Cowboy Under the Mistletoe (12 page)

She stared at him for a long, painful moment while he heard the earth crack around him. Or maybe that was his heart. Then, she bent to retrieve his jacket, holding out the now-chilled denim. “You shouldn’t go around kissing a girl if you don’t mean it.”

She turned away and started toward her car.

He’d hurt her anyway—the last thing he’d intended, the reason he’d planned never to kiss her. He caught her elbow. She kept walking, and his boot toe stumped in the dirt in his haste to keep up with her.

“I do mean it. I did.” Frustration laced his words. How did he fix this without saying too much? “You’re special, Allison.”

She stopped. “Am I? Really?”

She looked so vulnerable and those honest brown eyes were wounded.

“You know you are.” He wouldn’t kiss her again. He wouldn’t even hold her. Nothing good could come of either.

She walked into his chest and laid her head on his heart. He tried not to put his arms around her but couldn’t bear the thought that he’d hurt her more if he refused.

“I love you, Jake,” she whispered again. And he bit his tongue to keep from saying the words back to her.

Chapter Eleven

J
ake didn’t like to miss church but he didn’t want to see Allison. Not this morning. Not after he’d wrestled and prayed and tried to make sense of his life all through what was left of the night. She loved him. He’d known that, had probably known it for years, though he’d refused to let the information seep into his thick head.

What did a man do about a woman he couldn’t have who loved him anyway?

He had no answer and apparently this morning, God wasn’t sharing.

While he fretted, he phoned Manny, drank enough coffee to recharge a car battery and cooked flapjacks for himself and Granny Pat. When he offered to drive his grandmother to church, she refused, claiming they played the music too loud and gave her a headache. She always said that, but then, no one in his family had ever cared much for church. He was still amazed at the change in his own life even though he wondered why God had sent him back into the mess in Gabriel’s Crossing.

After Granny Pat settled in the recliner with the morning newspaper, Jake took his cowboy Bible and another cup of high-octane coffee out on the back porch.

He was glad for the excuse to escape to Manny’s ranch this afternoon when Florence arrived. She was threatening to drag out Christmas decorations and send him on top of the house, but he wasn’t in the mood.

He opened to a random page in Matthew and read:

You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.”
But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?

With leaves blowing around his feet and the sun hiding behind a flat gray sky, he pondered the verses. What was Jesus saying? That he shouldn’t love Allison if she loved him? Or that he should love her brothers regardless of their anger?

His cell phone vibrated against his hip. Expecting Manny or Paulina, he didn’t bother to read caller ID.

“Hello.”

“Hamilton, I think you know what this call is about.”

“Who is this?” He held the phone out so he could read the display and didn’t recognize the number.

“Brady Buchanon. I figured you’d be expecting my call.”

Jake’s mind raced through the possibilities and the only thing he could come up with was Allison and their trip to the rodeo. He didn’t want her taking the brunt of Brady’s animosity. Not because of him.

“What I do is none of your business.”

“Trashing another Buchanon construction project
is
my business.”

Jake’s brain did a quick recalculate. So this wasn’t about yesterday’s rodeo? He didn’t know whether to be relieved or shaken. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Brady’s voice was thick with sarcasm. “We have an unfriendly little chitchat at Faith’s wedding and then suddenly when the guys are off work yesterday and no one is around, a second job site is trashed. This time the Bartowski house. You trying to tell me that’s
another
coincidence?”

Yesterday, while he was with Allison at the rodeo an hour away, something Brady appeared not to know. And Jake wasn’t about to tell him. Allison had made her intentions clear. She claimed to love him, but she didn’t want to get grief from her family. And who could blame her? He couldn’t do much for her but he could do this.

“Can’t help you, Brady.”

“You’re done messing with the Buchanons, cowboy. The first time might have been coincidence but not two in a row. I’m pressing charges this time.” The line went dead.

So much for loving his enemies. They didn’t seem too eager to receive.

With his stomach rolling, Jake stared at the cell phone. He wasn’t worried about the law. Witnesses knew where he’d been. Allison knew. He realized then that she’d hear about the vandalism and jump right in the middle of the storm unless he told her to stay out of harm’s way.

He punched in her number but the call went straight to voice mail. This was his problem and he’d handle it. Even if he had to confess to something he hadn’t done.

He stuck his head inside the house and yelled, “I’ll be back in a while, Granny Pat. Call if you need me.”

Leaving his Bible and coffee cup on the lawn chair, he headed across town to the Buchanon Construction site.

