Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

“She’s a genius.” They settled side by side on a fawn-colored couch. “So are you. How do you find time for all this?”

“The perks of working for family. When the office is slow, I make calls or run errands.”

“Saturday for the bridesmaids, right? What time?” Faith chewed the edge of a fingernail.

“Stop that.” Allison swatted her friend’s hand. “Ten o’clock. Which reminds me, are you going for acrylic nails or natural?”

“Do you actually think I can keep my hands out of my mouth in the weeks preceding the most important day of my life?”

“Not a chance. Acrylic it is. Have you made the appointment? What about your hair?” Allison went down the list she’d checked and rechecked dozens of times. Faith had been known to forget the details. Allison was a detail girl.

A stack of wedding RSVP envelopes—in the same white pearl as the mountain of invitations the two of them, along with Faith’s mother, had addressed weeks ago—waited in a box on the coffee table. “Have you opened any of them?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Good. I want to keep a list.”

“And you know I’m lousy with lists.”

“Part of your charm. You’re marrying a statistician. You don’t have to worry about lists anymore.” Allison grabbed a stack and a letter opener. “Put acceptances in the white box, rejections in the blue one.”

As they sorted the cards, they talked. About how hard it would be to live three hours apart. About the darling house Faith and Derrick had purchased in Oklahoma City. About the honeymoon in Saint Thomas. If Allison felt a twinge of envy mixed in with her absolute delight for her best friend, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Derrick’s brother is pretty cute, don’t you think?” Faith’s voice was casual but she didn’t look at Allison, a sign she was trying—and failing—to be subtle.

“Yes, and nice, too, like Derrick.”

“And? He’s the best man. You’re the maid of honor. Maybe you could get something going, and we could be sisters-in-law?”

Allison laughed. “Marrying your husband’s brother would not make us related. Besides, I like being single.”

“You do not. We’ve both waited long enough. Now that I’m getting married, you should get serious about finding someone.”

She’d found someone once-upon-a-fairy-tale. But her fairy tale had turned into a horror flick.

In self-defense, she said, “I went to the movies with Billy last month.”

“Last month! Allison, do you know how pathetic that is? And you only went with him because his sister asked you to take pity on him.” Faith put the stack of envelopes in her lap. “Jake’s the problem, isn’t he? Like always.”

Was she that transparent?

“Maybe.” Probably. “But that was years ago.”

“You still have his picture in your wallet.”

“I never got around to taking it out.”

“You’ve changed wallets a dozen times since then. Which means he’s still stuck in your head and your heart. So now that he’s back you need to do something about him.”

“And cause the biggest war since the Hatfields and McCoys?” Allison shook her head. “I only want to make things easier for him. Our teenage romance is long behind us.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. This is me you’re talking to. You have never—I repeat never—laid to rest the issue of Jake Hamilton. Every guy is measured up against your handsome cowboy, and then you kick them to the curb like a pop can.”

Allison sighed. Faith was right. Even when she’d wanted to move on and forget her feelings for Jake, she never had. They’d been prematurely interrupted and she’d never liked unfinished business. It was so untidy. “I don’t know what to do. I wish my brothers could get over themselves.”

“If wishes were horses. Stop wishing and go for it. Your brothers should have nothing to do with your romantic life, so get to know Jake again and see what happens.” Faith ripped open another RSVP. “I have an idea. Invite him to the wedding. We still have invitations.”

Allison’s heart jumped. “He won’t come.”

“You never know until you try. Sit right there.” Faith pointed at Allison as she hurried out of the room, but stuck her head around the door facing. “Do you want anything to drink while I’m up?”

“Water would be great.”

“Got it. I hear Mom in the garage.”

While Allison opened, sorted and listed RSVP cards, a nervous pulse ticked in her temple.

The unresolved heartache of a first love that had crashed and burned pushed to the surface like a dead body in water. She had loved him as much as any teenager could. He’d seen her at her worst, her most humiliated, and had never judged her. On the other hand, he’d stood her up at the graduation dance.

Did she really want to revisit either of those places again?

She stared down at the vellum cards and thought of all the weddings she’d attended, of the tiny unacknowledged ache to find her own true love.

Faith was right. She needed to explore this thing with Jake and put the issue to rest once and for all.

“Hello, Allison.”

Deep in thought, Allison jumped when Faith’s mom, Ellen, trudged into the room wearing blue scrubs, a testament to her nursing job. She wiggled her fingers and padded on silent white shoes down the hall and out of sight.

“Your mom looks tired,” she said as Faith returned, bearing a white invitation.

“Eight twelve-hour shifts in a row take a toll.”

“Ugh. Poor woman.”

“No kidding. I’m glad I went into teaching.” With the teacher shortage in Oklahoma, Faith had easily found a new job in Oklahoma City for the spring semester. “I’m filling out this invitation right now, and I want you to hand-deliver it.”

Allison returned Faith’s grin, though hers was filled with trepidation. “That’s easy. I’m going over there when I leave here.”

“Cleaning Miss Pat’s house is a great excuse to see Jake.” Faith pumped her eyebrows.

