Cowboy Under the Mistletoe (10 page)

“She brought me,” he said ruefully.

The woman smiled. “You’re Jake, aren’t you?”

“That’s right. You look familiar.”

Her smile widened. “I should. We lived across the street from you when I was in grade school.”

He pointed at her. “You’re Maddie?”

She laughed. “I might have changed a little.”

A little was a major understatement. She’d been around eight years old with big teeth and skinned knees. “You were about this high when you moved away.”

“Now I’ve moved back, and so have you.”

“Just visiting.”

She tilted her head with a smile. “Too bad. But maybe we can dance later?”

The question caught him off guard. Was little Maddie coming on to him? “I’m not much of a dancer, but thanks for asking.”

He would only dance once, and only with Allison.

Before the conversation could go somewhere uncomfortable, Jake took the miniature cups and went for the appetizers. He approached the table from one direction in time to see Quinn Buchanon approach from the other. Their eyes connected. Quinn’s narrowed into a glare. His chiseled jaw hardened.

Jake got that sinking feeling, as if he’d been tossed over the head of a rank bull. He had plenty of reason to be at this wedding, but for Faith’s sake, he wanted no trouble.

The sandy blond Quinn looked fit and strong in a black suit that hid his weaker arm. But Jake knew the damage was there. With a tight chin dip, he pivoted away from the appetizers and back to his grandmother on the periphery of the dance floor behind the food tables.

He handed her the punch.

“Where’s my snack?” She sipped at the cup.

“Later.”

One white eyebrow lifted. “Hamiltons don’t wimp out.”

He didn’t ask her meaning. Granny Pat didn’t miss much of anything.

By now, other pairs had moved onto the dance floor. “Are you ready to go yet?”

“No, I am not. After being stuck in that prison for months, I’m ready to kick up my heels.” She tilted her face toward him. “If I don’t starve to death first.”

“You’ll get your plate of food.”

“And cake, too. Lots of icing with some of those pillowy mint things.” She patted his hand where he held the wheelchair. “Go on, now. Remember what your grandpa said. Be a man.”

“Were you always a troublemaker?”

She shot him an ornery grin as he once more wove his way through the people. His elbow bumped Allison’s nephew, who looked miserable in a snazzy tux with his hair slicked to one side. Jake empathized. No eleven-year-old boy wanted to be trussed up like a penguin.

“Hi, Jake.”

Surprised that the kid remembered his name, Jake paused. “Ryan, right? Nice duds.”

Ryan tugged at his tie. “Mom made me wear this. I’m choking to death.”

“I feel your pain.”

“Bull riders don’t have to dress up if they don’t want to.”

“Not much call for fancy clothes in the rodeo.”

“Yeah, another good reason to ride bulls.”

Jake saw an opportunity and took it. “Was that you the other day at Manny Morales’s ranch?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “When?”

“Look, Ryan, if that was you, stay clear of those bulls. You can get hurt.”

The boy’s expression closed up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I gotta go.”

With an inward sigh, Jake snagged a couple of plates and piled them high with food, paying little attention to his selections. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Ryan wasn’t the right kid.

A few old pals spotted him and stopped to talk, a nice moment that elevated his mood and made him glad he’d come. Les and Thad invited him to a fishing tourney. Some folks in Gabriel’s Crossing had apparently forgotten his ugly past.

By the time he reached his grandmother again, he decided he’d made the right decision by attending the wedding. Things were going pretty well. Even the encounter with Quinn.

Granny Pat took the plate of food and balanced the fancy white china on her lap. “I could use more punch.”

“I’m not making another trip, Granny. If you want food, we have a freezer full of casseroles.”

She pointed a crooked index finger toward the floor. “That boy sure is cozy with your woman.”

“I don’t have a wo—” The word left his brain. The best man, a lean blond with a big smile and perfect teeth, held Allison in his arms. Taller than her by several inches, the blond guy held her in the usual way, nothing suggestive, but the look in his eyes and the smile on Allison’s face started a slow burn in Jake’s gut.