The place was crawling with Buchanons. Every last one of the males and a couple of what he figured were contractors. Big burly guys in tool belts with clipboards and angry expressions. Nobody liked being called out on Sunday, especially for a problem of this nature.

He did a quick scan of the property to see what he was supposed to have done. Red spray paint covered the brick outside in graffiti. A couple of windows were busted out. Glass sparkled on the red dirt.

Jake’s stomach soured. He wondered how bad the inside was.

Bad enough to skip church. Bad enough to call the cops.

A Gabriel’s Crossing patrol car was parked next to the Buchanon trucks, and a uniformed officer he didn’t recognize snapped photos of the damage. Nerves jumping, Jake crossed the unfinished yard and headed toward Dan Buchanon. The family father looked like an impending thunderstorm, a supercell about to spawn a F5 tornado.

One of the men saw Jake and said something to the Buchanon patriarch. Conversation stopped as all eyes turned on the accused.

“What are you doing here?” As tall as his sons and graying at the temples of his black hair, Dan wore a Buchanon Construction ball cap and a scowl aimed directly at Jake.

“Had a call from Brady.” Jake stopped in front of the older man, never his favorite Buchanon, and chose his words carefully. “He seems to think I had something to do with his.”

Before Dan could speak, Quinn appeared from inside the damaged house, eyes narrowed, face grim. “Where were you yesterday, Jake? Specifically last night?”

Though Jake struggled not to react to his former best friend, a tight fist clenched in his chest. “Durant. At a rodeo.”

“You better have witnesses to prove that.”

“I do.”

“Don’t be naive, Quinn.” Brady’s scowl was dark and threatening. “No one worked this site yesterday, and. Durant’s not that far away. He could have hit the house before or after his rodeo and used the trip as an alibi.”

“I didn’t. I left early yesterday morning and returned early this morning.”

A car door slammed. In his peripheral vision Jake saw Allison, in her Sunday dress, zooming across the dirt yard like a bumblebee. He whirled toward her and pointed. “Go home.”

Her footsteps slowed. “What’s going on?”

Jake’s blood pressure ratcheted up a few notches. The last person he wanted in the middle of this mess was Allison. “Nothing that concerns you. Go home. Stay out of it.”

But Allison, as Paulina had said, had a mind of her own. Brown eyes wide and concerned, she marched up to Quinn. “Jayla got a text that said someone vandalized another job site.”

“Yeah, and cowboy here claims he was at rodeo all day,” Brady said. “Isn’t that convenient?”

“He was.”

Jake’s heart tumbled lower than a snake’s belly.

Sawyer turned blue eyes on his sister. “How would you know?”

“Go home, Allison.” Why couldn’t she stay out of this? Jake took her elbow and glared down at her, telegraphing the message.
Keep quiet.
“Go. Now. You’re not wanted here. Let me handle this.”

“Let you handle it? So you can take the blame for something you didn’t do? Just to keep my name out of it?” She gave her arm a jerk and pulled away. “I’m not afraid of my family, Jake. I don’t need your protection.”

But there was a time she had and the memory flashed between them like lightning. He had to get her out of here fast.

“Let me do this, Allison.”

“You were going to lie for me, weren’t you? You would have confessed to a crime because of me. Wouldn’t you?”

Yeah, he would have. “Why can’t you leave well enough alone?”

Five hulking men glared at Jake. “What is she talking about?”

Allison swung toward her brothers.

“I’ll tell you what
she’s
talking about.” Allison slammed a doubled fist against her blue sweater. “
She
went to the rodeo with Jake yesterday. All day. From before dawn until early this morning. I was with Jake every single minute. He did not vandalize this property.”

Her words rang on the Sunday-morning air like the ring of a hammer on steel. The Buchanons went from thunderstruck to thunderheads. Jake simply stared up into the sky and shook his head. His good intentions withered in the morning sun. She melted him, disarmed him.

“You agreed to stay clear of him, Allison.” Quinn’s voice was a Rottweiler growl.

“No, Quinn, you said that I should. I never
agreed
to anything. And I won’t.”

Quinn’s glare burned into his sister with a mix of disbelief and anger. “You’d betray your own flesh and blood for a lying rodeo bum?”

“Whoa, hey, hold up.” The usually quiet Dawson stepped between Jake and his brothers, his red fleece jacket like a stoplight. “If Allison says they were together, this conversation is over.”

“The very fact that they were together for close to twenty-four hours says it’s not.”

