A Daddy for Christmas

He nodded, but he could’ve saved himself the effort as she was already out the door.

What was it with her always running away? Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Why was she shutting herself off from the very practical fact that if she were going to run any kind of successful ranch, there was no way in Sam Hill she could ever do it on her own? And what was she planning on doing about her kid? Lexie. The girl was obviously in a bad way.

Catching his reflection in the dresser’s mirror, he scowled. “What’re you doing, man?”

Too bad for him, the stranger looking back at him had no more clue why he cared about Jess Cummings or her little girl or her ranch than he did.

Chapter Three

“Mommy? Is he dead?” Ashley poked her thumb in her mouth and grasped Jess’s hand.

“No, hon, Mr. Moore’s fine. Just sleeping.” Six in the morning on Christmas Eve, freezing rain clattering like a million dimes on the barn’s tin roof, Gage Moore was sound asleep in Honey and Buttercup’s stall, using a hay bale for a pillow and a saddle blanket for warmth. The air in the barn was more bearable than outside, but still cold enough to see your breath. It took a good man to sleep in conditions like this just to look after a horse—it was something her husband would have done.

“Thought he was leaving?” Lexie asked, arms crossed, shooting their guest her customary glare. Jess’s stomach tightened. What was she going to do about the girl? She used to be all smiles and full of life. Now, she was sullen and argumentative and wielded her pout like a weapon.

“Sweetheart, he is leaving, but the roads are a mess, so he can’t exactly get to Texas. Not only that, but it’s almost Christmas. Don’t you think the charitable thing to do would be to at least be polite? After all, he did come here to help us.”

“We don’t need help.”

The girl’s demeanor softened when she knelt to stroke Honey’s muzzle.

Buttercup neighed.

“Hey, girl,” Jess crooned, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Gage. “Your baby’s looking much better.”

“Mommy?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, hon?”

“What’s chair-it-abble mean?”

Jess patted the mare’s rust-colored rump. “When someone does something nice for someone not because they have to, but because they want to.”

“Oh.” The little girl took off her coat, lightly settling it over Gage.

Whereas moments earlier, Jess’s stomach had been knotted with worry for her eldest daughter, her heart lightened at her youngest girl’s good deed. Though her green coat barely covered the large man’s shoulder, the generosity of the child’s good intentions filled the whole barn.

“You’re lame,” Lexie said, standing and heading for the door. “Because of him, our Christmas is ruined.”

Jess sighed.

Why was it that just when she thought everything might be all right, something—or, in this case, somebody—brought her hopes crashing down?

“We should just cancel Christmas.”

“Lexie, stop. Just stop, or Santa’s bringing you nothing but a bag of switches.”

“Good. Because I don’t even believe in Santa.”

“He’s real!” Ashley shouted.

“Shut up!” Lexie shouted back.

Gage shifted and groaned. “What’s going on?”

“Lexie Margaret Cummings,” Jess said, hands on her hips, “that’s enough out of you. Apologize to your sister, then march straight to your room.”

The girl’s apology consisted of sticking out her tongue before taking off for the barn’s door.

“Lexie!” Jess shouted. “Lexie! Get back here this instant, before—”

“Let her go,” Gage said, stepping up behind her.

Ashley had her thumb back in her mouth as she quietly watched her sister go. “Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“How come Lexie hates me?”

Jess pulled her youngest into a hug. “She doesn’t hate you, pumpkin. I think she hates—” Chest aching from bearing the weight of both of her girls’ emotional pain, Jess couldn’t go on. Not here, with Gage looking on. What her daughter hated, but was too emotionally immature to vocalize, was most likely every man on the planet for living when her daddy had died. How did Jess make Lexie see it was all right for her to go on with her life? To be happy again and run and skip and play jump rope? But then how did she teach her daughter all of that when Jess didn’t begin to know herself?

Behind her, Gage cleared his throat. “Honey made it just fine through the night. He’s a scrapper, Jess…. Just like your little girl.”

With everything in her, Jess wanted to fight him, this virtual stranger. After all, what did he know about her daughter or anything else? But he had spent the night in the frigid barn, sleeping alongside the dearest of colts. That kindness deserved something, even if all she had in her was to bite her tongue.

She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“It’s the truth. Lexie’s just going through a phase that—”

“I meant, thank you for staying with Honey. Lexie’s my problem. I appreciate your advice, but—”

“Mind my own business?” His mouth’s grim set told her that once again, where he was concerned, she’d gone too far. She didn’t mean to be short with him, but couldn’t seem to help herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Gage, squeezing Ashley’s hand. The girl was staring up at her, big brown eyes taking everything in. “Hungry?”

“Starved,” he answered. “It’s been a while since Georgia’s chili.”

Jess summoned a cautious smile, then said, “I’m not half as good a cook as my mother, but if you’re feeling brave, I’d be happy to whip up something simple like pancakes and bacon.”

“MMM…” GAGE SAID with a groan, pushing back his plate. “Your mom lied,” he said to Ashley. “She’s a good cook.”

Cheeks puffed with an oversized bite of pancakes, the girl nodded.

He hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, but something about Jess’s welcoming country kitchen made him want to eat, and it felt good having his belly full.

The blue linoleum floor was peeling in the corners, and the whitewashed cabinets might be in as desperate need of paint as the home’s exterior, but the yellow flowered curtains covering fogged-over paned windows were ruffled and feminine and pretty, and the abundance of thriving houseplants told him that despite the home’s shabby appearance, it was indeed a home. Gut feel told him Jess was an expert at transforming life’s lemons into sweet lemonade. If only he’d learned the same.

Jess had taken Lexie a plate to her room, leaving him on his own alongside Ashley at the round oak kitchen table.