The Christmas You Found Me, page 12
When I reach the barn, I pause, looking around in surprise. In the time I was riding the fence line, Guy’s been busy. My stalls are clean. The water buckets have been emptied, scrubbed free of hay bits from the horses’ breakfasts, and refilled with fresh water. He’s also put two flakes of hay in each stall. True, it’s the new hay instead of last year’s hay, but it’s the right amount. Bless the man, he even put an extra snow shovel scoop of wood shavings down for each of the animals in their stalls to replace what was cleaned out.
The ranch’s extensive to-do list is copied on the chalkboard in the barn, ranging from the daily tasks like feeding and cleaning stalls to the weekly and monthly tasks. I notice that something lower on the list now has a checkmark on it, so I loosen Legs’s saddle girth but drop a rein to the ground in a signal for him to stay ground tied—in one place—while I head outside to the lean-tos in the cattle pen.
When they’d first been built, we used galvanized nails to secure the brand-new corrugated metal siding to the framing. But like so many things in the Frank Church Wilderness, exposure to the elements has a way of wearing something down. The metal siding is weathered and bent from hoof kicks and scratching half-ton cattle butts, and the nails are starting to rust and loosen in places.
Sure enough, the loose piece of metal siding on the far lean-to has been secured down, and shiny galvanized screws replace many of the nails. Protecting my cattle from puncture wounds is important, but when I scan the snow, I don’t see any nails on the ground.
Well, Guy did say in our coffee interview that he’s a hard worker. The man probably hit the ground running the moment they got back from Emma’s dialysis. What he’s accomplished in a couple of hours would have taken some people most of the day.
I hear the front door of the cabin close, and I see Guy coming out across the yard, zipping up his jacket. I duck out of the cattle pen and meet him halfway, at the barn.
“Hey,” he says when he reaches me, giving me that sweet smile of his in greeting. “I saw you coming down the mountain. I can’t stay out here long because Emma isn’t up from her nap, but I wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“From the looks of it, you’ve been out here all day,” I tell him gratefully. “How is she?”
“Dialysis went okay. She slept most of the drive home, and she’s been out since noon. That was really cool, by the way.” When I glance at him in confusion, he tilts his head toward the herd still lingering in the paddock. “The way they all followed you down the mountainside. Animals like you, don’t they?”
“Barley might beg to differ,” I joke as I start to untack Legs. “Hey, thanks for the flower.”
Guy gives me a pleased look. “I saw the truck when we were headed through town.”
“There’s actually two other trucks in town the same as mine,” I inform him with a little grin. “You might have really confused a couple people.”
When Legs sighs a long-suffering sigh, Guy pats his nose. “It’s kind of funny I live on a ranch now. I’ve never actually been on a horse.”
“You’re from Montana and you’ve never ridden?”
“We’re not all cowboys,” he reminds me.
I sigh in playful dramatics. “I married a townie. My dad will never forgive me.”
“How was he?”
I don’t know how to answer, so I just give Guy a tight smile and shake my head once. I get Legs settled while Guy hurries back to the house for Emma. Since he’s gotten so much done already, I knock a couple more things off my to-do list before I feed everyone. I check the gates are all locked, then head back to the house. The scent of berries and vanilla waft through the cabin as I enter, and I find several dozen miniature muffins on the countertop.
Yep, the man definitely doesn’t know how to take a rest day. Even now, he’s scrubbing the countertops.
“Ooh, yum. Are these Emma-friendly?” I ask, because I’ve seen her list of allowed foods, and these look and smell far too good to be on a stage five renal diet.
“You think I would dare to make a treat under the same roof as my daughter if they weren’t?” Guy jokes. “She’d never forgive me.”
“Sorry.” I flush, realizing my question could have been taken as criticism, but Guy just gives me a kind look.
“It’s nice you care,” he tells me. “And they’re Emma-friendly in moderation. She can have one a day, no matter what she tells you.”
“Christmas is a hard time to not be able to have treats.”
