The Christmas Cradle

“I’ve tried, but my feet keep slipping out from under me.”

Without a word, he held out his leather-gloved hands.

She placed her cold hands in his and he pulled her to her feet. When she slid into him, he caught her, holding her steady. He hadn’t touched her in eight years and the sensation radiated a warmth that dispelled the cold. It brought back so many wonderful memories of touching her, loving her, until the warmth became a blazing flame. He hated the fact that he could remember those emotions so clearly.

“Were you trying to leave?” he asked, suddenly releasing her.

She brushed sleet from her nose. “I was trying to reach my car to get my cell phone. I need to call my parents, and the phone at the house is dead.”

At the mention of her parents, he stepped away from her. “Mommy still keeping tabs on you?” he asked, unable to disguise his sarcasm.

She stuck out her chin in defiance. “I live with my father in Dallas.”

“I don’t—” He stopped and sucked air into his lungs. “Get in your car and drive into the garage and call whoever the hell you have to.” Saying that, he strolled back to the barn.

Marisa shoved away the pain of his words and quickly drove her car into the garage. Not because he’d told her to, but because it was the sensible thing to do. She let the motor run, hoping the interior would soon warm up. She found her cell phone, but when she tried to call, there was nothing but static.

The clock on the dash told her it was seven o’clock. Dinner was at six, so by now they would be wondering where she was. Lamar Norris and his son, Adam, were dinner guests, and her father was not going to be happy she wasn’t there. He’d been trying for the past few months to arrange a date between her and Adam. She had stoically refused. She was not attracted to Adam. He didn’t wear cowboy boots or a Stetson hat or have green eyes. Every man she met she compared to Colter, and they all came up short. She’d never admitted that to herself before. She hadn’t moved on at all. She continued to wallow in the emotions of the past.

The man in question didn’t want her anywhere near him or his daughter. He’d made that very plain. Yet here she was, stuck for the night.

She wondered if her mother had arrived safely. If she had any idea where Marisa was, she’d have a fit. Cari was the only one who knew. She hoped her parents assumed she’d sought shelter from the storm. They’d be worried, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Hearing voices, she turned the motor off and climbed out. She grabbed her purse, then followed Colter, Ellie and Sooner into the house. Colter carried an armload of wood and Ellie held the door for him. Tulley was outside piling more wood on the patio.

Colter had a roaring fire going in a matter of minutes, and Marisa realized she had a problem: her clothes were dirty and wet. But she wasn’t going to mention it. She’d caused enough trouble. She huddled closer to the fire.

Tulley came through the patio doors with a couple of flashlights. “Ah, it feels better in here already.”

“Ellie, take the flashlight and see if you can find Ms. Preston some dry clothes in Becky’s room.” Colter spoke from the doorway, and she could feel his eyes on her.

“Are you wet?” Ellie asked, still wrapped in her big coat.

“Yes. I went out to my car.”

“You have to walk fast. That way you don’t get wet.”

“I’ll remember that,” she replied with a grin.

“Ellie, the clothes,” Colter said in an impatient voice.

“Okay. Okay.” Ellie took the flashlight from Tulley and headed for the stairs.

“I’ll go with you,” Marisa offered.

“There’s no need,” Colter snapped.

“She has to put them on, Daddy,” Ellie said, as if she were talking to a child.

There was a long pause. “Okay, but hurry. It’s cold up there.”

Marisa trailed Ellie and Sooner up the stairs onto a balcony overlooking the den. She could see the fire blazing and Colter and Tulley silhouetted against it. They were talking—probably about her—and she wished this night was over.

Ellie found her a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a sweatshirt, wool socks and a corduroy jacket. The jeans were a tad big in the waist, but everything else fit fine. Her cashmere coat was ruined, as were her shoes.

Ellie shone the light on her high heels. “Wow. Can I try them on?”

“Sure, but let’s take them downstairs. It’s warmer there.”

“Okay.” Ellie took off running with the heels, and Marisa followed more slowly.

In the den, Colter and Tulley had made a pallet with blankets and quilts, and there were more quilts on the sofa.

“Oh boy,” Ellie cried, falling down on the pallet, the heels forgotten. “We’re having a slumber party.”

“It’s not a party,” Colter said, his voice stern.

“Is, too,” Ellie insisted.

Colter sighed. “Tulley’s put out some cold cuts, fruit and soft drinks, so eat, and then we’ll all get some sleep.”

They sat on the floor around the coffee table. Colter ate sitting on the sofa, and she noticed a telltale grimace when he leaned over to reach for the mustard. His leg must be hurting, but he’d never admit it.

Marisa wasn’t aware of what she was eating. The fire was warm and cozy and the candlelight flickered hypnotically. She felt as if she’d slipped into another time, another place, where she should’ve been eight years ago—here with Colter… She stopped those thoughts immediately.

Tulley gathered up the leftovers. “I’ll throw this in the trash, then I’m off to my featherbed.”

Ellie ran and gave him a kiss. “’Night, Tulley.”

“’Night, shorty.”

“Tulley’s tough,” Ellie told her. “He grew up in the— What did he grow up in, Daddy?”

“The Depression.”

“Yeah, and sometimes all he had to eat was bread and water. He didn’t have any shoes, either, and he had to walk ten miles to school.”

“Tulley’s pretty impressive.” She smiled.

“He also tells impressive stories,” Colter said under his breath.

“’Night, everyone,” Tulley called, and Marisa could hear the laughter in his voice.

Colter stood. “You take the sofa.” He didn’t call her by name, but she knew he was talking to her.

“No. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You’ll sleep on the sofa.” His words were final.