Her Cowboy's Christmas Wish (Harlequin American Romance) (7 page)

“I was an idiot,” he said, breaking the silence. “I ran away from the very person I needed the most, because I couldn’t handle my grief. You have no idea how much I wish I hadn’t.”

“Thank you for being honest. But it changes nothing.” She stepped away from the table.

He sat up so abruptly the table shook. “That’s what you’re doing, too, Caitlin. You’re running away.”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if that was true.”

“Then come to Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I told you, I can’t.”

“Trust me, I have no expectations where we’re concerned—despite the kiss last night.” He held up his hand when she would have protested. “We were swept up in the moment is all. No big deal.”

Maybe not for him. It had been a very big deal for her.

“Come on.” He grinned imploringly. “No one should be alone on Thanksgiving. And Dad would love to see you again.”

“Justin may be—”

“Bring him, too. He’s more than welcome.”

Caitlin couldn’t imagine making a bigger mistake, considering her knee-buckling reaction to Ethan’s kiss. If only she didn’t dread spending Thanksgiving alone in her little condo. And Justin would probably love coming to the ranch…?.

“All right,” she said, relenting. “I accept your invitation. As long as we’re clear—
friends only
.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, his solemn tone in direct contrast to the twinkle lighting his eyes.

Caitlin sighed tiredly.

Had he heard even one thing she said?

Ethan’s father stood in front of the open oven door, fussing over the roasting turkey as if he was competing in a professional cook-off and about to be judged.

“It’s not browning right.”

“Looks okay to me.” Ethan peered around his dad’s head. “I’m sure it’ll taste fine.”

“Humph.”

Evidently not the right thing to say to someone who took food preparation seriously.

Wayne Powell shut the oven door with more force than was necessary. Grumbling to himself, he went to the counter and checked on the girls. They’d been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, an entire five-pound sack.

He wasn’t annoyed with Ethan, at least not as much as he pretended. He liked being in charge of the kitchen, liked making a fuss. Up until Sage and Isa had entered their lives, cooking was the only chore he regularly performed on the ranch, choosing instead to remain a semirecluse. Even Cassie, his one and only grandchild, coming to live with them hadn’t rescued him from the deep depression he’d succumbed to after his wife died. All that had changed when the girls went missing.

Finding them in the box canyon had not only resulted in
Prince’s capture, it restored Wayne Powell to his former self and his family.

This was truly a day to be thankful.

The reason foremost in Ethan’s mind was Caitlin coming to dinner. He hadn’t spoken to her about Thanksgiving since inviting her last Saturday, though he’d seen her twice for physical-therapy sessions. He worried that bringing up the topic of dinner might cause her to change her mind. Better to keep cool. Lie low. Feign disinterest.

Yeah, tell that to his gut, which had been churning all morning from nervous tension.

“How’s the pico de gallo coming?” Ethan’s father asked.

Sage stood at the counter beside the girls, chopping tomatoes, cilantro, green chillies, garlic and onions. “Almost done, and then I’ll be out of your way.”

Normally Ethan’s father would have resisted serving pico de gallo and tortilla chips as an appetizer at Thanksgiving. But he loved Sage and Isa and welcomed their contribution, even if it wasn’t a traditional dish.

“Nice day.” Gavin appeared at Ethan’s side and gave his brother a hand with putting the extra leaf in the dining table. “We haven’t had this much commotion in a long time.”

“Yeah, real nice.” They’d always been a close family. It was just that for the last decade, they’d been a broken one. Like his brother, Ethan was glad to see their family on the mend.

“Too bad Sierra isn’t here.” Gavin slipped the extra leaf into place, then helped Ethan push the expanded table together.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She hasn’t called yet, and Dad’s starting to worry.”

“It’s still early, and that job of hers keeps her busy.”

“On Thanksgiving?”

“It’s possible.”

Ethan had his doubts. Something was wrong with his sister and had been since her last visit a year and a half ago. Everything had gone well, as far as he knew. Really well. But shortly after she returned to San Francisco, she’d stopped answering her phone, stopped emailing regularly and was always busy when someone did finally get ahold of her.

“Let’s wait till dinner’s over,” Gavin said. “Then we’ll call her.”

He was always the more reasonable of the two brothers, and Ethan would be wise to listen. Still, he couldn’t ignore his instincts, and they warned him to be on the watch where Sierra was concerned.

“I’m going to bring in more wood for the fireplace,” he said.

“What about your shoulder?”

