Shannon Taylor Vannatter - A Texas Holiday Reunion

“To Felicity Birmingham. But she...” Guilt jabbed him in the gut, the way it always did when he was forced to talk about her.

“That’s right. Sorry to hear it.” Chase lifted one end of the sofa as Colson grabbed the other and backed into the great room.

Leaving Colson to ponder what Chase had heard about Felicity’s death, exactly.

They deposited the bulky cowhide piece against one wall and Landry directed them on placement. Chase’s smile turned sappy at his wife’s nearness.

Oh, brother. How long would their bliss last?

A dozen more trips and the great room was put back together.

“Thanks for all your help.” Landry flashed him a grin.

“No problem.” Colson glanced at Resa. “If we’re done here, I’ll head to the house.”

She ignored him.

“Um, I’m not sure if that’s where Dad went.” And Annette had mentioned taking Cheyenne out for ice cream. “I might need a key.”

“Oh, of course.” Resa grabbed her purse from a small closet, dug around in it and handed him the key.

Their fingers grazed. His pulse kicked up a notch. And just for a moment, he wished she’d look at him the way Landry did Chase. But Colson had ruined that possibility six years ago and he didn’t need to fix it, because women couldn’t be trusted. Even if a few stuck around, it wasn’t worth taking the chance. Especially with his daughter in the equation.

For the next three weeks, he had to help Resa with the ranch. Buy livestock, stay on top of upkeep and make sure everything ran smoothly. But that was all. He couldn’t let himself get involved with her on a personal level. His heart was reserved for Cheyenne. And after what he’d done to Felicity, he had no right to anything more.

* * *

As the door shut behind Colson, Resa relaxed.

“Do tell.” Landry was on to her.

Resa shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You might as well spill.” Devree sealed the last box of silk flowers with a screech from the strapping tape dispenser. “My sister won’t leave you alone until you do.”

“She’s right.” Chase pecked his wife on the cheek. “I’m off to do something manly to make up for all this wedding fluff.”

“You know you love it.” Landry shot him a wink.

“No. But I love you.” He blew her a kiss and exited.

Maybe Landry would go all to mush and forget about Colson.

“So?”

Wishful thinking. “His dad is my parents’ business partner. We went to school together. He was a year ahead of me.”

“Is he the friend you mentioned once?”

Why did Landry have to have such a good memory? “We were friends once.”

“More than friends?”

“I thought we were. But it turned out he wasn’t who I thought he was.”

“Really? He seemed so nice.”

“Yeah. I thought so, too. But I learned my lesson.” After he left third-degree burns on her heart.

“Hmm.” Landry huffed. “I take it back. I don’t like him at all. But you’ll have to tell me why I don’t like him someday.”

“Trust me. Not everyone is destined for happily-ever-after.” Devree rolled her eyes.

“Says the hardened wedding planner.” Landry tsked as if there was no hope for her sister.

“I can’t change the facts.” Devree dragged the tape across a box of twinkle lights with another screech. “I bet out of all the weddings I’ve done, only a dozen couples, maybe less, are still married.”

“That doesn’t mean you should give up.”

“It means why bother?” Resa held her hand up for a high five and Devree slapped it.

“Well, while you two spend your lonely evening bemoaning the state of happily-ever-afters, I have a wonderful husband to cuddle up to.” Landry smirked.

The very thing Resa had once dreamed of. But her dream had died. A slow, painful, tormented death. And now she was stuck with Mr. Dream Killer himself.

“That’s it.” Landry stashed the last of the boxes in the closet.

“The ceremony was perfect and I never could have done it without you, Devree.” Resa hugged Landry, then crossed the foyer. “I’ll see you soon.”

The waning sun greeted her as she stepped outside. She was bone tired. The chore of keeping this day secret for months, while contacting her parents’ friends and relatives without letting Mom find out, had been daunting.

For the next three weeks, she’d have her hands full overseeing the store and the ranch, plus her designs. Dealing with Colson only added to her chores. If someone had told her this morning that she’d spend half her day with him and end up with him as a neighbor at home and work, she’d have laughed. And possibly cried.

Surely once Dad returned, he’d agree to cut Colson loose and let Mac stay until Juan could come back. Maybe she’d move her work to the store in the meantime.

But she’d tried that fresh out of college. The windowless office in the back of the store sapped all her creativity. While whinnies, stamping of hooves and the low murmur of ranch hands stoked her productivity.

She’d just have to pull up her big-girl boots and ignore his presence.

* * *

Most people moaned and groaned through Mondays. But Resa saw the first workday of each week as a new opportunity, filled with possibilities. Except today, she had to avoid Colson.

Nearing the barn, she darted to her office at the side door. A bright sunny morning. Nickers and whinnies, a freshly weaned calf bawling. The smells of hay and animals. No sign of the cowboy.

Tense muscles relaxed as she unlocked her office door, flipped the light switch and stashed her purse. Another flip of a switch brought to life the Christmas tree and the string of multicolored twinkle lights framing her picture window.

Blueprints for a massive cowhide-lined desk were where she’d left them on her drafting table. A desk for Colson’s father-in-law. Or would that be former father-in-law now? When the order came in, she’d never imagined Colson would be here. At her ranch. She picked up her pencil, adjusted her T-square ruler and shaded along a few lines.

A new sound, like a child’s giggle, interrupted her. She looked out the window. A little girl stood on the bottom rail of the fence, wearing boots and a hat almost as big as she was. Not an adult in sight. A daughter of one of the hands? Resa didn’t mind employees bringing their kids to the ranch, but not leaving them alone. A child could get hurt or lost.

Resa stood, hurried for the back door, pushed it open. And nearly whacked Colson with it.

“Whoa, what’s your hurry?” He stepped aside.

“That child. No one’s watching her?”

“Hello?” He raised his hands, palms up.

“Oh. Well, you should stick close to her. She’s so little, she could slip through the fence before you could get to her.”

The little girl paid them no attention, her gaze transfixed on the mare heavy with her colt in the barn lot.

“But she won’t.” He crossed his arms, leaned against the barn, the sole of one booted foot planted against it like a plywood cowboy silhouette. “She’s been raised on a ranch her entire five years of life. She knows that under no uncertain terms is she supposed to put one toe inside any fence.”

“Who did she come here with?”

“Me. She’s my daughter—Cheyenne.”

Her gaze swung to his.

A mixture of emotions battled it out in his green eyes—regret maybe. Pride definitely.

Everything shifted into focus, made sense. Five years old.

That spring he came to work for her father. Almost six years ago. Realizing he wasn’t as wild as he’d been in high school. Becoming friends. Inviting him to church. Watching him commit his life to Christ. Falling for him. Six weeks of sweet, fairy-tale romance.