A Cowboy For Christmas

She giggled. “Old enough. It’s okay, Dad. And actually, I like it. Here I’m meeting kids who don’t have famous parents. It’s different.”

His smile faded again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, then decided against it. Regina didn’t miss the cues, though.

“I know,” she said. “Mom was into the whole scene. Who I could hang out with, all that. I almost never got to meet ordinary kids.” She twirled her fork in her spaghetti. “How can I ever be ordinary if I’m always in a box?”

“A box?” Rory asked.

“A box. That’s how I felt.” But she didn’t seem to have any other way to describe it.

Abby listened to this, both troubled and amazed. She had never before considered what it might be like to be Regina, to have two famous parents. She wished she could ask questions, but Regina had moved on to talking about other things, like getting a horse, leaving Rory to look vaguely troubled.

* * *

After dinner, having been dismissed from dish duty, Abby followed her usual custom of disappearing into her suite at the back of the house. It was a cozy space, decorated pleasantly in warm yellows and blues, clearly designed with a woman in mind by the decorator.

She had a bedroom, a sitting area with a small kitchenette and her own bathroom with a separate shower and a walk-in whirlpool tub. Elegance beyond any she had ever known. All by itself it was a livable apartment, and from the windows in the sitting area she had a beautiful view of the mountains and the barn where Rory was working. She even had her own private entry from outside.

Nicer than any dwelling in her entire life, and even though she enjoyed it, sometimes she felt a bit like an impostor. She didn’t come from wealth and saw herself as an outsider looking in. She wondered if Rory ever felt that way.

Her parents had owned a small catalog store that had thrived for many years, but had eventually gone broke with the upsurge of internet shopping. Abby had started college a few years late as she tried to help them through the hump, but finally her dad had found a job in Colorado Springs and they had moved away. They’d sent small sums to help with her school expenses, then she’d met and eventually married Porter. When she’d had come back here as a new bride, she’d been hired by Joan to look after Joan’s dress boutique, a small business with a select and limited clientele. Everything had seemed perfect.

Until Porter announced he was leaving with Joan. She supposed, in those moments when she was able to find some gratitude, that she was lucky they’d decided to leave town. Joan sold her boutique, Porter found a job as a clerk with a big law firm in Idaho and the two had vanished...after Porter sold his family house in town.

Since his betrayal, she’d been working as a waitress at the truck stop, nursing her wounds, unable to see the possibility of ever getting herself unstuck, emotionally or physically. She’d had to rent a small apartment, all she could afford, and the community college offered no classes beyond the ones she’d already completed. She’d been looking at a bleak future until she saw the ad for this job.

Now she could sock away enough money to go to the state university. If she could hang on long enough.

She wished she hadn’t told Regina how bored she was. She ought to be feeling awfully grateful, boredom aside. Life had given her a stepping stone to a brighter future, even if she no longer knew what she wanted that future to hold.

Sitting with Regina and Rory at dinner tonight had awakened some old dreams. Or maybe they’d been illusions. Illusions of long years with Porter, of children of their own, of happy family gatherings. Of having a family again. Her parents were now so far away she could only afford to drive down to see them once in a great while, and her dad had a heart condition that prevented him from attempting the trip.

So here she sat, stuck in Conard County, with a whole bunch of unhappy memories. All of it her own fault, she supposed.

It had been sweet of Regina to include her in dinner tonight, but she couldn’t expect that to continue. She was an employee, and her employer had been frank about coming here for solitude.

Given that, though, it was kind of surprising how happy he’d been about getting his daughter. She’d have loved to know the story behind that.

She stared at the stack of library books beside her bed, but didn’t feel much like reading. She remembered the computer out in the living room, and in a moment of genuine curiosity about her rooms, she started investigating spaces she hadn’t yet really looked at.

Oh, she’d put away her clothes in the dresser and surveyed the kitchen appliances and utensils, but she hadn’t examined the desk in one corner of her sitting room. It looked like a simple writing desk with one bank of drawers up the side, but she hadn’t needed a desk yet.

