Page 37 of Merry Christmas, Cowboy (Home to Texas #2)

She turned her back on the two men and began loading the dishwasher.

They’d ganged up on her. Now, not only would she have to perform a speedy miracle getting the festival in shape, she had to do it working alongside Sam.

She wasn’t ready for that. She hated that she needed his help.

There was no doubt he’d be an asset, but Lord, her emotions were already tied up in knots, having to sell the farm, disappoint her father, and pretend that she wasn’t greatly affected by either.

“Autumn, why don’t you serve Sam some of your delicious pie,” Papa said, rising slowly, gripping the edge of the table for support. “And I will say good night now.” He walked over to her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “You be nice to him now.”

Her teeth ground together. She wasn’t ready to be alone with Sam.

She didn’t think she ever would be again and now, thanks to her father’s kind heart, she would have to dish him up pumpkin pie.

She filled her lungs and then smiled for her father.

“Good night, Papa. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Just a good night’s sleep is all I need. Good night, Sam.”

“’Night,” he said.

Her father left the room and she swiveled around to Sam’s hopeful expression.

“I’m not about to refuse pie.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Why would I? You make it fresh from your own pumpkins. It’s the best pie around. Shar-Pies is a close second. But if you repeat that, I’ll deny it.”

“Stop doing that, Sam.”

He jerked his head up, his eyes sharp on her. “What am I doing?”

“Complimenting me. Being charming.”

“You think I’m charming?”

“Well, no. Not on your life. But you’re trying and not doing a very good job.”

Sam’s shoulders fell and he shook his head. “Autumn, you always did have a vivid imagination.”

“Sam, don’t pretend to know me. You don’t.”

“That’s fair. I don’t. Not anymore.”

This conversation was going nowhere. She grabbed the pie tin from the fridge, set it on the table and cut Sam a generous piece.

She remembered how much he enjoyed pie. One time, he and Joe polished off an entire pie by themselves, and Joe blamed it on their dog, Lupe.

But it didn’t fool anyone. Everyone knew who the culprits were and, back then, she wouldn’t have ratted them out. No way. She was their loyal follower.

She shoved the dish toward him. “Here you go.”

She turned around to reheat coffee from this morning. Her father liked to drink it all day long.

“Aren’t you going to have some with me?” he asked.

She shook her head. “If I had pie every time I served it to someone, I’d be as big as this house.”

A deep chuckle rose from his throat. “I guess then, you don’t eat much of it, because you look fine to me.”

“Fine?” She turned from the coffeepot and glared at him.

“Better than fine, Autumn.” He gave her body a once-over, approval gleaming in his eyes. Darn, he was charming. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Not nearly as big as this house.”

She tossed a dish towel at him. He caught it just before it smacked him in the face. “Still have a temper, I see,” he said, folding the dish towel and setting it aside.

“Maybe you just bring out the bad side of me.”

“Maybe, I do. But we have to work together now, so try to control yourself.”

“You see? It’s when you say stuff like that, that gets me… ugh.” She poured his coffee. “Never mind.”

Sam chuckled again and dug into the pie.

Seeing him sitting at the table, just like before, when he was younger, made her heart ache.

She turned from him. Why did he come here?

Why did he have to impose himself into their lives again?

She’d suffered enough, in those earlier years.

He had no idea how he’d ruined her that one night.

She didn’t look at another man for two years, much less date one.

She’d sheltered herself, bitter over him, over having to run the farm, when the two things she’d wanted most seemed far out of reach.

Sam and teaching. Teaching and Sam. That was all she’d wanted in life.

Well, at least she’d attained one dream.

One goal. She’d failed the farm, and that would always stay with her.

In the process, she’d broken her father’s heart.

She knew it, even if Papa wouldn’t voice the words.

She’d tried her best and failed. Teaching had become a necessity, to keep food on the table and the farmhouse from falling to ruin.

She’d only been teaching six weeks, since the fall school year began, and it had been the best six weeks of her life.

“So, maybe we should start making plans,” Sam said, sipping the coffee that was probably bitter by now, without even flinching.

Soldiers were used to bitter coffee. It was less about taste and more about caffeine.

To keep them alert and aware of their surroundings while out on patrol.

Any coffee works, as long as it’s hot and strong , her brother would say.

“You’re not talking about working on the festival tonight, are you?”

“Why not? We need to jump on this. Get a good start.”

She stood over him, arms crossed, weighing her options.

He was right. There was little time. If only he hadn’t taken her by surprise by showing up here uninvited.

She was still processing it. Still coming to terms with seeing him again.

She’d always thought, if and when the time came to see him again, she’d feel nothing, or at least she’d be immune.

But here she was, her emotions taking hold, as bitter as the coffee he just gulped down.

She walked to the oak desk nestled in the kitchen alcove and grabbed a pen and paper.

This rustic farmhouse had served them well over the years.

She’d grown up here, with her folks and Joe.

Memories flooded her mind constantly. She worked hard to shove them away.

Keep the hurting to a minimum. “Maybe, we just jot some ideas down.”