“I’m fine.” Ethan wasn’t exactly fine, though he was considerably improved, thanks to a constant regime of ibuprofen, ice packs and physical therapy. In fact, he was enough better that his confidence was growing. Despite not making eight seconds again since his ride last week, he’d changed his goal from just competing in Saturday’s jackpot to placing in the top five positions.

If you want to be a winner, you have to think like one
.

His high school coach’s advice still rang in Ethan’s ears, and he heeded it.

Escaping the bustle of the busy kitchen, he went outside to the woodpile behind the house. On his third trip carrying an armful of cut pine logs, he spied Clay’s truck pulling through the main gate. His renewed friendship with his childhood buddy was yet another reason to be thankful today.

“Need a hand?” Clay asked, meeting him on the back porch.

“I think I’ve got enough for now.” Ethan did let Clay open the door for him. “See your dad today?”

“Nope.”

“Talk to him?”

No answer.

“Isn’t it about time you two buried the hatchet?”

“We will. One day. Just not yet.”

Clay and his father had suffered a terrible falling-out when Bud Duvall had refused to honor his agreement with Ethan’s dad and had sold the Powell land out from under them. There was likely more to the story, but Clay chose not to elaborate, and Ethan respected his friend’s privacy.

Taking his share of money from the family’s cattle operation, Clay had struck out on his own, purchasing a large parcel of land a few miles down the road. He’d used the remaining funds to construct the rodeo arena and bankroll his rodeo stock business. Somewhere in between, he’d married and, after six short months, divorced. But that subject was also off-limits.

While Clay shook hands and dispensed hugs to the other Powell family members, Ethan carried the last load of firewood into the living room, placing it in the log bin along with the rest. He was just glancing at the mantel clock and wondering if Caitlin had changed her mind, after all, when a small commotion rose from the kitchen.

“Nurse Carmichael’s here!” Cassie’s high-pitched voice echoed throughout the house.

Ethan headed for the kitchen, presenting a welcoming smile that he hoped hid the turmoil in his heart. Caitlin wanted to be friends, and he’d rather have her in his life as a friend than not at all.

It wasn’t, however, what
he
wanted.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He envied the girls, who clung to her with the tenacity of baby possums riding their mother’s back.

“Same to you.” She smiled brightly. “Sorry we’re late.”

To his delight, she extracted herself from the girls’ clutches and gave him a casual but decidedly warm hug. He resisted the urge to fold her in his arms and bury his face in the soft, fragrant skin of her neck.

Justin appeared in the doorway, having taken a bit longer to cross the porch. He rolled his wheelchair over the threshold and into the kitchen, which was now crowded with nine people.

“Hi, everybody.”

Reintroductions were made along with new ones. When it came to Isa, the little girl hovered behind her mother. She wasn’t normally shy, and Ethan suspected Justin’s wheelchair had something to do with the change in her behavior.

“Hello, I’m Justin.” He tilted his head so he could see her better and winked. “What’s your name?”

“Isa,” she answered timidly.

“Well, Isa, I was hoping for a tour of the house. Maybe you can show me around.”

She crouched even farther behind Sage.

“That’s too bad. Because I brought this box of chocolates, and I need someone to help me eat them.” He produced a wrapped package from the backpack on his lap. “Possibly two someones.”

That was enough encouragement for Cassie. She rushed forward. “Can I touch your chair?”

“Sure.” Justin shifted sideways, and Cassie stroked the armrest.

“Wow!” She bent and examined the wheels. “Cool.”

Isa slowly emerged from behind her mother to stand next to Cassie. At Justin’s smile of encouragement, she also stroked the wheelchair’s armrest.

“Come on, you two. Let’s get out of here before the grown-ups put us to work.”

“Yeah,” Cassie agreed. “I hate peeling potatoes.”

Including himself with the “kids,” even though he was considerably older than them, sealed the deal. Justin and his young tour guides left the kitchen to explore the rest of the house.

Caitlin’s smile followed them.

“He’s very good with children,” Sage observed.

“He’s going be a teacher when he graduates.”

“A good one, it looks like.”

“What can I do to help?” Caitlin held up a container. “I brought a pumpkin pie.”

She was instantly recruited to slice the freshly baked bread.

Ethan offered Clay a beer. Gavin joined them, and the three men retreated to the calm of the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, Ethan stared at the fire with its leaping flames and crackling logs. The woodsy scent filled the room, giving it that special holiday feeling.

“Sounds like the girls have coaxed Justin into a game of Uno,” Gavin said, craning his neck to see through the archway and into the family room.

“He’s a good sport,” Ethan answered.

“A real nice guy,” Clay concurred, and took a long swallow of his beer. “Shame about the accident.”

