Mischief and Mistletoe (Sagebrush Cowboys #6)

Chapter 1

Hayden

For some reason I thought northern Texas would be snowy in December. However, as my jeep bounced down the pothole littered highway, I found it almost too pleasant outside. The sun was warm, my thin sweater was more than enough to keep me warm, and everything had a golden glow.

I hated it.

There I was, driving through what looked like a goddamn postcard when my life had just imploded spectacularly three days ago.

The rolling green hills stretched endlessly on either side of the cracked asphalt, dotted with wildflowers that had no business blooming this late in the year.

Even the grass looked smug, swaying gently in the breeze like it was mocking me.

I cranked up the radio another notch, letting the bass thump against my ribs until it nearly drowned out the memory of my ex-boyfriend’s voice saying those words. I think we need some space, Hayden. This isn’t working anymore.

The song switched to something annoyingly upbeat about small-town Christmas magic, and I jabbed the seek button with more force than necessary. Static crackled through the speakers before landing on a country station playing something appropriately miserable about heartbreak and whiskey. Better.

My phone buzzed against the cup holder, probably another text from Mom asking if I’d made it safely, or worse, one of my ex’s friends trying to play peacemaker.

I ignored it and pressed harder on the gas pedal, watching the speedometer creep past the limit.

A roadside sign announced “Sagebrush - 15 miles” in faded blue letters, and my stomach clenched.

Aunt Dolly was waiting for me at some diner she owned in this nowhere town called Sagebrush.

Apparently, she was somewhat of a big deal there, her food drawing people for miles around.

However, the more I watched the landscape go by, I had no doubt she had probably the only decent food for at least sixty miles.

I still didn’t really know why she decided to stay behind in Sagebrush after she and my mother had graduated high school.

Mom went to the east coast, found a rich executive, my father, and settled down.

Meanwhile, Dolly apparently set up a little eatery and was perfectly content to live in her hometown.

I hadn’t seen her since I was ten years old.

Would she even recognize me after fifteen years?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter whether she recognized me.

And Sagebrush didn’t matter either. This was a simple transaction.

I needed a place to stay over the holidays while my parents were at their villa in Italy.

The house back in Boston was rented out for the holidays.

It was right on the water and one of the biggest places to rent out for Christmas parties in the area. My parents made a killing off of it.

So, needless to say, I couldn’t stay there. And they wouldn’t be back for months. Aunt Dolly was my only option. While my parents were rich, I was not. And I didn’t have anywhere to go that wasn’t my ex’s apartment.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel as another wave of anger rolled through me. Tommy had made sure I was completely dependent on him, hadn’t he? His apartment, his friends, his world. And when he was done playing with me, he’d tossed me aside like last season’s swimwear.

The worst part? I’d seen it coming. The way he’d started looking at his phone more, the way he’d cancelled our plans to hang out with the guys.

The way he’d stopped touching me unless he wanted something.

But I’d convinced myself I was being paranoid, that my insecurities were getting the best of me again.

God, I was such an idiot.

Another sign flashed by - “Sagebrush - 8 miles” - and I could feel my chest getting tight.

What if Aunt Dolly took one look at me and realized what a complete disaster I was?

What if she asked too many questions about why I was really here, why I’d driven halfway across the country with nothing but two suitcases and my tail between my legs?

The radio crackled again, and some DJ’s overly cheerful voice broke through the static. “Ho ho ho, folks! Only twenty more shopping days left until Christmas! Remember to spread that holiday cheer—”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, switching it off entirely. The sudden silence felt almost oppressive, filled only by the rumble of my engine and the whistle of wind through the barely cracked window. Now there was nothing to distract me from the churning mess of thoughts in my head.

I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror and winced. My hair was a greasy disaster from running my hands through it, my eyes were still slightly red-rimmed despite the sunglasses, and I looked like I hadn’t slept properly in days. Which, to be fair, I hadn’t.

Great first impression, Hayden.

