Cathy Thacker - A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe

Ally rarely said what she was really thinking. She worked even harder to conceal what she was feeling.

Hank respected the need for privacy. He rarely shared his most intimate thoughts, either. But there were times, like now, when he felt she would be a lot better off if she confided in someone. To his knowledge, she never did, but remained determined to prove herself to everyone who crossed her path.

She wanted everyone to know that she was smarter, better, tougher.

That she didn’t need anyone.

And that she couldn’t wait to hightail it out of her hometown of Laramie, Texas.

Which was, Hank noted ironically, where he’d finally come back to stay.

Having completed her brief, wordless tour, Ally swung around to face him. Up close, he could see the shadows beneath her eyes. The brief flicker of uncertainty and vulnerability in her expression.

She wasn’t as over her grief as she wanted him to think.

He understood that, too.

The need to move on, even when moving on felt impossible.

“I’m putting the ranch up for sale on December 24,” she said, leaning against the desk in the study.

Hank had figured this was coming. It was why he’d offered to take care of the place in her absence.

He’d wanted first dibs when it came time for her to let go of the four thousand acres she had inherited from her folks.

Ally folded her arms. “You’ve got two weeks to vacate the ranch house and move your herd off the property.”

Two weeks to place his bid…

“In the meantime, I’m moving in,” she added.

The thought of them encountering each other at all hours of the night and day wasn’t as intrusive as Hank would have figured. Maybe because she was so damn pretty…not to mention challenging.

“I plan to start emptying the house immediately,” she said.

Ally had donated her parents’ clothing to a local church. As far as Hank could tell, all their other belongings remained. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Figuring he’d better word this carefully, he shrugged. “Sorting through a loved one’s possessions can be difficult.” You never knew what you might find… “The fact that it’s Christmastime is only going to make it harder.”

Ally curled her hands around the edge of the desk. “I don’t plan to celebrate the holiday. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Hank wondered how long it had been since someone had engulfed her in a nice, warm hug. Or made love to her slowly and thoroughly. Or shown her any affection at all, never mind made a segue way into her heart. “In other words,” he guessed, mocking her droll tone, “your way of dealing with something painful is not to deal with it at all.”

Her green eyes flashed with temper. “Thank you, Dr. Phil.” She paused to give him a withering once-over. “Not that any of this is your business.”

Hank knew that was true. Nonetheless, it was hard to stand by and watch her make a huge mistake that she was bound to regret, maybe sooner than she thought.

Having learned the hard way that some events couldn’t be undone, no matter how much you wished they could, later on, he pointed out, “Mesquite Ridge Ranch has been your home since birth.”

A flicker of remembrance briefly softened the beautiful lines of her face, before disappearing once again. “I haven’t lived on the ranch for eleven years. My life is in Houston now.” She swallowed visibly. “Not that what I do with the property is any of your concern, either.”

Hank stepped closer. It was time to put his own intention on the line. “Actually,” he murmured, “it is very much my business, since I made it clear when I took over the ranch last summer that I wanted to purchase the land from you, if and when you were inclined to sell.” He hadn’t been sure at the time that would ever be the case.

Ally gestured apathetically, all-business once again. “If you come in with the best offer, it’s yours.”

That wasn’t possible-at least right now, Hank thought pensively. He did his best to stall. “Sixty days is the usual notice given for vacating a property.”

Brushing past him, Ally hurried out the front door. He followed her lazily as she crossed the porch and headed toward her shiny red sports car. “If we had a written contract instead of an oral agreement, that would be correct. May I remind you we don’t?”

Hank watched her punch the electronic keypad twice and open up the trunk.

“In case you’ve forgotten, in these parts, a man or a woman’s word is good enough for any business deal.”

Ally hefted two suitcases over the rim and set them on the ground. With a grimace, she slammed the lid shut. Her honey-blond hair swirled about her pretty face as she pivoted to face him again. “If you remember, I said you and your cattle could stay here until I put the property up for sale.”

And he’d agreed, not getting into details, because he had known she hadn’t been ready to make a decision of that magnitude last June. And in his estimation, she wasn’t ready now. Not during the holidays, when she was still clearly grieving the loss of her family.

“The general rule of thumb is not to do anything major until at least a year has passed. Your dad died just six months ago, your mom eight months before that,” he reminded her gently.

In hindsight, if Hank had known Ally intended to act this soon, he would have had his business plan all ready to go.

She sighed dramatically. “And it’s Christmas again, or it will be in two weeks, and I don’t want to be here for the holiday.”

Hank wrested the suitcases from her hands and, ignoring her frown of disapproval, carried them to the porch for her. “Then why not wait until spring to put the property on the market?” he pressed.

She shrugged. “I have vacation days that need to be taken before the end of the year.”

Something in her expression said that wasn’t the whole story. Curious, Hank asked, “The company you work for wouldn’t let you hold them over to the new calendar year?”

Ally’s eyes became even more evasive. “The one I used to work for, before the merger, would have. The financial services firm I work for now is a lot more hard-nosed.”

Clearly, she wasn’t happy with her new bosses. “You could always quit,” he pointed out. “Work the ranch instead.”

He may as well have suggested she take a bath with a skunk.

“Not in a million years,” she retorted, stomping around to the passenger side. “Besides, there’s no way I’m voluntarily giving up my management position.”

