Page 12 of Merry Christmas, Cowboy (Home to Texas #2)

“God.” She put her hands to her hot face. “It was so awkward.”

Julie sat her down. “Well, it was a logical conclusion. You shouldn’t feel—”

Nicole pinned Julie with a sour look.

“Okay, I get how it could be awkward.”

“Times a hundred.”

“Yeah. Well, if he didn’t send them, who did?”

“It had to be my mom and dad. They know these are my favorite. I’ll call them later and see if they mention anything about flowers.”

“I’m sure it was them,” Julie said, trying to lift her spirits.

Nicole wasn’t sure of anything. She poured herself a tall glass of wine.

“A good idea,” Julie said, joining her in a glass.

They sat quietly, Julie reading her correctly, she needed silence right now.

And the worst part about this, aside from her making a fool out of herself with Garrett, she was actually disappointed he hadn’t sent the flowers. For just a moment, hope had emerged that he had and all the implications that went along with it.

Now that she’d spoken with him, she realized there was nothing to feel hopeful about, and shouldn’t she be darn glad about that?

The last thing she needed was another impossible involvement with a man.

*

Garrett sat around the Cooper kitchen table with Coop, Miguel, Joe and two other friends. Coop’s wife, Taylor, had served up nachos, beer, and pretzels to the poker players, then disappeared to put Cassie to bed.

Now as he stared at two pair, jacks and fives, his mind drifted to the phone call he’d had with Nicole a couple of hours ago.

In truth, he wasn’t thrilled that someone had sent her flowers.

The news had thrown him and a flash of jealousy stumbled into his gut when she’d first asked him about it.

Unfortunately, he’d had to set her straight.

The flowers weren’t from him. God, he hated hearing the weird silence on her end of the phone, and then her fast farewell.

She’d mentioned her parents. Had they been the ones who’d sent the flowers? He wanted to believe that.

You don’t want some other guy sending her flowers.

“You gonna stare at those cards all night?” Grandpa Joe asked. “Or, are you gonna bet?”

The guys chuckled and Garrett bounced back to the game. “Sure, I raise ten.”

He put in his chips. Three of the players groaned and folded their cards.

The others called him.

And when they finally showed their cards, Garrett was beat out by Miguel, who held three twos. Beaten by a trio of deuces? That was a low blow.

“Sorry,” Miguel said, raking in his chips. He didn’t sound sorry.

They took a break to stretch their legs and get some air. Garrett walked outside taking Coop up on seeing the barn that was now converted into a workshop. Once in the barn, Coop turned on the lights. “This is where my father started his business,” Coop said. “And where I’m likely to stay.”

It was a good-sized work space, a place large enough to keep the heavy-duty tools easily available. Garrett admired the setup. “You’ve been here all your life?” he asked.

“No, not actually. I moved away to go to school, married, and worked in an office, if you can believe that. I had my eyes set on becoming a partner in a construction firm. Things were going smoothly until… I lost my wife.”

Garrett knew some of this story, and had pieced together things he’d heard since meeting the Coopers, but he wasn’t about to pry. He could relate; he was going through a similar situation, losing his sister like he did. “Sorry, man.”

“Thanks, I figured Cassie needed her family and a more stable environment. We moved back to be closer to Dad, and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. That and asking Taylor to marry me.”

“Man, you sure figured it all out.”

Coop nodded, sipping his beer. “You will too. I mean, I know this year’s been hard on both you and Cody. Are you okay tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“I don’t know. Seems your head’s not in the game. Have a lot on your mind?”

“You could say that.” Garrett took another swig of beer, eyeing Coop over the bottle. He liked the guy; they had a lot in common and he could see them becoming good friends one day.

“Wouldn’t be that you’re thinking about Nicole?”

“Nicole?” Garrett had trouble hiding his emotions. Coop took him by complete surprise. “What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

“She’s… uh, she’s a friend.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? What aren’t you telling me?” Garrett asked.

Coop grinned wide. “Taylor seems to think you and Nicole would be—”

“The truth is,” Garrett said, scratching his head. “Someone sent her flowers today, and it wasn’t me.”

Coop shot him a curious look. “Do I sense jealousy?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. But under the circumstances, I shouldn’t be.”

“Well, as far as I know, she’s not seeing anyone. The whole town would probably know if she was.”

“Yeah, I get that. But a big bouquet of flowers? She thought I sent them. To thank her for the homemade meal, last night.”

“And you had to tell her you didn’t?”

