“Jess? I am sorry.”

“About what?”

“Your daughter. Your husband. Your colt. You’ve had a rough time of it, and—”

“Please don’t.” The wind swept hair in front of her eyes, and she impatiently pushed it away. “The girls and I got along fine before you got here, and we’ll be fine long after you go.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t? All I said was—”

“I really should get back to the house. Thank you for checking in on Honey.”

Gage nodded, but he could’ve saved himself the effort as she was already out the door.

What was it with her always running away? Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Why was she shutting herself off from the very practical fact that if she was going to run any kind of successful ranch, there was no way in Sam Hill she could ever do it on her own?

Catching his reflection in the mirror, he scowled. “What’re you doing, man?”

But unfortunately, the stranger looking back at him had no more clue why he cared about Jess Cummings or her girls or her ranch than he did.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to the sixth and last book of THE STATE OF PARENTHOOD miniseries, Harlequin American Romance’s celebration of parenthood and place. In this, our 25th year of publishing great books, we’re delighted to bring you these heartwarming stories that sing the praises of the home state of six different authors and share the many trials and delights of being a parent.

If there’s one time of the year that makes us think of home and family, it’s Christmas. In Laura Marie Altom’s A Daddy for Christmas, we meet Gage Moore, a Texan bull rider looking for peace—and redemption. What he finds is miles of blue Oklahoma sky and Jess Cummings, a single mom looking for a temporary ranch hand. It may seem as if Jess is the one who needs help, but working on her ranch and connecting with her two girls brings the spirit of Christmas home for Gage. And that holiday magic might just help make them a family.

There are five other books in this series: Texas Lullaby by Tina Leonard (June 08), Smoky Mountain Reunion by Lynnette Kent (July 08), Cowboy Dad by Cathy McDavid (August 08), A Dad for Her Twins by Tanya Michaels (September 08) and Holding the Baby by Margot Early (October 08). We hope you enjoyed every one of these romantic stories, and that they inspired you to celebrate where you live—because any place you raise a child is home.

Merry Christmas from all of us at American Romance!

Kathleen Scheibling

Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

A Daddy for Christmas

Laura Marie Altom

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

After college (Go Hogs!), bestselling, award-winning author Laura Marie Altom did a brief stint as an interior designer before becoming a stay-at-home mom to boy/ girl twins and a bonus son. Always an avid romance reader, when she found herself replotting the afternoon soaps, she knew it was time to try her hand at writing

When not immersed in her next story, Laura teaches reading enrichment at a local middle school. In her free time, she beats her kids at video games, tackles Mt. Laundry and of course, reads romance!

Laura loves hearing from readers at either P.O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101, or e-mail BaliPalm@aol.com.

Love winning fun stuff? Check out lauramariealtom.com!

For Mary Jane and Cathy Morgan.

Ladies, you are fun and talented and witty and

wonderful!! I love you!! Thanks for sharing

my ups, downs and everything in between!!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

If Jess Cummings didn’t act fast, the colt would have to be shot.

The heartrending sound of the young quarter horse’s cries, the sight of blood staining his golden coat, made her eyes sting and throat ache. But she refused to give in to tears. For the colt’s sake, for the girls’ sake, but most of all, for Dwayne, to whom this land and its every creature had meant so much, Jess had to stay strong.

For what felt like an eternity, while the colt’s momma neighed nervously behind the broken gate the colt had slipped through, Jess struggled to free the animal from his barbed-wire cage. Muscles straining, ignoring the brutal December wind’s bite, she worked on, heedless of her own pain when the barbs pierced her gloves.

“You’ve got to calm down,” she said, praying the colt her two girls had named Honey would somehow understand.

Not only didn’t he still, but he also struggled all the harder. Kicking and snorting. Twisting the metal around his forelegs and rump and even his velvety nose that her daughters so loved to stroke.

The more the vast Oklahoma plain’s wind howled, the more the colt fought, the more despair rose in Jess’s throat. It was only two days before Christmas, and the holiday would be tough enough to get through. Why, why, was this happening now? How many times had she spoke up at grange meetings about the illegal dumping going on in the far southeast corner of her land? How many times had she begged the sheriff to look into the matter before one of her animals—or, God forbid, children—ended up hurt? For an inquisitive colt, the bushel of rotting apples and other trash lobbed alongside hundreds of feet of rusty barbed wire had made for an irresistible challenge.

“Shh…” she crooned, though the horse fought harder and harder until he eventually lost balance, falling onto his side. “Honey, you’ll be all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Liar.

Cold sweat trickled down her back as she worked, and she promised herself that this time her words would ring true. That this crisis—unlike Dwayne’s—could be resolved in a good way. A happy way. A way that didn’t involve tears.

From behind her came a low rumbling, and the crunch of wheels on the lonely dirt road.

She glanced north to see a black pickup approach, kicking dust against an angry gunmetal sky. She knew every vehicle around these parts, and this one didn’t belong. Someone’s holiday company? Didn’t matter why the traveler was there. All that truly mattered was flagging him or her down in time to help.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Honey before charging into the road’s center, frantically waving her arms. “Help! Please, help!”

The pickup’s male driver fishtailed to a stop on the weed-choked shoulder, instantly grasping the gravity of the situation. “Hand me those,” the tall, lean cowboy-type said as he jumped out from behind the wheel, nodding to her wire cutters before tossing a weather-beaten Stetson into the truck’s bed. “I’ll cut while you try calming him down.”

Working in tandem, the stranger snipped the wire, oblivious to the bloodied gouges on his fingers and palms, as Jess smoothed the colt’s mane and ears, all the while crooning the kind of nonsensical comfort she would’ve to a fevered child.

In his weakened state, the colt had stopped struggling, yet his big brown eyes were still wild.

“Call your vet?” the stranger asked.