His grip tightened on his plate. Even though he thought Allison was the marrying kind of girl, he didn’t want to watch her dance with some other guy. Yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off them either. Allison’s dress floated around her like a puff of mint smoke, a cotton candy fairy tale. The man said something and she laughed. Jake couldn’t hear her, but he saw the flash of teeth and the cute way she tipped her chin up and squinted her brown eyes.

His gut clenched into a hard knot.

Mr. Best Man tightened his hold on Allison’s waist.

Jake set his untouched plate of food aside.

When the other man pulled Allison’s hand against his chest, Jake had seen enough. He owed her a dance. Time to pay up.

He was on the dance floor before his brain had time to think things through. He tapped Best Man on the shoulder. “I’m cutting in.”

Best Man looked to Allison who nodded. “We’ll dance later, Brian. Okay?”

Jake’s back teeth ground together. Brian needed to stick his head in the punch bowl.

“Count on it.” The tuxedoed blond gave Allison another of his dazzling smiles and evaporated from sight. Jake imagined him with green punch dripping down his face.

Allison tipped her head to one side and held out her arms. “It’s about time.”

Jake swept her into the dance, determined to maintain a respectable distance, to get this long-promised dance out of the way and hit the road. At least that’s what he told himself. This dance was her idea. He hadn’t even wanted to come.

“You look beautiful.” He didn’t know where the words came from. He hadn’t meant to say them.

She beamed, and the smile she gave him radiated far more wattage than the one she’d given Brian. “My dress for the graduation dance was pink.”

“I didn’t want to stand you up that night.”

“I know.”

He doubted if she knew the full story but it was like Allison to simply forgive him and move on, to give him the benefit of the doubt. He wished her brothers had the same attitude.

“I thought leaving was the best thing I could do under the circumstances.” He’d been young and heartbroken, and the months of finishing high school with the whole town mourning the loss of Quinn’s golden arm had taken a terrible toll on his soul. He’d been shunned, beaten up and hated. Rodeo provided a much-needed escape, and he’d wimped out the night of the graduation dance to avoid more conflict. “I took the coward’s way out.”

“Life wasn’t easy for you back then.”

No, but life hadn’t been easy for Quinn either. Or for any of the Buchanons. “Quinn looks good.”

“Stop worrying about him.”

Like that would ever happen.

He wrapped his hand around Allison’s small fingers and pulled them against his heart. If blond Brian could do that, so could he. “You and me. We would never have worked out.”

She gave him a long, sad look, and then laid her head on his shoulder. Her dark hair tickled the side of his neck, and he caught a whiff of the flowers in her hair...and cake icing, sweet and delicious.

His heart gave one giant
kaboom.

Lord, help him. He’d fooled himself to think he could ever forget his little champion, his best cheerleader, this special girl who’d grown into an incredible woman.

He swirled her around the floor, as conflicted as he’d ever been and painfully aware that he was not doing her a favor.

One dance. One dance, and he was out of here.

His hand tightened on her waist. He wasn’t about to pull her closer though the man in him wanted to.

She was such a tiny woman. Holding her made him feel manly and strong.

Couples bumped against them but Jake paid them no mind. He was too busy trying to keep his thoughts in order. From the dais, a band played “The Way You Look Tonight.”

Beautiful. She looked so beautiful.

He kept telling himself he’d be glad when the song ended, but he was lying.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Taking over, pal. I think you need to leave.”

Allison raised her head. “Sawyer, go away.”

Quinn appeared beside his brother. “Dance with Sawyer, little sister.”

“I am dancing. Get lost.”

But Jake loosened his hold and stepped back from her. He’d promised no trouble and he was keeping that promise. “Thanks for the dance, Allison.”

“But—”

Sawyer grabbed Allison and spun her away, though he could hear her protesting before she disappeared in a swirl of mint green into the sea of wedding guests.

Jake’s fist tightened. “I’m getting tired of your attitude, Quinn.”

“Want to take it outside? Or are you afraid to hit a cripple?”

