Christmas With The Cowboy

The seasoned cowboy offered a slow shake of his head. “Wish I was. I had to shave my ’stache.”

Zach ran a hand over his face and swallowed.

“Come on.” Dutch nodded to the box. “Best get it over with.”

“You first,” Zach said as he followed.

Dutch put a hand in the box, pulled out two papers and stepped aside to allow Zach to do the same. “What did you get?” Dutch asked a moment later.

“I haven’t opened them yet,” Zach returned.

“I’ll trade you. Sight unseen.”

“Not a chance.” Zach gave a nod toward Dutch’s slips of paper. “What did you get?”

The cowboy grimaced. “Porta potty duty and horse-drawn carriage driver.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Depends on which direction the wind is blowing.”

Zach stared at the seemingly innocuous papers in his own hand.

“Hurry up and open yours,” Dutch said. “Miss Emma’s coming around with her clipboard to document your assignment.”

“Then I better get moving.”

It would be a very good idea to keep his distance from both clipboards and the youngest Maxwell sibling. He was still trying to figure out what got into him earlier. Dancing with Emma. That came out of nowhere.

He was beginning to realize that if he wasn’t on guard at all times, history would be repeated. His history...of acting like a love-struck idiot when Emma was nearby.

Dodging around the buffet table, Zach headed to the other side of the room. He stooped behind greenery to examine the Christmas tree decorations, though his height made it nearly impossible to hide.

“Your envelope is near the back of the tree.”

She found him.

“I wasn’t looking for an envelope.”

“What were you doing?”

He raised a hand and decided against explaining. “How did anyone know to give me an envelope?”

“That’s a very good question,” Emma said. “Lucy’s admin, Iris, reads minds. You can thank her later.” Emma plucked a green envelope from the tree and handed it to him.

Zach shook his head. “This is really not necessary.”

“Deal with it. It’s a Christmas present.”

“Presents are for little kids.”

She scoffed. “Who told you that?”

My mother when I turned six and my parents divorced.

“It was understood at my home.”

“Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry. While the holidays aren’t simply about presents, certainly a child should experience the joy of giving and receiving.”

“It’s really a moot point, Emma. I don’t do Christmas.”

“You don’t believe in Christmas?” She offered a dramatic sigh. “Sort of makes you like Scrooge, doesn’t it?”

“Does that make you Tiny Tim?”

She cocked her head in thought. “I’d like to think of myself as one of the benevolent characters who show you the error of your ways.”

“Right. Right.” He stared at her ridiculous blinking reindeers. “For the record, I never said I don’t believe in Christmas.”

“Could you elaborate then? What is it about Christmas that you have a problem with? I mean besides presents and Christmas parties. And by the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you sure have a long list of things that you have issues with.”

“Emma, you’re sort of an overanalyzer. Anybody ever mention that?”

Her eyes rounded. “You have issues with me, too?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m a therapist. I analyze. It comes with the territory.”

“You’re a child therapist and I’m not a child.”

Emma shrugged. “The same principles apply to grown-up children.”

“You aren’t my therapist.”

Her lips formed a thin line, and Zach could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened to make you so disillusioned. And why does it seem like you’re angry with me? We used to be friends.”

“That was a long time ago. We were kids.”

She jerked back as though she’d been slapped.