Maybe I should turn around. Drive back to California, swallow my pride, and figure something else out. Sleep in my car if I had to. Anything would be better than showing up at Aunt Dolly’s doorstep looking like a kicked puppy begging for scraps.

But where would I go? Back to the apartment complex where Tommy and I had lived, where I’d have to see his car in the parking lot every day?

Back to the modeling agencies that had already forgotten my name?

Back to the friends who were really his friends, who’d probably already heard his version of our breakup?

The thought made my jaw clench so hard I could hear my teeth grinding. I forced myself to relax, rolling my shoulders and taking a shaky breath. No. I wasn’t going back. I couldn’t.

Another mile marker whipped past, and then I saw it…

a cluster of buildings rising from the prairie like a mirage.

Sagebrush, Texas, population a little over two thousand according to the welcome sign that someone had decorated with plastic holly and a faded red bow.

Even the town sign was aggressively cheerful.

The main drag was exactly what I’d expected from a small Texas town.

There were a handful of storefronts with hand-painted signs, a gas station that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the eighties, and pickup trucks parked at lazy angles along the street.

Christmas lights were draped over everything that would stand still, strung between the lampposts, and they twinkled in the afternoon sun like they were trying too damn hard to be magical.

I slowed down, scanning the buildings for anything that looked like a diner.

Then I saw it. Dolly’s Diner in cursive red letters across a window, with a neon “OPEN” sign buzzing beneath it.

The building was small and painted a cheerful yellow that made me want to put my sunglasses back on.

A few trucks were parked outside, and through the big front window I could see people sitting in red vinyl booths.

My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, reminding me that I’d survived on gas station coffee and spite for the last two hundred miles. I pulled into a parking space and sat there for a moment, engine ticking as it cooled, staring at the diner’s front door.

This was it. No more running, no more time to figure out what I was going to say. In a few minutes, I’d be face-to-face with a woman I barely remembered, asking for help like some pathetic charity case at Christmas.

I caught my reflection in the side mirror again and grimaced. At least I could fix my hair.

I ran my fingers through the sandy mess on top of my head, trying to make it look less like I’d been sleeping in my car for three days.

It didn’t help much, but at least now it was a slightly more organized disaster.

The freckles across my nose stood out starkly against my pale skin.

Apparently even my California tan couldn’t survive a cross-country breakdown.

That’s what I got for using tanning beds.

I took a deep breath and immediately regretted it when the scent of bacon and something sweet — cinnamon rolls, maybe?

— drifted through my barely open window.

My stomach clenched with hunger so sharp it was almost painful.

When was the last time I’d eaten actual food instead of stale gas station chips?

“Get it together,” I muttered to myself, checking my teeth in the mirror for any embarrassing remnants of my road trip diet. “It’s just Aunt Dolly. She’s family. She offered you the apartment. She wants you here.”

The last part felt like a lie even as I said it.

She’d sounded surprised when I called three days ago, rambling some barely coherent explanation about needing a change of scenery for the holidays.

I’d probably woken her up. I hadn’t exactly been tracking time zones while having my meltdown.

But she’d said yes without asking too many questions.

Maybe she felt sorry for me. Maybe she remembered the skinny ten-year-old who’d visited that one summer and ate his weight in her chocolate chip cookies. Or maybe she was just too polite to say no to family, even family that had basically ignored her existence for fifteen years.

I pushed open the car door and immediately got hit with the full force of small-town Texas in December.

It was cool, probably fifty-five degrees, and the air smelled like grass and barbecue smoke and cinnamon.

A gentle breeze ruffled my hair, and I could hear the faint sound of Christmas music drifting from one of the storefronts down the street.

It was disgusting how pleasant it all was.

The diner’s door chimed when I pushed it open, one of those old-fashioned bells that announced every arrival to the entire restaurant.

Conversations paused for exactly the amount of time it took for a dozen pairs of eyes to catalog every detail of the obvious outsider who’d just walked in.

My jeans were too expensive, my sneakers too clean, my sweater the wrong shade of blue for Texas, probably.

