Page 67 of The Cowboy's Christmas
Savannah frowned down at the carpet. “I didn’t see this coming, but he’s a good guy.”
Deke did not respond.
“And protective,” she added.
“He is.”
“It’s kind of getting in my way,” Savannah said darkly.
Deke gave a rusty laugh, then his expression sobered as he looked up. “He’s a guy who’s lived his life feeling squeezed out, and he expects to be squeezed out again. He’s got some trust issues. Kind of reminds me of Pete when we first started working together.”
Trust Deke to liken a man to his horse, and to do it in a way that made it a compliment.
“I need to let him go on his way, don’t I?” She knew the answer, which was why she had that rock-in-the-stomach feeling. He had issues to work out. If he discovered he wasn’t a vagabond, he knew where to find her.
“Until he figures a few things out, I think you do.”
“Think he ever will? Figure things out, I mean?”
She hadn’t expected to ask the question, but now that she had, she held her breath, waiting for her uncle’s reply.
“No telling, Vannie.”
Not the answer she wanted—she’d wanted reassurance—but it was the answer she had to hear.
“Deke?” She turned her uncle’s name into a question.
“Yeah?”
“Is that Jeff Barnett guy as bad as Quinn said he was?”
Deke gave a slow nod. “He’s no prize.”
“Would he get the job done?”
“As long as he was in charge of opening gates and unloading hay, probably.”
“Could he plow if necessary?”
“Only if he gave me the pink slip of his truck until he was done.”
Savannah pulled air in through her nose, then exhaled sharply. “Let’s hire him.”
*
The flatbed wasparked in its usual spot near the barn when Savannah got up the next morning, although it hadn’t been there when she’d gone to bed. Quinn had sent a text shortly after she’d left Deke in the living room, telling her that the baby was fine, but under observation. She’d shot back “Thanks for letting me know. I’m glad,” and that had been the end of their communication.
She heard Sophie and Jessa giggling when she passed by their room on her way to the kitchen and caffeine and stopped to crack open the door. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on Jessa’s bed, turning the pages of the Christmas book Deke had bought for them the day before in Marietta.
“Aunt Vannie, how many days?” Sophie asked.
The book was a Christmas countdown story and Savannah made a quick mental calculation. “Seven.”
The little girls exchanged looks. “Long time,” Jessa said. Sophie nodded.
Savannah smiled and told them to get dressed because she was fairly certain it was snowman pancake day.
The girls scooted off the bed and headed for their dresser as Savannah closed the door. Snowman pancakes for the win.
