Yuletide Cowboy (6 page)

She did not need Chance Turner's family or anyone else,
including
Chance, interfering with the life she was envisioning for her and her boys.

And that included how she chose to decorate her house for Christmas!

“Lynn, wait.”

No.
She spun, startled by Chance's voice. “I need to go pick my boys up,” she said, praying for strength in her words.

“Look, about what happened in there—”

Miraculously she calmed. “I won't be railroaded, Chance. And that's exactly how it felt in there. I'm the first to know the auction was for a great cause, but I would have bid on a man if I'd wanted one. And I didn't, don't and won't be forced, no matter how good the intention.”

“And I'd have put myself in the running if I'd wanted a woman.” He stopped a few steps from her. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to railroad you. I just came out here to say I'm sorry if we offended you. I know that
is the last thing my family wanted to do. They thought they were doing you a favor—”

“They were trying to match us up.”

He had the decency not to deny it. “You're right. I think that was apparent. But still, there was no offense intended. I can tell you're upset. Are you okay? Is there something I can do?”

She shook her head, tears suddenly threatening. “I—I'm not offended. Not really. Look, I have my own plans and I'm hoping everyone can understand that and honor my wishes.”

“Yeah, sure they can. I'll relay that to my family.” He stepped toward her, concern written in his expression.

“You aren't okay.”

“I'm fine.” She pulled open her car door. “Don't worry about me. You have your own plan you came to town to work on, I'm sure.” Why she added that she wasn't certain, but he got an odd look on his face. His jaw tightened and he glanced down the street for a long moment. Pain? Was that what she'd just seen?

When he looked back at her his eyes were troubled, con firming that she had just seen a flash of hurt. “I do have my reasons for being back here. Anyway, you be careful picking up your kids. The deer are getting hungry this time of year and probably thick along the roadways.”

Her heart tightened for him as he headed down the street in the direction opposite from the community center. Apparently he'd had enough, too.

She got inside her car and sat in the silence, giving herself time to calm down before driving. This wasn't a new thing to her. She'd been upset far too many times in
her life and knew driving while her world was spinning was risky.

She was still thinking about that troubled look in Chance's eyes when she finally headed to pick up the boys. Instead of worrying and dwelling on what had happened to her, she couldn't stop wondering what had brought Chance home.

She'd heard there had been a tragedy and a cowboy had been killed by the bull he'd been trying to ride. But that didn't explain why Chance had come home. He was a rodeo preacher—tragedy happened. And he was a man of faith. So what had put that pain in his expression…in his heart?

It was none of her business.

And she wanted it to remain that way. She did not want to get into Chance Turner's business and she didn't want him in hers.

Period.

With a capital
P.

C
hance just couldn't let it go. Sitting in the truck at the end of Lynn's drive he stared at the house in the early morning sunlight.

It had a steep gable roof and a porch on the front with a matching roofline. It was one of those roofs that Christmas lights looked great on, but a man could break his neck hanging them on the high pitch. The thought of Lynn attaching those lights herself bothered him as he pressed the gas and drove down the gravel driveway. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about how upset she'd been last night. He'd noticed that even upset as she was she'd shown concern for him in the end.

Pulling to a halt in front of the house, he stepped from the truck and hesitated before striding to the porch. He'd come for a reason, not an excuse.
Not
because he hadn't been able to get her off his mind.

The boards creaked as he stepped on them and one—no, several—he noticed at closer inspection were in need of replacement. He knocked on the door and waited. When there was no answer after a couple of minutes he
knocked again. Lynn's car was parked at the edge of the house in the metal carport so she had to be home.

It was likely that she'd peeked out the window, had seen him and decided not to open the door.

He hoped not though. On the other hand, he couldn't blame her if she did exactly that after everything that had transpired last night.

In the short time he'd been home the weather had gone from the forties to today's seventy degrees. It was a beautiful balmy December day in Texas—they were having a snowstorm up north and Texas was having a breezy summer day in the middle of the winter. It was one of those perks of living in the Lone Star State. He rapped his knuckles on the door one last time before heading back to his truck, more disappointed than he wanted to admit.

Laughter coming from behind the house called for a detour.

Careful to watch for running twins, he strode around the corner and spotted Lynn and both boys hard at work on what appeared to be the beginnings of a tree house. But the only indication it was a tree house was the fact that a tree was involved.

Their backs were to him, huddled together studying their handiwork. Lynn said something and the boys laughed.

A ball of unease settled in his gut. What was he doing?

The Catahoula was sprawled on its back off to the side enjoying the sunlight. He must have caught Chance's scent on the wind because he suddenly sprang to his feet, belted out a war cry and charged his way. Uh-uh. Not
happening again. Chance braced himself, stared at the dog and commanded, “No.”

