovered on her lips. She appeared as if she were searching for answers in the depths of the black liquid.

      She looked up, her eyes shaded by dark circles. “Asleep. I put her down in her crib for a nap.”

      “Wait—didn’t she just wake up from a nap?”

      She chuckled drily. “Babies have a fairly predictable rhythm. Sleep, eat, soil their diapers. Wash, rinse, repeat. Pretty much twenty-four hours a day at first, which is why parents of newborns usually look so ragged. It’s better now that she’s six months old—she is awake for longer periods and interacts with her surroundings. Still, I think all the excitement might have been too much for her.”

      Was that why Sarah appeared so world weary? Because she had to care for her baby twenty-four/seven?

      “Parents have to be available according to the baby’s cycle,” she continued, “even in the middle of the night.” Her gray eyes lightened to the color of heather. Her gaze was tender, and just the smallest hint of a smile played about her lips.

      Marcus took a breath. It was a relief to see her countenance brighten, even if it was only a shadow of the woman he’d once known.

      “You’ll experience all the sleep deprivation firsthand when you become a father.”

      His gut knotted. A father? He still held a grudge with his own mother a mile long and wasn’t absolutely convinced he would succeed as a parent where his own had failed. Still, he remembered a time when he’d wondered what it would be like to be a dad—to Sarah’s children. He might even have been able to overcome his apprehension, if СКАЧАТЬ