Rising, she went over and began to open drawers. The top one, which appeared merely to be a decorative front and had resisted her efforts to pull it open, turned out to have a tip-down front. When she did that, it slid out and revealed yet another laptop. Regina hadn’t been kidding about them being all over the house, like the TVs.

This one was hardwired into a wall connection, but the cord was long enough that she was able to pull it out and set it on top of the desk. The drawer then closed most of the way and she pulled the secretarial chair back in front of it.

This could be cool, she thought. Maybe she’d research those online courses Regina had mentioned, in case she had enough money to take one before long. Maybe she could get a head start on going back for her degree.

Her heart leaped a little at the prospect.

She should have checked this out sooner. But ever since coming here, housekeeper or not, she had felt a little like an interloper and had tried to respect privacy. She didn’t open drawers outside the kitchen. She didn’t poke into closets. Sooner or later she supposed she’d have to or the closets would get dusty. She needed to ask Rory what her limits were.

Just as she was about to turn the laptop on, she heard a quiet knock at her door. It was so unusual that she started. Immediately she wondered if Regina needed help.

Jumping up, she went to answer it and found Rory standing there, the fingers of one hand tucked into his jeans pocket. He stood back a foot in the short hallway, as if to give her space.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said, smiling, “but I wondered if you could give me a few minutes. Out in the living room.”

“Sure,” she answered promptly, oddly relieved that he didn’t want to come in here, although she didn’t know why. Too intimate? That was silly. He owned the place.

Then she got nervous. Had she done something wrong? Was he going to fire her? Other than her one ugly, incautious remark, she couldn’t imagine that she’d done anything terrible.

Of course, not having done anything wrong didn’t mean much, as she had already learned the hard way.

“Want some coffee?” he asked as they passed the kitchen.

“No, thank you.”

“Grab a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

She perched on the edge of one of the heavy, large armchairs. Built solidly of wood with blue cushions, their massiveness helped counter the immense size of the room, as did the two huge couches and the piano in one corner. You could probably play basketball in here, she thought, trying to keep a sense of amusement. She was failing miserably.

He wasn’t long, returning with a mug of coffee. He looked around. “You know, this isn’t exactly a cozy room, is it? We could shout from opposite ends of it.”

Her tension began to ease, and a small laugh escaped her. “Good for entertaining.”

“I didn’t come here to entertain, although I suppose it could happen. This is what happens when you hand a contractor and a decorator a few ideas and cut them loose.” He shook his head. “Kitchen?”

“Please.” Maybe there she wouldn’t feel so tiny and insignificant.

They adjourned to the kitchen table and sat facing each other across it.

“This feels almost human-sized,” he remarked. He leaned back in his chair and regarded her over the top of his mug as he took a sip. She felt the attraction again, the way something about him seemed to draw her. It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, although he was, but some other aura that made her feel the stirrings of passion that she had tried to cut out of her life. No wonder Rory McLane was a superstar. Every woman probably felt the same way about him.

She dared to ask, “Did you really just cut them loose?”

“The builder and decorator? Yeah. See, that’s been part of the problem. I’ve been so busy all the time with everything I’ve had to do that I haven’t been writing any decent music of my own, or running any other part of my life. So this is where I get to. A hermitage that could double as a small hotel.” He shook his head a little. “I shouldn’t complain. I’ve been damn lucky.”

“Talented, too,” she suggested.

“Well, lately I’ve been wondering about that. But that’s not what I wanted to talk with you about.”

Anxiety returned, creeping along her nerve endings. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” He appeared startled. “Nothing like that. I just thought it might help you to understand some of what’s happening here. Yes, I know the ground rules I originally set out. You pretty much go your way and I go mine. But now there’s Regina, and a dog, and things got a little more complicated for everyone. The way things are going, there’s probably even going to be a horse or two, some slumber parties, some other parties....” He paused, looking momentarily overwhelmed, then continued. “So I thought you might be more comfortable if you knew some things, rather than spending your time wondering what the heck happened.”