“I would’ve, but I don’t have a cell.”

“Here,” he said, standing and passing off the wire cutters. “Use Doc Matthews?”

“Yes, but—” Before she could finish her question as to how he even knew the local horse and cattle expert, the stranger was halfway to his truck. Focusing on the task at hand, she figured on grilling the man about his identity later. After Honey was out of the proverbial woods.

“Doc’s on his way,” the man said a short while later, cell tucked in the chest pocket of his tan, denim work jacket. “And from the looks of this little fella, the sooner Doc gets here, the better.”

Jess snipped the last of the wire from Honey’s right foreleg, breathing easier now that the colt at least had a fighting chance. He’d lost a lot of blood, and the possibility of an infection would be a worry, but for the moment, all she could do was sit beside him, rubbing between his ears. “I can’t thank you enough for stopping.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

“Yes, well…” Words were hard to get past the burning knot in her throat. “Thanks.”

The grim-faced stranger nodded, then went back to his truck bed for a saddle blanket he gently settled over the colt. “It’s powerful cold out here. I’d like to go ahead and get him to your barn, but without the doc first checking the extent of his injuries—”

“I agree,” she said. “It’s probably best I wait here for him. But you go on to wherever you were headed. Your family’s no doubt missing you.”

His only answer was a grunt.

Turning the collar up on his jacket, eyeing her oversize coat, he asked, “Warm enough?”

“Fine,” she lied, wondering if it was a bad sign that she could hardly feel her toes.

They sat in silence for a spell, icy wind pummeling their backs, Jess at the colt’s head, the stranger at the animal’s left flank.

“Name’s Gage,” he said after a while. “Gage Moore.”

“J-Jess Cummings.” Teeth chattering, she held out her gloved hand for him to shake, but quickly thought better. A nasty cut, rust-colored with dried blood, ran the length of his right forefinger. His left pinkie hadn’t fared much better. Both palms were crisscrossed with smaller cuts, and a frighteningly large amount of blood. “You need a doctor yourself.”

He shrugged. “I’ve suffered worse.”

The shadows behind his eyes told her he wasn’t just talking about his current physical pain.

“Still. If you’d like to follow me and Doc Matthews back to the house, I’ve got a first-aid kit. Least I can do is bandage you up.”

He answered with another shrug.

“Some of those look pretty deep. You may need stitches.”

“I’m good,” he said, gazing at the colt.

Jess knew the man was far from good, but seeing as how the vet had pulled his truck and trailer alongside them, she let the matter slide.

“Little one,” the kindly old vet said to Honey on his approach, raising bushy white eyebrows and shaking his head, “you’ve been nothing but trouble since the day you were born.”

Black leather medical kit beside him, Doc Matthews knelt to perform a perfunctory examination. He wasn’t kidding about Honey having been into his fair share of mischief. He’d given his momma, Buttercup, a rough breech labor, then had proceeded along his rowdy ways to gallop right into a hornet’s nest, bite into an unopened feed bag and eat himself into quite a bellyache, and now, this.

“He going to be all right?” Jess was almost afraid to ask. “You know how attached the girls are. I don’t know how I’d break it to them if—”

“Don’t you worry,” Doc said. “This guy’s tougher than he looks. I’m going to give him something for pain, have Gage help settle him and his momma in my trailer and out of this chill. Then we’ll get them back to the barn so I can stitch up the little guy and salve these wounds. After that, with antibiotics and rest, he should be right as rain.”

Relieved tears stung her eyes, but still Jess wouldn’t allow herself the luxury of breaking down.

“How’d you get all the way out here?” Doc asked her after he and Gage gingerly placed Honey and her still-agitated momma in the horse trailer attached to the vet’s old Ford. He did a quick search for Jess’s truck, or Smoky Joe—the paint she’d been riding since her sixteenth birthday.

In all the excitement, Jess realized she hadn’t tethered Smoky, meaning by now, he was probably back at the barn. With a wry smile, she said, “Looks like I’ve been abandoned. You know Smoky, he’s never been a big fan of cold or Honey’s brand of adventure.”

“Yup.” Doc laughed. “Ask me, he’s the smartest one in the bunch.” Sighing, heading for his pickup with Matthews’s Veterinary Services painted on the doors, he said, “Oh, well, hop in the cab with me, and we’ll warm up while catching up.”

“Shouldn’t I ride in back with the patient?”

“Relax. After the shot I gave him, he’ll be happy for a while, already dreaming of the next time he gives you and I a coronary.”

“Should I, ah, head back to your place?” Gage asked.

“Nope,” Doc said. “Martha wanted to keep you with us ’til after the holidays, but I figure now’s as good a time as any for you and Jess to get better acquainted.”

“Mind telling me what that’s supposed to mean?” Jess asked once she and Doc were in his truck. She’d removed her gloves and fastened her seat belt, and now held cold-stiffened fingers in front of the blasting heat vents.

“What?”

“Don’t act all innocent with me. You know exactly, what. Have you and my father been matchmaking again? If so, I—”

“Settle yourself right on down, little lady. Trust me, we learned our lesson after Pete Clayton told us you ran him off your place with a loaded shotgun.”

“He tried kissing me.”

“Can you blame him?” the older man said with a chuckle. “If you weren’t young enough to be my granddaughter, you’re pretty enough I might have a try at you myself.”

Lips pursed, Jess shook her head. “Dwayne’s only been gone—”

“Barely over a year. I know, Jess. We all know. But you’re a bright and beautiful—and very much alive—young woman with two rowdy girls to raise. Dwayne wouldn’t want you living like you do, with one foot practically in your own grave.”

“As usual, you’re being melodramatic. Me and the girls are happy as can be expected, thank you very much. I have no interest in dating—especially not another cowboy you and my daddy come up with.”

