Page 13 of Love Me, Cowboy

Tyler pushed his cowboy hat farther back on his head. “I am. How about you?” he asked the little boy wearing blue jeans, boots, and a red-and-blue flannel.

“I sure am,” the little one said. “I can rope a baby cow and everything.”

“Then we might could use you out at the Double H.” Tyler dropped down to the boy’s level. “What’s your name, big man?”

“I’m Colt,” he said, jabbing a small, paint-covered hand in Tyler’s direction. “Colt McIntyre.”

Ignoring the paint, Tyler took the offering. “I’m Tyler Holly. Nice to meet you, Colt.”

“I’m Victoria,” said a little girl who hopped up next to Colt. “And you’re pretty except for that mark on your face.”

Claire’s gasp didn’t seem to register with the youngsters.

“How’d you get that?” another little boy asked. All the children had stopped painting and gathered around Tyler.

He glanced up to Claire to make sure it was okay to share the story. She looked apologetic.

“I don’t mind telling them if you think it’ll be all right.”

Crossing her arms, Claire said, “You don’t have to do that.”

Propping onto a short stepladder sitting a few feet away, Tyler let the kids settle into new positions before starting. A couple elbowed for space near the front. “There’s room for everybody,” he said, which put an end to the elbows. Meeting Claire’s eye, he said, “I’ll keep the details kid-friendly.”

She rewarded him with a smile. “I and their parents appreciate that.”

“This not-so-pretty mark on my face was given to me by a nasty old bull named Meat Grinder,” Tyler started. “I was riding him over in Mesquite last August when I got too far forward, and he pulled me right down out of my seat.”

“You ride bulls?” a little blonde asked, her blue eyes wide with wonder.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler assured her. “On this particular ride, Meat Grinder jerked me hard enough to make us bump heads. As his head was much harder than mine, I got the worse end of the exchange.”

“I bet blood gushed everywhere!” Colt exclaimed, with more enthusiasm than sympathy.

Claire shook her head vigorously, but Tyler had no intention of sharing the gory details.

“Don’t know,” Tyler said. “Knocked me clean out. When I woke up, I had this.” He pointed to his cheek. “Now I’ve always got a reminder of ugly ol’ Meat Grinder right there in the mirror.”

“I hope you won’t do that anymore,” Victoria said as she leaned against Tyler’s right arm. “Sounds scary to me.”

“Sounds scary to me, too,” Claire said, her eyes intent on his.

Tyler had every intention of doing that again, though he did hope to avoid the cranial collision. But now wasn’t the time to have that conversation.

“And now I’ve distracted y’all from your painting.” Tyler glanced over to the large banner the kids had been working on. The center said It’s a Holly Hills Christmas, and around the edges was a string of holly in progress. “Looks like we’ve got two more sides to do.”

“Are you going to help us?” Victoria asked.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Claire stepped forward. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“Nope,” Tyler said, taking the paintbrush from her hand. “Finished up the hay bale truck before I walked over. I’m all yours.”

A pretty shade of pink crawled up Claire’s cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair. “Well,” she said. “If you’re sure. We still need to attach the banner to the brace at the back of the float. When it’s done being painted, that is.”

“Then let’s get to painting.”

Tyler let Colt bring him up to speed on the project. The boys were doing the holly and the girls were doing the berries, since that was more delicate work and girls were the more delicate creatures.

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