A Daddy for Christmas

“Mind telling me what that’s supposed to mean?” Jess asked once she and Doc were in his truck. She’d removed her gloves and fastened her seat belt, and now held cold-stiffened fingers in front of the blasting heat vents.

“What?”

“Don’t act all innocent with me. You know exactly, what. Have you and my father been matchmaking again? If so, I—”

“Settle yourself right on down, little lady. Trust me, we learned our lesson after Pete Clayton told us you ran him off your place with a loaded shotgun.”

“He tried kissing me.”

“Can you blame him?” the older man said with a chuckle. “If you weren’t young enough to be my granddaughter, you’re pretty enough I might have a try at you myself.”

Lips pursed, Jess shook her head. “Dwayne’s only been gone—”

“Barely over a year. I know, Jess. We all know. But you’re a bright and beautiful—and very much alive—young woman with two rowdy girls to raise. Dwayne wouldn’t want you living like you do, with one foot practically in your own grave.”

“As usual, you’re being melodramatic. Me and the girls are happy as can be expected, thank you very much. I have no interest in dating—especially not another cowboy you and my daddy come up with.”

“Understood,” he said, turning into her gravel drive. “Which is why Gage’s only in town to help you out around the ranch.”

“What?” Popping off her seat belt, she angled on the seat to cast Doc her most fearsome glare.

“Simmer down. Everyone who loves you is worried. There’s too much work here to handle on your own—especially with foaling season right around the corner. We’ve taken up a collection, and paid Gage his first few months’ wages.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but before getting a word in edgewise, Doc was holding out his hand to cut off her protestations.

“While you’ve been off checking fences this past week, your momma and my Martha have been fixing up the old bunkhouse. Gage is a good man. I’ve known his family since before he was born. More importantly, he’s a damned hard worker, and will considerably lighten your load.”

“But I couldn’t possibly afford to—”

“Shh. Stop right there. Like I already said, whether you like it or not, the man’s time has already been paid in full. Once spring rolls around and you’re back on your feet after making a few sales, you’ll have more than enough cash to support you and the girls and an invaluable hired hand.”

The vet turned on the radio, tuning it to an upbeat country classic. From the looks of it, he and her father were taking another stab at matchmaking.

“What’re you grinning about?” Jess asked, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Nothin’ much,” Doc said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Just looking forward to the holidays.”

She snorted.

“What’s the matter? Someone spit in your eggnog?”

“Let’s just say that the sooner this holiday season is over, the better I’ll feel.”

GAGE SAT IN his truck’s cab, wishing himself anywhere else on the planet. He’d known from the start this was a bad idea. He’d have been better off back at his cramped condo. At least there, he knew where he stood.

Though he couldn’t hear words, Jess Cummings’s animated body language spoke volumes. He wasn’t wanted.

When his dad first broached the subject of helping a friend of a friend up in Mercy, Oklahoma, it’d seemed like a good idea. After all, what better way to help himself than by helping others? Now, however, he realized he should’ve asked a helluva lot more questions about the job.

“Well?” Doc asked outside Gage’s window, causing him to jump. “You gonna sit there all day, or help me get our patient to the barn?”

“Mommy!”

Gage had just creaked open his truck door when two curly-haired, redheaded munchkins dashed from the covered porch of a weary, one-story farmhouse that was in as bad a need of paint as it was a new tin roof. They were followed by an older, gray-haired version of Jess.

“Hey, sweeties,” said the woman he’d presumed was to be his new boss as she kneeled to catch both girls up in a hug.

The taller one asked, “Is Honey going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Jess said.

“Hi.” The older woman smiled warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Georgia, Jess’s mom. You must be Walter’s boy, Gage.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, removing the hat he’d slapped back on. It’d been a while since Gage had lived in a small town, so he’d forgotten how fast news traveled. “Nice to meet you. Mom and Dad speak highly of your whole family.”

“They were always favorites around here. It nearly broke my heart when your momma told me you were moving away. Of course, seeing how you were only two at the time, I’m not figuring the move gave you much cause for trouble.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Can you give me a hand?” Doc asked from the back of his trailer.

“Sure,” Gage said, secretly relieved for having been rescued from small talk. He used to love to meet new folks—or, as was apparently the case with Georgia, get reacquainted with old friends—but lately, he just didn’t have the heart.

“He’s bleeding!” the taller of the two girls cried at her first sight of the colt. “Mommy! Do something!” Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks while the younger girl, wide-eyed, with her thumb stuck in her mouth, clung to her mother’s thigh.

“Hush now,” Doc said. “Honey’s a tough cookie. He looks bad, but trust me, Lexie, after Gage and I get him patched up, he’ll be good as new.”

“Promise?”

“Yup. Now how ’bout you and Ashley get some coats on, then meet me in the barn. I could use the extra hands.”

“Is it okay, Mommy?”

“Of course,” Jess said. “Honey will probably be glad you two are there.”

While the girls scampered inside, Georgia asked her daughter, “Now that they’re busy, tell me true. Is Honey really going to be all right?”

“Doc thinks so.” Even from a good twenty feet away, the exhaustion ringing from Jess’s sigh struck a chord in Gage. All his father and Doc had told him was that Jess was a widow very much in need of a helping hand. No one had said anything about there being kids in the picture. Then, as if there weren’t already enough needy creatures on the ranch, an old hound dog wandered up, sending a mixed message with a low growl, but with his tail wagging.

“Don’t mind him,” Jess said, jogging over. “Taffy likes letting everyone know up front who’s boss. Slip him a few table scraps every now and then, and you two will be fast friends.”

Georgia had headed back in the house.

Gage, Doc and Jess entered the barn. While wind rattled time-worn timbers, the temperature was at least bearable compared to outside, and the air smelled good, and familiar of hay and oats and leather.

The three of them managed to set the colt on a fresh straw bed in one of the stalls, then led his momma in beside him. Doc gave the colt a pat and said, “You know how Martha likes The Weather Channel. She says we’re in for one heckuva storm.”

“Ice or snow?” Jess asked.