Instantly Tiny dropped to his haunches and stared at him like a tiny puppy being scolded. His wide head cocked and his eyes pleaded an explanation but he sat still.

“Chance!” Gavin exclaimed first. Without waiting the boy raced toward him and grabbed him around the knees. “I told Momma you'd come help us.”

“Hi, Gavin. What kind of help do you need?” The zealous greeting took Chance by surprise.

Jack was right on his brother's heels. “With the tree house,” he exclaimed, latching on to his other leg. De spite the frown on Lynn's face there was no way Chance couldn't smile.

“So you're building that tree house. Sounds like fun!”

Without hesitation they each grabbed a hand, tugging him forward, chattering all the way. Tiny pounded about them in a circle barking excitedly. Chance had trouble following what they were saying: They were building a tree house, they found wood in the old barn, Gavin wanted to climb the ladder but his momma wouldn't let him, Jack couldn't hit a nail for nothin'! Chance laughed at that one.

It was amazing how much information poured out of them in the twenty feet between the house and the tree.

“Good morning,” he said to Lynn. “It looks like you could use a little help.” She might not want it but it was glaringly apparent that Lynn needed help with this project. Once again he felt bad for her—caught in a situation
she didn't want and all because of him. She'd been nailing a board to a tree limb—he assumed this was going to be the floor of the tree house. He eyed it, not wanting to be critical, but he was really glad, for safety reasons, that the thing was only about five feet off the ground. Lynn was standing on a lightweight fiberglass ladder that she'd leaned against the limb. He didn't want to tell her that her structure wasn't going to be very safe.

“Hi,” she said, climbing from the ladder. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore a soft blue sweater that made her skin radiant. “I'm just starting.”

He also didn't want to tell her that it didn't matter if she'd been working all day it wasn't going to get any better. “I was just passing by and thought I'd drop by. You know, see how you were this morning.” He'd gone in for coffee at Sam's and been put through more of the same from Sam, App and Stanley. He couldn't explain in front of the twins that he needed to talk to her, so he left it at that. “This is going to be the floor, I'm thinking.” He tried to sound light.

She didn't find that amusing. “We're learning.”

“We got a mess.” Jack crossed his little arms and studied the situation seriously. He looked like a miniature man contemplating his next move.

“Sure do,” Gavin agreed. “Momma done nailed that board on there nine
hundred
times!”

Jack crunched his eyebrows looking up at Chance. “We're havin' a learn'n' experience, all right.”

“Hey, it's not that bad.” Lynn chuckled, and then sighed. “But close. Apparently I have no talent with a hammer and on top of that I have no clue what I'm
doing. But we're getting there. We are definitely having a learning experience.”

Chance felt for her. His own unease lessened a bit. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He didn't want to talk about the money from the auction in front of the boys.

“Sure. Boys, why don't you go get a carton of juice. You deserve a break.”

Both boys yelped excitedly and started toward the house only to halt.

“Are you gonna help us?” Gavin asked.

Chance felt a tug on his heartstrings. What did he say to that? He couldn't overstep their mother. “We'll see.”

That got him two frowns. Lynn intervened. “Go on now and get your juice. You can add a cookie, too.”

The offer was too sweet to pass up, bringing big grins as they raced each other to the back door. Tiny trailed them, flopping on the step to wait when they disappeared inside.

It was quiet the moment the door slammed shut behind them. Feeling suddenly ill at ease, Chance snagged his hat from his head and held it in both hands. “I came to tell you that my cousins gave the donation to the shelter with no strings attached. I didn't want you to feel bad or worry that your decision caused them not to get the money.”

Her shoulders relaxed and her pretty eyes softened. “Thank you. I didn't want them to lose out on such a generous donation because I didn't accept the offer.”

It was easy to see that she was a nice lady, just guarded. And hurt, giving her every right to protect her self. He couldn't help being curious about her. “I know we talked
about this last night but I just want you to understand that my family meant well. They really did. They just overstepped their boundaries. The Turners are known for being overzealous at times. Or maybe the word is
overbearing.
”

Lynn's shoulder lifted slightly. “Overzealous can be a good thing. I'm just into planning my own life these days. I hope people can understand that. If I hurt any feelings I'm sorry, but that's just the way it has to be.”

Her back stiffened. She was closing the door between them again.

“You need to do what works best for you, Lynn.” He glanced again at the poor tree house. “I could help if you'd like me to.”

“No,” she said too quickly. “We'll figure it out.”

That was easy enough. And for the best, he guessed.

“I'll head out then. I just wanted to tell you not to worry. You have a right to turn their offer down.”

She nodded. He wondered why she was so wary. Of course it was easy to figure out that she came from an abusive situation, since she'd lived in the shelter. But how bad had it been? He'd seen the panic in her last night. Lynn looked strong. Nothing about her hinted that she would have allowed someone to lift a hand to her…but apparently she had. He knew that all too often there was a misconception that abused women were weak. That wasn't always true. He also knew there were ways to abuse someone other than physically.

