Page 18 of Cowboy's Christmas Girlfriend

“The hero,” said Suzanna. She’d buried her face in her hands.

“I do look pretty good,” he said, to hide his embarrassment. “You never mentioned I was going to be part of the campaign.”

“I didn’t know.” Suzanna bent down to rap her head on the table. “I forgot Sarah took that shot. I sent it in by mistake.” She looked up, guilty-eyed. “Are you mad?”

“No. I’m happy for you.” Will reached down, laughing, to muss up her hair. “But I gotta tell you, you look like Lucky right now.”

“Excuse me?”

“Those big, sad eyes; the way you’re hiding your face. That’s what he does when he’s peed on the rug.”

Suzanna slapped at him, dissolving in laughter.

“How about this TV crew? When’s that all happening?”

Suzanna’s laughter died as abruptly as it had begun. “That’s the other thing,” she said. “They want to come shoot me the day after tomorrow...and they want you too. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to.”

Will sat down next to her and set to rubbing her back. Touching her had become kind of a habit, even when there wasn’t an audience. He liked the feel of her curvy body under his hands. A lot. He found himself smiling. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just an interview, right?”

Suzanna shook her head miserably. “They want to follow me round the ranch, a day in the life. They want to see me dig postholes, bale hay, shovel snow. All the stuff I can’t really do.”

“I’ll help you with that.” Will pulled her closer, leaned his head against hers. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. We’ll split up the chores so I’ll do the hard parts—like, I’ll dig the posthole, you bang in the post. We’ll be this cute couple that does everything together. Efficient, too, and you know I love that.”

Suzanna was quiet, staring at her chipped nails.

“What is it? No good?”

She let out a long breath. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Everything I could ask for. Only...it’s more than you agreed to. This is a huge deal, and we never—”

“Shh—shh.” Will took her by the hands and turned her to face him. “I want to do it, I promise. I want to make you look good.”

Suzanna blinked, uncertain. “You do? Why?”

Will’s heart swelled, and for the first time in recent memory, he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to protect her—from embarrassment, from failure, from everything that could go wrong. He wanted her to succeed, for her face to light up. For her to clap and cheer like she did when life went well. He couldn’t say all that. They’d share a few kisses, passionate ones, and he was attracted to her. He couldn’t deny that, but they were…friends. So he deflected.

“You’ve been great with my girls,” he said at last. “They loved you at karaoke night, and you saved the gingerbread competition from a workers’ strike. It’s my turn to come through.”

“My hero.” Suzanna squeezed his hands, tightly, with feeling. Will leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her nose, pleased that he’d made her happy.

“I’m supposed to take the girls Christmas shopping this morning,” he said. “But Mom’s behind on her shopping, and Sarah is too. They can make it a girls’ trip, and we’ll practice our chores.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” A faint twinge of daddy guilt pricked at his chest, but the girls would have him the rest of his life. Suzanna’s crisis was imminent—Beth and Ann could spare him this once. He kissed Suzanna again and got to his feet. “Go on, get dressed. I’ll just grab some breakfast, and then we’ll be off.”

* * *

The morning’s chores flew by nearly without incident. In the stables, Suzanna snagged her coat on a nail and stripped a bolt helping Will patch up his snowplow, but proved a valuable asset with a hurt, panicked calf caught in a fence.

“We just found your talent,” said Will when the calf was free.

“My talent?” Suzanna frowned. “You worked the pliers, cut off all that barbed wire. I just stood here, just—”

“You kept her calm.” Will pulled on his gloves and flexed his hands to get comfy. “You’ve got that magic—the sweet voice, the soft touch. Didn’t you see her ears, the way they were twitching? She was listening to you, forgetting all about me. Not everyone can do that.”

“Will it be enough, though?” She stepped out of the cowshed, into the crisp, snowswept morning. “They’ll want to see me do everything—and what if they ask questions I don’t know how to answer?”

“Then I’ll step in,” said Will. “But honestly, that’d surprise me. I’ve done interviews before, local news, magazines—even this Discovery show on modern ranching. They’ll just want an overview, some nice clips and soundbites. Mostly, they’ll let you talk, so stick to what you know.”

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