Page 7 of A Cowboy Home for Christmas
I blow out a deep breath and scrub my palm over my face. “Ma, you said you’d talk to Savi.”
“I did talk to her.” She loops her arm in mine. “You know your sister, she only hears what she wants.”
“She has to stop taking out her anger on Lauren.”
“I’ll talk to her again.” She pats my arm.
I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you.”
The hay wagon ride is already loading when we arrive. I lift Clara over the steps and set her glitter cowboy boots on the platform beside Lauren.
“I can do it myself, Uncle Barker.” Lark climbs the steps with an exasperated huff.
I bite back a smile.
Savi charges on behind her, tickling her niece’s sides. “I’m gonna get you, too.” She teases Clara.
“No, auntie Savi!”
I grip my ma’s hand as she climbs up. She sits between her grandchildren, who shower her with attention. Savi snarls past Lauren to the far end and plops down, leaving an empty spot for me beside Lauren. Exactly where I want to be.
Soon the horse drawn wagon jerks into action. Lauren’s fingers clutch my thigh. Desire dives straight below my waist. My eyes meet hers. And there lies the craving we’ve been denying ourselves for years. Too many years.
“Sorry.” She snatches her arm away just as quickly and clamps her hands together on her lap. The bumps and grooves knock and rub our sides for the remainder of the ride.
The tree farm is busy. The twins play tag between the trees with Savi.
I catch Clara and lift her onto my shoulders. “Let’s find a tree.”
“I’ll lead the way!” Lark runs ahead of us.
We walk the brush comparing tree after tree like it’s a lifelong decision. They finally settle on a blue spruce no taller than five feet. The perfect size for travelling back to the Fox Lodge on the wagon.
My ma and Savi take the girls for hot apple cider and snacks. Lauren and I load it on a sleigh with wheels and roll it back to the wagon.
“Did Lark choose a color for her bedroom?” When I’d left the color choosing had just begun.
Lauren shakes her head. “She’s undecided between canary yellow and-“
“Tiffany blue.” I grin at her. “So, the debate continues.” I’m a regular at their house. More since my brother died. My ma and pa have been there too. I know the inside out of what’s happening. At least I did, until I left.
She grins back at me. Lord, she’s gorgeous.
“The girl cannot make up her mind. Clara is happy as all getup with her fiery rose paint, but not Lark. We were at the paint shop this week, in the lineup holding the canary yellow paint sample. At the last minute she changed her mind, and went running outside.”
“It seems there’s something deeper than the color at play here.”
She nods. “I think you’re right. She just won’t tell me what.”
“Give her time.”
“I feel like all I do is give people time. Give the girls time. Give your sister time. Give Gunnar time.” She gasps and clamps her mouth shut. “I’m so sorry.”
I stop and catch her arm. I force her to look at me. “I loved my brother. He was my blood, my family, my best friend.” A shade of shame glazes her eyes. “Gunnar could also be an asshole. The majority of his life he was an arrogant, cocky prick. I know that. You know that. My entire family knows that. But they’re hurting too much to admit it.” Like my sister, who’s living some pipe dream that her favorite brother was a saint.
I take a step closer and lower my voice for just the two of us. “I can separate the brother I loved, and the asshole you married. The prick who cheated on you.”
She inhales deeply at my blunt honesty. Her jaw firms. Her lips pinch.