She took a seat facing him.

“Where to start?” he asked.

“Well, we need to harvest the pumpkins. There’s a crop of about five acres of nice big pumpkins out there. Plenty for the festival.”

“I’ll help Alicia and Seth with that.”

She wrote that down. “Most of the cornfields stopped yielding. But we can try to make a small corn maze.”

“That sounds ambitious. Maybe we try something easier first.”

“We always build an A-frame pumpkin house. It’s a pretty simple design and we save the wood in the barn every year, take it down in pieces. It wouldn’t be hard to reconstruct.”

“I remember. The shelves box in the pumpkins, so they have their own little space. The kids loved going in and out.” Sam smiled, a killer that tore her up inside. “You’d cry when your father would take it down.”

“Yeah, when I was ten,” she said. “I stopped crying over that house long ago.”

“Seems to me you were always crying about something.”

“Was not,” she shot back.

“Was.”

“Was not.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sam said. “You were a sentimental kid.”

He was right. She was sentimental. As a kid, she had dear feelings and she’d cry, but no more than any other young motherless child.

Katherine Messina died when Autumn was seven and she had only a few memories of her mama.

But the ones she did have were wonderful and she clung to them for dear life.

Her mama teaching her how to make tamales.

Her mama reading to her and singing sweet Irish lullabies to her at night.

Sam understood that. And whenever she would cry, he’d take the time to stop what he was doing to talk to her.

Make her feel better. He didn’t know what his kindness had done to her.

Autumn loved her brother, but her hero-worship had all gone to Sergeant Sam Russell, the man sitting at her table, coming back to civilian life, and helping her family out of a crisis.

“Let’s get back on track,” she said, looking at her notepad. There was no use dwelling on the past. “We’ll sell our pumpkins and sunflowers, but each child will get to pick one for free.”

“Good idea. What about candy apples? I used to love the ones dipped in chocolate,” Sam said.

She wrote that down. “Chocolate apples.”

“And pumpkin carving?”

“Of course.” She wrote that down as well. “And maybe a pie-eating contest.”

“And tractor hayrides.”

“And a haystack photo area.” She continued to jot down.

“Face painting?” Sam questioned.

“Of course. Pumpkin and sunflowers are my specialty.”

She smiled, imagining those young faces all painted up, excited children running around the farm for the last time. This would be a lot of work, but there was certain satisfaction in planning this for her father, for the entire town.

“I might get some volunteers to help the day of. The older children at Honeysuckle have been known to pitch in.”

“Nic’s always talking about her kids. Her kindergarten students. What grade do you teach?”

“Second. I’ve only been there a short time, but I’ve already bonded with my students. Even the troublemakers.”

“You have troublemakers?”

“A few boys, mostly. They know how to push the girls’ buttons. But I’ve got their number. I know who to keep an eye on. Sometimes, I think the girls actually like the teasing and pestering, though. They complain a bit too eagerly.”

“Fickle females.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

“I grew up with a little sister, remember. Nic used to love getting me in trouble, but if the punishment was too harsh, she’d feel bad and defend me to my parents. I never could figure it out.”

“Your sis had a conscience. She wanted to tattle on you, but she really didn’t want you to pay for it. It’s a sibling rivalry thing. Joe and I had it too. Did you… was there any other experience?” Autumn asked.

“Are you asking if I have a girl?”

“No! That’s not what I’m asking. It’s none of my business. I mean… I don’t care.”

“Autumn.” Sam stared at her, his eyes so deep, so blue. Sinkable eyes. Laughing eyes that revealed he knew what she was asking without having to voice it.

But her curiosity was killing her. Did he have a girlfriend? Was he involved with a woman now? And why was she allowing her mind to go there? Why couldn’t she just stick to business?

“I had someone. I thought it was serious. I was serious. But it didn’t work out.”

Her breath hitched. Sam had loved someone. He’d been hurt. She derived no satisfaction in that. She was like those girls in her class, at one time wanting revenge, wanting him to suffer as much as she had, but when it came right down to it, not really.

She couldn’t imagine a woman not wanting Sam. And why hadn’t her brother mentioned it to her?

“What about you?” Sam asked, looking her dead in the eye.

“Me?” She hadn’t expected him to toss the question back to her. “I, uh, no. I haven’t had time to date lately.”

Their gazes held and seconds ticked by. Finally, she rose from her seat. “I think we’re good for now. At least we have a plan. I’ll get started on it tomorrow.”

Sam rose too, his manners not allowing anything else. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Sam.”

“Just kidding, Autumn. Thanks for the pie. I’ll see myself out. See you tomorrow.”

“You’re, uh, welcome,” she said much too late. He’d already exited the house.

Yet, he was coming back tomorrow. And probably the next day, and day after that.

He was committed to helping Messina Farms.

And all she had to do was stay focused and keep a safe distance from the guy who was back home, didn’t have a girl, and was going to save their family farm. At least temporarily.

Sure, she could do it.

And pigs could fly.

Find out what happens next in The Texas Hero’s Homecoming …