“Understood,” he said, turning into her gravel drive. “Which is why Gage’s only in town to help you out around the ranch.”

“What?” Popping off her seat belt, she angled on the seat to cast Doc her most fearsome glare.

“Simmer down. Everyone who loves you is worried. There’s too much work here to handle on your own—especially with foaling season right around the corner. We’ve taken up a collection, and paid Gage his first few months’ wages.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but before getting a word in edgewise, Doc was holding out his hand to cut off her protestations.

“While you’ve been off checking fences this past week, your momma and my Martha have been fixing up the old bunkhouse. Gage is a good man. I’ve known his family since before he was born. More importantly, he’s a damned hard worker, and will considerably lighten your load.”

“But I couldn’t possibly afford to—”

“Shh. Stop right there. Like I already said, whether you like it or not, the man’s time has already been paid in full. Once spring rolls around and you’re back on your feet after making a few sales, you’ll have more than enough cash to support you and the girls and an invaluable hired hand.”

The vet turned on the radio, tuning it to an upbeat country classic. From the looks of it, he and her father were taking another stab at matchmaking.

“What’re you grinning about?” Jess asked, shooting him a sideways glare.

“Nothin’ much,” Doc said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Just looking forward to the holidays.”

She snorted.

“What’s the matter? Someone spit in your eggnog?”

“Let’s just say that the sooner this holiday season is over, the better I’ll feel.”

GAGE SAT IN his truck’s cab, wishing himself anywhere else on the planet. He’d known from the start this was a bad idea. He’d have been better off back at his cramped condo. At least there, he knew where he stood.

Though he couldn’t hear words, Jess Cummings’s animated body language spoke volumes. He wasn’t wanted.

When his dad first broached the subject of helping a friend of a friend up in Mercy, Oklahoma, it’d seemed like a good idea. After all, what better way to help himself than by helping others? Now, however, he realized he should’ve asked a helluva lot more questions about the job.

“Well?” Doc asked outside Gage’s window, causing him to jump. “You gonna sit there all day, or help me get our patient to the barn?”

“Mommy!”

Gage had just creaked open his truck door when two curly-haired, redheaded munchkins dashed from the covered porch of a weary, one-story farmhouse that was in as bad a need of paint as it was a new tin roof. They were followed by an older, gray-haired version of Jess.

“Hey, sweeties,” said the woman he’d presumed was to be his new boss as she kneeled to catch both girls up in a hug.

The taller one asked, “Is Honey going to be okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Jess said.

“Hi.” The older woman smiled warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Georgia, Jess’s mom. You must be Walter’s boy, Gage.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, removing the hat he’d slapped back on. It’d been a while since Gage had lived in a small town, so he’d forgotten how fast news traveled. “Nice to meet you. Mom and Dad speak highly of your whole family.”

“They were always favorites around here. It nearly broke my heart when your momma told me you were moving away. Of course, seeing how you were only two at the time, I’m not figuring the move gave you much cause for trouble.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Can you give me a hand?” Doc asked from the back of his trailer.

“Sure,” Gage said, secretly relieved for having been rescued from small talk. He used to love to meet new folks—or, as was apparently the case with Georgia, get reacquainted with old friends—but lately, he just didn’t have the heart.

“He’s bleeding!” the taller of the two girls cried at her first sight of the colt. “Mommy! Do something!” Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks while the younger girl, wide-eyed, with her thumb stuck in her mouth, clung to her mother’s thigh.

“Hush now,” Doc said. “Honey’s a tough cookie. He looks bad, but trust me, Lexie, after Gage and I get him patched up, he’ll be good as new.”

“Promise?”

“Yup. Now how ’bout you and Ashley get some coats on, then meet me in the barn. I could use the extra hands.”

“Is it okay, Mommy?”

“Of course,” Jess said. “Honey will probably be glad you two are there.”

While the girls scampered inside, Georgia asked her daughter, “Now that they’re busy, tell me true. Is Honey really going to be all right?”

“Doc thinks so.” Even from a good twenty feet away, the exhaustion ringing from Jess’s sigh struck a chord in Gage. All his father and Doc had told him was that Jess was a widow very much in need of a helping hand. No one had said anything about there being kids in the picture. Then, as if there weren’t already enough needy creatures on the ranch, an old hound dog wandered up, sending a mixed message with a low growl, but with his tail wagging.

“Don’t mind him,” Jess said, jogging over. “Taffy likes letting everyone know up front who’s boss. Slip him a few table scraps every now and then, and you two will be fast friends.”

Georgia had headed back in the house.

Gage, Doc and Jess entered the barn. While wind rattled time-worn timbers, the temperature was at least bearable compared to outside, and the air smelled good, and familiar of hay and oats and leather.

The three of them managed to set the colt on a fresh straw bed in one of the stalls, then led his momma in beside him. Doc gave the colt a pat and said, “You know how Martha likes The Weather Channel. She says we’re in for one heckuva storm.”

“Ice or snow?” Jess asked.

“Starting off ice, switching to snow.”

“Sounds fun,” Jess said with a sarcastic laugh.

“Got plenty of firewood?” Doc asked.

Though she nodded, she didn’t meet his gaze.

“See why I called you?” Doc asked Gage. “The girl lies through her teeth. Watch, what she calls plenty of wood will be a quarter rick too wet to give good heat.”

“First off,” Jess said, tugging the saddled horse Gage presumed was Smoky Joe in from the paddock and into a stall, “I’m not a girl, but a woman. And second, I do have enough sense to have covered the woodpile during the last rain. Third, Gage, I know you mean well, but maybe you coming here wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Gage,” Doc said, “whatever she blows on about, don’t listen. Now, would you mind running out to my truck and getting my bag?”

“Sure,” Gage said, thrilled for yet another escape.