“There’s a lot of hard things about her life. It’s why I’m so grateful for the time she’s getting to spend here. Playing with Barley and making stockings for horses is a lot more fun than sitting in my truck on a jobsite with a tablet.” This time, he pauses, clearing his throat awkwardly. “That didn’t come out right. I know you do a ton of work around here—”
I lean over and steal a muffin. “Yep, which is why you are awesome for making these.” I tear it in half and pop the treat in my mouth. “Should we just eat one too? To be fair to her?”
“We’re adults, and these are teeny tiny. If I eat a fistful when she’s in bed or playing in the other room, I won’t tell if you won’t.”
“Snitches get stitches?” I say playfully as Guy slides over a small plate with two more mini muffins on it. “I would have married you sooner if I’d known you were this good around a kitchen,” I tell him as I munch happily.
“You married me within twenty-four hours of meeting me.” He flashes me a quick grin.
“Yes, and if you’d brought muffins, we could have whittled it down to a more reasonable time span.” When I wink at him, Guy flushes a little.
“I got used to cooking on a hot plate in hotel rooms,” he admits. “Having access to an actual oven feels like a luxury.”
“Luxury until it comes time to wash the dishes,” I say. “I never could convince Dad we could splurge for a dishwasher. Now he’s in town, I feel guilty every time I consider installing one.”
“Some of the hotels we stayed in were extended stays with kitchenettes, but there’s been a few places where I was scrubbing dishes in a hotel bathroom sink. Trust me, Sienna, this place is a serious upgrade.”
I step closer, looking up at him. “Thanks for everything you did today. Not just the muffins, but the stalls and the sheds too.”
“Anything I can do, Sienna. I meant it when I said I’m here for you. Speaking of… I got a call from one of the guys on the site today saying he saw my brand-new wife shaking a shoe in her ex’s face.”
I wrinkle my nose at the humor in his tone. “It wasn’t a shoe. It was a muck boot. And please tell whoever they are a big thanks for ruining my early Christmas present for you.”
“Trust me, after what I waded through today, I don’t need a surprise. I’m ecstatic for those boots.” Guy’s voice quiets as he asks, “Was he giving you a hard time?”
I hedge because Guy doesn’t need to add Micah onto his already overflowing plate. “The store had what I wanted, and I was right there. I didn’t see his truck, so I thought I could get in and get out without it being an issue. But I forget with Micah, everything is an issue.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“Not my life anymore.” I try to shrug it off, but Guy’s arms fold around me, and I close my eyes. All the carefully erected walls I’ve built seem pretty strong, at least until Guy’s nose dips and he places the softest kiss to the rim of my ear. It’s the tiniest gesture of comfort, nothing more.
“I’m sorry you’re still dealing with him.”
For a moment, I can’t pull away. I know I need to, but my hands hang on too long. Then I step back and clear my throat. “Okay, I suppose I need to grab a shower before tonight.” Guy isn’t the only one who waded through too much muck today. “Are you and Emma still okay with having dinner with Jess?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promises me despite the tiredness in his eyes.
It’s been a long day, and even though I love spending time with Jess, I’m not feeling this evening at all. I’d much rather find a nice thick blanket and stay in. Since I’m dragging my feet, I linger in the shower longer than normal, and it takes a while to blow-dry my hair. I pick out a soft, cable-knit sweater dress from my closet, knowing it’s my first Saturday night out with my sort-of-real-but-not-really-real husband. I should try to look cute, right?
I haven’t worn this dress before, and it’s been sitting in my closet for months. The fabric hugs me a little more than I remember, and it’s thin enough I’ll probably need a heavier coat. I’m not about to break a leg skating around in ice and snow in heels, but my best pair of dress boots has been gathering dust in the back of the closet for too long. As I pull on the delicately stitched fawn-colored boots, I can’t remember my last “night out.”
When I come downstairs, Guy is crouched on his heels in front of the fireplace, stirring the embers in the fireplace as if he isn’t sure if he should add more wood.
“It’ll be good until we get back,” I tell him.
