Page 14 of Cowgirl's Christmas Partner

“Her new kitchen, that’s you? I’ve heard good things.” Mr. White dug in his pocket and pulled out a card. “I run the flower shop in town. Stop by and we’ll talk—or feel free to drop by if you’ve got a wedding, or a funeral, or you need a bouquet for your lady.”

Tad shook his hand, tucked the card in his pocket. Billy came running over and jumped into Mr. White’s arms. Mr. White made a huffing sound and set him back down.

“Oof, you’re getting big. Go on, get in the truck.” The three of them headed off, and Tad turned to Sarah.

“You could’ve told them yourself,” he said. Sarah frowned.

“Told them what?”

“That you’re Sarah, not Chickadee. That you’re a grown-ass woman, not a kid helping out.”

Sarah shrugged. “What does it matter? Let them think what they want. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right, disrespecting my elders.”

“Not disrespecting,correcting.” Tad watched the old men walking Billy up the drive. “Nothing wrong with insisting on what you deserve.”

Sarah shot him a considering look. “And what do I deserve?” He couldn’t tell from her tone whether she was pleased or annoyed—but his answer was the same either way.

“To be treated like the smart, capable woman you are. You’re not a kid. People need to respect that.”

Sarah flushed and smiled, even as she shook her head. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you you’d always be her baby? That’s all that was, a couple of grandpas stuck in the past. Now, seeing as you’re here, want to help me clean up? I gave the kids trail mix, and they spilled everywhere.”

“Give me a broom and point me to the mess.”

“Up there in the barn.”

The two of them headed inside, and for a while they cleaned up in companionable silence. The kids hadn’t just scattered trail mix: they’d tracked straw and dirt all over the floor. One of them had smashed a juice box, leaving a bright splat of purple. Tad knelt to wipe it up as Sarah did the same. Their heads knocked together and Tad rocked back, laughing.

“Oops. You okay?”

“I’ve got a pretty hard head. I think I’ll survive.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out a pack of Kleenex. “Here, for your pants. Your right knee’s all grapey.”

Tad dabbed at the stain. “You know, I was watching you out there with the kids. You’re an excellent teacher. West was having a blast.”

“He’s a good rider,” said Sarah, still mopping the stain.

“Your whole family’s just…” Tad looked away. “The way you all help each other, the way you’re all soinvolved…I’ve never seen that before. It’s really something special.”

“That’s just how we are,” said Sarah, but Tad could see she was pleased. He hadn’t exactly meant what he’d said as a compliment—more an expression of bafflement. Pleasant surprise. Dad had always drilled it into him that, one way or another, you paid for what you got. But the Carsons didn’t think that way. They all just pitched in, and they—

“What’s on your mind?” Sarah had moved closer, and leaned in to catch his eye.

“I was thinking, uh, you were great with those kids.”

“Well, thank you!” Sarah glowed at his praise. “You’re a great dad yourself.” She finished mopping and got to her feet, swaying a little as the blood rushed to her head. Tad caught her and steadied her. Maybe she misread the gesture, or maybe the mood took her—but the next thing he knew, she’d risen up on tiptoe and snaked her arms around his neck. Then her lips brushed his, a tentative flutter. Tad kissed her back and she shivered in his arms. Her palm grazed his neck, her fingers in his hair, and he held fast to the moment, not wanting it to end.

6

Dr. Larkin scrubbed his arms dry and hung the towel over the sink. He fished his watch out, checked it, and strapped it back on his wrist.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he said. “Her abdomenisslightly tender, but she’s walking well and her bowel sounds are good. Her pregnancy seems healthy, coming along right on schedule.” He glanced at his watch again, and started across the barn. “If she seems distressed, call me, but I think we’re okay.”

Sarah hurried after him—what was his rush? “And that noise she was making?” She smiled to soften her tone. “I really appreciate you coming so early. But I hoped you might wait just a few minutes more, see if she starts doing that whuffing again. Maybe I could make you some coffee, and then we could swing by and check on her one more time?”

The vet shook his head. “You can record it and text me it, if you’re really that worried. But there’s not much I can tell you, based on a whuffing.”

Sarah glanced over her shoulder. The mare did seem better, less twitchy, more calm. But still, Dr. Larkin had barely stayed ten minutes. She needed to do something to get him on her side. The more he cared, after all, the harder he’d work.

“Let me send you home with some cookies at least, for your kids.”

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