No matter how much she pushed away his conversation, he couldn't get the idea out of his head. When she'd fled the building last night it had bothered him a great deal. He'd followed her but she hadn't been happy
about it and had seemed glad to see him leave. He had a feeling she would be happy to see him leave now also.

He hadn't come home to Mule Hollow to hang around anyone. He'd come home for the solitude the ranch offered him. “Well, I guess I'll be drifting on out of here then.” He tipped his hat and turned to go. It took all his considerable willpower not to offer once more to help…but considering that she wasn't even going to thank him for coming by, he decided keeping his mouth shut was the right option.

He was almost around the corner of the house when she called his name. Her voice was soft and there was a hesitancy to it that touched a chord inside him.

“Chance,” she called again when he didn't immediately halt and look back. When he turned she hadn't moved.

“Thanks for stopping by. And…” She raked a hand over her hair. In the morning sunlight it gleamed like the blue-black coat on a raven. “…And thanks for understanding.”

He nodded, then got out of there. She had not asked for his help and hadn't looked as if she had any plans to do so. The lady had simply said thank you.

It should have been the easy out he was hoping for. He'd taken the easy out with Randy and the bull rider had come up dead. This wasn't the same and he knew it, but that didn't stop him from thinking about Lynn all the way back to the ranch. One thing was certain. He'd come here for peace and solitude. He'd come here to get away from God and everyone else.

Except God wasn't having any of it.

But then Chance already knew that it didn't matter
whether a person was mad at God, or stumbling in the dark. God was always there waiting. Calling His own back to Him.

It was Chance who wasn't ready to let go. He felt as if he'd helped kill a man—some would say he was crazy for thinking such a thing. But that was how he felt. Randy might have gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and avoided Chance in the last few weeks before his death, but Chance knew in his heart that despite the bad feeling he'd had about Randy, he'd not heeded God's nudge to seek Randy out. He had not gone the extra mile to help the young cowboy, who was clearly in a danger zone. It wasn't something Chance could forget or for give. And no matter who said he wasn't responsible, in his heart of hearts he felt like God was holding him accountable. He felt like he'd failed Randy and God at the same time.

Emotionally and mentally Chance was not in a place to entertain thoughts of the single mother of two. But no matter what he did, Lynn continued to enter his head.

 

The heavy scent of rich, dark chocolate filled the can dy shop. Lynn added sugar to the commercial-size pot and stirred. “No, I didn't accept the offer. Come on, don't you two give me a hard time.”

Stacy bit her lip as Lynn and Nive Abbot squared off across the counter. Lynn didn't miss the way Stacy tensed at the very idea of her friends having words. Though she was wrong—Nive and Lynn weren't having words. They were simply having an excitable conversation.

“I'm not pushing in that way,” Nive said, holding her plastic-gloved hands up in surrender. “I understand you
aren't looking for a man but some help around the house from a man of God…that sounds like a plan to me. You know, I never thought about marrying a preacher but, hey, have you looked at that guy? Whoa! He has dreamy green eyes.”

Lynn prayed for patience. “I'm not interested in his help, but I'm not dead. Who wouldn't notice his eyes?”

“They are nice,” Stacy interjected, slicing the fudge in front of her.

Stacy already had cold feet about getting married. That was the only way Lynn could describe her reluctance to hire a preacher to come marry them. Yes, she was crazy in love with Emmett in her gentle, timid way, but she had spoken of recurring doubts that plagued her. The fact that Lynn was so against letting a man into her life wasn't helping matters. Lynn had noticed a change the instant she'd walked into the candy store that morning. She felt horrible that her decision was having a detrimental effect on the future of Stacy and Emmett. She hoped Nive would get the hint and clam up.

“I saw him watching you,” Stacy added, pausing in her steady slicing. She smiled timidly. “A lot.”

Her softly spoken words startled Lynn. “Watching me?” she asked. She'd noticed it herself but thought it was just because she couldn't seem to keep her eyes off him.

Stacy nodded her paper-cap-covered head and began slicing again. “He kept glancing your way over and over again. I think he looks sad.”

“Me, too,” Nive said. “I saw it in his yummy eyes. When he wasn't looking totally perplexed by his cousins
teasing him. I heard something bad happened at one of the rodeos he was at. I think a bull rider was killed during his ride.”

Lynn concentrated on stirring the chocolate mixture. Burning the bonbons wouldn't be good but her thoughts were not on her job. “I heard something similar—it was terrible. I meant to ask Norma Sue but too much other stuff was going on. I don't understand why cowboys want to get on the back of one of those killers. And my boys talk about becoming bull riders. I hate it.” She cringed at the thought of her babies growing up and climbing on one of those huge monsters.