Linda Goodnight - Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” As soon as the words were out, Allison clapped a hand over her mouth. Why had she said that?

Silence descended in a dark, pulsating curtain. Three pairs of eyes aimed at her like hot, blue lasers.

She swallowed. Let reason prevail. Please Lord. “Jake’s been gone a long time. His grandma needs him now. We’ve moved on. Quinn’s...okay. We don’t even talk about the accident anymore. Can’t we let the hard feelings end here and now?”

“You were always on his side.” Sawyer’s accusation hurt.

“That’s not fair. We were all heartbroken for Quinn, even Jake. Quinn was his best friend! He’s not some kind of evil monster.”

Dawson slapped his cap against his thigh. “Tell that to Quinn.”

Sawyer nodded in agreement. “I think the brotherhood needs to pay the hotshot bull rider a little visit.”

Brady crouched to pat his dog. The shaggy mutt rolled onto his back, feet in the air. “I’m in.”

Allison exhaled a nervous, worried breath. Her doughnut lay like a rock in her belly. “Just because a man you don’t like comes to town to care for his grandmother is no reason for the four of you to go ninja grudge match.”

Brady rubbed Dawg’s belly, his eyes on Allison. “When that one man destroys my brother’s future, I’m not likely to ever forget.”

That was the problem. She came from a long line of grudge holders. Granddad Buchanon and his brother didn’t speak for the last fifteen years of their lives. All because of a dispute over a used tractor. They were supposed to be Christians, but a Buchanon could sustain anger for a very long time.

Allison saw no point in arguing with her brothers. They were as immovable as a concrete slab.

“You should let sleeping dogs lie. That’s all I have to say.” She turned and headed around the counter to her computer. “We have work to do.”

Brady followed her around the desk, Dawg at his side. His voice had calmed, but his tone held reinforced steel. “We’ll handle Jake Hamilton this time, Allison. You stay away from him.”

Allison gave him a mutinous glare. She was getting real tired of hearing that.

Chapter Four

The next morning Jake made the rounds in town. First, to the post office to redirect Granny Pat’s mail where a friendly postal clerk he remembered slightly inquired about his grandmother. Then to the bank and finally to the grocery store.

Gabriel’s Crossing was a lazy stir of business this early, sunlit morning. Townspeople wandered in and out of stores. Doors slammed. Cars and pickups puttered down a five-block main street still paved with the same bumpy red bricks put there eighty-five years ago.

A truck with a Buchanon Construction sign on the door rolled past. Jake watched it, curious and wary, though the morning sun blasted him in the eyes, so he couldn’t clearly see the man at the wheel.

Allison had been at the house again last night. Her visits stirred him up and interfered with his sleep. Her and the musty smell of sheets he should have washed before bringing Granny Pat home. A man didn’t always think of those things, especially a man who was accustomed to sleeping in his truck or cheap motels along the rodeo circuit.

He both dreaded and longed for evening when Allison would return. She’d promised Granny. Why had she done that? And why couldn’t he find the initiative to be somewhere else when she arrived?

Heaviness weighed on his shoulders like a wet saddle blanket. That’s what Gabriel’s Crossing did to him. When he was on the road or in his trailer in Stephenville, he seldom dwelled on the tragedy. He’d learned to let it go or go crazy. But here, in Gabriel’s Crossing, where memories lingered around every corner and Allison popped in unexpectedly, he thought of little else.

He felt as trapped as a bull in a head gate, unable to go forward, and he sure couldn’t go back.

Inside the quiet IGA, Jake pushed a shopping cart down the produce aisle. He wasn’t much of a cook but Granny Pat needed nourishing foods to rebuild her strength. A woman who’d cooked from scratch her whole life wouldn’t stand for frozen dinners or pizza delivery either. He added a head of lettuce, some tomatoes and a bag of carrots to the cart. Salad. He could do salad. And steak. Big, juicy T-bones with loaded baked potatoes.

He tossed in a bag of potatoes and headed for the meat. The aisles were narrow, a throwback to earlier times, but he’d not been in the mood for the supercenter this morning. Too many people. Too many opportunities to run into someone he didn’t want to see.

He wasn’t afraid to climb into the chute with an eighteen-hundred-pound bull, but he was a coward in his hometown. The knowledge aggravated him so much Jake considered reshelving the groceries and driving out to the supercenter. If he hadn’t promised to meet the home health nurse in an hour, he would have.

As it was, he threw a few more items into the cart and headed for the checkout. A flaming redhead with a snake tattoo down one arm and a dragon from neck to chin rang up the purchases. Gabriel’s Crossing had certainly changed. But then, so had he.

The redhead gave him a friendly smile. “Coach Hammonds brought in the football schedules yesterday. Want one?”

She offered a small cardboard card similar to the wallet schedules he remembered.

“I’m good.” He would not be attending any football games.

“Oh, well. They’re free.” She tossed the schedule inside one of the grocery sacks. “You must be new in town. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

Jake was not about to make a fuss over a high school football schedule even though the red-and-white piece of card stock was a reminder he didn’t want.

“Visiting my grandma.”

“That’s nice.” The register beeped as she slid lettuce across the conveyer. “Are you a real cowboy?”

“Nah, I just found the hat.” He softened the joke with a smile.

Her hand paused on the T-bone package. She giggled. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. Sorry. I ride bulls.”

Her eyes widened. “No way. That is so scary.”

If he lived to be a hundred, he’d always enjoy that kind of reaction, as if he was something special because he wasn’t afraid to get on a bull. “Only if I don’t stay on.”

Which had happened way too often this season.

Another customer pulled into the lane behind Jake. Bolstered by the friendly cashier, he turned to acknowledge the woman, and his heart tumbled.

“Allison.”

“Jake, hi.” Her wide smile did crazy things to his head. “What are you doing?”

“He’s visiting his grandma,” Tattoo Girl said as the register beeped and plastic crinkled. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Allison’s eyes danced with merriment. “He’s a sweetie, all right. Are you shopping for Miss Pat?”

“I’m not much of a shopper, but yeah, sort of. I wasn’t sure what to buy.”

“She made a list. Didn’t you bring it?”

Ah, man. The note was sticking on the refrigerator. “Forgot about it.”

Allison backed her cart out of the checkout. “I remember. Go ahead and pay out and then we’ll go again.”

He should refuse, but he couldn’t. When it came to Allison Buchanon he didn’t have a lick of sense.

Jake glanced at Tattoo Girl who hiked one shoulder and said, “Why not?”

He could think of a lot of reasons.

By the time he paid out and found Allison, an easy task in the small family-run store, she was pondering the brands of laundry soaps.

“I can’t remember if she said Tide or Cheer.”

Jake studied the detergent as though they mattered. “Pick one. I don’t care. I’ll be doing the laundry.”

“Do you know how?”