The Christmas You Found Me, page 17
“I’m technically still in bed,” I remind him.
“Part of you isn’t. I can hear your brain running a mile a minute.”
Guy’s arm around me isn’t a cage, but somehow, he manages to shift in a way that draws me deeper into his form, a place of hard muscle and heated skin. I move without consciously making the action, rolling to face him beneath his arm and snuggling in closer. The hollow of his large body fits around me perfectly. It’s as if he’s physically made to shelter others. Guy is honey on rustic bread, sweet and warm and a little rough around the edges. A safe place to hide for a while.
Except that’s not his job.
Guy’s eyes find mine in the dim light of the woodstove, his knuckles stroking my cheek in a brief, gentle touch. He’s tired, I know he is, and there’s still time for him to rest.
Then he sighs. “Okay, you win. I’ll start the coffee.”
I feed the animals while Guy works on getting Emma ready for the day, then we meet up for breakfast together. Emma’s doing better, but she’s cranky and makes it clear she’s uninterested in her oatmeal. She keeps wriggling out of her seat as if unable to sit still for more than a moment or two. I don’t know what it’s like to be in kidney failure at four years old. I don’t know what it’s like living in her tiny, brave body, but I do know what restlessness is like.
“Emma, do you want to ride Legs today?” Guy’s head comes up in momentary alarm, but I smile at him reassuringly. “We’ll double up. He could handle all three of us if he had to, not that he wouldn’t complain the whole time.”
“Daddy, can I?”
“Can I say no when you’re both looking at me like this?” he counters with a shake of his head. “But you have to eat your breakfast, Em.”
“I’ll go get him saddled.”
“You have to eat too,” he teases me as I start to get up with my mostly full bowl. “Girls and horses. You both have it bad.”
“Horses, mules, anything with four feet… Emma and I know what’s important.” I smile cheekily at him, stuff a couple more bites in my mouth, then head off to the barn.
Not everyone is as happy as we are, especially when I break it to the mule he can’t hang out with the others today and to Barley that he can’t come with Emma. Oh, the looks we’re getting.
Legs normally ignores me when I saddle him up, a standard form of passive-aggressive protest I find endearing. And true, he is technically ignoring me, but he keeps lowering his head to Emma, nudging at her pockets for treats and breathing warm breaths on her face. She giggles when he lips at her hair, the first smile I’ve seen from her in hours.
Horses—and mules—have this special relationship with kids. I never understood why, but having been the little kid with horsey breath on my face, hugging a nose larger than my torso, I get it.
To be fair, hugging them as an adult has never actually lost its appeal.
“Is he safe for her?” Guys asks, coming to stand by my side as I finish tightening the girth strap. “He’s so tall.”
“So are you,” I reply, giving Guy a quick grin. “Are you dangerous?”
“Not to you,” he promises, and for a moment, I feel his hand rest on my hip. “Never to you.”
The hand on my hip slides to the small of my back. He gives me a brief squeeze, then Guy shifts away to give me room to finish my work.
“Legs is a troublemaker some days,” I say because I’m not going to lie to him. “But he’s the safest ride I have on snow and ice. I trust him to stay on his feet in a blizzard and get me back home in one piece. I can’t promise he won’t try to scrape me off under a few branches if I give him the opportunity. All’s fair in love and trail rides.”
Guy pats Legs on the neck. “Take care of my girls, big guy.”
I don’t ask Guy what he’s going to do while we’re gone, and as he lifts Emma up to sit in front of me in the saddle, I realize I never actually invited him to go too.
“There’s room for one more,” I say, because I don’t want him to feel excluded, even if I hadn’t thought beyond Emma this morning. “I could saddle Lulu for you.”
“Naw, I know a ladies’ day when I see one.”
Guy watches us ride out, then he turns and bends down to ruffle Barley’s ears. I think about turning around to convince him to come too, but Emma starts talking about what a ladies’ day is as we wind our way up the mountainside.
