Page 8 of Cowboy SEAL Christmas

It had been a hard choice to move here, to uproot Colin from what he’d known in Denver. She’d done it fully for herself, and that selfishness had been necessary. She knew it had been necessary, but it didn’t negate all the guilt.

“I’ll ask him tonight.”

“Ask him or tell him?”

Monica scowled, since her mother couldn’t see her to scold her over it. “It’ll be a discussion. He should have a say.” She’d never had a say in things as a kid. Mom had run her house as strictly as Daddy had run his troops, and she’d demanded the same amount of respect. Monica had vowed to give her child more say, more autonomy.

Sometimes she failed, but this was going to be a discussion. “I have to get to work, but I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out details.”

“Why’d you call today then?”

Leave it to her mom to ask the hard questions. “Honestly? I was afraid I’d change my mind about it if I waited. But I do have to go. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too. Talk soon.”

Monica hit End on her phone and allowed herself some silence to breathe in, to breathe out, to take strength from the mountains. Gave herself time to compartmentalize her emotions away so she could be someone else’s sounding board.

When she turned off the ignition and stepped out of the truck, breathing in the icy cold, she was ready to don her therapist hat.TherapistandMom. Those were the two labels that encompassed her whole life. And okay, maybeDaughtertoo.

Let yourself have some time to think only of yourself.Monica shuddered at Mom’s words rattling around in her head. But she shoved them away and stepped toward her job.

Chapter 3

Thanksgiving morning dawned gray and cold, with the threat of precipitation in the air. Gabe half-heartedly hoped that might keep him from having to help with Christmas-tree selecting.

God, he hated Christmas. The twinkly little lights, all the damn tchotchkes. The same song playing over and over andoveragain. Weird warm or sweet drinks when he’d much prefer a shot of whiskey.

Maybe he’d make his way down to Pioneer Spirit tonight. Hanging out at the bar wasn’t quite as entertaining as it had been when Jack had been his companion, but he could find himself companionship.

For now, he knew he needed to get through the day ahead. “Suck it up, Cortez,” he muttered to himself. He did not abide moping, and this felt perilously close.

So he put on his winter gear, downing the rest of his coffee, and focusing on the mission that lay before him: help a woman and her son get a Christmas tree. A clear goal, easily achieved, and all he had to do was put up with a slightly irritating woman.

Monica wouldn’t know what tools she’d need, and while he was certainly no expert on Christmas-tree cutting, he figured he knew more about it than she did.

Gabe tramped across the snowy ground between the bunkhouse and the barn. The trees on the property were mostly on the outskirts, so it’d probably be easiest to take the truck out to the north pasture, then hike around for the right tree.

But as he stepped into the barn, he already heard voices. Female voices.

“This is everything you’ll need. Gabe will know where to take you,” Becca was saying as she stood next to some ridiculous contraption that looked suspiciously like a damned sleigh hooked up to her horse, Pal.

“What the hell is that?” Gabe demanded, not even trying for polite.

Becca didn’t so much as flinch. She turned and smiled brightly at him. “Isn’t it adorable? Absolutely perfect for a Christmas-tree-getting excursion. We’re going to use it for the wedding, so Hick has been working with Pal to pull it.”

“We can take the truck,” Gabe returned gruffly.

“Take the sleigh. Colin’ll get a kick out of it and you won’t get stuck.”

“I’m not driving asleigh.”

“That’s okay. Monica can handle the horse portion. You’re just along because you know where you’re going. There’s rope in the back to tie the tree down, and the saws you’ll need. It’ll be fun. Don’t be such a grinch.”

“Being a grinch is fulfilling a lifelong dream, Bec. It’d be cruel to take that dream away from me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Take them out. Enjoy yourself. Be a good little Christmas-tree scout and have everyone back by two-ish. Thanksgiving meal is at three. Sharp. Don’t be late. You know how my mother gets when people are late.”

“I’m not scared of your mother.”

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