The Cowboy's Christmas Retreat
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Catherine Mann
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HarlequinChapter One
Lucy Snyder had meant it when she told her ex-husband that her love for him was dead. Nothing killed a relationship like finding out her supposed soul mate had missed the birth of their son because he’d been with another woman.
And now, as she frosted the cake for her child’s fourth birthday, she wasn’t any less hurt or angry. Just all the more determined not to let the turmoil inside her spoil her little boy’s special day.
A special day with a party she was putting together all by herself while her four-year-old ran around the apartment clanging two pots against each other singing the “Little Drummer Boy.” She squeezed the frosting tube, spelling out G-E-O-R-G-E. The writing was green, to go with the safari theme for his “wild thing” party. Huffing a hank of hair off her forehead, she willed herself to breathe in, breathe out. But planning a birthday party and planning for Christmas at the same time were kicking her butt.
She’d definitely chosen an appropriate theme for this little guy’s party. As she set aside the tube of icing, her gaze caught on her son. He flung back his head to wail the lyrics, his mop of auburn curls shaking, his blue eyes wide. She wanted to give him the world, tough to do on the income from her dog-walking business.
But she was trying her best to create a memorable day that wouldn’t be overshadowed by Christmas in a few weeks. At least there wasn’t a lot of space to decorate, the apartment small, but all hers, furnished on a shoestring budget when she’d moved here a couple of years ago after her divorce—and how mortifying that she hadn’t learned about her ex cheating until her son was two years old? She managed to push back the anger at the betrayal on most days, but George’s birthday brought back so many memories.
Except today wasn’t about regrets. It was about celebrating George.
In between walking clients’ dogs today, she’d decorated her place with green-and-brown balloons and garland. She’d dug through George’s toys and placed the animals around the room—an elephant by the pitcher of water. A stuffed tiger crouched under the table. A giraffe looked like it was nibbling on the Christmas tree with twinkling lights and upcycled glass ball ornaments from Donna’s Thrift Shop on Center Avenue.
And that fresh tree, cut down just last weekend thanks to her buddy.
A bright spot in an otherwise crazy month—insane day. Her best buddy, Riley Stewart, had come through for her once again, just as he’d done since becoming her best friend in the ninth grade. Riley had been the new kid in school at the start of second semester, a feeling she understood all too well since she’d been new to the school in the middle of first semester.
Their friendship had been cemented over shared crummy cafeteria pizza.
More than once, he’d been there for her, but most of all after her divorce, starting with how he’d let her stay in his apartment while he was out on the rodeo circuit, then helped her move into another apartment in his complex. It had rocked her world to learn about her husband’s infidelity, and stung even more that she’d been oblivious for so long. Trust was difficult for her now, most especially trusting her own judgment. But she was going to have to start doing a better job at standing on her own. Riley had his own future to take care of...a future soon to include a wife.
She didn’t want to think about how their friendship could be put on the back burner once he got married. Lucy knew the fiancée well enough, and they got along, but who knew how Emily might feel about her husband’s friendship with Lucy once the knot was tied?
“Mom. Mom. Mom—”
Her son’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Yes, George?” She swirled the finishing touch on his safari cake. The pastry stand sat ready and waiting thanks to her crafty best bud. During their Christmas tree outing, Riley had sliced circles from another downed tree for her to sand and seal to use as platters. He’d even carved a large number four from a fat branch.
“Mom,” George called again, racing past a pile of Legos that would almost certainly lead to massive pain when she accidently stepped on them later. “I know what I want for my birthday. I want a toy garbage truck.”
“A toy what?” She leaned back against the counter, licking the red spatula.
“A. Garbage. Truck.” He enunciated slowly, banging on the pot once for each word. “The kind that picks up trash. I wanna be a worker man when I grow up and drive that big truck.”
“And what else do you want for your birthday?” Hopefully something that she’d already bought and wrapped so he wouldn’t be disappointed. Her budget was tapped out. A tightness gripped her chest as she looked at the neat pile of birthday presents on the only-slightly used pine coffee table at the center of her living area.
“Just a garbage truck. That’s all.” Another clang echoed as George resumed playing his song, moving around the well-worn sofa, nearly tripping over the tan-and-red geometric rug. Both the rug and sofa were finds from Donna’s Thrift Shop, something she’d been proud to purchase to make her son’s life better. He beat the pots a few more times before dropping them to the ground.