Guy turns his head at my voice, then the next thing I know, the poor man has lost his balance and almost takes a header into the fire. I wince when he catches himself on one of the metal screens, knowing how hot they get. He breathes a curse, jerking his hand away, then lunges to his feet.
“Daddy, you said a bad word,” Emma singsongs from the top of the stairs, where she’s still in her napping clothes.
“Emma, you’re supposed to be getting dressed, remember?” Guy tells her, giving his hand a little shake.
“Sorry I startled you,” I tell him, taking Guy’s wrist and peering down at his reddened palm. “I think you’re okay, but some ice wouldn’t hurt. Come on.”
He follows me obediently into the kitchen, and I pull a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer, holding it to his skin. I’m in his personal bubble, and I glance up to see if he minds. Guy’s watching me, not his hand, and those tired, strained eyes soften.
“Want me to take this off?” he asks, glancing down at my shoulder. My brain decides to take a hard right at the suggestion, and the tiredness eases from his handsome features as he grins at the expression on my face. With his pinky finger, Guy lifts the price tag still attached.
Oh. Yep. Price tag. Gotcha.
“There’s a pair of scissors in the drawer next to you,” I tell him, feeling my face warm the air around me.
It’s an oddly domestic moment between two strangers, when he’s officially just learned my dress size, my preference for buying locally sourced clothing, and the fact that I will spend far too much for something sparkly. I learn he’s careful enough not to nick the fabric and conscientious enough to remove the tiny plastic bit that gets caught underneath.
“Is what I’m wearing okay?” Guy asks me as he shifts back a bit to give us both more space.
I stop staring at his eyes—not an easy feat—and glance down. Worn jeans will always look great on this man, but I realize after the fact I’ve overdressed for what he owns. The collared shirt he put on has a little logo in the corner from a jobsite he must have worked on at some point. I hate when he seems uncertain, so I reach up to his collar, tugging it a little even though it was just fine.
“Okay, handsome, now you’re perfect.”
I could almost swear the man’s eyes are getting more blue as he watches me.
Guy double-checks Emma’s blood pressure and asks her again if she’s feeling up to the evening. Dialysis is exhausting, but her long nap and the idea of meeting a new friend seem to have recharged her. Emma takes forever to decide what she wants to wear, and we’re going to be late. Guy finally tells her if she doesn’t make a choice, we will. It feels odd being included in this “we,” especially because now “we” are getting the stink eye, not just him.
“I think I’m in trouble too,” I murmur as he carries her out to the truck so the rainbow tiara princess with the dragon hoodie doesn’t get her ballet shoes wet.
“This marriage is the Christmas gift that keeps giving,” Guy jokes as he buckles her into her safety seat. “Is there anything special I should know for tonight?”
I get into the driver’s seat and set the diesel truck into reverse. “Nope. Why?”
“You just seem a little tense.”
I flinch, not expecting the phrase to come out of his mouth. In Micah’s hands, “tense” was an attack, another word for bitchy, and when he used it, I always felt like somehow my emotions made me lacking in some way. Like I was wrong or annoying. When I glance at Guy, he’s draped in the passenger seat, his eyes on me. And when he reaches over and squeezes my hand, I remember that whoever this man is, he’s not Micah. I have a whole lifetime of triggers he knows nothing about, and I probably say the wrong thing to him half a dozen times a day.
“Whatever you just thought, I’d love to know what it was.” His brow is furrowed, and I think maybe Guy is a lot smarter than I realized. Or at least he pays a lot of attention.
I offer him a tight smile as I turn the truck and head away from the cabin. “I’m tense because I’d rather have stayed in tonight,” I admit. “Seeing my dad is always tough, and a run-in with Micah on top of it was…”
“Shitty?”
“Daddy, you said a bad word again.” A cute little voice pops up from the back seat.
“You did say a bad word,” I tease him. “An accurate word, but a bad word. Don’t worry. Five minutes with Jess, and I’ll forget all about it. They’re a lot of fun, and they’ve been bugging me mercilessly to meet you both.”
