Linda Warren - The Texan's Christmas

“Wait.” Kid held up a hand. “I’d like to talk about oil leases.”

“What?” Lucky eased back into her chair.

“Shilah Oil would like to lease your land for oil and gas.”

She wanted to laugh and without realizing it, she did. She had something Kid wanted. This was going to be fun.

“No,” she replied without having to think about it.

“Come on, Lucky. This could be good for you.” He glanced around. “Maybe you could get out of this beer joint.”

That did it.

“The land is not for lease.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not leasing to a Hardin.”

He drew back as if she’d hit him. “Come on, Lucky.”

Come on, Lucky. That and his I-live-for-you smile were his trademarks. Come on, Lucky. He’d kiss her cheek. Come on, Lucky. He’d stroke her hair. Come on, Lucky. And she’d do anything he wanted.

But not anymore.

Dear Reader,

The Texan’s Christmas is the last book in The Hardin Boys miniseries. I’ve lived with these characters for almost two years and it’s sad to let them go, but I’m going to end the series with a bang—with tears and laughter. The best way!

If you’ve read the other two books, The Texan’s Secret and The Texan’s Bride, you’re well acquainted with Cisco “Kid” Hardin, the middle brother. If you haven’t, that’s okay. You’ll still love Kid, the charmer, the ladies’ man. He has a devil-may-care attitude and nothing in life fazes him much. Until he has to face his past—his first love, Lucinda “Lucky” Littlefield.

You probably know someone who has the gift of gab. Who never meets a stranger. Who’s the life of the party and always makes you laugh. My younger brother, Paul, is like that. He keeps everyone in stitches at family gatherings and is fun to be around.

Kid Hardin has some of those traits, and it was a challenge to see what it would take to make him serious. Kid and Lucky have a love story that has kept me on the edge of my seat and I hope you enjoy these characters as much as I’ve enjoyed creating them. So it’s goodbye to the Hardins, but I hope they live on in your mind.

With love and thanks,

Linda Warren

P.S.—It’s always a pleasure to hear from readers. You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com or write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805. Visit my website at www.lindawarren.net

or www.facebook.com/authorlindawarren. I will answer your letters as soon as I can.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RITA ®Award-nominated and award-winning author Linda Warren has written thirty books for Harlequin, including stories for the Superromance, American Romance and Everlasting Love series. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a farm/ranch in Texas, she writes about sexy heroes, feisty heroines and broken families with an emotional punch, all set against the backdrop of Texas. When she’s not writing or at the mall, she’s sitting on her patio with her husband watching the wildlife and plotting her next book. Visit her website at www.LindaWarren.net.

I dedicate this book to my brother,

Paul William—you’ll always be the life of the party.

I would like to thank all the patient and

understanding people who answered my endless

questions about the oil industry, trains and cattle

rustling. All errors are strictly mine.

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 SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

LUCINDA LITTLEFIELD.

The name evoked a torrent of high school memories—heavenly blue eyes, kissing in the bleachers, making out in his old pickup…and a whole lot of regret.

Cisco Hardin shifted restlessly in his truck as he sped down the road in High Cotton, Texas. Everyone in school had called her Lucky, and they’d dubbed him Kid. Somehow he knew they’d meet again, but he never dreamed it would be like this.

In his mind their eyes would lock across a crowded room. She’d smile that smile that turned him inside out and all the promises he’d broken would be forgotten. Chickens wearing high heels might be a more likely scenario, he mused. Lucky wasn’t going to forget what he’d done. It was time to roll the dice and see if twenty years had mellowed the cockles of Lucky’s heart.

As he pulled into the parking area of the one beer joint in the small town, his cell jangled to the tune of “Ain’t Going Down (’Til the Sun Comes Up).” Turning off the ignition, he reached for the phone on his belt.

“Hey, Cadde.” His brother was the CEO of Shilah Oil. Kid and Chance, their other brother, had a vested interest in the company, too. The Hardin boys were in the oil business.

“Did you get Lucky to sign the lease?” Cadde always came straight to the point.

“I just reached The Joint.”

“What took so long?”

“Well—” he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel “—I wanted to see Aunt Etta and Uncle Rufus and then I went to Chance’s, but the baby was asleep so I stopped at your house to play with Jacob. He’s crawling everywhere and pulling up to his feet by himself.”

“He’ll be walking soon. Jessie and I can hardly keep up with him.” There was a long sigh. “Kid, you’re stalling.”

“Maybe.” He had to admit this wasn’t easy for him.

“You were only a boy when you promised to call and come back after you left for Lubbock and Texas Tech, but you didn’t. That was years ago. You’ve both moved on.”

“I know. I can’t figure out what she’s doing in High Cotton running her dad’s bar.”

“Don’t worry about her life, just get the lease signed. I’ve already purchased our drilling contract from Anadarko and it didn’t come cheap. Since Bud transferred the land and mineral rights to Lucky, we need her fifty acres to complete the desired acreage to drill the oil well. We have a personal stake in this because our property left to us by our parents is a major part of the tract.”

“I’m well aware of that, big brother.”

“Do you want me to talk to Lucky?”

“Hell, no. Leasing is my department and I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll have to get out of your truck to do that.”

Kid looked around. “Are you watching me?”

There was a laugh on the other end. “No, but I know you and, believe me, this is a first—Kid Hardin afraid to talk to a woman.”

“Lucky’s not any woman.”

“You might want to analyze that statement and why this is so hard for you.”

He’d rather not. “You always said my past was going to come back and haunt me. I can feel the ol’ Ghostbusters chomping at my butt.”

“If you don’t want to see her, Chance or I will do it.”

“Like hell.”

“Then get out of your truck.”

Kid clicked off before the curse words could leave his mouth. Grabbing his hat from the passenger’s seat, he got out. The parking lot was graveled as it had been years ago and it crunched beneath his boots like corn-flakes. The weatherworn siding and tin roof with the rusty spots were the same, too. An iron rail ran across the front. Bud had put it up after a drunk had plowed through his building one night. “The Beer Joint” blinked from a neon sign. Bud hadn’t used much creativity in naming the place. Besides Kid’s truck, three more were nosed up to the rail and it was only five o’clock on a hot September afternoon.