The sound reverberated through the two-bedroom apartment and she prayed Mr. Whelan downstairs wouldn’t complain to the manager again. She’d done everything to make their future as bright as the twinkling silver tinsel on the fireplace mantel.
Kicking aside the pot, George started racing around the apartment, making truck noises. He continued on his “route,” circling the fat leather sofa, careening into the coat tree full of dog leashes. Their scruffy little border terrier mix—Pickles—bounced up off his fluffy bed and joined the chase with all fifteen pounds of canine energy.
“Garbage truck,” George announced. “Vroom. Vroom. Beep. Beep.”
Sadly, this was the first she’d heard of his fascination with waste disposal, so it wasn’t reflected in any of the gifts for his birthday. “If you don’t get the truck for your birthday, then maybe you’ll get it from Santa.”
“Or Dad will get it for me.”
Her stomach sank and she flung the spatula in the sink. Her heart broke all over again because she couldn’t give her child the things his dad did.
“You’ll have to ask him, but he may have already bought your presents.” Although he would likely buy it anyway.
Colin had gone overboard in spoiling George when they were together and doubled down on the extravagance afterward. There was no way she could have kept up, even if she was still a veterinary technician.
After the divorce, she’d quickly used up her vacation days with George’s chronic ear infections. When Riley had connected her with a dog-walking job, she’d leaped at the opportunity for work with more flexibility. She was even able to bring George in his stroller.
She wanted to cry out with frustration at her ex-husband for refusing to help with childcare. She would have had to take him back to court to change the custody agreement and she didn’t have the money. A catch-22.
But she held the anger inside. For George’s sake, she worked her tail off at peaceful coparenting. Even when Colin refused to attend his kid’s birthday party. He’d said he would just wait to celebrate when he picked up George for his part of Christmas vacation.
“George, honey, please be careful not to knock over the tree. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She needed to take him to the playground, but his snowsuit was in the dryer and his little friends were due to show up in four hours. What had she been thinking planning a party in her tiny apartment in December with Kentucky temperatures below freezing? Maybe if she lived in Southern Florida. But Southern Kentucky? Nope.
“Garbage man, here for pick up, ma’am.” George lifted a small waste basket and tossed in two wooden coasters, then a fistful of crayons and a snow boot. He zoomed to Lucy and screeched to a halt. “Garbage man, here for pick up. Do you have any trash for me, pretty lady?”
He looked so earnest she couldn’t hold back a smile. She grabbed a pile of napkins off the counter, wadded them up and threw them into the bin. “There you go. Thank you so much.” She dropped a quick kiss onto his head, tousling his red curls. “I’m so glad my home will be clean for my sweet son’s birthday party. Have you seen him? He needs to change into clean clothes pretty soon.”
“I’ll tell him.” He backpedaled, stumbled, then righted himself into that gravity-defying way of children that kept her living in a constant state of fear of the next tumble.
She rubbed her hands along her tie-dyed sweatshirt, smearing frosting, already exhausted. But she was afraid to look away for even a moment and miss a milestone—or a catastrophe. He was all motion.
“When does Daddy come to my party?”
She winced. “You’re having a party at your father’s house over Christmas. Remember?”
“But I could call him. I want him to come to my safari party. He’s gonna come.”
“I don’t think so.” It broke her heart on a regular basis seeing the way her child chased after his daddy, only to have him cancel or reschedule visits constantly. So, she’d also meant it when she’d told her ex she didn’t care if she ever saw him again. But George did want to see him.
Her eyes stung and the ringing in her ears grew so loud she almost missed the sound of her son crashing into the Christmas tree. Ornaments rained to the ground. Lights slid off, wrapping around George until he and the tree were one.
Her heart in her throat, she sprinted across the apartment. She dropped to her knees, skimming her hands over George as he gulped in big gasps of air, tears streaming down his face. He looked okay, just scared.
But what if...?
“George, where does it hurt?”
He was her world. Her everything.
She would do anything to keep him safe and happy. “Tell Mommy where it hurts and I’ll kiss the boo-boo, okay?”
“I’m okay. But my cake isn’t.” Blue eyes widened as he pointed behind her.
She looked over her shoulder and... Oh no.
Pickles was on the counter, face buried in the middle of the cake.
A bloodcurdling shriek split the air.