As her anxiety eased, she was able to smile. “You make it sound like an invasion.”

“It probably will be, by the time all’s said and done.” His smile was a little crooked. “Just another way for Stella to get even.”

“Stella?”

“My ex. Regina’s mother. Do you keep up with country music?”

She shook her head, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. “No, sorry.”

“No apology needed. Suffice it to say, my ex is a big deal in her own right, only she eats it all up. The only person she saw more than me and her band during our marriage was her hairdresser and her plastic surgeon.”

Abby couldn’t help it. She clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Exactly,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t sound so critical. Me, I can age gracefully. She’s a woman, and youth and beauty are part of her trade. Sorry comment on society, but that’s the way it is. Anyway, when we split, there was a custody fight and I lost. The judge was sympathetic to the idea that a girl needed her mama more than her dad. I figured I had to wait until Regina was old enough to decide who she wanted to live with, and put up with our long separations.”

“But something happened.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You could say Regina happened. She created more trouble for Stella than a pack of weasels let loose in the house.”

This time Abby let the laugh escape. “She doesn’t strike me that way.”

“Me, neither. Oh, I’m not gonna claim she’s perfect. What kid is? But the constant loss of nannies finally became enough to make Stella forget how mad she was at me.” He shifted, looking down. “I often think the only reason she wanted full custody to begin with was because it was another way to get back at me. Guess I was right. So Stella gave me full custody and I have my daughter back.”

Everything inside Abby softened. “I could tell how happy that made you. I’m glad.”

“Me, too. She’s out of that plastic, over-regimented environment. Stella is all about appearances, and I was afraid she’d make Regina that way, too. Hasn’t happened yet, evidently.”

Abby decided not to address that. After all, today was the first time she’d really spent any time with Regina. She liked the girl, but she didn’t really know her yet.

“Anyway,” he said, “that brings us to the invasion. I’m sorry if it put you out.”

“It hasn’t put me out at all,” Abby said swiftly. She almost squirmed as she remembered her initial reaction and how that must have felt to him. “I’m sorry I blurted that out about not being hired for childcare.”

“Well, it’s true, you weren’t. Don’t worry about it. And I’m not asking you to step up to that plate now. That’s not why we’re talking. I just want you to know the background, because it must have felt like a whirlwind hit.”

“It was a surprise, but not that momentous. I like Regina.”

“If she bugs you too much, let me know.” He leaned forward and put his cup down. “I’m not the world’s best dad. I get lost inside my own head sometimes. Well, I’m trying to. Been a while since I had time to do that. But I’m going to ask you something.”

She waited, trying to look anywhere but right at him. She was afraid he would read her reaction to him all over her face. Appalling to realize she wanted him. A man who could have any woman in the world. A man who saw her as nothing but a housekeeper. Did she have a nose for trouble, or what?

“If she lets you know in any way that she feels I’m neglecting her because I get too absorbed in my composing, will you tell me?”

Abby nodded. “Okay, I can do that.”

“Thanks.”

She thought that would end their conversation, but instead he rose, refilled his mug and returned to the table.

“So what’s your story, Abby?” he asked, his tone surprisingly kind.

It was that kindness that got to her. It felt like a long time since anyone had expressed a truly kind interest in her. Her friends had grown angry on her behalf, and too many people had been trying to avoid looking at her, as if she made them uneasy. His frankness, the gentleness of his tone...well, they made her throat and chest tighten.

Oh, man, she didn’t want to start weeping. She tried to draw some steadying breaths, and finally managed to say, “Old familiar story. Husband runs off with another woman. Who happened to be my boss until then. Nothing unusual in that, I guess.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t answer. She became fascinated by the pattern on the tabletop. Easier than looking at him and perhaps seeing pity.