“Doesn’t seem to have slowed him down any.”

“You’re right about that.” He turned to Ethan. “How’s the physical therapy going with Caitlin?”

“Great. I have an appointment at the clinic tomorrow. I’m sure the doctor won’t find anything.”

“I wasn’t talking about your shoulder.” Clay shot Gavin a conspiratorial look.

Ethan’s brother shrugged.

“Caitlin and I are friends,” Ethan insisted. “That’s all.”

Maybe if he said it seven hundred more times, he’d start believing it.

“You weren’t acting like friends the other night when you were kissing.” Clay looked at Gavin again and received another shrug.

Ethan sipped his beer. He and Caitlin hadn’t acted like friends when they were kissing because it hadn’t felt that way.

“What are you going to do?” Clay asked.

“Nothing. She says there’s no chance for us as long as I’m riding broncs and breaking horses.”

“Then give it up.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Isn’t she worth it?”

Conner had made a similar comment the other night at the rodeo arena.

“It’s not like I wouldn’t—won’t—give up bronc riding eventually.” When he’d erased all doubt from his and everyone else’s minds that he was no different than before the car bomb explosion. “Breaking horses, that’s another thing. It’s my job.”

“She’s the love of your life.”

“
Former
love of my life,” he corrected. “And that was years ago.”

“She could be again.” Clay sent Gavin another look. This one was met with a confident nod.

Ethan was less sure about his feelings for Caitlin and hers for him. Could he ever give up his cowboy ways for her? He’d almost rather lose his other leg.

It was a quandary he continued to ponder all through dinner as he sat across the large table from her. He did his best to keep up with the lively conversations, but was completely distracted by her green eyes and the memory of them drifting shut as his mouth claimed hers.

“I
HAD A WONDERFUL TIME
. Thank you so much for inviting us.” Caitlin wrapped her arms around Wayne Powell’s generous waist and squeezed.

He returned the hug with great enthusiasm. “It’s wonderful to have you back. Just like old times.”

She agreed. The only difference was the absence of his late wife, who’d been mentioned often during dinner.

“Give your parents my regards.” Wayne released Caitlin. “And don’t be a stranger, you hear?” He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger.

“I won’t.”

If only Caitlin was certain she could return for a social visit. No matter how often she told herself she wasn’t interested in Ethan romantically, there was no denying the rush of awareness that stole over her whenever she caught his dark eyes observing her.

“Goodbye, Justin.” Isa hung on to his wheelchair, which earlier in the day had intimidated her. “If you come back, I’ll let you ride my horse, Chico.”

“Deal, kiddo.” He bumped fists with her before wheeling himself through the back door.

Caitlin’s steps momentarily faltered. Was Isa’s invitation spur-of-the-moment or had Justin and the girls been talking about riding? Considering his last visit to the ranch, Caitlin should have seen this coming.

“I’m right behind you,” she called to her brother, who beat her out the door.

She’d said her farewells to everyone except Ethan, who’d disappeared at the last second. She tried not to let the obvious slight bother her. They’d see each other again tomorrow when she and her volunteers came by to work on the wagon.

Sound reasoning did nothing to alleviate her disappointment.

“Take your time,” Justin called to her.

She scarcely noticed the hint of amusement in his tone, she was so distracted. Once outside, she almost ran over Ethan.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

That would probably be a mistake. It would be much less nerve-racking to say goodbye here, with his family watching from the doorway. Only she didn’t, and he fell into step beside her.

Lately, it seemed, the harder she tried to keep him at a distance, the closer he got.

Or was it the closer she allowed him to get?

“Thanks again for coming,” he said.

She hoped he wouldn’t take her hand, as he had in the bunkhouse. Touching him would break down the last of her defenses.

“I really enjoyed myself. Justin did, too.”

“Dad insists I ask you back.”

“That was nice of him.”

No commitments. Better for both of them in the long run.

“What time will you be here tomorrow? I’ll make sure everything’s ready.”

“Really,” she insisted, “I don’t want to put you through any more trouble than I already have. It’s enough that you’re letting us use your wagon during the festival—and will be driving it.”

“I like your friends. And I like you.”

Here was where she was supposed to say, “I like you, too,” but that would be asking for trouble.

“Let’s schedule one last physical-therapy session before the jackpot,” she said instead. “How about tomorrow after we’re done working on the wagon?”

“Yeah, sure. I appreciate all you’ve done. My shoulder’s doing great.”

Justin had already hoisted himself into the front passenger seat and collapsed his wheelchair, leaning it against the open door. Ethan went over to him, and, after saying goodbye, grabbed the chair.