Page 50 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“Yes, sir,” I reply with a hint of pride. “Putting that stored grain of yours to good use.”

“Someone had to grind this,” Sammy says, frowning as he glances down at his bread. “Who’d you fool into grinding the flour?”

Kyle clears his throat. “Guilty. Did it yesterday before the blizzard landed,” he says. “I almost froze my ass off in the barn, but clearly, it was worth it. Dang, this is good bread.”

“I’m glad y’all like it. I baked it with love,” I say with a chuckle, trying my best to ignore Colton, Ethan, and Mitch’s quiet yet persistent gazes. “Darla isn’t joining us. Is she okay?”

Colton nods once. “The meds the docs have her on are making her extra sleepy. She’ll find her way to the fridge if she gets hungry.”

“As long as she doesn’t touch my sausage,” Sammy cuts in. “Only got one left, and it cost me a fortune.”

Mitch gives him a wry grin. “Oh, Sammy. Pretty sure Darla doesn’t want to go anywhere near your sausage, you dirty old man.”

“I meant a real sausage!” Sammy croaks, his face red with indignation.

The whole room bursts into laughter before Ethan focuses on me. I almost scrape my knuckles on the cheese grater when he calls out my name.

“So, Melissa.”

“Um, yes?”

“Are we going to talk about the other day or are you planning to keep us in the dark?”

“Sorry. Yes,” I reply with an awkward smile, my heart beating a million miles per minute. I’m dangerously close to hyperventilating, but I chew on a piece of parmesan instead while stirring the rest of the grated cheese into the veal stew.“Like I said before, I’m really sorry about all that.”

“What did Jake want?” Colton asks.

“He was trying to reconnect, I guess.” God, I hate lying.

Mitch raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Reconnect? After he threw you under the bus and sent you to prison?”

“If I were him, I’d have moved to Mexico by now,” Sammy adds.

“He heard about my position with the Path to Freedom Initiative. I don’t know how, though,” I say with a heavy sigh, then carry the pot over to the table and place it on a sturdy wooden board for the guys to help themselves. “My guess is he had somebody in Ridgeboro keeping an eye on me.”

“An inmate or a prison guard,” Mitch surmises.

“Yeah, that’s my guess. But honestly, I don’t care about his endgame, I just don’t ever want to see him again. I regret opening the door. I guess I was curious about what he had to say,” I reply, filling my bowl with more food than usual.

Colton notices, half-smiling. “The cold’s upped your appetite, huh?”

“It’s a really good stew,” I respond, hoping the conversation about Jake will end here.

But Ethan’s not having it. “What did Jake say specifically?”

“He’s sorry he did this to me, but he can’t change it. He had no choice or whatever. Really, it’s not worth anybody’s time or attention.”

Ethan clears his throat, elbows resting on the table as I sense his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “Melissa, he had youcornered and shaking. I heard him say he was going to rip you to fucking shreds before he punched the wall. That wasn’t an attempt at reconnection. That was intimidation.”

“Yeah, I guess. He didn’t like it when I told him to screw off,” I blurt and get up, unable to sit still for another second. My skin is crawling, my sweater too tight, my palms all clammy, my appetite scrambled. “I… Listen, I’ll let you guys have lunch. I’m not that hungry after all.”

“Melissa, hold on, we need to talk about what happened,” Colton takes my hand, but I yank it away as though I touched a hot stove.

“No! We don’t need to talk about it. I’m really sorry it happened, but there’s nothing to address here,” I snap. “Ethan was clear when he told Jake never to show his face around here again, and I’m sure Jake will keep his distance.”

“You’re not telling us something,” Ethan announces.

Mitch gives him a stern nudge. “Stop. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

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