A Cowboy's Christmas Wedding. Pamela Britton
arriving tomorrow—”
“Don’t listen to her, Dad. She’s trying to be polite, but we don’t have time for that. Trent and Alana’s wedding is in two weeks.”
And somewhere in there was Christmas, as Rana had mentioned. Come to think of it, where were all the Christmas decorations? Not so much as a jingle bell in sight.
“I can take you to town in an hour.”
“Perfect!” Rana couldn’t contain her excitement. “I’ll stay here and research outdoor weddings. Maybe someone can rent us a portable building or something.”
Saedra spun to face the little girl. “You’re not going with us?” She was certain her panic showed on her face.
“Nah. I have some homework to do. But I stay here alone all the time. No need to look so worried.”
Worried was not the word. Dismayed. Maybe even nauseous.
“In fact, I think I’ll get started on that homework now.” Rana reached for a bowl of apples sitting on a rose-colored countertop. “I’ll see you after.”
Only if Saedra didn’t run screaming for the hills.
* * *
NOT EVEN AN hour had passed and already she’d interfered with his life.
Relax, Cabe, it’s not like she doesn’t have a good reason.
Cabe tried to remind himself of that fact as he pulled up in front of his home. His daughter had had a point earlier. The sooner they got the major details of Alana’s wedding done, the sooner Saedra would be out of his hair. He was certain the woman could manage the minor details on her own.
He hoped.
She came bounding down the steps of his house like a teenager and looking younger than her years in her off-white jacket and a matching knit hat that hugged the contours of her face. The sun had already started to set, golden rays of light catching the twin edges of her pigtails and setting them afire. Pigtails. It should look stupid on someone her age, but on Saedra Robbins, it only made her look sexy. Just the sight of her sent a jolt through his insides, one that left him feeling flushed and edgy and out of sorts.
She jerked on the door handle, the loss in cabin pressure popping his ears, the smell of her assaulting his senses an instant later. Vanilla and cinnamon.
She didn’t even bother to greet him. “You don’t have to do this.”
It must have been his own internal grumpiness that made him say, “I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.”
She’d slipped into the interior of the ranch’s black truck easily, the cabin pressure lowering once again as she slammed the door closed, that space between them suddenly smelling entirely too good for his peace of mind.
“You’re just saying that to be kind.”
Yes, he was, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Rana will understand if we tell her you changed your mind.”
“Actually, I think my daughter will make my life miserable if I don’t do exactly as she asks.”
She frowned. He faced ahead, squinting his eyes against the sunlight on the truck’s hood.
“Okay, fine.”
He put the truck in gear, trying not to spin the tires as they set off down the drive.
“What’s on your list of things to do?”
He could sense her staring at him. He refused to look at her because if he did, he might start thinking those crazy thoughts again, the ones that made his body do things it shouldn’t be doing.
You’re hard up, buddy.
Maybe he was. That had to be the reason he clenched the steering wheel so hard. Why he refused to look at her. Why he tried not to even breathe deeply. It sure as hell had nothing to do with wanting to go to bed with the woman. She’d be the last woman on earth he’d want to do that with, for myriad reasons. They were polar opposites in personality. He liked things nice and quiet, had worked hard to carve out a routine life that revolved around his ranch and catering to guests. She was used to living life in the limelight. And next year she was making a bid for the National Finals Rodeo on her barrel-racing horse....
Nope. Never in a million years would he be interested in a woman like Saedra Robbins.
“Speaking of the wedding, why don’t you have any Christmas decorations up?”
He almost slammed on the brakes. They were at the end of his driveway.
“Did you not have the time because of the NFR?”
He gripped the steering wheel even harder, probably leaving dents, his knuckles screaming in protest.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Fine.” He had to force the word past his lips.
“You look sort of...ill.”
Deep breath. “We don’t decorate the house.”
Cabe turned left, out of his driveway, but he could still feel her staring at him, still tell by the way she shifted in her seat that the words surprised her.
“Why not?”
He scanned the road left and right, the waning sunlight causing him to have to lower the brim of his hat so he could see better. “We just don’t.”
But he knew the moment he said the words that they’d only leave her more curious. He wasn’t exactly holding true to his vow to appear more friendly, now, was he?
“Is it a religious thing?”
“No.”
“Okay, good, because if it’s just a timing thing, I can help. Now would be a really good time to do it, too, you know, before things get too crazy with the wedding.”
“No.”
“No to doing it now? Or no to decorating entirely?”
“I don’t want the house decorated.”
Silence. He could sense her surprise. Off in the distance he noticed storm clouds, and Cabe mentally cursed under his breath. In all the hullabaloo surrounding her arrival he hadn’t bothered to check the weather forecast. If it was going to snow, that meant he needed to prepare, but by the time he returned from town, it’d be pitch-black outside.
She still hadn’t spoken and he knew he’d probably been too harsh. But, damn it, she needed to get it through her head that Christmas was not a good time of year. Not since...
He swallowed.
Kimberly.
“Your wife and brother died around this time of year, didn’t they?”
It felt like he’d been sucker punched. As if she’d probed an old wound that sent spasms of pain through his insides. Physical pain.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He stared straight ahead still, but he spotted movement, nearly gasped when he felt her hand on his thigh a moment later.
“Cabe, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean... I wasn’t trying to...”
What? Be nosy? No. She wasn’t trying to be that. He knew that, but he still wanted to lash out at her, had to take deep breaths to keep from saying something he knew he might regret later.
“If it helps, I know what you’re going through.”
Oh, yeah? Had she lost a wife and a brother on the same day? Had she lost the mother of her only child? Her best friend?
“Dustin died just before the NFR and so, for me, Thanksgiving is hell.”
Dustin. Trent’s best friend. And hers, too, from the sound of it.