A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (25 page)

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Authors: Janet Dailey

BOOK: A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree
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“Thanks so much,” he said. “Sorry to bother you.”
Sam waited until she was lifting the window to slide his arm along the outer side of the refrigerator. He’d already guessed at the interior depth when he’d reached for eggs he knew weren’t in it. He stood in front of the dinged white-enamel door, noticing the dull chrome trim and the outdated brand.
The refrigerator was small. The top was level with his nose. He stretched his arm out by the front. Okay. He had an approximate height, inner and outer depth, and the width.
Maureen came back with an egg carton, looking at him a little curiously. Sam covered by grabbing the box of sugar and pouring some into his cup.
“Only two eggs?” she asked, opening the carton.
“That’s all I need,” he assured her.
“Would you like a box of sample cakes? I’ve been taking them around to the big stores and gourmet businesses—maybe Doug told you.”
“He didn’t, no. But I’d love some cakes.” He took two eggs from the carton and placed them carefully on top of the sugar in the measuring cup.
Maureen handed him one of the small boxes of samples, and he balanced that on the rim of the cup, holding a hand over the box to keep it from falling off.
“Thanks so much.”
“Let me get the door for you. Be careful going down those stairs.”
“I will.” He grinned at her and said good-bye.
Maureen closed the door with a soft click and shook her head, smiling to herself. For a minute there, it had looked to her like Sam was hugging the busted refrigerator. But he must have only been leaning on it for some reason. She had caught a faint whiff of beer.
But that was his business, not hers. She had a lot of other things to think about.
 
