Page 10 of Deck the Halls with Cowboys
“Not this morning, thankfully. How’s the herd?”
“Still there,” I deadpanned.
She didn’t miss a beat. “How’s Denver?”
“Still an asshole.”
She hummed. “From what I hear, you were the asshole this morning, my love.”
Glad to know the twins still had big fuckin’ mouths.
“That shouldn’t be a surprise to you, Firefly.”
“Mags,” she softly scolded, “they could sue you for workplace harassment.”
“They can both kiss my ass and move the hell on for all I care.”
My woman had nothing to say to that. So she changed the subject. “Have you talked to Den yet?”
“Waiting for him and Jigs to finish up. Then I will,” I promised, the words tasting like acid on my tongue. Denver was his own man, had always been his own man, and I’d only needed to pull his head out of his ass a handful of times. I didn’t understand why I needed to over a holiday that brought him pain. “I don’t know how much good this conversation will do, Diana.”
“He listens to you.”
“The man is trying, you can’t deny that. We’ve had plenty of Christmas parties up at the main house before.”
“And you think he planned those?” she queried calmly. In the background, I heard papers shuffling.
I gave Midnight one last apple before walking out of her stall and locking the door. “Are you saying he didn’t?”
“Mags, I planned those.”
My feet halted in the middle of the barn, her admission stopping me in my tracks. My fingers flexed around the phone as I looked over to the stairs that led to the loft. “You—you planned those? All of them?”
“Hallow Ranch needed Christmas cheer.” She paused. “Do you honestly think Denver decorated his house that way every year?”
“I—”
Well, fuck.
“It was me. Caleb needed some traditions, and Denver was too lost in his own pain to give any,” she explained, her voice growing thick.
“Diana—”
“There were a lot of times over the last decade when I might’ve pushed him too hard, and it was never my place to do so, but…but for fuck’s sake, it was Christmas!”
My lips twitched. “Fuck’s sake, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Thought you weren’t cussing anymore.”
“It’s fucking Christmas, Mags. I’ll cuss if I want to.”
“Yes ma’am,” I drawled as Jigs came down the stairs.
He tipped his hat to me and winked. “I tried to cheer him up for you.”
I muttered a curse under my breath. “Great, now he’ll just be pissed off.”
