Page 63 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

The bastard is particularly good at hiding his tracks.

19

Melissa

Two days until New Year’s Eve, and I’ve been given the green light to go into town. Darla, of course, is the designated driver, but she gives me my space to run my errands—which is a godsend because I made an appointment with Dr. Hartman, the OB-GYN at the local clinic.

But first, I desperately need a haircut, so I stop by the hair salon, thankful that Long Pine isn’t a densely populated town because there’s no one waiting.

My morning sickness is causing me trouble, but I manage to keep it under control with lemon and jasmine tea.

“I’ll stop by the post office while you get rid of your split ends,” Darla says as she drops me off outside the hair salon. Her tone is snappy. She’s not the type to easily forgive, and my transgression will take a lot more time than I had anticipated for her to get over.

“Thank you,” I reply with a faint smile. “I’ll let you know when I’m done. The doctor’s office is just up the road. I want to pop by for a new prescription as well if you don’t mind.”

“A prescription for what?” she frowns.

“Just my allergies. Nothing fancy.”

“You’ve got allergies?”

No, but I couldn’t think of anything better to mask the truth. I need to get an ultrasound and make sure the baby is okay. If I’m in good health, then so is the little one, and I can plan ahead in a more constructive way, no matter what happens next.

“Yeah, I usually get a refill from the prison pharmacy, but I’m almost out, and if we get another blizzard, the last thing you need is me sniffing and blowing my nose all the time—”

“Fine, fine, do what you gotta do. Just call when you’re done,” Darla replies and drives off.

I stand on the edge of the pavement for a while, looking around. Long Pine is not as quiet at this hour as I assumed it would be. Then again, New Year’s Eve is right around the corner and the blizzard likely kept people from shopping early.

Of course, I’ll need a good excuse not to drink that night. I hate keeping secrets and lying, but given the circumstances, I can’t add more fuel to a potentially catastrophic fire. I’m in love with them, and I want more out of this relationship, but realistically, how would that even work?

Until Jake and his stupid cartel are out of my life for good, I can’t even see the week ahead clearly, let alone the months and the years to follow. Plus, I’m still technically an inmate of Ridgeboro.

I go into the salon and fully enjoy the pampering. I walk out feeling refreshed in a way I haven’t in a long time. Prison hairdressers are just not the same as civilians.

The foot traffic has thinned in the hour I was inside, but the stores are still open, as are the cafes on both sides of the street. I can smell the cinnamon and the apple spice, the freshly brewed coffee, and the French pastries. My mouth is watering, so I stop by one of the street service windows and get myself a frothy milk and a bear claw.

I don’t see the man coming out of the café, though, and I bump into him. The milk jumps out of my takeaway cup, most of it missing the man’s pristine wool coat.

“Oh, my God, I am so sorry!” I yelp, absolutely mortified.

I almost drop my bear claw, too, but he catches it and laughs lightly, offering it to me. “It’s okay,” the man says with a subtle Spanish inflection in his voice. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you. So sorry…” I say as I reclaim my bear claw, mouth still watering.

“Hey, accidents happen,” he says, offering a warm smile.

He seems nice. Tall and good-looking, with an olive complexion and short, black-as-ink hair. His dark brown eyes search my face, and all I can do is smile back.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He takes the paper cup off the ground and tosses it into the nearest bin. “All is well. No harm, no foul.”

“But my milk—”

“It’s a white coat. We’re cool.” He laughs again. “How about you? You okay?”

“Yes, just mortified,” I answer.

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