Christmas With The Cowboy

“Let me worry about my knee.”

“But...”

Zach shook his head. “You’re a substitute mother to sixty some kids at Big Heart Ranch. That’s plenty, don’t you think? Besides, I don’t need a momma.”

“I... I...” What was he saying? Didn’t he realize that she could not concentrate on the conversation while her hand was enveloped in his?

A long silence stretched between them as Emma worked hard not to tangle her feet and fall on her face.

When Lucy walked past the dance floor and her gaze connected with Emma’s, her sister stopped and did a double take.

“Lucy sure looks, um, ripe,” Zach said. “When’s she due?”

“Christmas.”

“Christmas. Everything seems to revolve around Christmas.”

“Only for eight weeks of the year.”

“Only eight weeks,” he murmured.

Emma turned her head and stared at her hand in his. His hand was so large, yet hers seemed to fit perfectly.

“This is quite the crowd,” he observed.

“This is nothing. Wait until Thanksgiving.”

“Was I supposed to bring a present?” Zach asked with a nod toward the guests who walked past with gifts tucked under their arms.

“They’re fun white elephant exchanges. I brought extras.”

He glanced toward the banquet room filling up with people. “Tell me about this Christmas party.”

She shrugged. “It’s a party. Eat food, make merry. Mingle.”

“I don’t—”

“Mingle,” she finished for him. “Somehow I thought you might say that.” Emma sighed. “But you know Dutch and Tripp and Travis. Chat with them.”

“Travis has his wife.” He raised his brows. “And it looks like they found the mistletoe.”

She turned in Zach’s arms to see Travis kissing his new bride beneath the mistletoe that he had hung in the doorway of the banquet room.

“Young love,” Emma said. “You know how it is.”

“Can’t say that I do.” He glanced around. “Looks like the single men are outnumbered around here.”

“That’s true. Tonight it’s just you, Tripp and Dutch.”

“No dates invited?”

“Dutch’s sweetheart is the ranch physician, General Rue Butterfield. Rue is out of town at the moment with a family emergency.”

“And Tripp? What’s his story?”

“Tripp? Oh, he’d never bring a date. He’s even more private than you are.”

“Am I private?”

“As locked up as a clam. If you want to pass the time, ask Dutch to tell you about the John Wayne impersonator he saw in Tulsa last week. By the time he finishes with his tall tale, dinner will be served, then we’ll get down to business.”

“What business is that?”

“The Holiday Roundup.”

The song ended and Emma stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Relief and disappointment crowded her at the same time.

“The Holiday Roundup,” he repeated. Zach rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It seems apparent that I showed up at Big Heart Ranch at the wrong time of year.”

“Or maybe it’s the right time, and you just don’t know it yet.”

When his dark eyes met hers, Emma’s heart stopped and everything seemed to be in slow motion as the words she had just uttered echoed through her while Zach Norman turned away.

Maybe it was the right time, and she just didn’t know it yet.

* * *

Zach downed his eggnog and turned to Dutch. “We’re doing what?”

Around them, holiday music continued to play as the party wound down. The old wrangler had just dashed his high hopes of slipping out of the party soon. Zach was certain he had a rash over most of him from being social tonight. He didn’t do social, and yet here he was.

Dutch grabbed the last broken cookies from a tray that only a few hours ago overflowed with Christmas cutout cookies and popped them into his mouth with a loud smack of his lips. “I’m telling you, Miss Emma makes the best cookies. Her chocolate muffins would take a blue ribbon anywhere.”

“Dutch, quit eating and answer me.”

“I told you. It’s chore-pickin’ time.” He nodded to the large box wrapped like a Christmas package that sat at the end of the banquet table.

“Miss Lucy and Miss Emma divide up the chores for the Holiday Roundup and you pick yours from that big box there. Everyone gets two.”

“I never heard of anything so unorganized. This is worse than being voluntarily told in the navy.”

“The gals say it keeps the program fresh. New ideas and perspectives and everyone owns the event.”

Zach released a breath. “I can guarantee there is nothing that resembles my skill set in that box.”

“Don’t matter. It’s the spirit of the season that counts. Making memories. Having fun.” Dutch’s gaze scanned the room. “Did I ever tell you how I was Mary in the living nativity one year?”

“Now you’re messing with me.”