Susan Crosby - An Early Christmas Gift

“Evenin’, Jen,” he said as Annie walked toward the food truck.

“Win.” She was gathering the empty five-gallon containers that had held the bouquets of flowers, then was pouring all the water into one bucket. They’d sold everything they’d brought.

“Want me to dump that?” he asked.

“Sure. Thanks.”

She had tipped the three tables on their sides and was folding the legs when he got back, and they stacked them then started on the canopy, even though Mitch had arrived, joining Annie.

“Son.”

Win froze for a second when he heard his father’s voice. “Hey, Dad. You remember Jenny Ryder?”

“’Course.”

“Hi, Mr. Morgan,” she said.

“Could I speak to you?” Shep Morgan asked his son.

“Kinda busy right now.”

“I can wait.” He wandered away, so he wouldn’t have to make small talk, Win figured.

Mitch backed the truck up, bringing it close. For the next few minutes Mitch, Win and Jenny loaded the supplies, not letting Annie lift anything. Knowing his father watched, Win didn’t make eye contact with Jenny for longer than a second at a time.

He and Mitch shook hands, then they drove off.

His good mood shattered, Win walked to where his father stood, leaning against a tree trunk in the now empty park.

“Consortin’ with the enemy, son?”

“In case you didn’t notice, Annie Ryder’s seven months pregnant. She shouldn’t be hefting stuff around.”

“You takin’ a liking to that gal?”

“I’ve come to respect Annie a lot, yes.”

“I meant the Ryder girl.”

“The Ryders may be your enemy, but they’re not mine. If you want to continue this line of interrogation, we can do it at home, Dad.” He turned his back on his father, not wanting anyone to observe them arguing in public. “Tomorrow.”

His father didn’t stop him, but Win figured he was pretty mad at him for walking away. Win was so accustomed to the perpetually angry man that it had little impact on him anymore. His father had never even given him a job title. Win couldn’t be called the foreman, because it would mean taking the job from the man who’d held that position for thirty years. The term herdsman was almost interchangeable with foreman, and Win could be called that, which would go a long way toward making him feel as if he had a real place at Morgan Ranch.

Shep wasn’t inclined to do that, either.

Life had been hard enough while Win had been growing up, but since his mother died, he and his father only butted heads, rarely agreeing on anything, especially when it came to updating their ranching practices to more modern ways. Win would like to go organic and humane like the Ryders, but it would mean a complete change in how they did business, and change wasn’t good for Shep Morgan.

Win wasn’t ready to go home. It was still light out, maybe an hour until sunset, so he headed to the grove of trees by the river, his and Jen’s secret place. He parked at the end of the dirt road, as close to the trees as he could, then he hiked to the river and sat on a boulder, remembering.

They’d been so young that summer. When he’d left for college she was fourteen, so there hadn’t been anything between them. He’d barely been aware of her, just catching glimpses of her at town events, but he hadn’t looked twice.

It was different when he’d finally come home for good. He’d spotted her the first day, having lunch at the diner with two girlfriends. Her laugh had gotten to him first as he sat at the counter eating a hamburger and fries. He could easily hear their conversation, which hopped from one subject to the next—boys and movie stars and an upcoming rodeo. Her friends were trying to talk her into competing for rodeo queen, but she wasn’t having it. He’d thought she could’ve won, hands down.

At one point she’d made eye contact, her smile wavering for a few seconds before she flashed him a sassy grin, tossing her long, auburn hair over her shoulders. As much as she appealed, he wasn’t about to get caught up in her spell, not even for just a flirtatious second. He’d concentrated on his burger again.

Then her girlfriends left and she strolled up to the counter and leaned an elbow near him.

“I’m so sorry about your mom, Win,” she said, as if they’d been old friends forever, her blue gaze meeting his directly.

Even though his mother had died on Christmas, it still felt new and raw. He’d kept a lid on his emotions for months, yet one sentence of sympathy from this teenager had his throat closing. “Thanks.”

She didn’t leave, didn’t even move. Finally she said, “Hey, you want to go to the river and talk?”

He had no interest in talking, but... “About what?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“I won’t be your rebellion, little girl.”

She smiled, slow and sure, as if she knew how attracted he was, and that she could get him to turn somersaults just by asking. “I’m eighteen,” she said, “and all grown up, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh, he’d noticed all right. Most girls looked good in their Wranglers, but she took it up a notch. Her rear was round and high, her legs long. And the white T-shirt she wore clung to grown-up breasts.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I apologize, Win. I’m not trying to tease you. Actually, I was thinking you looked like you needed someone to talk to, a friendly ear. I figure things are pretty hard at your place now without your mom.”

“Why would I confide in you?”

“I’m probably the safest person around, don’t you think? I couldn’t tell anyone about it, since we can’t be seen together. I promise it’d be just between you and me.”

He thought about it for a few long seconds. “You know where the grove sits by the river, ’bout four miles from town?”

“I do.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.” She left first.

Win followed a couple minutes later, not really expecting her to show up, thinking she’d only been playing a game with him, but she was there.

They’d talked for hours, about anything and everything. She’d cried for his loss, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight. It’d been his undoing. He tried not to shed any tears in front of her, but she forced him to, made him give in, then ultimately gave him something else to think about when she kissed him.

She looked stunned for a minute, then came back for more. He carried her to his truck and did his best to keep the experience tender for her. They met several times a week after that....

Then she got pregnant, and they’d married in secret—

Win shoved himself away from the boulder and the memories. He got into his truck and headed home, then straight for the bunkhouse. He’d told his father they could talk tomorrow.

Tomorrow would come too soon as it was.

* * *

“I was surprised to see Win in the booth with you,” Mitch said as they drove back to The Barn Yard to unload the supplies.

“People are particularly kind to pregnant women,” Annie said. “And we do business regularly, you know. I like him.”

Mitch glanced past his wife to his sister. “He seems to like you, Jen. At least, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

She sniffed. “I have no control over Win Morgan’s eyes.”

Mitch laughed. “What’s that line about a woman protesting too much?”

“No placards being held up here.”

He laid a hand on his wife’s thigh, a small gesture that said so much. Jenny yearned for that kind of connection. She crossed her arms and stared at the passing scenery, feeling achingly alone, especially when Annie moved his hand to her belly and held tight.

“I think we’ve got a soccer player in there,” Mitch said.