 
When Sam got back to his sublet, he had to do some juggling to get the key in the lock. He got in without cracking the eggs and set the cup with them in his refrigerator.
He was hungry. Scrambled eggs with a side of cake sounded pretty good.
An hour later, Nicole called. He’d dozed off.
“Hey. Nice to hear your voice.”
“Did I wake you up?”
“Sort of. But I don’t care. How are you? I can’t wait to see you.”
“I could come over right now. The job’s done,” she said proudly. “The Diamond Moon windows were the biggest draw ever. Finn told me the week-to-date numbers took a huge jump. They’re way over even their super-stretch goal.”
Sam didn’t ask for an explanation of the jargon. He got the idea from the happiness in her voice. “ENJ must love you.”
Nicole laughed. “Even better, they pay in a day. This is the freelance gig of my dreams. They want me to work in January too, but I’m free for the rest of the year.”
“That’s great.” He was genuinely happy for her. “Come on over. I need your help with something. ”
“Be there in thirty minutes.”
Sam headed for the shower, wanting to wash away the trip tiredness, and shave. When he was done and dressed again, he heard a taxi pull up outside. The door slammed, and light footsteps came up the stoop.
He buzzed her in before Nicole touched the bell, and stood waiting at the open apartment door.
She pushed the inside door open and ran the last few steps to him. Sam enfolded her in his arms and walked backward with her clinging to him, murmuring something that sounded like
hi
or
hello or how are you
into his clean shirt.
“Still wearing my jacket, huh?”
He heard a mumbled yes. She hung onto him.
He turned around and kicked the door shut. Then he said hello the way he really wanted to. His ardent kisses left Nicole in no doubt of how much he had missed her. Sam threw in some strokes and heated caresses for good measure. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted back when he lifted his mouth from hers. He nibbled the side of her neck, paying particular attention to the sensitive cord, and finished up with a nip on the earlobe.
“Ooh,” she whispered. “Do that again.”
“My pleasure.”
It was a while before the pleasure stopped. He took the initiative in that department too. Rushing things wasn’t what he was all about.
Nicole stepped back when he eased her away from him. She gazed up at him dreamily. “So. Here you are. My Colorado man. I almost don’t know what to say.”
Sam needed to catch his breath. “Come on. Sit down.”
He guided her to the sofa—three short steps—and she sat down in the same corner she’d taken the night he’d cooked steak for her.
“So what was it you needed help with?” she asked, running her fingers through the long, dark hair he’d messed up.
Sam forced himself not to look at her. He found the ad circular and explained about Maureen.
“Let’s do it. Playing Santa will be a blast.”
Sam chuckled in agreement. “You two know each other by now, right?”
“Yes. I know the whole family. We met at the lot. I went there a few times while you were gone.”
“Did you ever get a tree?” he asked.
“No. I really don’t have room for one this year with all my art stuff and starting the new project. Unless I put it on the bed-slash-love seat.” She laughed.
“Just wondering. Anyway, here’s the plan I came up with.”
He gave her the basics and they fine-tuned it together. Then they got back to kissing.
Chapter 15
T
he next day dawned cloudy with a raw wind from the east. Sam could have sworn he smelled snow. But there wasn’t so much as a flake.
Douglas’s school had gone to half days before Christmas, and he’d persuaded his mother to let him tag around after their downstairs neighbor. They were sitting with Greg in a coffee shop near the lot. Theo had come in to say hi and gone back to the lot, then headed home with his wife, Effie, who’d dropped off the same cousin as yesterday.
Douglas was still working on a plate of hash browns with sausage. The grown guys had eaten their lunch and were finishing their coffee. Greg slapped a hand over the check when a busy waiter dropped it off.
“On me next time,” Sam growled.
“Maybe.”
Douglas had his mouth full, but he seemed to be listening to the exchange, as if he was study- ing up on male ritual chest-pounding.
Sam winked at Greg. “I got the kid for the afternoon. Giving his mother a break.”
“Right. Is Nicole coming over? Thought you said something like that.”
“In a bit. She’s going to take Maureen and Amanda to see the best windows of the season. They’ll be gone all afternoon.”
“That should work.”
Douglas looked up from his clean plate, puzzled. “What should work?”
“You’ll see.” Sam slid to the side. Greg put a twenty and a ten under the saltshaker with the check, and the three left together.
They waited at the corner for the light to change. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw a vehicle racing through the yellow. “Watch it, guys!” He pulled Douglas back from the curb in time.
The vehicle—a truck—pulled over half a block down. Douglas stared at it. There was a Christmas tree mounted to the top of the cab.
“Those guys again,” Greg said with contempt.
Sam looked hard. The truck was gray, heaped with bagged trees. A folding sign had been stuck next to them. He could only read one word.
FRESHEST
.
There was a trail of dry needles in the street by the curb. It could be the same truck that had clipped the stand and thrown a scare into Theo.
“Sam.” Douglas tugged at his sleeve, pointing to the tree tied to the truck’s cab. “I think that’s my tree. It has the same crooked branch. Look.”
Sam exchanged a look with Greg. “Someone bought the Douglas fir that Theo set aside for Doug. I forgot to tell you.”
“They must have ripped off the SOLD tag,” Douglas insisted to Greg. “Can we go look?”
“If they bought it, it’s theirs.” Sam tried to reason with him.
Whoever was behind the wheel had rolled down the window and lit up a cigarette. A grubby hand dangled out the driver’s side, holding it.
Sam frowned, trying to think of what to do, looking around. He didn’t notice Douglas slip away until the boy was almost at the truck.
Sam took off after him, followed by Greg. When the two men caught up to him, Douglas had clambered onto the side of the truck’s cab. They dragged him off.
The rocking got the driver’s attention. Sam and Greg had a grip on Douglas, but the man at the wheel got out and came around. The cigarette seemed to be stuck to his lip.
He was the same creep who’d tried to buy Doug’s tree from Sam. His eyes narrowed when he saw who was waiting for him. But he brazened it out.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?” the man asked in a nasty drawl.
“Nothing,” Sam said.
“That’s my tree on top of his truck,” Douglas muttered. “I can see part of the tag where he tore it off.”
“It ain’t your tree, kid. I bought it. I got the receipt. You crazy? Scram.” He took several deep drags and tossed the smoldering butt in the gutter.
“Don’t talk to him like that,” Sam said. “He’s a kid. He made a mistake.”
The man cursed and spat. “Get outta here. All of you.”
Douglas looked up at the tree again. Sam did too. That time he saw a scrap of red attached to a torn tag. The boy could be right, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to start a fight over it.
Greg kept quiet, but Sam could see the anger in his eyes. Douglas stepped forward. “I’ll buy it from you,” he said to the man.
“Nah. You can’t afford a nice tree like that, you little punk.”
Sam could smell the hard liquor that was making the creep so bold. Was he so drunk that he didn’t realize Sam and Greg could take him?
The man stared at him with cloudy eyes. “You deaf? I said get outta here!”
He lifted his grubby hand, for what reason Sam didn’t know, but Sam caught his wrist. Douglas went for the truck again, and Greg collared him.
“What seems to be the problem here?” A cop had pulled up. “Greg? Care to explain?”
“I’ll talk to him,” Greg said to Sam. “You stay put,” he told Doug.
Wide-eyed, staring at the officer on the beat, Douglas obeyed. Sam put an arm around his shoulders. He could feel the boy shaking, but Doug didn’t say a word.
Greg leaned into the window of the cop car. The tree seller edged back toward his truck, but a loud command from the cop car stopped him in his tracks.
“Hold it right there.”
The officer got out and came over to him. “Do you have a permit to sell on the street?”
“Ah. It’s in the toolbox or somewheres like that. Maybe my partner has it.”
“Is he in the truck?”
“No.”
“Stay there.” The officer moved to the driver’s side and looked cautiously in the window. He opened the door and removed the keys from the ignition, taking a longer look around the interior of the cab. Then he slammed the door shut and came back around.
“Can I see your license and registration? Use the other door to get the registration.”
The man complied, pulling out a beat-up wallet and handing over a license. Then he got the registration out of the glove compartment, his movements jerky, obviously nervous.
The officer stepped back with the license and registration in hand to read the plates, calling them in. The tree-seller slumped against the side of the truck. As if he knew what was about to happen, he put his hands on his head.
A response came in over the cop’s two-way. “Over and out.”
Sam and Greg and Doug watched silently as the officer went back to the man. “I didn’t do nothing,” he pleaded.
“Your license is expired. The plates are stolen. Your registration is bogus. And you don’t have a permit.”
The officer reached out and pinched off a handful of needles. “I love that piney smell,” he said thoughtfully. Then he crumbled the dry needles with his fingertips and let the fragments blow away. “These aren’t fresh,” he said. “About the only thing I can’t get you on is deceptive advertising. Want to tell me about those outstanding warrants for your arrest?”
The man wouldn’t look at him. “I ain’t talking to you no more. I got rights.”
“Yes, you do.” The officer went over them carefully. A second cop car pulled up, top lights flashing. People were beginning to stop and stare.
Douglas stuck close to Sam. “Can we go?” he asked worriedly.
“Not yet. The officer might want to talk to us.”
The cop overheard. “In a minute,” he said to Greg. “The backup’s here.” Two more officers got out and started inspecting the truck.
“One more thing,” the cop said to the man. “That tree on top is a safety hazard.”
“It’s nailed to a stand and roped. It comes down real easy.”
“That would be my point. Take it off. And give it back to the kid.”
The creep found himself surrounded by three of New York’s finest. “Can I take my hands off my head?”
“Yeah. Nice and slow.”
He undid a couple of knots and dragged the tree off the truck, slamming it down on the sidewalk.
“You guys can go,” the first officer told them. “Take that with you. Greg, stop by the precinct later. ”
“Not a problem.” Greg picked up the tree by the crooked branch on the top and set it down in front of Douglas.
The boy was speechless. Sam bent down and hoisted the tree by its trunk, putting it over his shoulder. The stand it had been nailed to would help to keep it there. “Let’s go.”
“Move along, folks. Nothing to see here,” one of the cops said to the scattered crowd. “Move along. ”
Sam, Greg, and Douglas did too.
 