“And after that, please check the woodpile on the south side of the house. If it’s not in healthy shape, Martha will have my hide.”

HANDS ON HER HIPS, after Gage was out of earshot, Jess said to Doc, “I understand you and my parents and Lord knows who else you’ve got in on this plan to save me mean well, but seriously, Doc, I’ve been taking care of me and my girls just fine for a while now, and I resent like hell you and my father hiring some stranger to ride in here like a knight in shining armor.”

“It’s not like that,” Doc said, “and kindly soften your voice. Your screech-owl-shrill tone is spooking Honey.”

“Sorry,” she said, “it’s just that—”

“We’re here,” Lexie said with Ashley in tow. “What can we do?”

“Lots.” Doc gave them a list of busywork that would serve the dual purpose of not only keeping them out of trouble, but also making them feel special.

“Here’s your bag,” Gage said, planting it at the vet’s feet. “You need anything, I’ll be around the side of the house, looking after the wood.”

Nibbling her lower lip, Jess gave the man a five-minute lead, then waited ’til Doc seemed plenty distracted with Honey’s stitches before heading outside herself.

It was only two in the afternoon, but it might as well have been seven at night. The sky glowered gray.

What Jess would like to do was join her mother in the kitchen, where she was no doubt nursing a pot of tea while gossiping on the phone with one of her many church friends. What Jess did instead was march around the side of the house toward her obviously lacking woodpile.

The smack-thunk of an ax splitting a log, and the halves hitting frozen ground, alerted her to the fact that her new employee was already hard at work. Her first sight of him left her mouth dry. In a word—wow. Even on a day like this, chopping wood got a person’s heat up, and Gage had removed his coat, slinging it over a split-rail fence. The white T-shirt he wore hugged his powerful chest.

Fighting an instant flash of guilt for even thinking such a thing, she averted her gaze before saying, “Put your coat back on before you catch your death of cold.”

He glanced up, his breath a fine, white cloud. “I’m plenty warm. How’s Honey?”

“Better. Doc’s working on his stitches. Looks like he’ll be here a while, but for sure, the worst has passed.”

“Honey’s a lucky fella,” Gage said, midsmack into another log, “that you came along when you did. How’d you even know to look for him all the way out there?”

“He’s always been fascinated by that old trash pile. When he and his mom went missing, that’s the first place I thought to look.”

“Some of that trash didn’t look so old.” He reached for another log, causing his biceps to harden. Again, Jess found herself struggling to look away.

“No. That valley’s always been a favorite dump site. Not sure why—or how—I’ll ever stop folks from using it.”

He grunted.

It’d been so long since she’d been around a man not old enough to be her father or grandfather, she wasn’t sure what the cryptic, wholly masculine reply meant. Maybe nothing. A catchall for the more wordy, feminine version of It’s amazing how downright rude some people can be by littering on a neighbor’s land.

“You, um, really should put your coat back on,” she said, telling herself her advice had nothing to do with the fact the mere sight of that T-shirt clinging to his muscular chest was making her pulse race. “Looks like freezing rain could start any minute.”

Again, she got the grunt.

“Freezing rain’s nothing to mess around with,” she prattled on. “Once it starts, you’d better be sure you’re where you want to be, because odds are, you just may be there a while.”

“Ma’am,” he said, gathering a good eight to ten quartered logs in his strapping arms and adding them to the already healthier pile, “no offense, but I grew up in north Texas. I know all about freezing rain.”

Of course, you do. But do you have any idea how well those Wranglers hug your—

“Mommy!” Ashley cried, skidding to a breathless stop alongside her. “Gramma said if you don’t get in the house, you’ll catch a death.”

Gage chuckled.

The fact that he apparently found not only her, but also her entire family amusing, reminded Jess why she’d even tracked him down. To ask him to leave.

“Please tell Grandma I’ll be right in,” she said to her daughter, giving the pom-pom of her green crocheted hat an affectionate tweak.

“’Kay.” As fast as her daughter had appeared, she ran off.

“She’s a cutie,” Gage said.

“Thanks.”

“Hope I’m not overstepping—” he reached for another log “—but Doc told me what happened to your husband. Must’ve been a comfort having your girls.”

More than you’ll ever know.

Something about the warmth in the stranger’s tone wrapped the simple truth of his words around her heart. Throat swelling with the full impact of a loss that suddenly seemed fresher than it had in a long time, she lacked the strength to speak.

“Anyway,” he continued, “just wanted to say sorry. You got a raw deal.”

Lips pursed, she nodded.

“You should—” he nodded to the house “—go in.”

Though she couldn’t begin to understand why, the fact that he cared if she were cold irritated her to no end. She’d come over to tell him thanks, but no thanks, she and her girls could handle working this ranch just fine on their own, and in a span of fifteen minutes he’d managed to chop more wood than she had in a month. Now, just as Dwayne used to, he was protecting her. Sheltering her from the worst an Oklahoma winter could dish out. Coming from her husband, her high-school sweetheart, the only man she’d ever loved, the notion had been endearing. Coming from this stranger, it was insulting.

The truth of the matter was that in a few months, once she could no longer afford to pay him, he’d be gone. Just like her husband. Then, there she’d be, once again struggling to make a go of this place on her own. But that was okay. Because, stubborn as she was, she’d do just that.

Oh, Jess knew the stranger meant well, but the bottom line was that she was done depending on anyone for survival. And make no mistake, out here, eking out a living from the land was a matter of day-to-day survival.

As a glowing bride, she’d still believed in happily ever afters. She now knew better. Loved ones could be snatched from you in a black second. Twisters could take your home. Learning life doesn’t come with a guarantee had been one of Jess’s most valuable lessons. It had taught her to appreciate every day spent with her daughters and parents and few friends. It had also taught her not to let anyone else in. Even if that someone was only an apparently well-meaning hired hand. For the inevitable loss of his much-needed help would hurt her already broken spirit far more than long days of working the ranch hurt her weary muscles.

