Page 42 of Cowboy Friend Zone for Christmas

Nash: Sure you can.

Noelle: You have no idea how persistent my mom can be.

Nash: If you’d rather vent in person, I can throw on some sweats and we’ll go for a walk.

Noelle: It’s a date!

Though she enjoyed every moment of their sunrise stroll and their parting kiss at the end, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread burgeoning inside her. Just for kicks, she jokingly gave him access to the GPS tracker on her phone before parting ways.

“Maybe I should reschedule my appointment.” He frowned in concern as they pocketed their phones again.

“No, don’t do that.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m probably just being paranoid. I’ve been to the Gingerbread House a bazillion times with you and your brothers. What’s the worst my parents can do in broad daylight other than be their normal condescending selves?”

“I’m sorry.” He cuddled her closer. “Guess I didn’t realize how bad things truly were between you guys. The sooner I get you back to Texas where you belong, the better.”

She smiled against his lips. “Thank you for understanding.” Sharing the burden with him made it feel more bearable. It didn’t stop the dread forming in her belly, though. The knot grew bigger with each passing minute. All too soon, it was time to get ready to meet her parents.

She fiddled with one of the dresses she’d packed but wasn’t really in a dress-up kind of mood. In the end, she selected a pair of black jeans and a filmy white blouse with thin black stripes. Classy but simple. She twisted her hair into a loose braid over one shoulder and stepped into a pair of black cowgirl boots. Setting a straw Stetson at a sassy angle on her head, she added the final detail — a pair of aviator sunglasses.

When she moved across the room to survey herself in the mirror, she looked exactly the way she hoped, like a horse trainer for a world-famous bronc riding champion. It would burn her mother’s bacon that she hadn’t bothered dressing up more for lunch, but Noelle was tired of pretending to be something she wasn’t. She was never going to be the tennis playing, country club snob her parents had hoped she would turn out to be.

I’m me. Take it or leave it. She kind of hoped they’d decide to write her off as a lost cause after today.

During the short walk down the street to the Gingerbread House, she experienced a mild attack of remorse. Maybe she was being too hard on her parents. Maybe today’s lunch invitation was their way of extending an olive branch at long last. They weren’t getting any younger. Her father’s blood pressure scare during their recent cruise was proof enough of that. Drawing a fortifying breath, she decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

When she arrived at the Gingerbread House, her parents’ black Lincoln Navigator was already parked in front of the restaurant. In true Denver Ward style, her father had managed to straddle two lines and hog two parking spots in an area of town where parking was at a premium. Since tourist money was the lifeblood of Pinetop, the locals tended to go easy on outsiders. He’d probably escape without so much as a parking ticket.

More’s the pity!

The silver BMW to the right of their vehicle made her pause and stare for a moment. She didn’t recognize it. Most folks drove trucks, jeeps, and SUVs up here in the mountains. Whoever was driving it was probably a tourist and a city slicker, at that.

Shaking her head, she moved to the front door of the building, twisted the knob, and let herself inside the restaurant. She gave her name at the check-in booth and was immediately led by the hostess to a shadowy alcove in the rear of the dining room.

As they approached a high table with bar stools, Noelle’s breath clogged in her throat at the discovery that her parents were not alone.

Her ex-boyfriend, Ellison Faust, was seated across from them —her father’s wheeling, dealing junior partner. A man she’d hoped to never lay eyes on again. The mere sight of him made her stomach pitch with dread.

He was in a designer navy suit with one of those goofy little handkerchiefs sticking out of his breast pocket. The tiny scrap of silk was an ostentatious shade of burnt orange. His dark hair was slicked back in a way that emphasized his receding hairline. He was way too pale and bony for her tastes, a man who spent way too much time indoors hunched over a computer.

He glanced up as she approached and stood, holding out his arms to her like they were old friends. “Noelle, darling!”

She ignored him entirely, facing her parents indignantly. “If you don’t have a good explanation for this, I’m out of here.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, Noelle! Don’t make a scene. We just want to talk.” Her mother glanced around them with a look of distaste staining her features. The roots of her hair had been dyed platinum blonde, and her manicure was so fresh that she’d probably gotten it this morning. So much for her promise earlier to take Noelle’s father to the doctor! Upon reflection, she hadn’t exactly promised. She’d only led her daughter to believe that was her intention.

This was what she’d been planning all along — a forced reunion between Noelle and Denver Ward’s slimy business partner. When they’d last spoken, he’d indicated that their relationship was a foregone conclusion. Like she came with his position or something. It was downright creepy the way he refused to believe their breakup was permanent.

“I agreed to a lunch date with my parents. That’s it.” Noelle pulled out her cell phone and glanced at the time on her screen. “I’ll give you thirty more seconds to tell me what’s really going on here.” When her parents didn’t answer, she muttered, “Clock’s ticking.”

“Just have a seat, Noelle.” Her father’s normally commanding voice was strained. Like Ellison, he was way overdressed for Pinetop in a gray pinstriped suit with a white paisley dress shirt. To make things worse, he’d clipped on a white silk bowtie. It was hanging crookedly, like he’d put it on in a hurry, which felt off. In the past, he’d always been more of a stickler for details.

“No, thank you. I’ve lost my appetite.” She kept her eyes on the screen of her phone.

Her mother tried a different tactic. “Ellison has been begging us for a chance to see you again. He misses you like crazy.”

“Ten seconds,” Noelle informed her blandly.

“Don’t do this, sweetie,” Triss Ward begged in a threadier voice. “He assures us that what happened between you was a big misunderstanding. Just give him a chance to explain. That’s all he’s asking.”

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