Read A Cowboy For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) Online
Authors: Katherine Garbera
A Cowboy For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) (12 page)
An excerpt from
Marry Me, Cowboy
Lilian Darcy
Copyright © 2013
Jamie
MacCreadie didn’t know how to talk to women.
He was twenty-six years old. He had a mother, three sisters and an aunt he was close to, as well as a father and a brother, but apparently he still didn’t have a clue. When he was riding the adrenalin rush of a rodeo win, he thought he managed it pretty well. Or when he’d had a drink or two. Rest of the time, no, and to be honest it wasn’t a fault, as far as he was concerned. He just didn’t see the point of a whole lot of talking.
Fortunately, a lot of women seemed not to mind. They carried the dialogue forward on their own, and accepted a lazy smile or a sideways glance as his part of the conversational bargain.
Not
Tegan Ash, though.
She left him in no doubt about his shortcomings in this area. In fact, she was the one who’d first pointed it out, several months ago, in her cute, blunt Australian accent. “You know what your problem is, Jamie?”
“Well... Do I have one?” He’d stayed calm and mild, knowing it would annoy her. He liked getting a rise out of her, truth to tell. She was the same age he was, and they were like grade school kids with each other, sometimes—immature in a way he didn’t think he was with other people. He was only like this with her.
“You don’t know how to talk to women,” she’d said.
She couldn’t stand him, and she was marrying his best friend.
They were both watching Chet right now,
Tegan’s long, lean, barrel-racer body as lazy as Jamie’s, leaning on the rodeo arena rail. Somehow she still managed to smell like a shower stall, even though she’d been around horses all day. There was a sweet, nutty scent in the air, sourced in her thick tumble of blond hair. It disturbed his peace of mind in a way he didn’t like to think about, and he shifted six inches along the rail so he wouldn’t be close enough to notice it any more.
Chet was collecting his winner’s buckle for best all-around cowboy at the Nevada
Spring Creek Stampede with the announcer’s voice booming, “Che-e-et Wyndham!” from the amplifiers, while the smell of dust and dung and horse feed and hot dogs wafted all around them.
Jamie hadn’t been so lucky today, in the saddle
bronc. No buckles for him. He made an effort with Tegan. “So, wedding tomorrow.”
“You’d better show up.”
Tegan flicked him a quick look. More like a glare, with those deep dragon-green eyes.
She’d placed seventeenth in the
barrel-racing, and she wasn’t happy. Her strong chin was stuck out stubbornly, above a smooth neck that disappeared down into a bling-covered western shirt. She had a mile-wide competitive streak that matched Jamie’s own, and it amused him sometimes because you wouldn’t have guessed it to look at her. He got a kick out of the contrast.
But she’d kicked him in a different way, this time, implying he might be unreliable on Chet’s wedding day, of all days. She carried her poor opinion of him too far, and there was no call for it.
“Like I wouldn’t show,” he said on a growl. “I’m the best man.”
“Well, you don’t seem that thrilled about it.” The green eyes challenged him, and he looked quickly away.
Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled. But not for the reason she probably thought—their dislike of each other.
In fact, he didn’t know what was bothering him about Chet and
Tegan getting married. This was a super-practical green card wedding so that Tegan could stay in the country and keep on with her barrel-racing career. It wasn’t some big, hot romance between the two of them that was going to disappear in a cloud of rodeo dust after the excitement wore off.
That thing
flashed into Jamie’s mind. The thing Chet had hit him with a couple of months ago when he was drunk – well, when they were both drunk, in fact. The thing Jamie didn’t like to think about, and that Chet didn’t even seem to remember, the next morning. Jamie always made his thoughts veer away from it, as he was doing now, not naming it in his head, not assigning it a value.
It probably had nothing to do with his doubts about the wedding, anyhow.
“You got a dress and everything?” he asked Tegan, to distract himself.
“We’re going with rodeo-themed outfits. You have a western shirt you can wear, right? Black, if you can. I hate dresses.”
Chet finished collecting his buckle and began ambling toward them, wearing the grin that came from relief because he wasn’t in plaster or a neck collar or a brace, as well as from knowing he’d banked a four-figure sum today. Jamie had earned a small part of that, because they team-roped together and had just squeaked into the money.
“Still, you could wear a dress to your own wedding,” he said mildly.
“Oh, because you like to see women in skirts they can’t walk in, and stress-fracture shoes?”
“No, because it’s a
wedding.
”
She glared at him again, but this time he met the look steady and
full-on, and she was the one to chicken out first. Gotcha, Tegan, he thought, and watched as her fingers brushed in an uncertain way against her neck and some late afternoon sun etched the side of her jaw. Her cheeks had gone pink, and he couldn’t see her eyes anymore, just her lashes, which were so long and dark.
Then Chet arrived and the whole atmosphere changed. He was still buzzy from the win, and
Tegan met him more than halfway. “I can’t believe you got a buckle for today. When I saw you the first three seconds out of the chute on that bronc, I thought you’d never stick him for the full eight. As for the team-roping, that was pure dumb luck, baby! Neither of you earned it.”
She punched Chet’s arm and he gave her a jittery hug and said, “What about you, tonight? What happened?”
“I should have shaved more off that last turn. I’m so mad at myself.”
As soon as horse-talk turned technical, Chet was in his element, and he always looked happier. He said, “Yeah, you should, but you had your foot stuck out so far, if you had shaved it, you would have kicked the barrel down.”
“Okay, you’re probably right.” Tegan gave one of her grins – the goofy one that said she knew she’d stuffed up. She had several quite different ways of smiling, Jamie had noticed, depending on her state of mind. “I need to work on my stupid feet, don’t I?”
“Let’s go spend some of this.” Chet flapped his wad of cash in the air.