He nodded.

“Man, that’s rough. I know that Nic deserves to be happy,” Coop said. “It’s not a matter of if, but when. She’s pretty great.”

Garrett agreed but held his tongue. “You want to show me that new wet saw, you’ve been talking about?”

“Sure, it’s right over here,” Coop said. They spoke for a few minutes about the saw designed to cut tile, Garrett taking it all in, appreciating Coop’s advice. “We should probably get back to the game,” Coop said. “The guys aren’t through taking your money yet.”

Garrett shook his head. “Man, no wonder you invited me to play.”

“Keep your mind on poker and not on one attractive kindergarten teacher and you’ll do just fine, my friend.”

“Easier said than done, but if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”

“I have a feeling, you’re already toast,” Coop said, walking out of the barn, leaving him to wonder if that was even remotely true.

*

Garrett ended up winning the poker game, surprising the guys and perhaps earning a bit of respect and bragging rights.

But the small consolation hadn’t been enough to put a smile on his face.

He’d been feeling uneasy ever since Nicole’s phone call.

He didn’t want things to be weird between them.

There was still work to do on the fundraiser and it’d been two solid days since they’d spoken.

He finished his work in the barn and walked outside. A cold chill hit him and he shivered a bit. Shoving his work gloves in his back pocket, he strode to the front gate to wait for Cody. A minute later, Paulette pulled up.

“Hi, Mr. Brown.”

“Hi, Paulette. How was your day?”

“Great. I’ve been practicing for our Christmas choir performance at church. Maybe you and Cody can come. It’s on Friday night.”

“Well, we sure will try. Thanks for the invitation.” He glanced in the back seat. “Hi, Code. How’d it go today at school?”

Cody was already out of his seat belt, jamming out of the car. “Fun. Miss Russell let us finger paint today.”

Garrett smiled. “I can see that.”

The boy had paint smudges on his chin and down his neck. Obviously, there’d been a valiant effort to remove most of the paint off his skin.

“See what I made.”

Cody lifted up a picture of a would-be Christmas tree with snowflake ornaments on the branches. At least that was what his little six-year-old fingers seemed to be going for. “Well, that’s pretty nice. I bet we can find a place for that in the house somewhere.”

“Cause, we don’t have a real tree?”

“Well, uh, let’s talk about that later. Thanks, Paulette,” Garrett said, giving Cody’s shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“Yep, thanks,” Cody said. “See ya.”

“You’re welcome. Have a great afternoon.” Paulette drove off, and the two of them marched up the path and into the house.

“Hey, bud. Guess what? I installed a brand-new oven today. I thought we could cook something up together. Our first meal with a working oven.”

Cody slung his backpack down on the sofa and rushed over to see the stainless steel four-burner stovetop with a griddle in the center.

It was a far cry from the dilapidated oven his uncle Rand had.

This one was equipped with all the bells and whistles.

Cody eyed every knob and digital button. “Awesome.”

“I thought you’d like it. So, what should we make?”

Cody thought on it a few seconds. “Cookies.”

Garrett chuckled to himself. “Of course, cookies.”

“Not for me, Uncle Garrett. Well, maybe one or two. But can we decorate cookies and bring them to Miss Russell’s house? Remember when you knocked all of hers down?”

Garrett swallowed hard. At times, the kid really surprised him. “I didn’t really knock them down. It was an accident; we bumped into each other. We were both taken by surprise.”

“I know,” Cody said. “They were probably good, before they got smashed.”

“I’m sure they were.”

“So, let’s bake her some new ones.” Cody seemed adamant.

“Then we’d have to drive into town to give them to her.”

“Or, she can come here.”

“No, I think we should bring them to her, once we bake the perfect batch. Okay?”

Cody nodded. “Okay.”

Garrett felt he’d been outwitted by a six-year-old. But he had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. “I’ll text her to make sure she’ll be home tonight and then we’ll have to pick out some fun decorations.”

Little did Garrett know when he woke up this morning that he’d be shopping for cookie cutters, icings, and sprinkles this afternoon. And when they returned from the ranch market, he was loaded down with everything he needed to bake sugar cookies.

The kitchen was only half done, but they had what they needed now, a refrigerator, an oven, and enough counter space to make it all happen.

Garrett read the recipe off his phone, measured everything out, and then let Cody dump the ingredients in and stir. Under a watchful eye, Cody pressed the digital buttons to preheat the oven. He got a kick out of that. Then they tackled rolling out the dough.