Riley bolted from the elevator, recognizing that scream all too well. The same scream Lucy had let loose the one and only time he’d managed to get her to ride a horse.
He hoped this shout didn’t end in stitches.
Charging ahead past his apartment to hers, he embraced the distraction from the mess he’d made of his own life. He rang the doorbell once as a courtesy only, before pulling out his key to her place. He pushed the door open to...mayhem.
Pickles was running in circles, barking up a storm. George sat in the middle of a pile of Christmas tree lights and ornaments, tinsel in his red curls. Lucy scooped up the dog, both of them covered in frosting. Tears sheened in her green eyes as Pickles licked icing from her cheek.
Her chin quivered.
Oh man. He wrapped her in a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. “What happened, Lucy?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Dog smooshed between them, she held on tight, whispering against his chest in a rambling litany. “I don’t want George to see me upset. He knocked over the tree and I thought he was hurt, but he’s okay and Pickles ate half of the cake and I don’t have time or ingredients to make another one and—”
“Okay, Lucy. Take a moment to step back and catch your breath. I’ve got this.” He took Pickles from her, the back of his hand brushing her breast.
He froze. Her eyes shot up to his. Pink crept up her cheeks until her freckles almost disappeared.
A surprise bolt of awareness sizzled through him. And just that fast he was blindsided by a deluge of sensations: the scent of Lucy’s wavy red hair, the soft feel of her body. A whiff of her cinnamon perfume.
Sure, he’d harbored a crush on her long ago, but it was just that. An infatuation. He valued her friendship too much to risk acting on something as transient as sex.
Her breath hitched and she stepped back, her throat moving in a gulp. “Thanks. I think you’re right. I should, uh, clean the frosting off myself.”
She backed toward the bathroom, tugging nervously at the hem of her tie-dyed sweatshirt, smudging more frosting on her black leggings, her bare toes curling against the rug. She spun fast and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Mommy said a bad word.”
Riley shook off whatever it was that had zipped between him and Lucy. It had to be because of all the crazy accusations Emily had hurled at him to justify why she was leaving him for another guy. Wedding off. Honeymoon canceled. He hung his fleece-lined jacket on the coat tree and turned to George.
“Well, tiger, your mom probably just slipped up. We all make mistakes sometimes.” He’d made a whopper of an error in choosing to propose to a woman only interested in the size of a rodeo champ’s belt buckle. “How about we start clearing away some of this mess before your mom comes back?”
He worked methodically, untangling, setting the world to rights again, grateful to restore order in this realm at least. Much preferable to thinking about the fact that his fiancée had dumped him. They’d fought over dinner the night before and he’d hoped to repair things in the morning. Only to walk in on her with her new boyfriend.
Or maybe he was an old boyfriend.
Finding them in the middle of a lip-lock, he hadn’t been the least bit interested in hearing details. He’d left and headed straight for the one person he’d always been able to rely on.
Lucy. His rock since the ninth grade.
The hum of the bathroom fan halted as the white door creaked open. Lucy stepped out in fresh leggings and a simple long sweater. Barefoot, she stood no more than five foot two inches, the same height she’d been in the ninth grade. And no matter how many times she assured him she could hold her own, he couldn’t tamp down the urge to protect her.
“Thank you for being here, yet again, to clean up the mess in my life. You can taste test for me as my way of saying thanks.” She nodded toward the sugar cookies. “I made plenty so we can decorate the extras for Christmas.”
He steeled himself to stifle a wince over the mention of the holidays. He’d never been much of a fan of the season after having spent too many hiding in his room when his father got high.
“I can pick up one of those premade cakes or some cupcakes.” He waved at the tiny plastic animals on the counter. “You can put those on top. It’s all okay.”
“Do you think there’s a garbage-truck cake anywhere in this town?” Lucy chewed her lip, a habit she’d had as long as they’d been friends. A universal signal that something was off in her world.
“Uhm, run that by me again?”
She swept her hands under her eyes and shot him a bright, brave grin. “He wants a toy garbage truck for his birthday. I bought him a little police car. How did I not hear what he really prefers?”
“He changes his mind daily. He’s a kid. That’s what they do. My nieces were all about dolls last week and now they’re bananas for art supplies.”
She strode over to the Christmas tree and picked up the lights. Her scruffy little dog followed, tail wagging. “I can’t afford for him to change his mind.”