“Bachelor party,” Jamie said, then wished he hadn’t.
Eager for more?
Marry Me, Cowboy
is available now!
An excerpt from
Promise Me, Cowboy
CJ Carmichael
Copyright © 2013
A lot of people believe you can’t keep a secret in a small town, but that simply wasn’t true. Sage Carrigan was only twenty-nine years old and already she had two that would blow the minds of her sisters and her father and the girlfriends who thought they knew every little thing about her.
And one of those secrets was just now stepping into her chocolate shop.
Sage stepped behind the counter, needing something solid to lean on. It was really him, Dawson O’Dell, her biggest secret, her biggest mistake... her biggest weakness.
Right now O
’Dell was one of the top ranked cowboys in professional rodeo. She’d met him back in her barrel-racing days, but five years hadn’t changed him much. He still dressed like the bronc-rider he was, in Wrangler jeans and dusty boots, western shirt unbuttoned to the white T shirt beneath. His dark blonde hair was a little too long, and his green eyes a little too astute.
The second his eyes met hers she knew this was no chance encounter.
“Sage.”
He walked right up to the counter and gave her a look that made her instantly remember all the things she had once found so irresistible about this man.
“It’s been a long time,” he added.
He looked at her as if he knew her inside and out. Which he
did. Or at least
he had.
Then his gaze swept the shop, the shelves of attractively packaged chocolate. However you liked it, she had it. Dark chocolate covering silky mint creams, milk chocolate over salt-flecked toffee, chocolate shavings and chocolate mixed with nuts. Bars of dark, milk or white chocolate. Chocolate in the shape of horses, cowboy boots...or the letters from A to Z. And more.
“
Quite a departure from barrel-racing.”
“
That was kind of the point.” Finally she’d found her voice. And now that the shock of seeing him was settling down, anger began seeping into its place. “If you’re here to buy something—please do it quickly. Otherwise, it would be best if you just left.” She looked pointedly at the door, hoping she’d kept the nerves out of her voice.
He rubbed the side of his face, using his left hand. No wedding ring, she noticed. But then there hadn
’t been last time, either.
He gave her a lopsided smile.
“Sounds like you’re still a little angry
.
”
“
I’m not angry, O’Dell. Just really not interested in seeing you. Or talking to you. Or even breathing the same air as you.”
His eyebrows went up.
“That’s harsh.”
Obviously not harsh enough because he didn
’t leave. Instead he wandered to the display of chocolate letters and selected an “S.”
For Sage?
“ I owe you an apology,” he allowed.
“
Five years ago you owed me an apology. Now, you just need to walk out that door and let me go on pretending I never met you.”
He sighed like she was the dolt in the classroom who just didn
’t
get it.
“I did
try
to apologize. But you left town mighty fast.”
Less than twenty-four hours after she crashed on that second barrel, her father had shown up in Casper, Wyoming and had whisked her home. But there
had
been time for Dawson to reach her. If he’d wanted to.
That had been the last rodeo she
’d ever competed in. And it had been the last time she’d let herself get tangled up with a cowboy, too.
“
Sage, even if it is a little late, I still want to say it. I was sorry then, and I’m sorry now.”
Damn, if he didn
’t look sincere. But she hardened her heart. Facts were facts and how sorry could he be if he’d waited so long to find her?
Keeping her tone artificially sweet, she asked,
“What exactly are you sorry for? Would that be for sleeping with me even though you were married?”
He winced.
“Or for your wife catching me butt naked in your bed and then pointing a rifle in my face?”
His gaze dropped to the counter and he swallowed hard. The words—she
’d never spoken them aloud before—hung out there, embarrassing, and true, damn it. All too true.
“
Sure sounds bad, when you put it like that.”
“
They are the plain and simple facts Now, may I point you in the direction of the door one more time?” She glanced out the window, seeing scores of shoppers out on the street.
Would one of you please come in and buy some chocolate? Save me from having to say anything more to this guy?
“
I’ll be on my way soon,” he promised. “Let me pay for this first.” He put the “S” on the counter. He’d chosen milk chocolate. She preferred dark.
“
That’ll be ten dollars.”
His eyebrows went up.
“That’s a lot of money for one piece of chocolate.”
“
It’s premium quality. Made from scratch in-house. I buy the beans myself, directly from Venezuela. But if you want to put it back, go right ahead.”
“
No, no, I’ll take it.” He pulled out his wallet and counted out a five and some ones.
“
For someone special?” she couldn’t resist asking, after placing the confection in a cute paper bag and tying the handles with some copper ribbon. “Susan, maybe? Sandra? Sonya?”
“
Savannah, actually.”
She was such a fool for thinking, for even a second, that he
’d selected it for her. “Here you go.”
As she handed him the bag, she noticed him checking out her fingers. Oh my God, was he looking to see if she was married, too?
What about this Savannah girl? The man was incorrigible.
And lucky.
She couldn’t believe they hadn’t been interrupted by another customer during all this time.
“
O’Dell?” He was looking at her like she was a toy in a catalogue that he couldn’t afford. “Shouldn’t you be leaving now?”
“
Yup. Just wanted to say, it was nice to see you, Sage. You’re even prettier than I remembered.”
She couldn
’t help softening at those words, and the sincere look in his eyes as he said them. But then she remembered how she’d felt staring down the barrel of that shotgun, and her resolve was back, stronger than ever. “Goodbye, O’Dell.”
On his way out the door, he turned over the
“Open” sign in the window.
Had he
... ?
He gave her a wink and another one of his killer smiles.
“Didn’t want anyone walking in on us, did I?”
Damn it, he had.
But she still managed to get the last word. “You mean like last time?”
Eager for more?
Promise Me, Cowboy
is available now!