Page 21 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

Apples and cinnamon. Pears and nutmeg. And a dash of cloves in both, just enough to put a smile on my face as I admire Melissa, quietly slicing through the veal and dipping each strip in a soy-based marinade, her nimble fingers treating our food like it’s something meant for the gods. Her reverence toward her craft makes me fall harder, and I fear I have no way of stopping this train. It left the station the minute I kissed her.

“Colton.”

Darla’s voice pulls me back to a list of bank transactions I’m supposed to double-check before she slips it into last month’s archive folder.

“Sorry,” I reply. “What were you saying?”

“That you three are incorrigible.”

“We three?” I give her a skeptical look.

“Yeah. You. Ethan. Mitch. It’s almost hilarious to observe,” she chuckles dryly. “Smitten like teenage boys, yet not one of you has bothered to bring this girl a single flower.”

“Darla, we’re her bosses. It would be inappropriate.”

“Spare me the BS, Colton. I’ve known you since you first came into this world, naked and screaming.”

“That’s a nice visual,” I mutter.

Darla pours herself another glass of wine. “I’m just saying. If you want to do something, do it. If not, focus your attention somewhere else. Just don’t bother her out of sheer curiosity. She’s not some circus animal for you to gawk at all the time.”

“Where is this coming from?” I ask, my voice low as I steal glances at Melissa. She can’t hear us from across the kitchen, but I know she looks my way when she thinks I can’t see her. It’s driving me nuts.

“She’s clearly different from the kind of women you and your brothers are used to. This one’s dignified. And a convicted felon. Guilty or not, it doesn’t matter. The stigma is there, and it’s gonna follow her around forever.”

“The last thing I want to do is disrespect her.”

“Good. So, as I was saying. Either you three back off completely and keep things strictly professional—and that means y’all stop fawning over her like lovesick teenagers. Or you take the first step and woo the girl properly.”

“Thank you for the input, Auntie. I will take it under advisement,” I tell her. “Now, what’s with the Christmas music? We’re still three weeks away.”

“We’rejustthree weeks away, you mean,” she scoffs, then raises her voice. “Melissa?”

“Yes?”

“After dinner, I’m gonna get a few boxes out of the attic for you. Feel free to look through them and see what you can put up around the house to make it a little more festive,” Darla says.

For a moment, I’m not sure if Melissa registered the assignment, as she keeps staring at us. The silence is almost deafening, heavyenough to drown out even good ole’ Frankie.

“Is everything okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah, sorry.” She shakes her head. “I zoned out for a moment. I forgot about Christmas. I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated it.”

“Y’all didn’t put up a tree in Ridgeboro?” Darla asks. I’ve learned to love my aunt from a young age, despite her occasional outbursts. They’re part of her charm.

“Oh, no,” Melissa replies. “Any part of the tree, natural or faux, could be used as a makeshift shiv. The warden didn’t even put up Christmas lights. Those could be used as rope—for hanging.”

“Good grief,” Darla gasps, her eyes glistening with horror. “Sorry I asked.”

“It’s okay.” Melissa laughs lightly. “I got used to it. Yeah, I’ll unpack the boxes after dinner and see what I can do with the decorations. Sure.”

“Thank you,” Darla replies, then shifts her focus back to me while Melissa returns to her veal. “You can use this as an opportunity to assist the girl. She shouldn’t be left to put the decorations up all by herself. Right?”

“You’re absolutely right,” I sigh deeply.

I thought Darla’s cooking had become dangerous, but it’s her matchmaking skills that I should’ve been more wary of. Then again, I’d be lying if I didn’t agree that the home décor boxes do present me with a much-needed opportunity.

After dinner, the house becomes quiet.

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