Karen Buchanon appeared next to her son. Her voice was low and conversational but held enough steel to get Quinn’s attention. “Cool it, right now. This is Faith’s wedding and you big lugs are not going to create a scene. You hear me?”

She shot her son a smile that, to the onlooker, appeared warm, but Jake saw the warning. Apparently, so did Quinn. He eased back, but his glare remained on Jake.

Everything in Jake wanted to resist. But he glanced at Quinn’s right arm and then into Karen’s concerned face and made his decision.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. B. I won’t cause a problem. I’m leaving.”

She put long-nailed fingers on his elbow. “Thank you, Jake. Some things are for the best.”

He’d been telling Allison that for weeks.

As he walked away from the dance floor and back to Granny P., he searched the hall for a small brunette in foamy green. He didn’t see her. For the best, like Karen said. A man didn’t start something he couldn’t finish.

But Jake was tired of backing down, tired of turning the other cheek, tired of looking like a coward. Was this what it meant to be a Christian? Always slinking away with his tail tucked between his legs?

He took hold of Granny Pat’s wheelchair and, with his jaw tight enough to crack iron, rolled her out into the evening.

* * *

Allison put on a happy face for the remainder of the reception but inside she seethed. After Faith and Derrick rushed out of the building amid a hail of birdseed and bubbles and into a waiting limo, she let the repressed tears slide down her cheeks. Everyone thought she was crying with happiness for her best friend. She was. But she was also crying for the incomplete dance, for the idiots she called brothers, and for Jake.

She slashed at the tears with the back of her hand. Someone offered a hankie. Through blurry eyes, she saw Brady.

“You’re a jerk,” she said.

“What did I do?”

“You know.”

“That narrows it down.” He put his powerful arms around her in a brotherly hug and lifted her off the floor like a child. “The wedding turned out great.”

She sniffed. “Thanks.”

He put her down. “I’m proud of you, sis.”

“Then stay out of my life.”

His blue eyes regarded her with something akin to sympathy. “So, that’s what this is all about?”

“You had no right.”

He held up both palms in surrender. “I didn’t.”

“You would have.”

“True.” He snagged a bottle of bubbles from a linen-covered table and blew through the wand. Iridescent bubbles glinted beneath the lights, now on in full power. “We’re all heading over to Mom and Dad’s later. The twins are bringing Bailey and Kristin. You coming?”

The twins always had girls on their arms. Usually a different one each time. “I have to finish up here.”

“I could help out. Keep you company.”

Allison looked at her brother with a mix of frustration and adoration. Brady, the big brother who’d carried her piggyback across mud puddles and up hills. The brother who’d taught her to ride a bike and to count by fives. He’d always been there for her. Until Jake.

Blood is thicker than water. The Buchanon way. Buchanons stick together.

Thoughts of Jake and their half dance crowded in.

But Jake had walked away and left her. Again.

Chapter Nine

D
ays later, Jake couldn’t stop worrying about the wedding fiasco. He was glad he hadn’t caused a scene but the Buchanons’ attitude rankled him no end. He was a man, no longer a teenage kid they could kick to the curb. Worse, he couldn’t get Allison and their slow dance out of his memory. Her soft skin. Her flippy, flower-scented hair. Her sparkly laugh that hit him right in the center of his chest.

With Allison, he lost his ability to reason. He didn’t know what to do.

The longer he remained in Gabriel’s Crossing, the more of a problem she would become. But he couldn’t leave either. Granny had him in a serious bind, and he would not let her lose the house. No matter what he had to do. Though after speaking to the banker, he had come away more concerned than ever.

Maybe this was God’s way of getting him to pray more. For sure, he’d done plenty of talking to the Lord since the moment he’d come home to Gabriel’s Crossing. Take the issue with Quinn and the Buchanons. If God intended him to suffer for his wrongs, He was succeeding. Granny, the house, Quinn and Allison. All of them kept him way more humble than he’d ever thought necessary.