He astonished her by reaching across the table and lightly covering her hand with his. “We all have some healing to do,” he said quietly. “Maybe this place will help us find some peace. Good night, Abby. Thanks for listening.”

She didn’t move until she heard him reach the top of the stairs. Then she stood and turned off the coffeepot, rinsing it out so that it would be ready for morning.

As she turned out the kitchen light and walked back to her rooms, she wondered what to make of what had just happened. The guy had reached out to her, shared some of his problems, asked about hers. Then he’d gotten up and walked away.

Had she repulsed him somehow? She wouldn’t be surprised considering the way Porter had bailed on her. Something about her had to be very wrong. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

Much to her amazement, before she could close her suite door behind her, Rally trotted in. Still afraid to get into a disagreement with an animal so big, she readied for bed, leaving the door open, and finally climbed beneath crisp sheets and a puffy comforter.

The dog leaped up beside her and put his big head next to hers and his paw across her waist.

A hug from a dog. This might be her absolute nadir, but she didn’t care. He comforted her.

And maybe that was what she really needed.

Chapter Three

The clouds that had lumbered over the mountains moved through without dropping any rain or snow, but they left a deep chill in their wake. Frost covered the ground in the early morning hours and Regina started bundling up before heading out to catch the school bus.

Rory had returned to spending his days in his barn studio, and Abby spent her free time online, looking for classes she might be able to afford that would give her transferable credits for when she returned to school.

A kind of anticipatory excitement began to fill her, and all her gloominess and boredom blew away. So many subjects interested her, and she enjoyed looking into the requirements for a number of majors, trying to decide what might suit her best. It was a step toward a future, the first real one she’d taken since Porter’s betrayal.

Her improved outlook brightened everything around her, and when she looked up from her computer to realize that Regina was already returning from school one afternoon, she was astonished at how the time had flown. She hadn’t even started dinner, and her mind immediately shifted gears as she glanced at the clock and tried to decide what she could manage quickly.

Regina had taken to popping in to say hi when she got home, spending only a few minutes in the kitchen with Abby. Today was no different. She grabbed her can of soda and a bag of pretzels and sat down at the table, indicating the laptop.

“Getting anywhere?”

“Your suggestion about looking for online classes was great.”

Regina screwed up her face. “I can hardly wait to be done with school.”

Abby felt immediate concern. “Something bad happen?”

Regina shook her head. “Just boring. I’d rather be riding a horse.”

Abby laughed. “I keep hearing that.”

“Dad isn’t listening so well.” Regina flashed a grin and shrugged. “He will eventually. Every girl should have a horse.”

“I’m sure most girls your age would agree.”

“Did you have one?”

Abby shook her head. She’d had a period of infatuation with horses, a lot of girls did, but she’d lived in town and her parents couldn’t afford it. They’d taken her out for a few trail rides at the Ironheart ranch, but that had been it. “Not possible.” Then she shifted the subject purposefully. She didn’t want Regina to try to drag her into the middle of her campaign for a horse. That was solely between her and Rory. “I need to come up with a quick dinner. I lost track of time.”

“I won’t die if we eat late,” Regina said, grabbing another pretzel. “Who knows if Dad will even surface?”

He’d been doing a good job of it most of the time. Given what Rory had said when he’d first arrived, Abby was surprised by how often he turned up for dinner. Of course, since Regina joined him in the studio most days after school, he probably found it hard to forget time.

She wondered if that was giving him any problem with his composing. She hoped not.

Regina picked up her bag of pretzels. “I’d better get out there. Rally is probably getting frantic.”

Just then, as if in answer to her thoughts, Rally’s feet could be heart clacking and padding down the hall from the back door. He zoomed into the kitchen and began to lick Regina’s cheek. She shrieked a giggle.

“Somebody was missing you, girl,” Rory called from the hall, sounding amused.

“Sorry, Dad, I was talking with Abby.”