I felt heat creep up my neck and fought the urge to turn around and walk right back out.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” The voice came from behind the counter. It was high-pitched, warm, slightly raspy, and with the kind of Texas drawl that turned one-syllable words into three. “My God, look at you, sugar!”

I turned toward the voice and felt my breath catch.

The woman standing there had to be Aunt Dolly, but she looked nothing like the vague memory I had of her.

She was probably in her early fifties, with big bright blonde hair, red acrylics, and a pair of blue eyes that would knock you off your feet.

Those eyes were one family trait we both shared.

She wore a polka-dot blouse that was cinched tight at the waist by her apron, making her look thinner than seemed possible.

Despite the fact that she worked on her feet all day, she wore heels, and there wasn’t a damn hair out of place on her entire head.

“Hayden, is that you?” she smiled wide, her teeth whiter than seemed possible. She held her arms out wide. “That is you! Come here and give your Aunt Dolly a hug!”

I put on the best smile I could muster, walking forward to meet her. She threw her arms around me even though the top of her hair only came up to my chin. I hugged her back, trying to muster up some enthusiasm.

“Hi Aunt Dolly,” I said, my voice a little shaky since everyone in the entire restaurant was staring at us now.

“Let me get a good look at you,” she replied, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me back.

She did a once-over before her gaze landed back on my face.

“Well, I will say, you’ve done a damn fine job growing up!

No wonder you’ve been a model; you’re mighty handsome!

” She reached up, booping my nose. “And you’ve got your mama’s freckles. I’m sure the boys love that!”

I furrowed my brow. “You… you know I’m gay?”

“Honey, no offense,” she grinned. “But I knew you was gay the moment I met you. The first thing you ever said to me was that you wanted hair like mine. And the second thing was you wantin’ to know if my jukebox had Cher on it.

” She gave a little shrug. “I might be blonde, but I can still put two and two together.”

Despite everything that had happened, despite the anger and exhaustion and general misery of the past few days, I felt my mouth twitch into what might have been an actual smile. “Cher, huh?”

“‘Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves,’” she said with a wink. “You made me play it six times in a row. Nearly drove your mama to drink.” She patted my cheek with one manicured hand. “Course, your mama was always a little high-strung. Not like us, sugar.”

The casual way she said us made something tight in my chest loosen just a fraction. Like maybe I wasn’t completely alone in this godforsaken cheerful place after all.

“Now,” she continued, steering me toward an empty booth in the corner, “you sit yourself right here and let me get you some food. You look like you ain’t eaten a proper meal in days.

” She wasn’t wrong. “And don’t you dare tell me you’re not hungry, because I can hear your stomach growling from here. ”

I slid into the red vinyl booth, the cracked leather sticking slightly to my jeans.

The table was one of those old Formica ones with silver edges that people had been carving initials into for years.

The whole place had that lived-in feeling that expensive restaurants tried to fake but never quite managed.

“I could eat,” I admitted, suddenly aware that the bacon smell was making my mouth water.

“Course you could. You’re skin and bones!” Dolly shook her head disapprovingly. “What have you been eatin’ out there in California? Air and good intentions?”

Before I could answer, she was already bustling away, calling out orders to someone in the kitchen. I heard her mention chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes, and my stomach practically whimpered with anticipation.

The other customers had mostly gone back to their conversations, though I caught a few curious glances.

A table of older men in work shirts and baseball caps kept looking over, probably trying to figure out what my story was.

In the booth across from me, a woman about my age was feeding a toddler who seemed more interested in throwing Cheerios on the floor than eating them.

It was all so normal. So... wholesome. Like something out of a Hallmark movie, if Hallmark movies included gay nephews having public breakdowns in small-town diners.

God, I hoped I didn’t do that by accident. The last thing I needed was to make a scene and get a reputation for being the town mess in the first five minutes. I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the cold surface of the table.

I just had to survive another month. Then I could go home and cry alone in my parents' mansion that I had no business being in at twenty-five years old.

Fuck, I felt pathetic…