“Look,” she finally said, all the more upset by the fact that the freezing rain had started, tinkling against the tin roof and the rusted antique tiller Dwayne had placed at the corner of the yard for decoration. They’d had such plans for this old place. Dreamed of fixing it up, little by little, and restoring it to the kind of working outfit they’d both be proud of. “I’m not sure how to politely put this, so I’m just going to come right out and say it. You’re, um, doing an amazing job with this wood, and there’s no doubt I could always use an extra hand, but—”

“You don’t want me here?”

“Well…” Jess didn’t want to be rude to the man, but yeah, she didn’t want him here.

“Tell you what,” he said, not pausing in his work. “Doc and my dad are pretty proud of themselves for hooking us up, and—”

Her cheeks flamed. “They what?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gage said, casting her a slow and easy and entirely too handsome grin. “Just that I’ve needed a change of scenery and you’ve obviously needed a strong back. To a couple of coots like Doc and my old man, I suppose we must seem like a good pair.”

“Oh. Sure.” Now, Jess’s cheeks turned fiery due to having taken Gage’s innocent statement the wrong way.

“Back to what I was saying, how about I stay through the afternoon—just long enough to get you a nice stockpile of wood—then be on my way before the weather gets too bad? Doc won’t even have to know I’m gone ’til I’m over the state line.”

“You’d do that? Pretend to stay, for me?”

“Hell,” he said with a chuckle, “if I’d stand out here all afternoon, chopping wood for you in the freezing cold, why wouldn’t I do a little thing like leaving you on your own?”

His laughter was contagious, and for an instant, Jess’s load felt lightened. Only, curiously enough, her healthier woodpile had less to do with her improved mood than the warmth of Gage’s smile.

Chapter Two

Only a few more hours, and Gage would be back on the road to Texas. He’d expected to feel good about the fact, but the lead in his gut felt more like guilt.

Jess needed him. He’d been raised never to turn his back on someone in need, and considering Jess’s situation, Gage was pretty much honor-bound to do right by the down-on-her-luck widow and her brood. Hell, even the mangy old dog currently curled in front of the living room’s crackling fire seemed to need him.

“Thanks,” Gage said, accepting the third bowl of chili Jess’s mom had shoved in front of him. The meal was delicious, but the straight-backed kitchen chair was about as comfortable as a cedar fence rail. Don’t even get him started on the one rowdy munchkin jawing his ears off about Tyrannosaurus rex eggs, and the other not-so-rowdy—okay, downright hostile—munchkin shooting him laserlike death stares.

Georgia, on the other hand, made for pleasant enough company with her gentle chatter about the weather and her corn bread recipe and how her husband should be here just any minute to fetch her in his four-wheel drive. Gage missed his own mom. This Christmas would be tough on her—most especially without him there. But she had his father and many friends to help her through. He just couldn’t bring himself to see her; she reminded him too much of Marnie.

Maybe he’d go home for her birthday in March.

Doc had long since finished up on Honey, calmed Buttercup and taken off to help his wife wrap gifts for their six grandkids. Gage would’ve been on his way, but seeing how Jess’s mom was still hanging around, he was obliged to stay.

Georgia fixed herself a second bowl of chili, sprinkled it with Colby Jack, then dropped into a straight-backed chair alongside him. “Ray Hawkins worked miracles on that old bunkhouse stove. Gage, you should be snug as a bug out there all through this storm.”

“Actually…”

“He’s staying? Here? In the bunkhouse? That’s where I play Barbies.” Lexie shoved her chair back, and stomped from the room.

“Sorry,” Jess said. “Ever since her dad…”

Gage knew well enough what she left unsaid. Ever since the girl’s dad had died, she didn’t cotton to any new men sniffing around her mom. Well, she’d be safe from him. He’d be leaving soon, and besides, with all he’d been through in the past few months, he certainly wasn’t looking for a woman.

Granted, Jess was a fine-looking woman.

Tall, with a figure just right for holding. A long mess of fiery-red hair that suited what he’d imagined to be an equally hot temper. And then there were her eyes. Mostly gray with a tinge of blue. On a sunny day, would they match the sky?

Too bad he’d never know.

“Thank you, ma’am, for this meal,” he said to Georgia.

“You’re most welcome,” she said, glowing from the compliment. “From the looks of you, a winter’s worth of home cooking will do you good.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He had lost weight, but hadn’t realized it showed. Not that it mattered.

“Mister Gage,” Ashley said, “did you know a T-rex could bite through somebody and kill them with just one chomp? He’d mash them, squirting out their blood all over the place—just like a Fruit Gusher.”

“Ashley Grace Cummings,” Georgia scolded. “Must you speak of such things at the dinner table?”

“It’s true,” the girl said, slathering enough butter atop a corn muffin that it looked more like a frosted cupcake. “I figured Mister Gage should know to be careful. Just in case he ever sees one.”

“Thanks,” he said with a nod. “You’re right, you can never be too careful around those T-rex’s. Especially where I’m from in Texas.”

“Where’s that?” Jess asked, pushing her chair back and standing. She hadn’t even finished her first bowl of chili. Whereas he’d lost a few pounds, upon closer inspection, without her heavy coat, she looked scary thin.

“Dallas. T-rexes on every corner. Good thing Miss Ashley, here, told me to watch out, or I’d be someone’s dinner.”