Abby felt pleasant anticipation humming along her nerves. She always enjoyed seeing Rory, however rarely or briefly, and she was growing more impressed with how ordinary he seemed. Fame and wealth hadn’t gone to his head as far as she could tell. But more than that, he filled out jeans and a Western shirt better than any man she’d ever seen. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, just the sight of him seemed to zoom straight to her core.

But that was the only way he was ordinary. She felt almost guilty the way everything inside her seemed to leap at the sight of him. Guilty and maybe a little silly, like a fan with a crush. She’d even sneaked online to listen to a couple of his songs, to learn something about the music that was so important to him. Listening, she had wondered how she’d managed to miss this phenom for so long.

But it was her guilty secret and pleasure. She didn’t want to lose her job because she acted like a star-struck fool around him, nor did she want to cause the kinds of problems Regina had mentioned. She did wonder, however, if he felt as used as Regina had sensed. That would be awful.

She ought to know. She felt she had been used by Porter and Joan. How long must they have been carrying on behind her back? Using her for cover to prevent talk? She had no idea, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Bad enough that she felt branded by shame. She wasn’t going to make it worse be allowing herself to go overboard about Rory. She was just a housekeeper. She needed to remember that.

But Rory didn’t come into the kitchen. She heard music coming from the piano in the living room and perked up, listening. It was a gentle melody, almost mournful, yet achingly beautiful.

Regina fell silent, listening, too. Then she hopped up and went to the living room.

Abby didn’t feel she had the right to follow, but the melody, soon accompanied by some minor chords, held her riveted.

A weight fell on Abby’s thigh and she looked down to see that Rally had laid his head there. Not since that one night had he come into her room, but now he looked up with those sad eyes, as if asking for something.

She scratched his huge head. His tail wagged, but only a little. Was he hungry? Regina always fed him at dinnertime and it was still too early. Maybe a treat?

The melody still drifted from the living room, but the dog’s intervention broke the spell and she rose. There were treats in the pantry, and no one had told her she couldn’t give one to the dog. A soft bacon chew settled him down, then she leaned against the doorway listening to the music.

She could hear the stops and restarts as Rory seemed to be searching for something just right. She heard no voices, just the music. It would have been nice to keep on listening, but inevitably she remembered she had a job and needed to figure out a fast dinner.

Sighing, she began to hunt in the refrigerator and pantry when she would have vastly preferred to creep into the living room and just sit and listen.

Magic was being created out there, and she wished she could be part of it.

Dinner was a tossed-together affair. Rory didn’t return to his studio, but instead staked out the living room and piano. Eventually Regina popped into the kitchen to say good-night. That was Abby’s cue to head for her apartment.

But just as she was turning out the light, Rory’s voice startled her from across the foyer. “What do you think?”

She paused, her hand on the switch. “The music?”

He smiled faintly. “The almost music, yes.”

“It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“It’s mournful.” He paused. “Sometimes I guess you need to mourn. Unless you’re busy, come and sit with me. I’d like your reactions.”

Her reactions? She knew nothing about music at all. But the desire to be with him overrode every other consideration. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll probably be up most of the night. Thanks.”

So she brewed another pot and ten minutes later carried two hot mugs into the living room. He was sitting at the piano, staring into space, noodling some keys. She wondered where to put his coffee, but he pointed to a nearby end table without saying anything. Then she sat in one of those huge chairs with hers.

He continued to stare at nothing, probably more involved with what was going on inside him as he touched occasional keys as if trying them out. He seemed lost in another world, and she wondered why he needed her at all.

She rested her coffee on the end table, then closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Interrupted though the music was, often changing to random notes as if he were seeking something, she found it easy to let it carry her away. A while later he spoke.

“Abby?”

She opened her eyes without moving her head. “Yes?”

“Were you sleeping?”

“No, I was listening.” She turned her head just enough to see him, thinking how gorgeous he was. She hadn’t met many men who looked like a feast for the eyes. This one did.