A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion. Sasha Summers

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СКАЧАТЬ at his son but wasn’t up for an argument. “That’s Jo.”

      “She’s not that pretty,” Eli grumbled.

      “No? I think she is.” His voice was neutral. Pretty didn’t come close to describing Jo Stephens. Silver-gray eyes, wild curly hair, with curves to drive a man to drink. She was beautiful. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t admit that. Except his son. “And she’s funny. Really funny.”

      “Huh.” Eli wasn’t impressed.

      Hunter knew Eli’s blue-green eyes—eyes his boy got from him—were watching him. He could feel Eli’s anger—over Jo. But there wasn’t much to say.

      Amy, Eli’s mom, had done too good a job of trashing Jo. And as much as he’d like Eli to believe that Jo had nothing to do with the bitter end of his marriage to Amy, he knew better. Jo Stephens had held his heart since he was sixteen. And he didn’t mind too much. Seeing her this morning was like downing a pot of coffee—

      “Did you get enough for everyone?” Eli interrupted.

      Hunter smiled at his son. “I don’t know. But I got a lot.”

      Eli grinned. “We’re growing boys, Dad.”

      “I know, kid.” Hunter looked at Eli, taking in the slight sharpening of his features. His son was growing up. There were still traces of roundness on his ten-year-old body. In no time, his son would be all arms and legs, big feet and teenage awkwardness.

      He was a good-looking boy. And in the years ahead, Eli Boone was going to be a good-looking man. More important, he was smart and kind and had solid common sense. Hunter was proud of that.

      He’d done the best he could by his son. The two of them took care of each other with little complaining. Balancing his son, the ranch and teaching at the university veterinary hospital was hard work, but it was worth it. No matter what, he made sure Eli suffered through every school trip to the opera, the museums or anywhere else that broadened his son’s horizons. He knew there was a big world out there, and he wanted Eli to know it, too. He wouldn’t have his mistakes cause his son to miss out on anything.

      “Uncle Fisher gonna make it to this one?” Eli asked.

      “He said he’d be there.” Hunter nodded. And his brothers always kept their word.

      Eli nodded, too, then said, “Dara thinks she’s gonna get a one.”

      “She can dream, can’t she?” he teased gently.

      Dara Greer had joined the local Future Farmers of America club this year. Her family had moved from the city and her folks wanted her to “fit in.” Problem was she was nervous around animals and uncomfortable in the show ring.

      “I know.” Eli grew thoughtful. “But she’s sweet. And she’s trying really hard. You know?”

      Hunter looked at his son with a new sense of understanding. “Oh?”

      Eli nodded, red streaking up his neck and coloring his face. “Y-yeah.” He pushed his dad on the shoulder, laughing.

      Hunter turned back to driving. He knew. Boy, did he know.

      Jo had been a lot like Dara when she’d moved to town. She was this guarded, thoughtful type whose gaze seemed to search his soul. Every attempt he made to get her attention had earned him an eye roll or a shake of her curly-haired head. She’d hated his “boot-wearing, deer-shooting ass.” He’d teased her for her Hunting is Murder T-shirts. And her lightning-fast comebacks had driven him crazy. They’d fought, long and loud, refusing to admit the other might have a point or a right to their own perspective.

      But when he’d grabbed her in the high school agriculture barn, her kiss had set his blood on fire. He was done for even if she was still hesitant. He didn’t know then that Jo didn’t believe in love, romance or commitment. Mostly because she’d never seen it. Her mom had changed husbands more often than most women had their hair done. Moving in with her dad, to Stonewall Crossing, was a way to get away from the drama and uncertainty she’d grown to hate.

      It had taken him a long time to get her to trust him, for her to believe he was hers. Sure, they’d still argued, all the time, but they’d been just as quick to make up.

      Some things were just too big to forgive.

      When she’d left, when she’d had to leave, half of his heart had gone with her. The other half had gone to Eli.

      * * *

      JOSIE RAN TO the phone, slipping once on the water her hair was sprinkling all over the tile floor. Only her dad would still have one house phone, with a cord no less, placed in the middle of the hallway. Sprinkles sat, staring at the phone, barking and howling.

      “Hush, Sprinkles.” She answered the phone. “Hello?”

      “Jo?” Of course he would call her while she was in the shower.

      Sprinkles kept yapping. “Shh.” She took a deep breath. “Um, hi, Hunter.”

      “You okay? You sound kinda out of breath?”

      “I’m in— I was in the shower.” She laughed airily. “I’m making a puddle on Dad’s floor as we speak.” Why was she sharing that information with him?

      He chuckled. “Want me to call you back?”

      Sprinkles jumped up.

      “I’m out now.” The dog howled. “Sprinkles!” Sprinkles sat, staring at her. She ignored Hunter’s laugh. “What’s up?” Not that she wanted to know why he’d called...

      “I was wondering how long you were going to be here.” He sounded hesitant.

      “At least through Christmas... Then see how Dad is. Why?”

      “Well, the FFA chapter here always builds a Christmas float and some of the parents thought it might be nice to build one around your books.”

      “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say.

      “I’m in my truck right now—” He paused. “And I’m about to go by your place. Can I come in and show you what they came up with?”

      “Oh, um...” I’m just wrapped in a towel and dripping wet. “Well...”

      “Okay. See you in a sec.” And he hung up.

      “Damn it.” She glared at the handset. “Damn it, damn it.”

      Sprinkles barked.

      “Joselyn Marie Stephens,” her father chastised her from the living room.

      “Really, Dad?” She peered around the corner to find her father sitting in his recliner. “You’re right there and you couldn’t get the phone? And I’m almost thirty. I can say damn it. I could even say—”

      There was a knock on the door. Sprinkles started barking like mad.

      “Someone stopping by?” he asked.

      “Shit,” СКАЧАТЬ