If he wasn’t with Allison, he missed her. Knowing she was in the same town, only a few blocks away, had him driving by her apartment like some lovesick cowboy even when he knew she was at work.

But he didn’t love her. Couldn’t. She deserved a man who wouldn’t come between her and the family she adored. A man who could live in her town with his head held high, a man she and others respected, a man who wasn’t growing poorer by the minute.

From the living room, he heard his grandmother’s laughter, a good sound. She was getting better and that was worth everything and anything he had to endure.

Florence came over nearly every day to tease and cajole his grandmother onto her feet. She offered to teach Granny Pat to dance and mentioned a gig on
Dancing with the Stars.
Between Flo and Allison, his grandmother was bound to get better.

“Don’t they hire celebrities for the TV show?” Jake asked as he sauntered into the living room, sipping a glass of orange juice.

Flo waved away his concerns. “I still have contacts in the business.”

“I talked to Ralph about this crazy idea of yours, Flo,” Granny said. “He says you’re full of beans.”

Flo laughed her bawdy laugh and pushed at her mile-high platinum-blond hair. Jake could imagine her dancing with fruit on her head and a train of feathers swishing behind her high heels, those long legs prancing around a stage with other over-the-top women. Granny’s age, Flo’s love of cosmetic surgery put her twenty years younger. He couldn’t imagine Flo being anyone’s granny.

“Maybe I am, but if not Hollywood, we’ll head to Mexico. A cruise in the sun is what you need.”

“I’ve always wanted to go on a cruise.”

“Then, get your skinny self out of that chair.” Flo whipped the throw from Granny’s lap. “Quit acting like an old lady. You told me yourself the docs saw no reason why you weren’t on your feet.”

“Ralph and I had other things to take care of.”

“Such as?”

“We’ll talk later.” Granny Pat cut a glance toward Jake who was folding a basket of towels on the couch. “Jacob, don’t you have somewhere to go? I tell you, Flo, the boy has no social life. We fixed him up with that bouncy little Allison and he refuses to take the bait.”

Jake’s fingers tightened on his condensing glass. That bouncy little Allison. “Who fixed me up?”

“Ralph and me. I told you about that, but Ralph says we’ll need dynamite to get you moving.”

“Tell Ralph I have a life and I have a career that keeps me busy.” He couldn’t believe he’d responded to a figment of his grandmother’s imagination. Again. “But you come first. If you want me out of your hair, you’ll get well.”

“She’s going to dance, I tell you.” Flo did a little soft-shoe with hands out to her sides. She was still good.

“You must have been something in your day.”

She chucked him under the chin with a wink. “Still am, buddy boy. Now, if you have somewhere else to go, I’ll be here all afternoon. Pat and I are going to plan a cruise, finish knitting that pile of yarn and talk about men. You don’t want to be here for that.”

He recognized a brush-off when he got one. “I’m headed out to Manny’s to ride some practice bulls anyway.” He downed the juice and clinked the glass on the coffee table. “I have my cell. Call if you need anything.”

Granny Pat flapped her fingers at him. “We’ll be fine. Don’t stay out too late.”

Smiling at a command he hadn’t heard in years, he put on his hat and headed out the door.

He had more in mind than riding bulls today, but Granny didn’t need to know his decision yet. He would ask Manny for a job on the ranch to supplement the weekend rodeos. If that meant sticking around Gabriel’s Crossing a while longer, he would.

Somehow he’d keep Allison and her family out of the picture. Once the Hamilton house debt was resolved, he could kiss Gabriel’s Crossing goodbye. Maybe by spring.

At the Double M Ranch, he’d parked and started toward the barn when Paulina’s voice turned him around. She came out the back door and hurried toward him, urgency in her movements.

He went on alert. Something was wrong.

“Jake,” she cried. “I try to call you. Where you been?”

He pulled out his cell and saw two missed calls. How did that happen? “What’s wrong?”

“Manny. The big white bull pinned him.”