The snow is falling in big, fat flakes, landing on Legs’s neck and holding their shape until he shakes his head, snorting equally large snowflakes off his sensitive nose. I keep one hand on the reins, leaving them loose to stay out of his mouth, while keeping a snug arm around Emma’s waist. It’s a long drop from Legs’s back, and while I do trust him the most in weather like this, the last thing Emma needs is a fall.
A ride in the snow before Christmas? That seems to be doing her good.
“Can we go faster?” Emma asks.
“You’ll have to ask Legs,” I tell her, loving the bright smile on her face as she twists back to look at me.
“Let’s go, Legs!” she says, and I squeeze my calves into his sides at the same time as Emma calls to him. Legs picks up into a trot with the obedience of a mule much more satisfied in his life than Legs usually acts. It must be Emma. She’s charmed him the way she’s charmed me. I swear the grumpy old fool is picking his feet up higher as he trots on purpose. Emma’s peals of childish laughter as the snow sprays around us are so good for my heart.
I hate that Guy is missing this.
We ride to the top of the peak, where there’s a chance of phone reception. Far below, I can see the river and, nearby, our home. I make a video call, and to my pleasure, Guy’s screen pops up on the second ring.
“Sienna? Are you two okay?” Guy’s handsome face is lined in worry. I need to call him more, because he seems to associate my calls with bad things happening.
“Someone wanted to say hi.” I angle the phone so he can see Emma and she can keep her hands on the saddle horn.
“Daddy, look! The snow is falling.” Emma starts to babble to him about all the ways Legs has acted and all the things we’ve seen. And yes, I always enjoy my rides on some level, but seeing her excitement makes me sit back and look around again with fresh eyes.
“Are you having fun, baby?” Guy asks, and Emma nods emphatically.
“So much fun.”
“So much,” Guy and I murmur at the same time, and I hear him laugh softly. “You girls stay safe. I’ll have some apple tea ready when you get back.”
As I tuck my phone away, I see Emma has her little mittened hands gripping Legs’s mane the way she holds on to Barley, like she never wants to let go.
“Sen-na, do we have to go back?” she asks, turning big blue eyes—her father’s eyes—to me.
As I look around at the perfect wintery world around us, the snow swirling in the evergreens while warm breath rises from Legs’s nostrils, I hope one day the answer will be no. That one day, this will be hers to love without fear and restraint, where she can be just as safe and free as I’ve been. Where she can ride up and down these mountains and find her own paths and streams and favorite spots to show the people she loves.
Today, I’m going to have to turn around. Emma lives in a world where the adults in her life always have to turn around and take her back home.
But one day? One day, my answer will be “We can stay here forever.”
Chapter 16
My dad would kill us if he knew we were all sitting around the kitchen island in the middle of a perfectly good workday without a shoe in sight. I blame it on the apple tea and the fact that Guy looks so darn relaxed. I don’t have the heart to tell him we need to be functional members of society.
I’m still getting used to eating what Guy and Emma do, but the man makes a mean mug of tea, and when he sweetens it for me with a little honey, it’s perfect. Emma’s tea isn’t as hot as mine, and she can’t have the honey, but she seems to be enjoying a drink that isn’t water.
Guy’s leaning back with the kind of lounging sprawl only a man as tall as he is can accomplish without falling off his chair. His favorite mug is in his hands, and every so often, his leg bumps into mine playfully, and we share a smile. Neither one of us can get a word in because Emma’s spent the last hour telling him about our ride.
I think her happiness is rubbing off on both of us.
I’m on my second mug of apple tea when Guy takes advantage of a break in Emma’s diatribe to turn to me. “I talked to my boss while you two were gone. They finished up the project this morning, and he’s got work lined up for the crew after New Year’s. So he’s giving us all the rest of the month off.”
It’s a week until Christmas, and since his last job had shut down early and he’d scrambled to find this one, I’m surprised Guy sounds happy at the prospect. When he turns his phone my way, I understand why.
“He gave us all Christmas bonuses. I’ve never had anyone actually do that before.”