“I hope a T-rex does get you.” Peeking around the corner from the living room into the kitchen was Lexie, wearing a satisfied smile. “At least then, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Lexie!” Georgia and Jess apologized on the girl’s behalf, but Gage shrugged off their concern. It was all right. He and Lexie had more in common than she could ever possibly know. As such, he’d cut the kid some slack. More than a few times lately, he’d caught himself just short of railing on some poor waitress who’d botched his order. Or his manager for booking too many public appearances when Gage had specifically asked for none.

Jess’s ranch would have been a wonderful place to hide.

Spend downtime nursing emotional wounds with hard work and—

“Heavens,” Georgia said, glancing toward the porch at the sound of an unholy crash. “What was that?”

The back door burst open.

A red-faced, burly man dressed in a flannel shirt and denim overalls looked right at Gage, introduced himself as Jess’s father, Harold, and said, “It’s a darned good thing you’re sticking around for a while because, judging by the mess I just made of my truck, you’re gonna want to stay put.”

SURVEYING THE DAMAGE her father had done to her porch rail, Jess didn’t even try suppressing a groan.

This was a bad joke, right?

Like her home wasn’t already ramshackle enough.

“Sorry, doodlebug,” her father said beneath the porch’s tin roof, kissing her cheek. He practically had to shout to be heard above the clattering ice. “Just as soon as this weather clears, I’ll be over to fix the damage. With Gage’s help, shouldn’t take much longer than an afternoon.”

“Th-that’s all right, Dad.” Arms crossed, teeth chattering, Jess glanced Gage’s way. He wasn’t going to go back on his word, was he? And tell her dad he wouldn’t be staying? “You couldn’t have helped it.” The driveway was completely ice-slicked and her dad had simply lost control.

“Are you hurt?” Georgia asked, worry creasing her brow.

“Whoa!” nine-year-old Lexie said, off the porch and sliding on the icy drive in her pink snow boots. “Grandpa, you did a movie stunt!”

“I love you,” Ashley said, pouring on the sweetness by hugging her grandfather’s legs. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt from your movie stunt.”

“I’m fine,” he said, kissing Georgia.

“Think we need to stay here tonight?” his wife asked.

“Probably,” he said with a sigh, “but if we do, who’s going to look after the dogs?”

“Yeah,” Jess prodded, yet not without a pang of guilt. “You can’t forget about the dogs.” Just like I can’t forget that if only you two would leave, so would Gage. What kind of daughter was she? Wishing her parents out into this storm?

“We’ll be fine,” Jess’s dad reassured. “In case we can’t make it over, I brought the girls’ presents. But we’re going to have to hustle to unload, then get back on the road.”

“Okay,” Georgia said, already heading inside. “Let me get my coat, and I’ll be right out to help.”

“Wanna bet it takes her a good ten minutes to get back out here?” Jess’s dad asked Gage with a good-natured grin.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Gage replied.

Georgia was back outside in five minutes. After a flurry of rushing back and forth with packages—little Ashley excited about each one, Lexie more reserved, almost as if she were trying to hide her excitement—Jess waved her parents on their way, saying a quick prayer for their safety.

The second her father’s truck’s brake lights cleared the drive, Ashley suggested, “Let’s open all of Gramma and Grandpa’s presents!”

“N-nope,” Jess said, teeth chattering while she ushered the girls inside. “N-not until Christmas morning. But thanks for the idea. I think since I’m a grown-up, I’ll go ahead and open mine now.”

“That’s not fair!” Ashley bellowed.

Laughing, Jess ruffled her youngest daughter’s hair.

“Mom,” Lexie asked, “can we watch a movie?”

“D-do the dishes first,” Jess said.

“But—”

“Lexie…” Jess warned.

“She’s a handful,” Gage said after the girls had traipsed inside.

“T-tell me about it.”

He chuckled, then stuck his hand out from under the porch’s shelter, letting ice coat his palm. “This is bad. Probably the worst I’ve seen. Got any tire chains?”

“I d-don’t th-think so,” she said through teeth chattering so bad it was hard to speak. “I-if w-we do, they’re in th-the b-barn.”

“I’ll look, you get back in the house.”

“B-but…”

“Go,” he said, pointing to the front door. “The longer you stand out here arguing, the longer it’s going to take me to get on the road.”

Famous last words.

Fifteen minutes later, through the living room curtains, Jess watched Gage slide rusty steel chains around his tires. But about five seconds after having put his truck in gear and backing up to test the traction, even through the window, she heard a metallic snap.

After turning off his truck, Gage hopped out to inspect, only to promptly fall on his behind.

Jess snatched a quilt from the back of a rocker, wrapped it around her shoulders, then dashed outside. Into driving wind and ice, she shouted, “You okay?”

“Fine. Unless you count wounded pride.” Scrambling to his feet and gingerly rising to his full height, he brushed ice from the backside of his jeans. “Got any welding gear? It won’t be pretty, but I’m good enough to jury-rig these to hold ’til the state line.”

Freezing rain still fell, tinkling, tinkling, coating the world in sparkling wonder. The scene was beautiful, yet the lead in her stomach filled her with dread. Both tire chains had snapped. Gage could hardly stand. It would be downright suicidal expecting him to go anywhere until the storm cleared. “Stay.”

“Excuse me?” Using his boots as skates, he slid onto the porch. “A few hours ago, you wanted nothing more than for me to go.”

“I-I do. But not now. Stay—at least until the roads clear. Dad called to tell me they made it home okay, but it was rough going. If something happened to you…” Her throat tightened. “Gage, you strike me as a smart guy. You know driving in this would be foolhardy.”

Shivering, blowing on cupped hands, he nodded. “But so is sticking around where I’m not wanted.” A faint grin told her he was trying to lighten the moment. His hooded eyes told her he was still willing to go—no matter the weather.

“I’m sorry, all right? Earlier, I wasn’t thinking clearly, but n-now…” The cold was again becoming unbearable. “P-please, as a f-favor…Stay.”

