Page 30 of Deck the Halls with Cowboys
A look came across Mason’s face then. It was the same look he got whenever our daughter, Sammy, was mentioned. “We need to tell them,” he whispered, serious now.
NJ had some of my curls in her fist now. She stretched the hair out before letting it go, watching it coil back to normal. “I thought we agreed on tomorrow.”
I felt his thumb stroke my waist. “Whatever you want, Little Song.”
“I love you, Mason.”
One of his hands cupped the back of my head then, guiding me closer so he could kiss my forehead. “I love you, baby.”
A loud clap had us breaking apart. All eyes were on Beau. He grinned proudly, holding out his arms. “The dining room tree is officially up. Don’t bother holding back your round of applause.”
Everyone was silent but Abbie as she moved toward him. She put her hand on his chest. “You did good.”
“Good is an interesting word to use,” Mags grumbled, leaning against the stairwell.
My head snapped over to where Denver was standing in the foyer. He had a hand on his hip. The other held my phone against his ear, head bent, listening intently to whatever Eddie or Jackie was telling him on the other line. If I had to guess, he was talking to Jackie now. After all, she had been Valerie’s mom’s in-home nurse for years before Nancy passed. I felt the hair on my arms rise up and when I looked over to Valerie, I wasn’t surprised to find her watching her husband, a shadow of emotion hanging over her beauty.
I turned back to Mase. “Are we being selfish?”
“Harmony, out of everyone here, you deserve to be a little selfish,” he answered, an edge to his voice.
“I know but—”
“Don’t, gorgeous. My brother and his wife have their shit handled,” he cut me off, cupping my face. His eyes dropped to his niece. “Seeing you with a baby on your hip drives me insane,” he murmured. “I can’t wait towatch you sing to Micah with him on your hip, swaying in our kitchen, rocking him in the nursery—”
“Uh, Beau?” Caleb called from down the hall. “The tree is about to fall over.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Mags growled, pushing off the wall. “I’ll fuckin’ do it.”
“Who knew the Grinch would be the best tree setter?” Diana hummed, lifting the tray of cookies and heading to the oven. Beau followed her cowboy down the hall, groaning.
“Something tells me Mags won’t be a Grinch for long,” Mase tacked on, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
Diana smirked as she put the cookies into the oven.
A few minutes after that, when Denver had given me my phone back, Jigs and twins arrived with dinner, the blizzard right on their heels.
Chapter Eight
Diana
We were stuck in the main house.
By we, I meant every single resident of Hallow Ranch. And we were snowed in.
The lights had gone out an hour ago, and our only Christmas miracle was the multiple fireplaces in this old house. That and Denver had a gas range, so we could still cook.
The wind howled outside, snow hitting the windows as Denver added another log to the raging fire in the hearth. As soon as the lights had gone out, Harm and I set to work on lighting the candles throughout the house while Denver and Mason lit the rest of the hearths.
The chili Jigs had brought over, the one the twins had claimed to make until the old man slapped them upside their heads, had been devoured, my cowboy having gone back for seconds, then thirds. The cookies had been baked and were perched atop the cooling rack, waiting for us to decorate them. The dining room tree was nearlydecorated. Harmony and Caleb were putting on the finishing touches while the rest of us were in the living room, listening to the storm as it drowned out our silence. NJ stirred in my arms, and I pulled my gaze from Mags, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d sat down with her. Her dark hair was sticking out in every direction, evidence of a hard played afternoon with her uncles, and half of her face was tucked into my sweater.
“It’s too risky for anyone to leave,” Denver declared, shooting me a glance.
I cleared my throat. “He isn’t holding any of us hostage, by the way. You’re free to leave, but—”
“You might freeze to death,” Mason finished for me from where he stood beside their mother’s rocking chair.
“Right,” I agreed, looking back at Denver.