“You mean someone treated you as a worker who’s valued and respected? It should be the norm.” I nudge his ankle with my toe, smirking over my mug. “Too bad your husband-for-hire job didn’t offer a Christmas bonus.”
“I was going to complain to OSHA about hazardous working environments and dangers of falling, but my boss looks really cute today.” Those blue eyes seem to be laughing at me from across the kitchen island.
I wrinkle my nose at his flirtatious teasing. “Call OSHA on me, and you’re back on the couch,” I reply.
“I wasn’t sure if I was officially off the couch. Good to know.” He’s definitely flirting with me. Shameless, these Montana boys. Then he shifts modes, tapping a finger on his phone. “How do you want me to handle this?”
I have zero idea what he’s talking about, and it must show.
“Daddy,” Emma pipes up. “Did I tell you Legs knows the best trees? He took us to the best trees, and we brought home pine cones.”
“I have pine cones in my pockets,” I tell him, tilting my head toward my coat hanging up in the mudroom.
“Better than some places,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, and when he winks at me, I nudge his ribs with my elbow.
“Ixnay on the irtingflay.”
“Aybemay. Hey, Sienna. I’d really like to help with bills around here.”
I think about it, pursing my lips. I don’t want to argue with him, not when he’s trying to be nice. “Okay, maybe we can have a grocery fund? I need to keep the ranch’s income and expenses separate for tax purposes, but I’m all about you kicking in on food.”
“Just food?” He folds his arms on the counter, and he’s doing the thing where his shoulders are relaxed and his head tilted so he’s not looming over me.
“Just food, laundry detergent, the kind of stuff we’re sharing.”
“Say I wanted to do more. Is that on the table?” He’s not pressuring me so much as trying to coax me into letting him overextend himself. Which is not on the table. He’s the one paying for Emma’s medical expenses, and now that I know how much anti-rejection medications cost, I’m not taking a dime from him unnecessarily.
An idea pops into my head. “You can be in charge of the date-night fund. Emma and I require fun, well-planned date nights, preferably with Christmas themes. Barley’s presence is negotiable.”
“Sen-na, Barley isn’t negoat-able,” Emma pipes up. “He’s goat-able.”
Guy looks at his daughter fondly, then turns the same look my way too. “What my girls want, they get,” he says.
As if he knew we were talking about him, Barley stands up out on the front porch and gives a loud woof, looking toward the driveway. I crane my head, because I’m not used to vehicles pulling into my driveway without knowing they’re coming. There’s no point in showing up unannounced when most people are out working on their property, so out here, visitors are few and far between and almost always expected.
I frown as a familiar Ford truck comes around the bend, and Barley gives a second, softer woof before turning around and heading back inside the house. He turns in a circle as if unsure whether to go back outside, then he comes to me, leaning against my leg for comfort even as his graying tail wags.
“Good boy,” I tell him, resting my hand on his head reassuringly. Barley didn’t understand when Micah left, and he hasn’t seen him since. I’m not surprised he’s happy but confused enough to come to me.
“Who is it?” Guy follows my line of sight out the window as Micah’s truck rolls to a stop in his usual spot. Immediately, my shoulders tense because that’s not his spot anymore. Nothing here is his anymore, and there’s only one reason he would be coming by instead of calling.
“This is my problem,” I tell Guy as I stand and set aside my mug of tea. “Don’t worry about it. This will only take a minute.”
I shrug into my heavy jacket, now heavier with pine cones, but only stuff my feet into my tennis shoes before I head outside. My toes might get cold, but I’m not planning on indulging this unexpected visitor one more minute than I have to.
Micah shuts the door of his truck too hard before stomping up to me.
“Sienna, we need to talk,” he snarls.
I’m used to Micah’s moods, but he’s a big man, and I take a step back despite myself. There’s nowhere to go as I bump into someone. A hand rests on my hip to steady me, then Guy’s arm wraps around my waist as he moves next to me.
I didn’t even realize he’d followed me outside.
