Page 15 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“Wait!” By the sound of his voice, Ryan was following her, and she sped up to a fast walk. “I thought we were going to talk about the next set of sculptures.”
“Just text me which ones sold, and I’ll make more of the popular ones.” Slipping through the office door, she quickly pulled it shut behind her. Once the two men couldn’t see her anymore, she bolted outside and down the path to the gift-shop lot. She didn’t dare relax until she was in her car.
As she backed out carefully, she heard the faint sound of sleigh bells and stepped on the brake. Looking around, trying to spot the source of the unusual sound, she spotted Nate leading Buttercup toward the lot, dragging a small sled with an evergreen tree tied to it behind her. A smiling couple walked on the other side of Buttercup, and two small, well-bundled-up children straddled her. Camille had to laugh at the way their little legs stuck straight out to the sides as they rode on her broad back.
It was such a perfect Christmas-card moment. Growing up, Camille’s grandma had put up an artificial, two-foot-tall tree every year. After she died, Camille hadn’t bothered with a tree, being too busy with Christmas orders. Besides, seeing her grandma’s tree—as small and fake as it was—hurt too much. The holidays were painful and lonely enough. She didn’t need any reminders of when she’d had someone who loved her.
Seeing this family, so happy and excited, made a tiny, hollow part of her ache. Those kids would never forget this visit to the ranch, and it would most likely become both a joyful memory and a yearly tradition. Camille rubbed her chest absently, watching until they arrived at the edge of the lot and Nate reached up to help the kids slide off Buttercup’s back.
Shaking off her distraction, Camille let the Buick roll forward down the driveway.Silly, she told herself. Why was she feeling nostalgic for something she’d never experienced? There was something about the ranch that brought her emotions, usually so neatly tucked away deep inside her, to the surface. It was aggravating and uncomfortable, and she decided to do her best to stay in her workshop where she belonged.
Despite her resolution, she let her gaze stray to the rearview mirror—wanting to catch a final glimpse of that happy holiday scene—and did her best not to think of all the things she would never get to have.
Chapter 3
“What are you doing?” Ryan demanded once Camille had escaped from the workshop.
Steve’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion at his brother’s confrontational tone. “What?”
“Quit trying to poach.” Ryan stalked closer, looking honestly annoyed, which made Steve even more baffled.
“Poach? What are you talking about?”
“Camille. I call dibs, so back off.”
Oh.He’d hoped that he’d misread Ryan’s intentions, but it looked like they were back to that same old one-upmanship. At least there were no more football games or athletic scholarships left to getNate’scompetitive spirit flaring. “I hate to break it to you, Ry, but you can’t call dibs on a person. Besides, Camille’s not interested. She pretty much ran out of here.” He left out the part about her slamming the door in Ryan’s face, not wanting to kick his brother while he was down. It was refreshing, though, to see there was at least one woman immune to Ryan’s charm, especially since that woman was Camille Brandt, who seemed to have grown from a sweet, shy, awkward teen into a sweet, shy, gorgeous adult.
She wasn’tjustbeautiful, though. She had a way of listening carefully before saying exactly what someone needed to hear. They’d talked three times since he’d returned to Borne, and each time, he’d left feeling more optimistic and hopeful than he’d felt in a while. Shaking off his thoughts, he realized that his brother was glaring at him.
“That’s just how she is,” Ryan said. “She’s shy and easily overwhelmed by male attention.”
Steve had to bite his cheek to keep from snorting. Sure, Camille was timid, but that just made her flat refusal to have lunch with Ryan more obvious. There was absolutely no sign that she was interested in him. “Okay, Ry.” Feeling a little bad for his clueless, rejected brother, he reached out to give Ryan’s arm a gentle pat. “I’m going to relieve Will so he can take a break.”
“You don’t believe me, but you’ll see,” Ryan called after him as Steve headed for the door. “You’re not going to win this one. She’ll be mine by Christmas.”
There was no point arguingonce againthat women weren’t prizes to be won. Steve just raised his hand in a wave. As he followed the path to the store, he shook his head. He was going to enjoy watching Camille give Ryan his first-ever smackdown. As much as he loved his brother, Ryan had it coming.
“Dad!”
Steve stopped and turned to see Maya running up to him. “Hey, Maya.”
She caught his hand in both of hers, making him smile as she always did. “How do you feel about riding?”
“Now?” When she nodded, bouncing on her toes until it became a whole-body movement, he motioned toward the shop. “Will needs a break. How about you work in the store with me for a half hour, and then we’ll go for a ride.”
“Okay.” Still holding on to his hand, she fell in next to him as they walked toward the gift shop.
“Have you seen Micah since breakfast?” he asked when the snow horse caught his eye.
“Nope. It’s Saturday, though. There’re too many customers around, so he’s probably hiding out with Uncle Joe.”
Steve made a sound of agreement, even as an old worry flared to life. Lately, he’d been a little preoccupied with Zoe’s experiments, but he was also concerned about Micah. Thirteen was very young to turn into a hermit, but Micah seemed to be pretty far down that road already. Steve wondered if the two moves in two years had traumatized the kids. There hadn’t been much of a choice in the matter, though. Both places they’d lived before—Simpson and then Monroe—had become too dangerous to raise his family there. He’d felt trapped between keeping his kids safe and keeping them happy, and he’d chosen the first. It wasn’t that he regretted his choice now, but he wished his kids still felt like they could talk to him as they used to.
“Are you happy here?” he asked Maya abruptly.
Tilting her head in thought, she didn’t look put off by the out-of-the-blue question. “Yes. I miss my friends from Simpson sometimes, and the firefighters who used to babysit us, but this is the best place we’ve lived. I like having all my uncles around.”
“Me, too.” Until he moved back to the ranch, he hadn’t realized how alone he’d felt, especially in Monroe. As newcomers, they hadn’t had the same type of support system as they’d had in Simpson, where they’d lived for more than a decade. Although his brothers drove him crazy sometimes, they were family, and they loved the kids. It was good being home. “I’m glad you like it here. I know moving so much has been hard.”