He reached toward his coat, still dripping with melting snow. “I’ll make the trip to the store quick so I’m back in time to help—”
“No. But thank you. I wasn’t hinting. You already do so much for us.” She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment before continuing, “I guess I’m most upset that I can’t be the one to get it for him.”
He picked up the tree and righted it in the stand. “You’re his mom. He loves you. No amount of gifts will change that.”
“Thanks. I’m better now. Really.” She draped the lights back in place branch by branch. “I’ll walk with him all around the neighborhood on trash day so he can see the real deal close up.”
Kneeling, he scooped up a wooden puppy paw ornament. His hand skimmed the rug, knuckles coming into contact with the soft fibers. He was constantly amazed at all she’d done to create this new life for herself and George in such a short amount of time.
“You’re a great mother. George knows that he’s loved.”
“I appreciate your saying that. And I really mean it that we don’t need a cake. I can just glob extra frosting on one of the cookies and stick a candle in it. The kids can put the small plastic animals on their cookies. It’ll be fine.” She took an ornament from him. “Enough about me. What brought you here early?”
Scooping up an ornament with George’s name, Riley used the excuse to duck his head to hide the hurt in his eyes that he knew she would see too easily. Lucy always could read him.
“We can talk about that later. Give me your list for the grocery store. Cupcakes and what else?”
“Riley? Thanks. Again. But I mean it when I say no.” She reached to touch his arm to stop him, then pulled back. “What’s going on? You’re upset about something. I can tell.”
He didn’t want to burden her with his own problems when she already had so much on her plate. But he found it impossible to refuse those emerald-colored eyes when she looked at him that way. He knew she wouldn’t relent until she’d chased the answer out of him. He huffed out a defeated breath.
“Emily and I are over.”
Her eyes went wide. “What? But you’re getting married at Christmas.”
“We most assuredly are not.” He exhaled hard, his cheeks puffing. “She was quite clear last night.” Vocal and loud, heaping all sorts of accusations on his head as to why it was somehow his fault she’d landed in bed with another man.
“Couples fight. Surely she didn’t mean it.”
Images flashed in his head of Emily with her arms wrapped around another man. The betrayal hadn’t hurt as much as he knew it should have, his pride stinging more than his heart.
“She was crystal clear. She doesn’t want to get married—not to me, at least.”
“I’m so sorry. What reason did she give?”
Pickles circled twice under the tree, tucking his legs under so he was in a tight ball beside George. Riley measured his words, not sure how to explain that Emily was jealous of his friendship with Lucy. There had never been a romantic moment between them as adults—and only one impulsive kiss in high school. Lucy was beautiful, no question, but he knew how badly she’d been treated by her ex and the last thing she needed or wanted was someone toying with her heart.
“She said I didn’t really love her.” Avoiding her knowing eyes, he picked up a snowflake ornament and placed it on a high bough.
George came barreling over, lifting his stuffed dog to a space between a car ornament and a macaroni tree ornament George made last year.
“Why in the world would she think that? Everyone knows you two are in love.” Lucy snagged a metal ornament shaped like Kentucky, securing it on a tree branch closer to the ground. A Christmas light shone through the hole in the ornament marking their town of Middlesboro.
“Apparently not. I found her making out with another man this morning—someone I know from the rodeo circuit.”
“Riley, I’m sorry.” She touched his arm, no pulling back this time, and squeezed. Firmly. “She doesn’t deserve you.”
He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for laying all of this on you when you’re in the middle of getting ready for the party.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve been there for me more times than I can even count.”
“Lucy, you know it’s my honor.”
“Thank you.” She held up a hand to stop him. “Today is about George. I just love him so much and it seems like no matter how hard I try to make this day special, I keep messing it up.”
“George is going to have a wonderful time. Don’t you worry about that for a minute.”
She laid her hand on her son’s shoulder, a sweet, maternal gesture. And Riley wanted to be there for her. She deserved so much better than the stress and problems her ex had heaped on her. So did George, for that matter. Lucy and George meant the world to him, and they needed him. He regretted putting so much time into his relationship with Emily, a relationship that had only bit him in the butt, whereas Lucy had always been there for him.
And just like that, he found himself saying the last thing he would have expected, but words that felt one-hundred-percent right. “Speaking of having a wonderful time... I was wondering if you would like to go with me on my honeymoon?”
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