Guy reaches over and takes my hand where it lies on the center console in between us instead of safely at ten and two. “Well, I for one am happy,” he says, relaxing in his seat. “I’m out for a night on the town with my favorite ladies. Well, my favorite lady and my favorite rainbow dragon princess ballerina.”
Emma dissolves into peals of laughter as he turns to tickle her dragon-y side, still holding my hand. I realize I’m grinning as I watch them in the rearview mirror, because they really do look happy.
Whatever else is happening, this right here? It’s working.
Chapter 12
The Lousy Kayaker’s Bar and Grill is the most popular spot in Caney Falls on a Saturday night.
A shotgun-style bar and grill right off the main strip, it’s just a few steps from the river and is the perfect location to get good food and better drinks and wander around the little niche antique shops and pastry shops lining downtown. The price tag is a bit steep, so it’s definitely a splurge. When Jess suggested LK’s, I pushed for something cheaper, but they insisted, because apparently, we’re celebrating. If you want to go on a nice first date or celebrate a graduation, you go to LK’s. A fancy business lunch? LK’s. Introducing your best friend to the husband you’ve hired? LK’s.
I’m used to the place being popular, but we struggle to find a parking place.
“Is it just me, or are there a lot of cars here?” Guy asks.
“They could just be busy…” I hedge, going down half a block to a parking lot next to the river. But I have a cold chill, hairs-on-the-back-of-my-neck-rising feeling that usually only happens when Jess has an “idea.”
“I want Sen-na,” Emma says when her father gets her out of the car, and Guy blinks at the unexpected request. This is a first. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he seems fine as he passes her into my arms.
“It’s just because I have Legs,” I promise as he takes her rainbow mini backpack out and hooks the sparkly thing over his shoulder.
“Even Shrek liked donkeys,” Guy teases as he closes the truck door.
“Daddy, Legs is a mule.” The side-eye Emma gives him is clearly a “don’t embarrass me” look.
I wink at him over her head. “I have one of those too.”
I hadn’t realized how much Guy stays out of my personal space until his daughter is in my arms. Guy is glued to my hip, and as we head across the street, he shifts between us and the headlights of the waiting vehicles, a physical barrier between Emma and any reckless driver who might get impatient. When we get closer to the restaurant, his hand brushes the small of my back, silently warning me as a pair of teenagers hustle past us from behind.
“Have you ever been here before?” I ask him.
“No, but the guys at work said it was good.”
The sign on the outside says WE SERVE LOCAL BEEF, with several of the local ranchers’ brand signs on it. The largest is a rocking H, with the words “Hammond Cattle” beneath it. I don’t realize Guy knows my ex’s last name until he raps his knuckles against the glass between us and the sign and says, “Should I get the chicken in solidarity?”
I grin at him as he holds the door for us. “I hear they make a great apple and honey salad here.”
“I like honey,” Emma tells me, and as I step into LK’s, I wonder if she could eat a few bites of my meal instead of what Guy has packed for her.
You’d think I’d be more observant when all those cars are outside, but none of the customers are in front of the bar, waiting for a table. I’m so distracted by my new family, I’m completely unprepared for the sheer volume of the barrage of voices screaming “SURPRISE!” the second I pass through the door.
I yelp and twist, getting Emma in between myself and Guy, but other than his arm locking around us, he doesn’t seem alarmed. Instead, he’s grinning wider than I’ve ever seen him. We’re a little town, but when you stick this many of us in a long, thin bar and someone gives us noisemakers, it’s fairly traumatic, volume-wise.
“What is happening?” I say as I pass Emma to Guy and turn around, widening my stance to block them from whatever this craziness is.
“I think it’s a surprise party for us, Sienna,” Guy murmurs in my ear. “At least that’s what the sign says.”
Yep, among all the balloons and streamers and decorated tables, there is a massive JUST MARRIED banner stretching across the bar. And since everyone is staring at us, I’m guessing it’s too late to sneak out of here. The place is packed all the way through the bar at the front and the tables at the back, and I can just barely see the outdoor patio lights lit up at the back of the bar.