Adrenaline jacked into Jake’s bloodstream. The big white bull. Mountain Man. The image of an enormous set of horns and over a ton of muscle and mean sprang to mind. He broke into a lope, meeting her halfway. “Is he all right? Where is he?”

“His leg. He needs the doctor, but he is so stubborn.”

Jake was through the back door and into the kitchen before she could say anything more. His mentor and friend sprawled on a kitchen chair, his head on the table, and one badly swollen leg stretched out in front of him. His jeans were ripped and dirty. Sweat dampened his plaid shirt. His winter-gray Resistol lay discarded on the table next to his elbow.

“Manny, let’s get you to the E.R. Let the doc check this out.” Jake went to his knee next to the injured leg.

Manny raised his head. Sweat beaded his face. “
No es nada.
It’s nothing.”

“Better get that boot off while we can. You’re looking pale, friend.”

A hint of the Mexican’s humor glinted in his eyes. “No one ever said that about me before.”

Jake reached for the heel of Manny’s boot. “This is coming off before your leg swells too much. Brace yourself. It’s gonna hurt.”

Paulina put her capable hands on the lower leg while Manny gripped his knee. “He is a stubborn man. That bull is no good for nothing.”

The foot had already begun to swell but Jake carefully slipped off the boot. “Mountain Man got you good. You’re lucky not to be in worse shape.”

Manny didn’t reply. He sat with shoulders hunched, holding his knee with both hands.

Pauline moved to his side and placed shaky fingers on her husband’s shoulder. “You scare me this time, Immanuel. I could not close the chute fast enough.”

Manny patted her hand. “Not your fault. The latch sticks.”

“I’ll pull my truck up to the back door.” Jake stood. “Think you can hobble along with one of us on each side?”

Manny, jaw tight with pain, nodded. “I will try. The other leg is not so good either. The bull, he stepped on my ankle. I am not so fast anymore.”

“We’ll figure it out, but you’re going to the E.R., either in my truck or an ambulance.”

“I will get in the truck. No ambulance.”

After a few harried tries and more groans than Jake had ever heard come from his old friend, Manny was loaded in the bed of the pickup along with a pillow and a quilt. The cab rose too high, so a windy ride in the back with Paulina at his side was the best they could do.

Driving more carefully than he had the day of his driver’s exam, Jake grimaced over every bump and rut on the way to Gabriel’s Crossing Hospital. Upon arrival, the medical team assisted Manny into a wheelchair and wheeled him inside the hometown facility.

Small and staffed by familiar locals, the hospital lacked the equipment of larger towns but did its best to serve the community with compassionate care. He’d learned of their kindness the hard way when he’d driven Quinn, bleeding and shocky, to the E.R. that long ago November day.

He swallowed down the memory and focused on the inside of the hospital. It hadn’t changed much. Now, as then, shiny silver tinsel and multicolored lights swooped around the walls, a cheery contrast to a serious place. No one came here to celebrate Christmas.

Paulina hurried alongside her husband, hands fluttering in distress, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish as she often did when excited. Manny’s voice, though pained, softly reassured his wife.

In rodeo, getting injured was a given. Jake had assisted lots of buddies out of the arena, into the locker rooms and even to emergency rooms. He was no stranger to the smells and activities involved in patching up a man in conflict with a bull. But this was Manny.

He plopped in a waiting room chair and checked out the magazines.
Country Hunter
caught his eye. A deer hunter in a camo jacket displayed his prize buck. Jake covered the reminder with an issue of
People
and turned his attention to the television in one corner. Opposite him, a woman sat beside a teenage boy in a boot cast. The boy’s football jersey identified him as a Gabriel’s Crossing player.

“Football injury,” the woman said when she saw the direction of Jake’s gaze.

This was not a conversation he wanted to have. “Bad deal.”

“Yeah,” The kid grinned. “But we won, and I made the tackle.”

“Congratulations.”

An hour passed before Manny reappeared. In the meantime, Jake listened to the boy tell of football exploits, checked his text messages and phoned his grandmother who, Flo claimed, was going to Mexico in January on her own two feet.