He reached out to her, almost as if on the verge of setting his broad hands to her trembling shoulders. But then, having apparently thought better, he shoved them into his pockets. “This mess won’t last forever. Christmas will come and go. I’ll hole up in the bunkhouse for a few days, then be on my way.”

“Thanks,” she said with a nod. “That sounds good.”

“I do have one question for you,” he called over his shoulder while carefully stepping to his truck, using the bed’s rails for support while grabbing an ice-coated black duffel.

“Sh-shoot.”

After walking back on the porch, he asked, “Why, when from all I’ve seen, you could clearly use a helping hand, are you so hell-bent on running this place on your own?”

“It’s p-personal,” she answered, bristling, and turned toward the house’s softly glowing lights.

“It’s personal to me that there’s no way you can adequately handle this operation yourself. I hate seeing horses suffer, and with foaling season right around the corner, you—”

“M-my horses aren’t suffering.” Damn her chattering teeth. She hated having weaknesses, let alone showing them. Squaring her shoulders, despite driving freezing rain sounding as if it might bore holes through the tin roof, she added, “M-my animals are f-family. I would n-never—”

“Do you realize that if you weren’t so strapped for time, Honey wouldn’t have had the opportunity to escape?”

“You’re blaming what happened to Honey on me?” Anger burned through her, providing momentary relief from the cold.

“Not at all, I’m just—”

She didn’t hear the rest of what he’d said because as swiftly as she could manage with the long quilt flapping around her legs, she’d escaped his accusatory stare for her home’s welcoming warmth.

GAGE SHOVED OPEN the bunkhouse door only to be hit by a wall of heat. Bless Doc. Before leaving, he must’ve made a fire in the cast-iron stove.

Removing his hat, Gage hooked it over the foot-board of a white, wrought-iron bed. He pressed down on the quilt-covered mattress, testing the give. Not too hard or soft. Good. He could use a decent night’s rest.

Setting his bag on the worn wood floor, wincing at the handle’s bite on his roughed-up hands, he shrugged off his jacket, hung it on a row of brass hooks on the wall. He’d seen a lot of bunkhouses in his day, but this one beat all. Frilly, flowery curtains hung over three wide-paned windows that gazed out on a rolling pasture—currently a grayish-white instead of the customary green. Paintings dotted the walls with color. Mountains, flowers and horses were the predominant themes.

An older-model TV sat on a dresser, wearing a rabbit-ear antennae that looked like a hat. A bookshelf nestled alongside the dresser held a range of worn paperbacks and a few stacks of assorted magazines.

A narrow door to the left of the bed led to a small bathroom complete with thick, white towels and a claw-foot tub.

Gage looked around and groaned, running his hands through his hair.

Well…Here he was. Home sweet home—at least until the roads cleared.

He sat down in an oak rocker in front of the stove.

You’re blaming what happened to Honey on me?

Elbows on his knees, resting his chin on cold, fisted hands, Gage willed Jess’s question from his weary brain.

Honestly? Yeah, maybe a small part of him did blame her. Why was she—like his sister—so damned stubborn to ask for help? How many times could Marnie have turned to him? Leaned on him for support? Instead, she’d insisted on handling the mess he’d put her in all by herself.

Impossible. That’s what women were.

He’d headed up here with the express intention of making sense of his life, and here he was, more confused than ever.

Leaning forward, he grabbed the poker from a stand of fireplace tools. His fingers were so numb, the flame’s heat stung. He jabbed at the crackling pile of logs and glowing coals. Just his luck that he’d apparently jumped from one emotion-packed fire into another.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” he called out, voice wary.

The older of Jess’s girls stumbled in with the cold.

“Your mom know where you are?” he asked.

“She’s taking a nap.”

“So that’d be no?”

“No, what?” she asked, standing there, dripping water all over the floor.

Frowning, Gage turned his attention from her back to the fire. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“This is my house,” she said, wagging a pink, briefcase-size box that had Barbie emblazoned across the front. “Me and my dolls live here—not you.”

A glance over his shoulder showed a determined set to her jaw and eyes so squinty it was a wonder the kid’s freckles weren’t glowing. “Trust me, Tater Tot, I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Good.” After tossing her dripping pink case onto his bed, she crossed her arms.

“Well? Is there something else I can help you with?”

“You’re in my way.”

“Of what?”

“That’s where I set up my ranch.” She pointed to the fieldstone stove surround. “My dolls camp by the fire.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little hot right now?”

Lips pursed, she rolled her eyes.

Flipping open the latch on her box, out came piles of doll clothes and hats and tiny shoes that’d be hell on his back if she inadvertently left one behind. “My dolls are Sooners. We learned in school that’s what the prairie people were who got their land first before the land rush started.”

“Wasn’t that cheating?” Gage couldn’t resist asking.

His question earned him a scowl. “If you’d’ve come here, even when the land rush officially started, they probably wouldn’t have let you stay.”

“Fair enough,” he said over his shoulder. “Seeing how I’m a Texan, I wouldn’t have wanted any smelly old Oklahoma land.”

“Hey,” she said, bristling, “our state’s not smelly.”

“Duh. I was making a joke. You’re a kid. I thought you knew how to laugh?”

“I do. But only with people I like.”

“Oh.” Well, she put him in his place. What would it take to get a brokenhearted tadpole like this girl to laugh again?

“It’s a good thing my dolls are prairie people, ’cause they don’t have a house or furniture.”

“Don’t you at least have a covered wagon for them to stay in when it rains?”

“Nah. But that’d be really cool.”

The bunkhouse door opened, ushering in a powerful cold wind and one more munchkin. “There you are,” the girl said to her sister. Gage knew their names, but had forgotten which one was which.

“Who’s Ashley and who’s Lexie?”

“I’m Lexie and I’m oldest,” said the tall one with hornet-mean eyes.

