Christmas at Blue Moon Ranch. Lynnette Kent

      To our military heroes and their families,

       With many thanks.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter One

      Thunderclouds piled up on the western horizon as Willa Mercado drove into Zapata, Texas, to betray her husband.

      She wasn’t contemplating actual adultery. Jamie had been dead for eighteen months. She couldn’t cheat on a dead man even if she wanted to. And she did not want to.

      But selling the Blue Moon Ranch, which had been Mercado family land for more than a century, definitely felt like betrayal.

      “Not the whole ranch,” she reminded herself for the millionth time, gripping the steering wheel tightly with both hands. “You’re only selling ten percent, a thousand acres. You’ll never miss it. Your grandchildren will never miss it.”

      Even so, the guilt continued to chafe at her as she drove, like leather boots a size too small.

      Her attorney, Juan Angelo, occupied an office in a strip mall near the fancy new Zapata County Courthouse. Willa whipped her truck into a parking space, pulled the key from the ignition and shoved the door open. Without giving herself a chance for more second thoughts, she grabbed up her purse and the folder of papers she needed, then strode toward the lawyer’s tinted glass door. A chime sounded as she entered the air-conditioned space, and two pairs of eyes fastened on her face.

      “I’m Willa Mercado,” she told the pretty blonde at the reception desk. “I have an appointment for a closing at three.”

      “Yes, Mrs. Mercado.” The young woman gave her a friendly smile. “Mr. Angelo will be free in a few minutes. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

      Willa’s hands were shaking too badly to hold a cup steady. “No, thanks.”

      Another bright, white smile. “Just have a seat, then. He’ll be with you shortly. My name is Julie—let me know if you need anything.”

      Julie got up from her desk and went through a door at the back of the room. Willa turned toward the chairs arranged around the wall near the front windows and met the gaze that had been fixed on her since she’d walked in.

      He sat at ease in the corner chair, one long, jean-clad leg stretched out in front of him. A soft chambray shirt and navy sports coat hung a little loosely from his wide shoulders. His bright blue eyes smiled as they met hers and he brought up a sexy, three-sided grin, which creased his cheeks and heated hers.

      “Willa Mercado?” His voice made her think of warm butterscotch on cold vanilla ice cream. “I’m Daniel Trent. I think we’re here on the same business.”

      The urge she’d felt to return that grin evaporated. Willa nodded curtly. “Major Trent.” She chose a chair as far from his as possible, facing the receptionist’s desk so she didn’t have to confront the man who was buying part of her soul.

      “Forgive me for not getting up,” he said, evidently oblivious to her desire to ignore him. “My bum leg’s acting up with the storm coming in.”

      Willa waved away the comment without looking at him. “Don’t worry about it.” But she couldn’t stop her gaze from sliding sideways to his legs. She didn’t see a cast or a brace. What did “bum leg” mean? Was it the one he kept bent, or the one he held straight? Just how disabled was he?

      He still didn’t take the hint. “There’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask you ever since I first heard the name of your spread. El Rancho Luna Azul—the Blue Moon Ranch. Where did the name come from?”

      Nosy, as well as dense. “The legend says that Rafael Mercado, who founded the ranch, spent his first night on the land under a blue moon.”

      Trent chuckled, a rich, deep sound. “Old Rafael must have been a romantic.”

      She glanced over, unable to suppress a smile. “He had his wife with him. Maybe she chose the name.”

      “Women being more imaginative? Maybe.” He lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Does that mean Rafael was henpecked?”

      Before she could answer, Julie reappeared. “Mrs. Mercado? Major Trent? Right this way. Mr. Angelo’s got everything ready.”

      Willa took a deep breath and stood up, then glanced Daniel Trent in time to see him pick up a cane from the floor. She couldn’t look away as he propped the stick in front of him, then held it with both hands for extra support as he came up out of the chair, using only the strength of the bent left leg. His right leg stayed straight. When he stepped forward, he swung that stiff leg out to the side in a rolling sort of gait.

      Daniel Trent caught her staring, of course, and shrugged one shoulder. “Like I said, the weather.” Leaning one-handed on the cane, he motioned her ahead of him with the other. “Shall we?”

      Without the mesmerizing smile to distract her, she could see the stress in his face, the lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, which revealed a pain he didn’t want to acknowledge.

      A twinge of sympathy lodged in Willa’s chest. “Sure.” She followed Julie down the hall. About halfway along, though, her second thoughts hit like a rampaging longhorn bull. She actually stumbled in shock.

      A warm hand closed around her elbow from behind. “Are you okay?”

      Her cheeks hot with embarrassment, she glanced back at Daniel Trent. “I’m fine. Sorry.”

      He let go easily as she pulled free. “No problem.”

      Frowning, Willa hurried to catch up with the secretary. Maybe she was making a huge mistake. When she’d put the land up for sale, she’d expected to get a man with experience, a steady and reliable neighbor she could depend on. What kind of ranching background did Daniel Trent have? How would he manage cattle if he couldn’t walk without a limp? Did he have other plans for the land that she should know about?

      At the end of the hallway, attorney Juan Angelo waited for them in a windowless conference room. “Willa, good to see you again. I’ve got your papers right here.” He pulled out a chair at one corner of the long table that filled most of the available space and scooted it in underneath her. Then he went to shake hands with Daniel Trent.

      “I’m glad to meet you, Major Trent. I’ve arranged your paperwork, too.” He glanced at the cane, and rolled back a chair on the other corner. “Have a seat.”

      Willa understood, from the way Daniel pressed his lips together, how much he disliked that accommodation to his disability. But he said, “Thanks,” and lowered himself into the chair without much trouble. Now they sat facing each other, with the attorney at the head of the table between them.

      Juan rubbed his hands together. “So, we’re here to close on the sale of a thousand acres of ranch land. Willa, you’re the seller, of course, and Daniel is the buyer. We’ve got a fair amount of paperwork to go