Page 30 of Cowboy's Christmas Girlfriend

Will slid his hand under her coat and found her hand. Her glove squidged as he squeezed it, soaked through with blood.

“Look over there,” he said. “At that horse-shaped cloud.”

Suzanna followed his gaze. “Which one? The fat one? Or the one with the beard?”

Will drew her hand out and pulled off her glove. The cut was long but not deep, from the joint of her thumb to the base of her palm. She hadn’t stopped bleeding, but the flow seemed to have eased off.

“That’s gonna need stitches,” said Taison, peering over Will’s shoulder.

“No, it won’t,” said Kat. “See, it’s clotting already. A bandage should do it, and some Polysporin.”

Will turned away, scowling, as the two continued to bicker. Suzanna was smiling now, sitting up straighter.

“It is fine,” she said. “A little accident, is all. It’s fine, I’m fine. No need for all the fuss.” Her smile was bright and too wide, the same smile she’d flashed at her TV interview. The smile from karaoke night, when she’d choked down that cocoa. Will couldn’t stand that smile, how fake it was, how plastic. He grabbed an extra-large Band-Aid and ripped off the wrapper.

“Stop it,” he said. Suzanna jerked where she sat.

“Stop what? What’d I do?”

“Stop trying to fake it. Trying to be someone you’re not. You’re not some great ice sculptor, and you’re not okay. You’re bleeding and shivering, and your lips are turning blue. And the girls shouldn’t be here. They’re too little for ice sculpting, and didn’t I tell you this would just end in tears?”

“The girls are fine.” Suzanna pulled her hand away, her voice thick with hurt. She pointed across the yard, and Will turned to look. Sure enough, Beth and Ann had recovered from their upset, and were building a snowman from ice shavings. Mom was handing them a carrot to use for the nose.

“You thought this was all a lie? Today, my coming here? My idea for the sculpture? You thought I, what...you thought I did all this just to fit in?” Suzanna’s voice was trembling. “I thought we were having fun, even though it wasn’t perfect. I thought—”

“—this is over!” Kat stormed past them, nearly bumping Suzanna. She slipped, caught herself, and turned to shout back at Taison. “And I can’t believe you’d say I didn’t try. I tried every day. I tried to like what you like, to be who you want. To live up to the idea of me you’ve got in your head. But I’m not that girl. Can’t you see I’ve changed? Can’t you see I want things, different things from you?”

Taison stood slack-jawed, red in the face. He closed his mouth with a snap, let his hands drop to his sides. “You could’ve said something,” he said. “I’d have made your dreams come true. Or at least, I’d have tried.”

Suzanna glanced at Will—is this really happening? He shrugged in response, as baffled as she was.

“I’m sorry,” Kat said. She blinked hard, wiped her eyes. “This wasn’t how I... I was going to do this later, when I—”

“You don’t have to,” said Taison. “It’s not too late to fix this, to sit down and talk.” He stumbled toward her, but Kat backed away.

“No, it is. It’s too late for us. We’ve been broken a long time. It’s too late to fix us.” She stepped back and raised her voice, addressing the whole crowd. “The wedding’s off,” she said. A muted gasp went up, and scattered murmurs. Kat ignored them, crossing her arms over her chest. “Taison and I, we’re just two different people. We’ve been trying to deny it, but we’ve grown apart. So I’m the one calling it—for both our sakes.”

Kat stood there a moment, as though awaiting a response. Then she turned and trudged off, the crunch of her footsteps loud in the silence. Will watched, disbelieving. With all the tragic endings he’d pictured for this day—broken sculptures, sobbing kids, a rogue drill bit taking out someone’s eye—he hadn’t foreseen this. Kat and Taison were...Kat and Taison. Inseparable since childhood, meant to be without question. But they’d been faking it too? Pretending, for how long?

Will swallowed hard. He felt dizzy, unbalanced, like the moment before an earthquake. If Kat and Taison weren’t the real deal, what was? Who was?

13

Suzanna closed her eyes and inhaled the steam from her mug, soothing notes of green tea and ginger and lemon. Today had been a day, full of blood and tears and soapworthy drama. She couldn’t wait to scrub it all off and crawl into bed next to Will. He’d be pleased to see she was healing, her palm scabbing over without needing stitches. A week, maybe two, and she’d be good as—

“Did you tell my daughter you’re moving to town?”

Suzanna jumped, sloshing tea down her arm. “What?”

Will loomed in the doorway, jaw set, shoulders squared. “It’s not a hard question,” he said. “Did you or did you not tell Beth you’d move here?”

“Of course not. I just said...” Suzanna faltered—what had she said? “We…we were talking about sunflowers. How the fields are all full of them here in the springtime. I think I said something about how I’d like to see that, but Will, I never—”

“So you didn’t say you’d move into the apartment above the bookshop?”

Suzanna felt hot all over, like she was ten again, caught raiding the fridge. The old feelings washed over her, shame and embarrassment, that awful, trapped guilt. She turned her head away to hide her blush.

“Well?”

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