Page 26 of Deck the Halls with Cowboys
Harmony’s head poked out underneath her husband’s, blue eyes wide, her curls hanging down like a curtain. “Abbie, you never told me this.”
Denver and Mason both did a double take, looking at the redhead with confused expressions.
“I’m sorry,” Beau interrupted, “why did you say that like she’s told you other stuff?”
Harmony looked up at her husband before slowly looking at us again. “Uh…”
“Wait, where?” Val asked, appearing beside her husband with a large mixing bowl in hand. “You told us the field was your weirdest place, but I have to say, Abs, my house might need to be at the top of the list.”
Harmony hummed a beautiful note in agreement. “Oh, absolutely.”
This wasn’t happening. This was just a fever dream.
Beau turned me to face him. He raised a brow. “You have a list?” he practically purred.
Yeah, this definitely wasn’t happening.I huffed and looked at my girls. “I thought what was said during girl dinner stayed at girl dinner,” I hissed.
Mason came into the hallway fully now, both hands raised in each direction. “Wait, wait. This is what y’all discuss at girl dinner?”
“Mase, I told you that we share secrets,” Harmony muttered, looking at me for help.
“Secrets?” Denver repeated on a low drawl. “Is that right?”
Now both of my friends were looking at me for help. I shrugged and put my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “If I’m going down, then I’m taking everybody with me.”
A new voice entered the hallway. “We’re here!” Diana and Mags appeared in the kitchen behind Denver and Val, both of them looking at the scene with confusion. “Sorry we’re late,” Diana said slowly. “Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Denver quipped, shooting a look at his wife before he turned to look at his lawyer. “We’re just discussing girl dinner.”
Diana visibly paled and her eyes cut to Val. “Babes, what the hell?”
“I’m not eatin’ fuckin’ girl dinner for Christmas,” Mags clipped, clearly oblivious to everything. That or he just didn’t give a shit, and knowing Mags, he probably just didn’t give a shit.
“Mags,” Beau called, “girl dinner—”
“Usually cheesy pasta with garlic and a glass of wine,” he finished, glancing at Diana. “I’m not eating that shit. I need sustenance. Protein. So that fucker,” he pointed at Mason, “fucks up the ham in any way, I’m killing him.”
“Why do you always have to kill somebody?” Mason jumped in. “What about having a nice, polite, civilized conversation for once?”
Mags stared at the bull rider. “Fuck up the ham, you die. End of the story.”
“My brother isn’t going to let you—”
“No, I’d probably help him,” Denver admitted.
Mason’s jaw dropped. He jerked his thumb back into his chest. “I’m your brother.”
“And we’re talking about Christmas dinner.”
“It wasn’t this serious at Thanksgiving,” Mason shot back.
Denver nodded. “Because I was in charge of the turkey. The chance of starvation was minimal.”
“Nonexistent, actually,” Beau said from behind me.
Denver’s gaze cut over to us again. “Yeah, you’re not eating at all because you decided to fuck yourwoman in my home.”
“It’s not like it was the first time, Den,” Mags said bluntly as Diana slapped her hand over her mouth. “You should cut him some slack.”
