A Texas Holiday Reunion. Shannon Vannatter Taylor

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      For the next three weeks, she’d have her hands full overseeing the store and the ranch, plus her designs. Dealing with Colson only added to her chores. If someone had told her this morning that she’d spend half her day with him and end up with him as a neighbor at home and work, she’d have laughed. And possibly cried.

      Surely once Dad returned, he’d agree to cut Colson loose and let Mac stay until Juan could come back. Maybe she’d move her work to the store in the meantime.

      But she’d tried that fresh out of college. The windowless office in the back of the store sapped all her creativity. While whinnies, stamping of hooves and the low murmur of ranch hands stoked her productivity.

      She’d just have to pull up her big-girl boots and ignore his presence.

      * * *

      Most people moaned and groaned through Mondays. But Resa saw the first workday of each week as a new opportunity, filled with possibilities. Except today, she had to avoid Colson.

      Nearing the barn, she darted to her office at the side door. A bright sunny morning. Nickers and whinnies, a freshly weaned calf bawling. The smells of hay and animals. No sign of the cowboy.

      Tense muscles relaxed as she unlocked her office door, flipped the light switch and stashed her purse. Another flip of a switch brought to life the Christmas tree and the string of multicolored twinkle lights framing her picture window.

      Blueprints for a massive cowhide-lined desk were where she’d left them on her drafting table. A desk for Colson’s father-in-law. Or would that be former father-in-law now? When the order came in, she’d never imagined Colson would be here. At her ranch. She picked up her pencil, adjusted her T-square ruler and shaded along a few lines.

      A new sound, like a child’s giggle, interrupted her. She looked out the window. A little girl stood on the bottom rail of the fence, wearing boots and a hat almost as big as she was. Not an adult in sight. A daughter of one of the hands? Resa didn’t mind employees bringing their kids to the ranch, but not leaving them alone. A child could get hurt or lost.

      Resa stood, hurried for the back door, pushed it open. And nearly whacked Colson with it.

      “Whoa, what’s your hurry?” He stepped aside.

      “That child. No one’s watching her?”

      “Hello?” He raised his hands, palms up.

      “Oh. Well, you should stick close to her. She’s so little, she could slip through the fence before you could get to her.”

      The little girl paid them no attention, her gaze transfixed on the mare heavy with her colt in the barn lot.

      “But she won’t.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the barn, the sole of one booted foot planted against it like a plywood cowboy silhouette. “She’s been raised on a ranch her entire five years of life. She knows that under no uncertain terms is she supposed to put one toe inside any fence.”

      “Who did she come here with?”

      “Me. She’s my daughter—Cheyenne.”

      Her gaze swung to his.

      A mixture of emotions battled it out in his green eyes—regret maybe. Pride definitely.

      Everything shifted into focus, made sense. Five years old.

      That spring he came to work for her father. Almost six years ago. Realizing he wasn’t as wild as he’d been in high school. Becoming friends. Inviting him to church. Watching him commit his life to Christ. Falling for him. Six weeks of sweet, fairy-tale romance.

      And the next thing she knew he’d gone back to San Antonio without even saying goodbye, and married Felicity Birmingham. His on-again off-again girlfriend since high school. The one he’d told Resa he’d broken up with when he came to work at the ranch that long-ago spring. And maybe he had. But Felicity had obviously been pregnant.

      With his child.

       Chapter Three

      Colson watched her do the math and saw the moment she realized he’d fathered a child out of wedlock. But he hadn’t realized during their brief relationship that he had a pregnant ex-girlfriend waiting in the wings.

      More worrisome than Resa believing he was on shaky moral ground would be if she recognized the truth in Cheyenne’s eyes.

      “Your folks never told you?”

      “We don’t really talk about you.” Resa’s mouth formed a tight line. “I’ve been much too busy to keep up with your life.”

      Of course. “Can you say hello, Cheyenne?” The little girl didn’t budge—nor make a sound. She was back in her shell. He should have known uprooting her might be jarring.

      “Shouldn’t she be in school?”

      “She only turned five last month, so she won’t start kindergarten until next fall. Missing a few weeks of preschool before Christmas break won’t hurt anything.” He’d just reinforced the fact that only a matter of months after he’d romanced Resa, Felicity had given birth to Cheyenne. A child he’d thought was his.

      He saw her swallow hard. A bitter pill?

      “She’s a great kid. Won’t be any trouble.”

      “My only concern is you being distracted by work and her wandering off.”

      Back to business. “She won’t. Dad’s wife agreed to babysit. Annette’s really good with her.” Colson’s gaze went back to Cheyenne. “She’s everything to me.”

      “I can see that.” Resa turned toward the barn. “I better get back to my office.”

      “What time does the store open?”

      “Ten. But my office is here.”

      “Here?” As in at her house? He hadn’t seen that coming.

      “In the barn.” She gestured to the door she’d almost taken him out with.

      “You design furniture for Rusticks—in the barn?” He’d thought it odd when he’d seen the huge picture window on the back of the wood structure.

      She chuckled. “I’m not really the corporate, windowless-office type. I have a conference room at the store where I meet with clients. But I do my drafting and designing here.” Her gaze went past the fence to the horses grazing in the distance, the massive expanse of clear blue sky. “The sounds of the ranch, the smells.” She drew in a deep breath. “I’m inspired here.”

      This wasn’t what he’d signed up for. The reasons he shouldn’t be here just kept stacking up. He’d expected her to be at the store from dawn to dusk. Instead, she’d be right here with a massive window on his world. On his daughter.

      Lord, don’t let her see what I see when I look into Cheyenne’s eyes.

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