My Christmas Cowboy. Shelley Galloway
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louder, he said, “I’m not too banged up.”
“Define ‘too.’”
“Arm’s broken. A few ribs got busted up, but they’re mending.”
“Your poor body. You had a mess of bruises last time we saw each other.”
“Did I? I don’t remember.”
Well, that was a bit insulting. Her cheeks flushed with the memories. They’d visited a while at Bronco Bob’s when she was through with her shift, talking more with each shot of Jack. One thing led to another, that led to them getting naked on her apartment floor.
She cleared her throat and firmly instructed herself to move things forward. “I’m real sorry you got hurt.”
“Ain’t no big deal. Every once in a while, the bull gets the upper hand. It’s all part of the job.”
“Some job.”
“You know I love it. But still … I appreciate your concern.”
Jolene heard the question at the end of his statement, and she knew what it meant, too. He didn’t understand why she’d tracked him down.
They weren’t all that close anymore. And they hadn’t been close for years. Except for the drunk sex and such …
Taking care to keep her voice slow and nonchalant, she ventured, “So, I was thinking maybe I could come by and say hey. You know, see how you’re doing in person.”
There was a pause, then she heard some shuffling. “There’s no need for that …”
“Actually, I think there is. I’ve got something we need to talk about.”
“You do?” Obviously he was at a loss for words.
Just the thought of him at a loss for anything made Jolene smile. From the first day they’d met outside their houses on the way to kindergarten, that man had had confidence to spare.
Well, he wasn’t the only one. She had confidence to spare, too. That was how she’d managed to have a good life for herself. It certainly wasn’t because she’d been waiting around for cowboys to step up and take care of her.
As sweet Amanda Rose gurgled a bit in her carrier, Jolene got to business. “How about I stop on by your house later on tonight?” After all, there was no time like the present.
Yeah. Just like Trent, she was gonna take that old bull by the horns.
“Tonight?”
“That wouldn’t be a problem, would it? I won’t stay long.”
“Oh. Well, then. Seven o’clock would work.”
“Great. I’ll be seeing you in a few hours with bells on.” As she looked at her tiny Christmas tree, chock-full of red and green lights, she smiled. “With Christmas bells.”
“Hey, wait a minute, Jo …”
She didn’t miss the new hint of foreboding in his voice. “Yes?”
“I don’t want to sound like an ass or anything, but I’m not really lookin’ to start up a relationship or nothing.”
She chewed on that ball of gum in a real effort to keep her voice even. “Don’t worry, Trent. I’m not looking to start up anything, either.” After all, what they’d started was sitting right by her side, looking as cute as a june bug in August.
After they finished their goodbyes, Jolene closed the phone and stood up. It was four o’clock. She had three hours to put herself together and look like the person she wanted to be in his life—his friend. And, she needed to look like the person she already was: the mother of his child.
TRENT HUNG UP THE PHONE and stared at it, bemused. Jolene Arnold. Well, now. He hadn’t expected to hear from her.
She was a pretty thing, and always had been. Scrappy and thin. Curly blond hair, bright greenish-brown eyes, soft skin, and the kind of figure that made a man think about pinup girls. Oh, but she had a fine pair of legs. A great ass, too.
He’d seen many a man watch her backside in admiration whenever she took a walk downtown. Or when she waited tables at Bronco Bob’s.
He would know, because one night he’d been one of them.
Of course, rumor had it that she’d made many a man happy, period. Even him, much to his shame.
For that, he was ashamed. His whole family had always had a soft spot for her, ever since she’d confessed at age six that no one had ever read her a story.
After that, both his parents had looked out for her when it became evident that no one with the last name of Arnold was going to do that job.
Now his mother would be jumping out of her grave and boxing his ears well and good if she had any idea how he’d treated Jolene. He shouldn’t have given in to too much booze and acted on that very bad idea that had actually been very, very good.
But no matter what they shared—or how many things they shouldn’t have done—Trent knew Jolene was always going to claim a soft spot in his heart. He’d met her on the way to the school bus their first day of kindergarten. Trent had been tagging behind Cal Jr. and Jarred, and she’d been tagging behind him.
She’d had on a red dress and black Mary Janes and a bow in her hair. He’d thought she was as cute as a button.
As the months went by, she’d taken to coming over to their house most every afternoon. Soon, she was almost like a Riddell shadow. Even Jarred didn’t seem to mind if she sat beside him while he did his homework.
If they wanted to talk, she’d talk. If everyone was busy, she’d sit and color. She never mentioned her home, and one day when he was talking about it, asking how come they never went to her house to play, Junior had pulled him to one side and told him to shut up.
“Things aren’t good over there, Trent. That’s why she’s here.”
And his brother Jarred had gone one better. “Just be nice to her. And make sure she eats, too.”
When he was small, he’d never really understood what was wrong. By the time they were in fourth grade, he’d had a real good idea of what went on in that house. And then, just when he was thinking that he needed to do something about her situation, his dad struck oil.
They’d moved into their current big house. Months later, Jolene had moved away when her daddy couldn’t pay his bills.
He hadn’t seen her in ages until he’d spied her working at Bronco Bob’s. He’d hugged her tight and kissed her cheek when he figured out who she was.
After that, it was only natural to share a beer. And a couple of shots of Jack Daniel’s. Next thing he knew, their talking led to his truck, which led to her apartment, which led to them getting stark naked and rolling around on the floor for a while.
Hours later, when the taste of Jack had turned sour in his mouth and the reality of what they’d done had hit him hard, he’d been embarrassed.
She’d been quiet.
He’d pulled on his jeans and had left in a hurry. Promised to call.
But he’d been lying, of course. No matter what city or two-bit town he was in, he didn’t call after rolls in the sack. It wasn’t his way.
So when she started calling him, he figured it would be best to ignore those calls. After all, he wasn’t in love. And, well, he was “Trent Riddell” now. That name meant something. He was rich and he was famous.
He did not need some blonde from his past bringing him down.
But that didn’t stop the moments on the tour bus or in his hotel room when he’d remember how sweet kissing Jolene had been. How her eyes had turned all sparkly when they’d reminisced about tromping through the fields back when they were small.