A Cowboy Christmas. Линда Гуднайт
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dropped dialysis tubing into her bag and reached for the wound-care supplies. Because his treatment took several hours, she saved Greg Girard’s visit for last.
“Which cute cowboy would that be?” She knew full well which one. Caleb was seldom far from her thoughts.
Something had changed between her and Caleb that late night over french fries and soda refills. She didn’t know what it was. She wasn’t a lovesick teenager anymore, but she couldn’t deny the powerful pull between her and the cowboy.
So powerful in fact, that she wanted closure with James. Not that she and Caleb were an item, but spending time with the cowboy had cleared the fog from her brain. She wasn’t in love with James. And he certainly hadn’t been in love with her. He’d wanted her, yes, but love and respect? Not even close.
She thanked God He’d opened her eyes to that truth before it was too late.
Trina reached for the irrigation syringes. “Caleb Girard is one of the most eligible and best-looking bachelors in Refuge. All that cowboy charisma is yummy.”
Chemistry and biology. Exactly. The fact that her nerve endings tingled whenever Caleb entered the house was a simple case of attractive male and single female on the rebound. Instant appeal. At least on her part. “Even if I did have my eye on him, Caleb isn’t interested in me.”
If they so much as brushed arms in the hallway, he jumped like she’d hit him with a defibrillator.
Look, but don’t get close was the message she received.
“He’s not interested in anyone from what I’ve noticed. And trust me, I’ve noticed. He rarely dates.”
Kristen had noticed, too.
“True. He’s not real social. Kind of shy, I think. Plus, running a ranch is hard, endless work. With his dad unable to contribute as much as he used to, all the chores fall on Caleb’s shoulders.”
Caleb would tromp into the house, ice frozen on his hair or soaking wet from rain, dutifully receive his dialysis lesson while he warmed up, talk a bit about the cows or horses or a red fox he’d seen and then head back out into the December cold.
She looked forward to those brief conversations as well as to the evenings they spent recruiting donors. They made a good team.
“Sounds like you’re admiring someone,” Trina said in a singsong voice, teasing.
“I do admire him. You should see him with his dad. It’s kind of heartrending, but tender and sweet, too. He’s desperate to make Greg well, as if he has that power.”
“Poor guy. Must be tough.”
“When we speak to groups about kidney donation, he visibly shakes. He hates being the center of attention, but he gets up there anyway.” And looked mighty fine doing it. A white shirt, well-pressed jeans and that black cowboy hat on a handsome man could give any woman cardiac arrhythmia.
Trina slipped a stack of medical forms onto a clipboard. “Sounds like a catch to me. Caring, thoughtful guy. Easy on the eyes. Kind of lonely and shy. You’d be doing him a favor to ask him out.”
Kristen shook her head and forced out a laugh as she slipped on her coat. Caleb was a catch. But, after the fiasco with James, she’d stick with friendship for now.
Friendship was less risky.
* * *
Kristen was here.
Caleb’s belly lifted and dropped like it did when he took a hill too fast in his pickup truck.
Cloaked to the ears in the white quilted coat with a green plaid scarf around her neck, the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind walked into his house, toting a pot of red flowers and a white paper sack.
She couldn’t possibly know about today. Unless Pops had told her. “What’s the occasion?”
“Christmas. These are poinsettias.” She handed him the flowers and the sack and began unwinding her scarf. “And some good news.”
His pulse jumped. “A donor?”
“Not yet, but we’re getting closer.” She took the white sack from him and went into the kitchen. That was Kristen, comfortable with people in a way he wasn’t. “The donation center says twenty-seven people have signed up to be tested for Greg since we started our awareness campaign.”
She looked so right in his house, he had the completely inappropriate longing to pull her close, the way a husband would greet a wife.
Instead, he shoved the idea as far back in his head as it would go—which wasn’t far enough—and set the potted plant on the bar between them. It was pretty. Brightened up the place. Like she did.
“Hear that, Pops?” he called toward the back of the house.
“Sure did.” Pops exited the laundry room, a basket in his arms. Caleb took it. Pops scowled but didn’t argue.
“I’m praying one of them is right for you,” Kristen said.
“Hard as it is to covet another man’s property,” Pops said, “I’m praying with you.”
Talk of prayer made Caleb fidgety. He’d tried it lately. Hadn’t done much good.
He put the thought on pause and frowned. Could God be responsible for the twenty-seven sign-ups?
Kristen removed a plate from the cabinet and arranged some Christmas cookies and perky gingerbread men in a pretty circle. He and Pops never got that fancy. They ate right out of the sack.
“You brought cookies?” he asked.
“I thought a celebration was in order.”
“It sure is.” Pops shot him a grin.
“Pops,” Caleb warned with a shake of his head.
The ornery old cowboy chuckled. “Oh, quit bellyaching. Every man gets older once a year. This little lady brought you flowers and cookies. Enjoy ’em.”
Caleb was watching Kristen’s face and saw when she caught on to Pops’s not-so-subtle hints.
“Today is your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her eyes lit up like candles on a cake. She circled the end of the bar and threw her arms around him. “Happy birthday!”
She smelled like sugar cookies and felt so right in his arms, he wanted to stand there for an hour. Made a man want to have a birthday every day, though his was nothing much to celebrate.
The snotty little imp in his head piped up. Kristen was taken. A doctor boyfriend. She was a people person, a hugger. Hugging meant exactly nothing.
His sneaky hands slid around her anyway. When the moment ended, he wanted to tell her it was the best birthday gift of his life. But that might hurt Pops’s feelings and make Kristen uncomfortable. Like Caleb was now.
“If I’d known, I’d have brought a birthday cake instead.” Her green eyes sparkled like jewels in sunlight. That was Kristen, sunny and warm on a cold, dark day.
“Aw, it’s no big deal. Cookies are great.”
“Of course it’s a big deal. At my house, Mom still bakes a cake and invites the whole family.” She roofed her hands over her head. “Then she makes us all wear those ridiculous pointed hats and leis. And the birthday boy or girl wears this huge flashing button that says, ‘Hug me. It’s my birthday.’”
Her family birthdays sounded amazing. He couldn’t fathom that, either.
Pops, whose eyes sparkled as much as Kristen’s, couldn’t let well enough alone. “Us old bachelors don’t know much about birthday partying. So what say you stick around after my date with R2-D2 and show us how it’s done?”
“Pops, Kristen’s worked all day.”
“Which