Page 5 of Special Delivery Cowboy
And in the corner—a fully decorated Christmas tree, at least nine feet tall, lights twinkling.
But the kitchen.
Oh, the kitchen.
I stood in the doorway and laughed. Granite countertops. Professional-grade appliances. A six-burner gas range. A farmhouse sink deep enough for my biggest mixing bowls. Counter space for days. A kitchen where I could cook without apologizing, bake without guilt, enjoy myself.
I spent the next hour unpacking groceries, arranging everything in the enormous refrigerator and spacious pantry. I loaded wine into the fridge—the cabin even had a separate wine fridge, which seemed like a sign. Brought my bags upstairs to the master bedroom—king bed, another fireplace, bathroom with a jacuzzi tub and two-person rain shower. The second bedroom I left alone. More space than I needed, but nice to have.
By late afternoon, I was curled on the couch with hot chocolate, laptop open to a terrible Christmas movie, watching snow fall outside those enormous windows. The light was fading, painting everything in twilight blue. The forecast showed the storm intensifying overnight—I’d be snowed in for Christmas.
Perfect.
I pulled out my phone and texted Melody.
Me: Made it. This place is incredible.
Mel: You deserve it. Eat ALL the cookies. ??
I smiled. Yeah. I would.
I raised my hot chocolate to my reflection in the window.
"Merry Christmas to me," I said out loud. "Screw you, Grayson."
Outside, the snow fell harder, and I had nowhere to be, nothing to prove, and three days to figure out who I wanted to be next.
Chapter Two
TJ
I'd been up since five, and by mid-morning my hands had gone numb twice already.
December cold wasn't new, but eighteen degrees with wind cutting through the valley hit different. I'd already moved through the routine I could do half-asleep—feed the cattle, check water troughs, make sure everything was secure before the storm hit. Weather report said snow by afternoon, heavy accumulation by evening. Nothing we hadn't handled before, but enough to keep me on the property for a day or two.
Fine by me. I had nowhere else to be.
My breath fogged in the cold air as I forked hay into the last feeder. The barn smelled like it always did—hay and livestock, familiar smells that had been part of every morning of my life. The cattle pressed close, their body heat rising in clouds of steam. A few of the cows were getting close to calving—I'd need to keep extra watch on them once the storm cleared.
Outside, the December sky hung low and gray, promising serious snow. The kind that buried fence lines and turned the whole valley white.
I pulled my work gloves tighter and headed for the equipment shed. Wanted to double-check the generator before lunch, make sure we had fuel for the next few days. The ranch had weathered plenty of Christmas storms over the years. This one would be no different.
My boots crunched through the inch of snow that had already fallen overnight. The wind was coming from the north, steady and cold. I checked the fence line along the north pasture—solid. Checked the water heater in the main trough—working.
