Page 19 of Her Cowboy Santa
“Everything OK?” Christopher asks when I arrive at the vendor stall.
I realize my cheeks are flushed, and my jaw is tight. I force myself to loosen the tension in my body before Danny picks up on it. “Just heard from someone I used to know.”
“Not a good conversation I take it?” he asks as he pretends not to notice a kid sneaking three candy pieces from the dish that’s been set out.
“Definitely not.” I shake my head. At least, Corey doesn’t know I’m in Montana.
The rest of the day passes by in a blur of busy customers. Christopher is easy to work beside. He’s quiet, not someone that needs to keep up a steady conversation, and I find myself appreciating that about him.
When Nate shows up at the vendor stall, Mary pleads with me for the chance to spend time with Danny.
“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” I ask despite the fact that he’s happy in her arms. He’s blowing spit bubbles and occasionally interspersing them with grunts. He clearly wants her full attention.
She coos down at him, her face wreathed with delight. “Aren’t you just the sweetest thing? Grandma is going to eat you right up. Yes, she is.” She buries her head into his abdomen and makes munching noises.
Christopher catches my eye and nods. “Have fun tonight, kids. Don’t worry about Danny or Rudy. We’ve got them.”
Nate takes my mittened hand in his and leads me through the crowd. The market will continue for several more hours, but I’m going on a date.
“I know things get crazy at the stalls. Have you eaten today?” He asks as soon as we’re out of the market and back on the snow-covered streets. Everything is quieter here away from the hustle and bustle of shoppers and vendors.
I chuckle and pat my stomach. “Every time I turned around, Christopher was insisting I try a different dish. I think I sampled every food vendor.” It actually warmed my heart, the way he kept clucking over me. Christopher is a man of few words. When he cares about someone, he prefers to show it in his actions.
“Where are we going for our date?” I ask after we’ve walked together for a few minutes. I told him about my day, about meeting Angel for lattes and how much I enjoyed Christopher’s quiet, steady presence.
I didn’t mention Corey’s phone call. I think it would just make him angry on my behalf. Besides, Corey is thousands of miles away. There’s nothing to be done about him. Well, other than blocking his number which I did when we had a quiet moment at the stall.
“We’re here,” he says. “Just across the street.”
I look up to see a sign announcing the Silver Bell Hollow Ice Skating Rink. I gasp as soon as I see it. “You remembered!”
“Of course, I remembered,” he says. “It’s one of your favorite traditions.”
“I can’t believe this,” I murmur as he pays for two tickets to the outdoor rink.
There are already families and kids on the ice, all at various skill levels. Delighted laughter and soft squeals ring through the night air. Nearby, a crackling speaker plays Christmas music that skips every few seconds as if the CD has been scratched, but the rink owner hasn’t realized it yet.
“Now, I’ve never done this before,” he warns as the cashier passes us two pairs of skates.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” I promise. We take our seats on a nearby bench, so we can lace up. When we’re done, I get to my feet, surprised to find I’m upright.
I laugh, joy coming in waves after the stress of the past few weeks. “I haven’t done this in years.”
He stills, staring up at me.
“What is it?” I ask, my confidence growing. I missed being out here in the cold with skates on my feet. It feels good.
“I like your laugh,” he says softly. “I want to hear it for the rest of my life.”
I think again of Corey and how quickly I fell for him. But that was different because I was still grieving my parents, still looking for the place I belonged in the world. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted. That made me easy to mold. Now, I’m confident in my skin. I know who I am and what I want is this cowboy with his red Stetson and easy smile.
“Now, are you ready to watch me bust my ass on the ice?” He teases.
True to his word, Nate does bust his ass on the ice repeatedly. He falls down more often than he does anything else. Each time, he laughs it off and gets back onto his feet. I like that he can laugh at himself, and he isn’t taking this too seriously.
After over an hour on the ice, I finally take pity on him. “Are you ready to go back to the ranch?”
“Only if you carry me,” he gasps out from where he’s fallen yet again.