“Who’s your friend, Sienna?” His voice is mild, nonthreatening, but there’s a tension in his arm I can feel. Micah is a big man, and right now, he’s an angry one.
“Guy, this is Micah Hammond, my ex-husband. Micah, this is Guy Maple, my…” I stumble over the word because I haven’t actually introduced him like this before.
“I’m her husband,” Guy says in an easy, relaxed tone as he holds out his hand.
Micah doesn’t shake it. Instead, Micah glares at Guy like he’s a snake in the grass.
“You’re letting him live here now? Have you lost your mind?” He all but spits on the ground at the last word.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised,” I tell Micah calmly. “You knew I was married when I sent in the insurance paperwork. You knew it when you showed up at our party, and you knew it when you drove out here today. Of course Guy and Emma are living here.”
“I kept hoping it was some big mistake.” Micah’s eyes narrow.
“No. But it’s also none of your business, Micah. This is my ranch, and what happens here is up to me and not up for public consumption.”
He laughs, a hard, bitter noise. “Not up for public consumption? You’re literally flaunting it in the newspaper, in front of our friends, and all around town. We just finalized the divorce, Sienna.”
“It was a bit quicker than normal, wasn’t it?” Guy smiles congenially at my ex even as he gives me a gentle tug into his side. I don’t miss the shift of his body just ever so slightly in front of me, or the way he’s positioned himself to jerk me behind him if this goes from uncomfortable to something worse.
“Quick?” Micah’s fists ball up, and suddenly all the warmth in my veins is gone. “You were working her from the moment you stepped into this town.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” I start to move between them, but Guy’s arm is gentle but unyielding.
“Is there a reason you’re here?” Guy asks, still sounding relaxed. “Or are you just trying to upset my wife?”
Well, that was blunt enough. Emma is inside, and I finally got her smiling again. The last thing she needs is her father to get in a fight with my jerk of an ex. Micah never laid a hand on me, but he’s a bully through and through. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out. I was in too deep when I finally realized the nice man I’d fallen in love with was petty and selfish on a good day and moody and aggressive on a bad day. The really bad days? I kept those to myself.
I never admitted to a soul that I locked him out of the house more than once, my shotgun on my knees until he sobered up out in the yard. Just looking at Micah now, seeing the flash in his eyes, makes me want to shift backward again, but there’s no way I’m letting Guy stand between me and Micah.
“Guy, I just need to talk to Micah real quick. Can you go back to the house? I’ll be inside in a moment.” When Guy’s eyes lock on me, searching my expression, I nod at him reassuringly. “Everything is okay, I promise.”
I don’t realize how close we are until he dips his head and presses a kiss to my temple. “Okay. I’m here if you need me.”
When Micah snorts, Guy eyes him, and for a moment, I’m not sure my request is going to be honored. Then Guy smiles at me and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He heads back toward the house, whistling a little Christmas tune under his breath as he goes.
I only realize my heart is racing when Guy’s retreat drops it down a notch. Micah watches him go with a flat expression of dislike.
“What do you want, Micah?” I ask him shortly. “If all you wanted to do was insult me, you could have just called.”
“I did call, and I texted, and I tried to talk to you at the store. You won’t answer me, and I deserve to know about this.” He turns his phone toward me, opened to the paper’s website. I’m not surprised at all that Jess’s wedding article stares back at me. “You changed your name for him? You flat-out refused when we got married, even knowing how much it bothered me we didn’t have the same name.”
“You could have changed your name to mine,” I remind him.
“That’s not the point, Sienna.” Micah looks so angry, and somewhere beneath the anger, he’s hurt. Once, it would have bothered me a lot. But I have a child in the cabin behind me who means more than Micah’s hurt feelings.
“I changed my name for his daughter. Guy was fine being a Naples. True masculinity is not being offended by outdated societal constructs forcing women into being subservient. Naples land, Naples daughter, Naples hands. You knew why it was important for me to keep my name.”
“I thought I knew,” Micah growls back. “But now you changed it for some—”