January. Precisely when foreclosure loomed. He understood. She wanted to escape from the terrible humiliation of losing her home. He wanted her to go. He owed her everything and had failed her completely. Somehow he would send her on that cruise, and he would stay here and fight for the house.

His stomach growled. He checked the time, saw he’d missed lunch and went to the vending machine for a bag of peanuts. A blue-clad orderly pushing an empty gurney clattered off the single elevator.

Jake hoped the stretcher wasn’t for Manny. Pocketing the peanuts, he sat down again, propped his elbows on his knees and with clasped hands to his forehead, prayed that Manny’s injuries weren’t serious enough for surgery and for a quick recovery.

He thought about phoning Allison. She’d want to know about Manny’s accident. After a few starts and stops, he decided against it. If he was stuck in Gabriel’s Crossing, he’d need self-control. He couldn’t call her or see her every time he wanted to. He had to learn to keep a distance, to steer clear of the Buchanons in order to keep the peace.

A hand touched his back seconds before the scent of honeysuckle wove into this consciousness. His heart gave one hard thud. Allison. Even in a dark room, he could recognize her presence. So much for keeping the peace.

“Hey,” he said, looking up, painfully grateful for her presence.

“How’s Manny?” She took the chair next to him.

He shifted toward her. In a red skirt and white, button-down sweater, she looked fresh and young, like the cheerleader she’d once been. “No word.”

“Was he hurt bad?”

“Hard to tell. I don’t think so, but he’s in X-ray. I’m waiting for someone to tell me. What are you doing here?”

“Paulina called. I was on lunch break anyway.” She shrugged. “She said you were here.”

Which meant she’d come to support him and his friends. He shouldn’t be glad, but he was. “Thanks.”

“I could get us something to eat.”

He lifted the pack of peanuts. “I’ll share.”

“Not enough. I want a sandwich.” She started to the vending machine as a heavy door opened and a wheelchair bearing Manny rolled through. Both legs stuck straight out, a wrap on his ankle and a hard brace on his knee with ice packs on both.

Jake stood. “You look like a trussed turkey.”

Manny laughed, but his eyes were glassy. “It is not so bad.”

“So he says on pain medicine.” Paulina smacked her lips in a tsking sound.

“I will be on my feet soon.”

The nurse stepped away from the wheelchair. “Let me get your orders from the doctors and you’ll be ready to go.”

“What does the doc say?” Jake asked after the nurse left.

“Ligaments and muscles. Nothing too bad.” This from Manny.

“No broken bones but his ankle and leg are not good for walking. If he takes care, no surgery. If not—” Paulina stiffened her posture. “He must stay off his feet for a few weeks, and I will see that he does.”

Jake knew prolonged inactivity wouldn’t set well with the busy rancher. He had cattle to care for, rodeos to attend. An outdoor man chafed at being stuck inside.

He thought of the job he’d planned to ask for, but now such a request seemed cold and callous. A friend helped a friend when he was down, the way Manny always had. He didn’t expect pay.

“Crutches,” Manny said. “The doc says I can use crutches.”

“After a week when the ankle is better, you can use crutches. For now, you will hire that Winton boy to care for the animals.” Paulina crossed her arms in a gesture that clearly indicated there was to be no argument.

“No need to hire anyone,” Jake said. “I’ll take care of the ranch until you’re able.”

“I cannot ask you to do this,” Manny said.

“You didn’t. I offered. I’m not doing anything but rusting and getting on Granny Pat’s nerves.”

Manny’s head tilted back in a relieved sigh. “You are God sent, my friend.”

He was nothing of the kind. Time at the ranch would keep him busy, away from the Buchanons and trouble. He cut a glance toward the pretty brunette. Away from Allison, too.

“We have bulls to haul on Saturday. Tim is good help but too young and inexperienced for this.” Manny’s face pinched in worry. He had a scrape near his ear, evidence that the bull had gotten closer than any of them wanted to think about. “I do not want a reputation as a stock contractor who does not show up.”