Page 28 of Red Hot Rancher

Funny, at one point in his life, he would’ve hoovered anything edible and attempted a few things that weren’t. He’d gotten soft.

Tossing the burger in the bag, he grabbed an apple from the cooler he’d packed from Justin’s. Clearing out before Rick and Joan arrived had been a priority.

He’d tried switching shifts, but the guys on duty didn’t want to lose the holiday pay. Couldn’t blame them. He was scheduled to work Christmas and he’d gladly pick up another holiday for the money. His good pickup was in the shop, and while it didn’t have great gas mileage, his current forty-year-old truck ate gas like it was a starving five-year-old left to his own devices on Thanksgiving.

Look at that. He was back at the pity party again.

The apple wasn’t nearly as satisfying but the kick of sweetness brightened the five minutes it took to eat it. If the grocery store were open, he’d buy something more substantial—that didn’t need heating or refrigeration, of course. This wasn’t one of those kinds of rooms.

With a sigh, he tossed the core in the garbage on top of his uneaten burger. Ain’t that a picture for the Christmas card.

A dot of sweat popped on his forehead. He’d turned the heat down after check-in but it was like he had his own in-room bonfire churning. The sweater he’d worn here was already draped over the back of the rickety chair by the coatrack. He shrugged out of his shirt. Guess he wouldn’t need to go out and get his winter coat after all. After he’d dumped his duffel in the room and felt how thin the comforter was, he’d considered gathering every spare scrap of material he had to use as blankets.

But at this rate, he was going to have to sleep with the windows open.

Flipping on the TV, he scanned through the channels.

“Fuck me.” Three channels and only one came in decently. And here he was without his Matchbox car.

He sprawled across the top of the bed, spreading out his body to keep from trapping heat in.

What would the Walkers be doing? He’d subtly asked Jesse what their plans were. His sister had invited Jesse, Farah, and her parents over. If it’d been the other way around, he would’ve casually invited himself over, but he wasn’t low enough to invite himself over to another Walker’s.

So he’d played casual with Justin, said it was no problem, that he’d get a room and give Justin’s family space. They were good enough friends that Justin didn’t push it and dent his pride.

But, man, this sucked.

The meal was over. Brigit stacked dishes in the dishwasher, her patience balancing on a razor’s edge. She should be stuffed, but Mom had thought one pie for just the four of them was enough. Not only that, half the damn pumpkin pie was left.

She slammed a plate into the slot.

Someone entered the kitchen behind her. Was she lucky enough that it was Justin?

“I definitely think brining is the way to go next time,” Mom said. “Then the turkey won’t get so dry.”

The turkey had been only a little dry. “That’s what gravy’s for.”

“Better to eat turkey, not liquid fat.”

Gravy was broth and flour and bullion—and a little grease for flavor. But whatever.

Mom positioned herself at the sink behind Brigit to rinse off plates before they went into the dishwasher. Which Brigit never did. Because they had a dishwasher.

“This was a cozy holiday between us.” Mom sighed wistfully. “I miss Travis and the kids.”

Brigit lifted a brow. “And Kami.”

Travis’s wife had once been on the same level as Caleb in Mom’s opinion. Mom liked her well enough now, but it was still “Travis and the kids.” Like she couldn’t help her fiercely protective streak around her kids.

“Oh, of course.” Mom slid in an as-good-as-clean plate toward her. “Funny how we used to have these gigantic gatherings and now we’re all divided up. Cash and Abbi went to her family’s. Dillon and Elle had her dad out.” She chuckled. “Aaron said he was getting a decoy turkey to keep his brothers away from all the dark meat, and Brock had his in-laws over—all of them, I guess. Never thought I’d see the day he’d entertain so many people in his home.”

Brigit was nodding, mildly interested. Her cousins all had their own families and she didn’t see them much outside of planting, harvesting, and working cattle. But Mom’s last words dawned on her. All Brock’s in-laws.

“Farah’s parents went to Brock’s too?” She’d assumed Caleb would head over to the Jameses for the day.

“I guess.” Mom slid another cleaned, dripping plate over.

“I wonder what Caleb did today.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Maybe she had. To make a point.

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