“Helping an elderly neighbor is not an excuse to see Jake. Stop it!” Allison bit her bottom lip. “I would help Miss Pat even if Jake wasn’t there.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t enjoy your little trips nearly as much.”

True. Painfully true.

She watched Faith write Jake’s name in her beautiful script. “Do you think he’ll accept?”

Faith slid the card into the envelope and held it out like an Oscar win. “Only one way to find out.”

* * *

He shouldn’t be here. He should get in his pickup and drive out to Manny’s.

Jake looked at the spread of vegetables on the kitchen counter and considered sticking everything back in the fridge. Then he could shut off the stove and walk out. Allison would be here any minute.

“Jacob?” Granny Pat’s voice wafted in from the living room. “Honey, did you buy cheese for the baked potatoes? Bring me a slice. I haven’t had anything but prison food in so long, I’m hungry as a starved wolf.”

At the request, Jake resigned himself to letting Allison help him cook dinner. Granny needed this, no matter how hard it was on him.

He took a chunk of cheddar to the recliner where Granny Pat had pretty much lived since coming home. Earlier, the home nurse had gotten her up and walked her to the bath, a trip that had worn her out and torn a strip from Jake’s heart.

“Here you go.” He went to his knee beside her chair. “Anything else?”

“No, baby.” She patted his hand. “You’re such a good boy.”

The comment made him snort. “Is your memory failing you?”

“I remember everything I want to.” She grinned her impertinent grin. “You were always a good boy with a big soft heart. That’s why you acted up after your mama left. And you had a right. She broke your little heart in half.”

Jake’s muscles tightened. He didn’t think about his mother much anymore. “I always wondered why she left.”

“I know you did, son. Leaving you was wrong of her.”

That was the only explanation he’d ever received. His dad was barely cold in the ground before his mother packed her bags and drove away in an old Buick. “Do you ever wonder where she is?”

Granny Pat’s winkled face saddened. “All the time, baby boy. For a long time I thought, once she’d grieved your daddy, she’d come back for you.”

But she never had. And he’d grown up with a big, gaping hole inside, waiting for his mama to come home and fill it with love.

“I’m not complaining. You took good care of me.”

She’d done her best. In between work and her grief over the loss of a son, his grandmother had done all she knew to deal with a sad little boy and later, a wild teenager. Still, he wondered what might have been.

Outside a car door slammed. Jake shook off the uncomfortable nostalgia and jerked to his feet. “Allison’s here.”

“Ralph thinks you’re still sweet on her.”

He tried to laugh her off. “You want to get me killed?”

“You’ve been trying to do that yourself for years.”

A man with nothing to lose made a good bull rider.

At the knock, he ignored his grandmother’s keen insight to let Allison in. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She shoved a bag at him. “Put this in the kitchen while I bring in the casserole.”

“Casserole?”

“Mama’s chicken spaghetti.”

Granny Pat’s voice sailed across the room. “I love that stuff.”

“I thought we were cooking.” Jake looked over one shoulder. “I already put the steaks in the oven.”

“For tomorrow,” Allison said. “You know how Mom is. She still cooks for an army in case one or two of us kids drops in. She had an extra and I ‘borrowed it.’”

Karen Buchanon had fed him for years when he’d tagged along with the four Buchanon boys. Now, he was as grateful as he’d been back then, and the throb of longing was every bit as raw.

He set the bag of what appeared to be cleaning supplies on a table beside the door and followed Allison to the Camaro. Wearing a tan skirt and crisp white shirt with a collar, her flyaway hair bounced as she walked. He liked her hair, itched to touch the silk of it and wanted to kick his own tail for even thinking about her that way.

He had to stop this. Had to stop it now.

His longer stride caught up to her quickly. “Did your mother know you were coming over here?”

“She was going to bring the casserole herself. I volunteered.”

“She must not know I’m home.”

Allison shrugged. “She wasn’t wild about me seeing you, but I make my own choices and she knows that. Besides, she and Miss Pat go way back.” She handed him the still-warm container. “Mom takes care of her friends.”

Right. Karen Buchanon would visit Granny Pat even if her grandson was Ted Bundy.

“Neither of you mentioned this little errand of mercy to your brothers, did you?”

“You’re cranky today.”

“Did you?”

“No. They might do something stupid. They’ve been threatening—” She stopped halfway to the house and slapped her hands on her hips. “I want this to stop. You got me to admit my brothers still hold a grudge, and I didn’t want to go there. Does that make you happy?”

With her face tilted toward his and her brown eyes snapping, she was cute as a kitten. Adorable and off-limits.

“Happy? Hardly.” But exactly what he’d expected. Not what he’d hoped for or even dreamed of, but exactly what he deserved.

She hadn’t intended to discuss her brothers. He could see that and understood. Now, she was furious, both at herself and him, for opening up the sore topic.

Unlike Brady Buchanon whose temper was renown, Allison’s fury wouldn’t last long. She was too good, too generous, too kind. And she was tearing him apart.

Resigned to spend the evening fighting memories, he led the way into the kitchen where the smell of broiling steak overpowered the small space.

“Better check this,” he said and peaked inside the oven. “Looking good.”

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