She removed a heavy leather briefcase on wheels and a shoulder bag from the front seat, then headed toward the steps.

Hank strode down to help her with them, too. “No doubt you’ve risen fast in corporate America. And worked hard to get there.” He lifted the heavy briefcase onto the porch and set it beside her suitcases. “Your mom used to brag all the time about how well you were doing in the big city.”

Hurt turned down the corners of her soft lips. “Just not my dad,” she reflected sadly.

Hank opened the front door and set her belongings in the foyer. “We all knew how he wished you’d returned to Laramie to work, after college. But parents don’t always get what they want in that regard. Ask my mom. She about had a fit when I told her I was joining the marines.”

Ally lingered on the porch, turning her slender body into the brisk wind blowing across the rolling terrain. “Your dad understood, though.”

Hank tracked her gaze to the small herd of cattle grazing in the distance, then glanced at the gloomy sky. “Dad rodeoed before he settled down. He understands risk is a part of life, same as breathing. Mom, once she had kids, well, she just wanted to protect her brood.”

Turning back to face him, Ally leaned against the porch column. “Yet you came back for good last summer, anyway.”

Hank shrugged, not about to go into the reasons for that, any more than he wanted to go over the reasons why he had left Texas as abruptly as he had. “Laramie is my home,” he said stubbornly.

Ally’s delicate brow furrowed. She jumped in alarm and squinted at the barn, pointing at the open doors. “What was that?” she demanded, clearly shaken.

Hank turned in that direction. “What was what?”

Shivering, Ally folded her arms again. “I thought I saw some animal dart into the barn.”

Hank saw no movement of any kind. “You sure?”

“I’m positive!” she snapped, visibly chagrined.

Her skittish reaction clued him into the fact that she was definitely not the outdoorsy type-which did not bode well for ranch activity of any sort.

“What kind of animal?” he persisted. “A fox? Weasel? Snake? Armadillo?”

Ally shivered again and backed closer to the house. “None of the above.” She kept a wary eye on the barn.

Hank was about out of patience. “Describe it.”

She held her hands out, about three feet apart. “It was big. And brown…”

Which could be practically anything, including a groundhog or deer. Unable to help himself, he quipped, “We don’t have grizzly bears in these parts.”

Color flooded her cheeks. “I did not say it was a grizzly bear! I just don’t know what kind of mammal it was.”

Realizing the situation could be more serious than he was willing to let on, particularly if the animal were rabid, Hank grabbed a shovel from the bed of his pickup truck. “Then you better wait here.”

ALLY HAD NEVER LIKED taking orders.

But she liked dealing with wildlife even less.

So she waited, pacing and shifting her weight from foot to foot as Hank strode purposefully across the gravel drive to the weathered gray barn. Seconds later, he disappeared inside the big building. Ally cocked her head, listening… waiting.

To her frustration, silence reigned. Hank did not reappear.

Which could not be good, since she had definitely seen something dash furtively through those wide doors.

When yet another minute passed and he hadn’t reemerged, she decided to head over to the barn herself. There was no need to worry, Ally told herself. Hank was probably fine. Had there been any kind of trouble, he would have let out a yell.

He probably had whatever it was cornered already-or was trying to figure out how to prompt it to run out the back doors, assuming he could get them open…

Her heart racing, Ally reached the portal. Looked inside. Hank was twenty feet to her right, hunkered down, the shovel lying by his side. With his hat cocked back on his head, he was peering silently into the corner.

“What is it?” Ally strode swiftly toward him, her heels making a purposeful rat-a-tat-tat on the concrete barn floor. And that was when all hell broke loose.

Hank had seen his fair share of startled animals in the midst of a fight-or-flight response. So the commotion that followed Ally’s rapid entry into the shadowy barn was no surprise.

Her reaction to the cornered creature’s bounding, snarling brouhaha was.

She stumbled sideways, knocking into Hank, and screaming loudly enough to alert the entire county. An action that caused their unexpected intruder to lunge forward and frantically defend its temporary refuge.

In the resulting cacophony, Hank half expected Ally to scream again. Instead, like a combat soldier in the midst of a panic attack, she went pale as a ghost. Pulse leaping in her throat, she seemed frozen in place, and so overcome with fear she was unable to breathe.

Afraid she might faint on him-if she didn’t have a heart attack, that was-Hank gave up on trying to soothe the startled stray. He vaulted to his feet and grabbed hold of Ally. “It’s all right. I’ve got it under control.”

Although she barely moved, her frantic expression indicated she disagreed.

“Just stay here and don’t move,” he told her, as the frantic leaping, snarling and snapping continued.

He started to move away, but Ally clutched his sleeve in her fist and gave him a beseeching look.

Unfortunately, Hank knew what he had to do or the situation would only get worse.

“Stay here and don’t move,” he repeated, in the same commanding voice he had used on green recruits.

He pried her fingers from his arm and stepped closer to the other hysterical female in the room. He approached confidently but cautiously, hand outstretched.

“Come on, now. Let’s just simmer down.” He regarded the mud-soaked coat studded with thorns, looked into dark, liquid eyes. “I can see you tangled with a mesquite thicket and lost,” he remarked in a low, soothing voice.

He stopped just short of the cornered animal and hunkered down so they were on an equal level.

As he had hoped, the aggressive growling slowed and finally stopped.