 
“Your mother is going to hear the explanation from us, not you,” Sam said to Douglas, who was scurrying to keep up with his long strides.
“She never knew about the tree, though! Can I bring it home now?”
“Later for that,” Greg said. “Here comes Nicole.”
They were almost in front of the Fultons’ building. She saw the tree over Sam’s shoulder and walked more quickly. “Who’s that for?”
“It’s mine!” Douglas said, jumping around. Sam stilled him with a look. “I mean, it’s for my mom. It’s a surprise. Sam and Greg are going to help me bring it upstairs.”
Nicole looked at Sam.
“I’ll explain later,” he said. “Listen, do you think you could bring Douglas with you?”
She nodded and half kneeled to talk to Douglas, fixing his collar.
“Hey, I was just thinking that it would be a big help if you came with your mom and me to look at Christmas windows, Doug. Getting the stroller on and off the bus is a hassle.”
Sam had an idea. “We can keep the tree in my place in the meantime.”
The boy wavered. “All right.”
Nicole took his hand. “C’mon, let’s go get your mom.”
Douglas went with her willingly. Greg and Sam waited on the sidewalk outside until they thought it was safe to rush the tree in.
“Where do you want it?” Greg asked, looking around.
“Let’s put it on the coffee table.”
The spreading branches nearly filled the room.
 
 
They waited inside the apartment until they heard the clatter of the stroller and the excited voices of Maureen’s two children and her conversation with Nicole.
Sam held up a key when he was sure they were gone. Julie had been told of the surprise and given Sam her key to the Fultons’ apartment. “Back to Plan A.”
“As in appliance store. They deliver?”
“Of course. They take away the old one too.”
The gleaming new refrigerator was eased into the space and leveled by a couple of giants from the Bronx.
One plugged it in and fiddled with a dial inside, then turned to Sam. “It hasta cycle. Tell da lady to give it twenny-four hours to get really cold.”
“She probably knows that, but I’ll tell her,” he said.
“Appreciate the fast delivery, guys.” Greg handed each giant a twenty for a tip. “This is for you. And you.”
“Hey, t’anks.”
“Have a happy hawliday, youse guys. Dat’s a nice fridge. Ya got a good deal.”
They stuffed the money into their pockets and got busy with the hand truck, strapping the old refrigerator to it and maneuvering it through the apartment door. In another few minutes, Sam looked out the window to watch them load it into the delivery truck. He saw no sign of the two women. Good.
He looked around the apartment for wrapping paper and ribbon. There was a flat pack of folded paper, the kind to wrap little things in, on a side table in the living room, but there was a fat roll of red ribbon next to it. He started to unroll the ribbon, going back to the kitchen.
“You know how to make a fancy bow?” he asked Greg.
“No.”
Sam cut off a couple of feet with the scissors he found in a drawer and tied it around the refrigerator handle. “Good enough. Now let’s go get the tree.”

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