Page 52 of The Cowboy's Christmas
But he drew the line when she suggested running a bucket of water and helping clean the surfaces.
“Let’s go check the tree.”
She gave him a funny look. “Kicking me out?”
“I am, and I think we should check the tree.”
She met his eyes, wondering why they needed to check the tree when he could simply send her on her way, and then reached for her coat. He held the door open, and she pushed her arms into the sleeves, then buttoned the front as she walked with him around the barn to the main door next to the closed bay door. The branches had unfurled nicely, but the tree water was beginning to ice over.
“As I thought,” he said. “Shall we move it into the house?”
“Good plan.”
The kitchen was empty when Quinn and Savannah wrestled the tree through the room and then parked it in its bucket in the corner of the mudroom. The television was on low and other than that there were no signs of life.
“Wait here,” Savannah said before disappearing out the arched kitchen doorway into the next room. She came back a few seconds later.
“The girls are being mesmerized by their favorite TV show and Deke is with them sound asleep.” She made a wry face. “He is not a fan of cartoon bears, but he takes the hit for the team.”
“As good team players do.”
Savannah pulled out a chair and sat, and even though he had some work to do in his borrowed quarters, he did the same. Savannah must have taken that as a sign, because she said, “Would you like some Christmas cheer?”
“Sure.”
She smiled her pleasure at his acceptance, then got out of her chair, returning a moment later with a bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses. She poured and then lifted her glass in a silent toast.
“I’m a sipper,” she said, “but feel free to knock it back if that’s your habit.”
“I can go either way.” He watched as she lifted the glass to her lips and took a delicate taste, leaving a sheen of bourbon on her lower lip, that, under different circumstances, might have needed to be removed in a rather pleasant way. He raised his glass and emptied half of it.
“Now that’s a compromise between tossing back and sipping,” Savannah said, her blue eyes shining with amusement.
“I’m all about compromise,” he said. “In the proper circumstances.”
He half expected her to ask what those circumstances might be, but instead she said, “The girls had so much fun today. They can’t wait to tell their mom and dad when they call next.”
“Mymom would have loved the tree hunt,” Quinn said. “She might have been a vagabond, but she did love the holidays. We pared down belongings a time or two, but the Christmas boxes always traveled with us.”
“You miss her.”
“Yeah. She wasn’t like the other moms I knew, but she was always there for me.”
“How was she different?”
“It was like she was searching for something, and I was along for the ride. She took great care of me. I couldn’t have asked for a stronger support system, but it turned out that I had itchy feet, too.” He pulled in a breath. “I left home at eighteen, started my own search and she continued hers.”
“How did you search?”
“I bounced around. I worked oil patch, did some time driving trucks in the big mines in Nevada, worked more than one ranch.” He smiled ironically. “Took a couple stabs at college, but decided I liked apprenticing more than studying.”
It was all he could do not to pull back, stop talking about himself. Confession might be good for the soul, but it made him feel self-conscious as hell, even talking about his job history. He’d wandered around, always doing the cowboy thing on the side, and sometimes as his occupation, but he’d never stayed in one place.
“The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree,” he concluded.
Savannah digested that bit of clichéd truth in silence; however, her gaze remained skeptical. Well, he wasn’t going to fight to convince her that he had difficulty putting down roots.
“How long have you lived on the Neary Ranch?” she asked.