“Come on, Brady, be reasonable.” Dawson turned up both palms, persuading. “The man was willing to take on all five of us to protect our sister. He was willing to take responsibility to keep us off her back. That means something in my book.”

“What it means to me is deception. Which proves how bad he is for her. He convinced her to sneak off with him—secretly.”

Dawson shook his head. “Not the way I see the situation.”

Quinn’s left hand kneaded his right bicep as if the damaged arm pained him, an absent gesture that struck Jake to the bone. He’d caused all of this. The damage to Quinn and now problems for Allison.

Allison made a disgusted sound. “This is a ridiculous conversation. Jake didn’t make me do anything and that includes sneaking off. My idea. My choice. Tell them, Jake. You didn’t even want me to go.”

Jake pushed back the sides of his jean jacket and fisted his hands on his hips. He wasn’t going to make her look like the villain. “I’ve got one thing to say and then I’m out of here. I’m not responsible for your construction problems, Brady, and I’m tired of your finger-pointing, but you’re right about one thing. Family matters more than anything. I learned that the hard way.”

While the Buchanon clan absorbed his words, Jake spun on his boots and headed for the ranch.

* * *

Allison spent the afternoon at her apartment, opting not to attend the weekly family dinner and football game. She pulled out her tiny Christmas tree but didn’t have the energy to put it up. She made a Skype call to Faith who was still in St. Thomas and from the joy on her friend’s newly tanned face and the constant references to Derrick, Faith was one happy bride. In true best friend form, Allison didn’t mention her problems with Jake and her brothers, though she wished she could talk to someone who would understand.

The problem was she didn’t really understand herself. She was quite positive Jake loved her, but in his twisted viewpoint, love wasn’t enough. To her, love was everything. But she loved her family, too, and loathed feeling like the odd man out.

She’d been too aggravated to go to Mom’s today. Aggravated and unwilling to face the harassment about Jake and the ridiculous accusation. Again. Couldn’t they understand that Jake Hamilton was a good, responsible man doing his best not to hurt anyone?

In her comfy gray sweats and fuzzy socks, she made a cup of cocoa topped with fat marshmallows and turned on the football game. She really should get a dog like Brady’s, or a cat. Watching alone wasn’t the same as watching with the rowdy Buchanons.

She blew on her hot chocolate. Was this the way things would be if she chose Jake over family? Would they really throw her out of the clan? Or would they include her in family gatherings but ignore the man she loved? Either option broke her heart but so did the thought of a future without Jake.

She wanted the man and she wanted her family. She wanted a happy ever after like Faith had found.

Settling in a tan easy chair—one of Mom’s discards—she curled her legs beneath her and cradled the warm cocoa in her hands. The Cowboys were down twenty-one to seven, the offense struggling to move the ball. The brothers would be going crazy about now, yelling at the quarterback and formulating better plays while munching hot links or shoveling Fritos into Dad’s ever-popular Ro*Tel dip.

She wondered what new green recipe Jayla had brought this week. And if Quinn was guzzling Red Diamond tea out of nervous energy. Brady and Dawg were probably sprawled like rugs on the floor, taking up way too much space. Dawg’s big old tail would thump like mad when the Buchanons celebrated a touchdown as if he, too, cheered their favorite team. The twins, she knew, would be wearing blue-and-silver Dallas Cowboys jerseys, one of the few look-alike items they shared these days.

She sipped the sweet cocoa. This is what life would be like without family. Lonely. Missing them.

Was this how Jake felt after the accident? Was this how he felt now?

Someone knocked on the door and her heart leaped, hoping her visitor was Jake. It wasn’t.

A gorgeous man in a Dallas Cowboys jersey stood on her square concrete porch. “Dawson.”

He held up a bag of Fritos and a plastic container. “Delivery service. Chip and dip.”

“I was hoping for barbecue weenies.”

“In that case—” He pivoted as if to leave.

She snagged his jersey sleeve. “On second thought, chip and dip sounds great. Is that Dad’s famous Ro*Tel?”

“Yep. Spicy hot. Guaranteed to take the hair off your tongue.”

“The Cowboys are losing.”

“Don’t remind me.” He set the foods on the coffee table, a chunky rectangle of distressed wood she’d bought at an estate sale. Brady and Sawyer had refinished the piece into a thing of beauty.

“Why aren’t you at Mom’s?”

“I missed my little sister. You seemed glum this morning after the—” he shrugged “—you know. Thought you might need a friend.” His blue eyes were full of sympathy. “I could ask you the same thing. Why aren’t you with the fam?”