Chapter 3
Dallas
Thanks to the curvy beauty I met at the post office, my trip back to Montana is turning out to be a lot different than I expected. If anyone would have told me I’d fall in love during the holidays or hell, any day for that matter, I’d have laughed my ass off.
Never much thought I was the falling in love kind. Maybe part of that is because of a foul tempered foster mom who said I was a bad kid and broken. She said broken people don’t know how to love and they don’t deserve it anyway. I carried those words like they were my future written in stone.
And look at me now. That curvy woman has me tied in more loops than a bag of Christmas bows. I don’t even know her name, but I will. I’ll know everything about her.
I drive onto the property of The Naughty List Ranch and see the two-story farmhouse. Many good memories were built here and some stick out more than others.
Like the first time Christopher sat beside me on the wraparound porch and told me I was a good kid. He said I was smart and talented, and he was glad I was there. Words nobody ever said to me before.
Another memory that sticks out is the first time I’d heard laughter spilling from the farmhouse’s open windows. I grew up in dozens of homes where people screamed and argued and threw things.
That’s the kind of environment I expected when I came to the ranch. And I expected Christmas to be just another day the way it had been up to that point. I didn’t even look at the boxes wrapped beneath their tree because I figured none of them had my name on them anyway.
But Christmas morning Mary had pressed a cup of cocoa in my hands and then told me to open my presents. Presents. Plenty of them. Like I mattered.
Maybe that’s why Christmas became my favorite holiday. It was during that time of year that even though the weather outside was cold, my frozen heart started thawing out.
I’m still smiling as I exit the car and glance over to see the bunkhouse where’d I’d slept and forged close bonds with the other boys, Grady, Cole, and Nate.
This place is as perfect and as special as the couple running it. They’re both on the porch grinning broadly. Though they’re in their early sixties, they have a vibrant, youthful glow about them. I reckon it comes from the light in their hearts.
“Welcome back, Dallas,” Mary says, her hazel eyes filled with joy. She looks at me like I’m her favorite, the same way she does the other boys. Her silver-streaked curls are pulled back into her familiar bun.
I stoop to her height and hug her. We still talk on the phone and video chat, but it’s not the same as getting a hug.
Christopher runs a hand down his white beard and his blue eyes light up as he engulfs me once Mary lets go.
This is the man who taught me to work hard. Who didn’t put up with excuses or bullshit. I might be a man now roughened by long hours working my ranch, but I feel like a scrawny teenager again.
He grips my shoulder and squeezes lightly. “Good to see you. Are you heading to the bunkhouse first?” he asks, handing me a cup of the spiked apple cider he makes.
I down it in just a few gulps. I’ve missed this, too.
He takes the cup back, then pulls a peppermint tin from his pocket and offers me one.
I take it and as I’m popping it into my mouth, a car pulls up.
“Oh, good. Ginger is here,” Mary says.
“Ginger?” I ask not recalling any of the neighbors having that name.
“Ginger Boyd. She’s the party planner I met online and hired to handle the party at the community center. I could tell she was hurting.”
That’s Mary. She has a knack for finding the wounded.
I turn. Well, hell. It’s my lucky day. The curvy beauty who didn’t appreciate that dildo is walking toward us. Ginger. Her name fits her as well as those jeans she wears.
Mary pokes me in the side with her index finger. “So that’s the lay of the land.”
“What?” I ask, projecting innocence, but my thoughts are anything but.
Ginger’s steps slow as she draws closer and recognizes me. Her hand goes up to clutch the front of her coat tighter around her gorgeous body. And though she greets Mary and Christopher politely, there’s definitely frost in the look she gives me.
I can’t help myself. Grinning widely, I tease,” You’re chasing me now, darlin’?”
Her cheeks redden. “Certainly not.”
She’s prim and proper and it turns me the fuck on. I reckon I better hightail it away from her before my bulge gets too noticeable.
“I’m heading to the bunkhouse. I’ll be back in a bit,” I tell Mary and Christopher. I pause close to Ginger. “Unless you need me?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Never,” she says forcefully under her breath giving me another frosty look before following Mary and Christopher inside the farmhouse.
I hear Mary say something about them making ornaments for the Winter Market as the front door closes.
Retreating off the porch, I walk in the direction of the bunkhouse. Snow is covering the ground as far as the eye can see and while I enjoy this type of weather, my brain is focused on the woman I want for Christmas this year. And every year after that.
When I step into the bunkhouse it still smells the same as my memories of it. Like Mary’s lemon furniture polish and pine wood.
The scent of chili hangs in the air and though I’m not ready to eat quite yet, my stomach growls. Cole’s chili is the best.
Nate comes over to hug me and we exchange thumps on the back. I grin at him. “I made a girl hate me.”
“What else is new?” Cole mutters.
“No, she really hates me,” I say. “I met Ginger at the post office with a dildo.”
“What?” Nate says.
“Marshall sent it to me. She mistakenly thought it was her package.” I can’t stop grinning recalling the incident and how meeting her took my heart by surprise.
“What a charming story to tell the grandkids,” Grady says dryly from the doorway. Grady was always the leader of us when we were teens.
Knowing he’s dealt with tough combat missions, I have mad respect for him.
I wave away his comment. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”
“That thin line is called a restraining order,” Dallas teases before turning to talk to Grady.
I take off my coat and head closer to the fire crackling in the fireplace, catching the scent of a Christmas tree as I move. A pang of nostalgia hits.
“Hey, your boots,” Nate reminds me. I quickly remove them and walk around in my socks. We all try to be mindful of keeping the place neat so it’s less work for Mary.
Cole asks if I’m staying in one of the six bedrooms before informing me that Nate isn’t going to because he wants to be closer to Callie and her young son, Danny.
“I’m staying,” I say as Cole begins passing out bowls filled with his mouth-watering chili. It’s mouthwatering now, but it sure as hell didn’t used to be.
We all take a seat at the table. One of the iron clad rules around this place when I was here as a teenager was that we eat together like a family. At first, it was awkward. I wasn’t used to anyone giving a shit whether or not I ate.
Nate says something else about my encounter with Ginger at the post office. “What about you?” I take a big bite of cornbread. “You got your girl locked down yet?”
“Working like hell on that,” he says, then falls silent.
“So are you leaving Courage County then?” Grady asks.
“Maybe,” Nate says.
The mood feels a little heavier now than it did when I first walked in. “Remember that time we pranked Christopher?” I ask.
“Which one?” Cole grunts.
“You know, when we made the scarecrows look like Dolly Parton.” I lean my chair back on two legs after I polish off the last bite of the chili and put my feet on the edge of the table. My stomach hurts from eating two meals so close together.
Grady chuckles. “I remember you gluing those jumbo-sized tissue rolls to the front of every scarecrow in the field.”
“And how you got those blonde wigs—” Cole shakes his head.
“I did that,” Nate says. “Borrowed ‘em from the community theater. Still can’t believe Mary never found out about that one.”
“We need to get another one over on him, just for old times’ sake,” I say.
Nate gets up and takes his bowl to the sink. “Why don’t you worry about getting that girl of yours to fall for you?”
I grin. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ve got a plan.” I know Ginger’s the one for me and I’m not leaving Montana without her.