Page 23 of Cowboy's Christmas Girlfriend

“I’m good,” she said. “I’ll head up to the house, see if Kat needs a hand with that puppy chow.” She clasped Will’s hand for a moment, a quick, warm press. Then she was gone, and Will followed Taison into the barn. The two of them set to work building steps for the stage, stringing up lights and swooping red curtains. Taison hammered steadily, pounding in nails, but something was off with him. Will could see it in his tight lips, in the set of his shoulders.

“Hey, Taison?”

“Mm?” Taison looked up at him, a nail between his teeth.

“Everything okay?”

Taison spat out the nail and banged it into the stage. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” said Will. “But I’ve known you all my life, and something’s not right. You’re all moody, tense, chewing those nails...”

Taison sat back, sighing. “You know me too well.”

“So, come on, what’s up?” Will sat down next to him, tucked his hammer into his belt. “Might as well tell me—better out than in.”

Taison made a hissing sound. “It’s the wedding,” he said. “Kat’s been...all the planning, the bridal stuff, I swear she’s obsessed. Addicted, even. She’s thrown herself into it like it’s her whole world. I woke up last night, and you’re not gonna believe this, but she was doing seating plans in her sleep. Least, that’s what I think she was doing, mumbling all those names.” He let out a harsh laugh. “We don’t talk any more, not like we used to. Whenever I try to get through to her, it’s wedding this, wedding that, bridesmaids and smoke machines and flowers for the tables. I asked her this morning, what do you want for breakfast? And she said red velvet cake, like she thought I’d asked... It’s hopeless.”

“Maybe not quite,” said Will. He took Taison’s hammer and set it down on the planks. “Have you tried taking charge? Like, if she needs smoke machines, you could go pick some up. Or if it’s flowers she wants, take her to the florist. It’s like with Suzanna, with her interview. I taught her a few tricks, made her feel like she had it all under control, and she calmed down like that.” He snapped his fingers. Taison gave a snort.

“A wedding’s more complex than some interview.”

“But the principle’s the same,” said Will. “Show her you see her, you get what she needs. Be there for her, yeah? Fight this battle together.”

“This battle...our wedding?” Taison’s face contorted, but then he was laughing. “Guess you might have a point,” he said. “I have kind of been leaving all that stuff to her.”

“See, there you go. Get in those trenches, and you’ll win that war yet.”

Taison reached for his hammer. He looked better already, confident, resolute. He and Kat would be fine, Will thought. Those two always were.

* * *

Suzanna followed her nose to Kat’s kitchen, the scent of fresh baking heavy in the air. To her surprise, she found the place deserted, trays of cupcakes and brownies filling every counter, bowls of popcorn and...puppy chow?—crowding the table. A spatula perched on the edge of the sink, dripping melted chocolate onto the floor.

“Kat?”

No answer. Suzanna rescued the spatula and rinsed it clean, only to drop it at the ding of the oven timer.

“Kat? You’ve got, uh—your brownies?” She searched for oven mitts, found none, and grabbed a hand towel instead. “Kat?”

Behind her, someone sniffled. She turned and there was Kat, wiping her eyes.

“Here, let me get that.” Kat took the towel and rescued her brownies from the oven. She set them down with the others and stood blotting her face.

“Kat? You okay?”

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Kat plopped down at the table, grabbed a handful of puppy chow, and crammed it in her mouth. “Mmph-mm?”

“What was that?”

Kat chewed and swallowed, wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “You ever go to bed one night and wake up with the feeling nothing’s like it was? Like the whole world changed on you, and you’re stuck just faking it, trying to get along?”

Suzanna sat down next to her. “I think so, yeah.” She dug in her purse and found a pack of Kleenex. Kat took it gratefully. She extracted a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

“It’s like the whole world’s watching me, expecting...I don’t know.”

“Perfection?” Suzanna got that. She got it all too well. A wedding, she guessed, had to make it worse—all that planning, the stress, and the pressure to be happy through the whole ordeal. Isn’t it wonderful? Aren’t you thrilled?

Kat looked up, hollow-eyed, a study in exhaustion. “I know you don’t know me, but what would you do?”

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