Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

“Land of the rodeo cowboys.”

“Do you like it there?”

“Sure.” He glanced away, afraid she’d read the truth in his eyes. “We better get this in the house before Granny Pat starts hollering.”

He gave the wheels a nudge with his boot.

“Unlock it,” Allison said.

“It has a lock?” He poked around and found the lever, released the device with a snap, and incredibly, the chair rolled a few inches. “How did you know that?”

“Brady had knee surgery his last year at Tech.”

Just that quick, the elephant was back in the room. “I watched him play on TV a few times. He was good.”

But not as good as Quinn. No one in the state had been as good at football as Quinn Buchanon. Quinn, with the golden arm that had turned to blood.

He gave the wheelchair a shove and rolled toward the front door.

* * *

He’d gone quiet on her again. When Allison thought they’d moved past that awkward stage, past his determination to be the rude, don’t-care cowboy, he had clammed up again. Between his reluctance and her brothers’ animosity, she wondered why she kept trying.

But she knew why. Though she was a Buchanon with every cell in her body, her brothers were wrong to hold a grudge. Anger would not restore Quinn’s arm to normal. Anger would not regain his chance at an NFL career. All bitterness had ever done was make them miserable.

Like now. If they knew she was here, her brothers would have a fit. Just as they would have a fit if they’d known about the other thing. They’d have done something crazy.

But she was as drawn to Jake Hamilton today as she had been in high school. He was her buddy, her first love, and foolish though she might be, she yearned to help him, to be his friend again, to repay a debt of love and loyalty.

If he’d revealed her secret nine years ago, maybe her family wouldn’t despise Jake so much. But he’d kept silent because she had begged him to. And he’d suffered for his loyalty.

He could walk off and leave her in the yard every time she visited, but she wouldn’t stop trying. He meant too much to her.

If that was pathetic, so be it.

Grabbing a small black suitcase Jake had left behind, she followed him into the house. Her stomach sank like a brick in a pond when she spotted Miss Pat in the big blue corduroy recliner. The once vital, high-energy woman had shriveled to child-size in the months since her hip surgery. She looked a hundred instead of in her early seventies.

“Hi, Miss Pat.”

“Look here, Ralph, it’s little Allison. Isn’t she pretty as a picture?”

Ralph? Who was Ralph? She looked to Jake for help but he’d moved around behind his grandmother and simply shook his head at her. Allison got the message and didn’t press the subject.

She pulled a worn leather ottoman close to the recliner and plopped down. “How you feeling, Miss Pat? Can I do anything for you?”

“You sure can, sweetie. I am useless as a newborn.” Her strong voice didn’t match her body. “Get my purse over there on the table where Jacob stuck it, and then find my Sudoku book in all that mess of sacks.”

“I can do that.” Allison hopped up, amused but pleased that Miss Pat’s personality hadn’t faded like her body, a good sign she had the grit to stage a fourth quarter comeback. “Would you like for me to unpack and put everything away? I’d be pleased to do it.”

“Now, there’s a fine idea. See, Jacob.” She tilted her head back to gaze up at her grandson. “Your grandpa said something would turn up and here she is. Allison will help get this place in order. Won’t you, Allison?”

“Well, sure I will, if that’s what you need.”

“Good. This house needs a cleaning from top to bottom.”

“I can do that.” Never mind that her brothers would go ballistic to know she was in the Hamilton house with Jake. She was here for Miss Pat. Helping a friend was the Buchanon way. And yes, she admitted, she wanted to get to know Jake again. He was a memory that wouldn’t go away. “I can’t tonight, but I’ll come by tomorrow after work. How’s that sound?”

“She’s a jewel, isn’t she, Jacob? Just like in high school when she was sweet on you.”

Jake looked as if he’d swallowed a bug. Allison’s face heated, but she grinned. Miss Pat never minced words.

“Come on, Jacob,” she said, teasing him about the seldom-used name. “Help me find that puzzle book.”

Reluctantly, and with his expression shuttered, he started crinkling plastic sacks. Allison fetched the handbag, handed it off to Miss Pat and joined Jake in the hunt for that all-important puzzle book.

Each time she looked up, their eyes met. Every bit as quickly, one of them would look away. She was acutely aware of his masculine presence, his cowboy swagger, his manly, outdoors scent. Aware in a way that disturbed her thinking.

She found the thick Sudoku pad in the bottom of an ugly brown plastic washbasin.

“Here’s your puzzle book, Miss Pat. Need a pencil?”

“Got one in my purse.” Miss Pat had already extracted a cell phone and was scrolling the contacts. “No, Ralph, it’s not time for my meds.”

Jake glanced at a square wall clock hanging next to an outdated calendar, a sad reminder that no one had lived here for several months. “Another hour, Granny.”

“That’s what I told Ralph. I’ve got to text Mae at the prison and let her know I survived the ride home.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Carson Convalescence was not a prison.”

“A lot you’d know about it.” Using an index finger, she tapped a message on the phone’s keyboard. “Ah, there we go. Poor Mae. Stuck in that prison through Christmas.”

With a resigned shake of his head, Jake grabbed two suitcases and lugged them through a doorway. Allison followed with an armful of crinkling Walmart sacks.

“Do you know where everything goes?” she asked.

“No.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Allison opened the closet and took out some empty hangers and then started unpacking the mishmash of belongings.

Jake edged around her, looking uncertain and a little thunderous. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Why?” He paused in hanging up a dress to stare at her across Miss Pat’s dusty dresser.

Every nerve ending reacted to that green gaze, but Allison refused to let her jumbled feelings show. “Because Ralph said I would.”

He grinned. Finally. He had a killer grin beneath olive eyes that had driven more than one girl to doodle his name on the edge of her spiral notebook. Including Allison. But that was in high school. That was before the insanity of a football-focused town had heaped so much condemnation and hurt onto a teenage boy that he’d run away with the rodeo.