“I’m Ashley and I’m smarter,” said Shorty. The kid helped herself—sneakers and dinosaur-themed raincoat dripping—to bouncing on his bed. “Did you know the biggest dinosaur egg ever found was as big as a football?”

“You’re sooooooo dumb,” Lexie said.

“You’re dumb,” said Dino Girl.

“You’re dumber.”

“You’re dumbest!”

“You’re dumb to infinity!” Chin high, Lexie wore a victor’s snide smile. “I win.”

Gage stood. “I don’t mean to get in the way of this deep conversation, but would y’all mind taking this somewhere else? I could really use a nap, and, Ashley, you’re dripping all over my bed.”

“Thought you were leaving?” Lexie asked, her fury back on him. “I want to play with my dolls.”

Sighing, Gage squeezed his eyes closed for just a sec, praying that when he opened them, the munchkins would be gone.

No such luck.

“Look, kiddos,” he said, “I just think that—”

The bunkhouse door burst open.

This time, along with plenty of ice and cold wind, Jess stepped into his suddenly overcrowded space. The wind caught the door, slamming it behind her. Leaving an even bigger puddle than either of her girls, she settled gloved hands on her hips before scolding, “Just what in the world are you two doing?”

“I wanna play with my dolls,” Lexie whined, “but he’s in my way.” Three guesses as to who the kid pointed to, and the first two didn’t count.

“I wanted someone to play with,” Ashley said to her mom, “and you were sleeping, and Lexie’s too mean.”

“Am not!”

While Lexie stuck out her tongue at her sister, Gage fought the urge to cover his ears with his hands. How in the hell had his life come to this? Stuck out in the middle of nowhere with three bellyaching females and a sky that refused to quit falling.

“Both of you scoot your fannies back to the house.” In a stern, momlike pose, Jess waved a hand in the general direction of their home’s front porch.

“But I wanna stay and play dolls,” Lexie argued. “And he’s in my way.”

“Lex…” Jess warned, her tone no-nonsense.

Proving she was the smart one, Ashley scooted off the bed and hit the ground running.

Lexie aimed for the door, as well, but not without first shooting him a classic little-kid dirty look after scooping up her doll stuff and shoving it in the box.

“Lex,” Jess said, hands back on her hips, “apologize to our guest.”

“No.” The girl raised her chin.

Mmmph. Talk about sass…It took everything Gage had in him not to march the kid into the bathroom and wash her mouth out with soap.

“Lexie Margaret Cummings, get your rear to your room.”

Thankfully, the girl did as she’d been told.

Once Gage and Jess were on their own with nothing between them but the storm’s rooftop racket and the child’s lingering chill, he cleared his throat. “That was, um…”

“Infuriating?” Sitting hard on the edge of his bed, tugging off a green crocheted cap that matched her younger daughter’s, she sighed. “Ever since—well, since my…I mean, her father—”

“Jess…” Swallowing a knot that had formed right about the time he’d seen the pain Lexie’s defiant behavior had caused in her mother’s eyes, Gage cleared his throat. “It’s all right. I’ll be gone soon, so there’s no need to explain.” I’ve got enough of my own emotional baggage. I don’t need to be taking on anyone else’s. “What happens between you and your girls…It’s…Well, it’s really none of my business.”

“I know,” she said, staring into the fire merrily crackling behind the woodstove’s open doors, no doubt completely unaware of how beautiful she was. Vulnerable. Fragile. In another time, the Texas gentleman in him would have felt obligated to somehow help. Now? He had nothing left to give. She sighed. “I wouldn’t have even said anything, but you seem to be her latest target.”

Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he raised an eyebrow. “Target?”

“She’s bitter about what happened. To her dad, I mean. Any man close to his age who steps foot on the property, she seems to systematically drive away.”

“Which is another reason you don’t need help with the ranch?”

He took her silence as an affirmation.

“You should take a firm hand with her. Show her who’s boss.”

She snorted. “Easier said than done. It’s not that simple.”

“I can imagine.” He was having a tough enough time dealing with Marnie’s death, and all he had to tackle was his own guilt-laced grief. He couldn’t fathom having to get a couple of kids through that particular brand of pain, as well.

But then Ashley and Lexie hadn’t played a pivotal role in their father’s passing, as he had with his sister’s. Sure, he’d been told by everyone he knew that what happened hadn’t been his fault, but inside—where it counted—he knew better.

Her stare still fixed on the fire, Jess said, “My parents…and Doc—they’re right. I do need help. I am stubborn. Lexie is a mess….” As her words trailed off, the freezing rain pounded all the harder on the tin roof. “I’m sorry. I really should check on the girls—and Honey.”

“I’ll see after the colt.”

“No, really, for all practical purposes, you’re our guest. I can’t further impose on you by—”

“I said I’ll look after the colt.”

For the briefest of moments, Jess’s gaze met his. Gage sensed so much simmering just beneath her public facade. What would it take to expose all of her fears until bringing them to light burned them away? Not that he was the person to tackle the job. He wasn’t in any shape to help her, and even if he were, she obviously didn’t want his help.

“Thank you,” she said, rising from his bed, slipping on her cap, tucking it low around her ears. How could a grown woman manage to look so adorable?

“No problem.”

“What time do you eat breakfast?” she asked, having almost reached the door.

“Usually around seven, but—”

“I’ll have something fixed for you by then.” The vulnerability she’d earlier shown had been replaced by an impenetrable mask. The chilly set to her mouth made the night’s brutal cold seem downright balmy.

“Don’t go to any trouble.”

“I’m not.”

She’d opened the door on the howling wind and stepped outside when he called, “Jess?”

“Yes?” she asked, tone wary.

“I am sorry.”

“About what?” Her cheeks and nose were already turning pink from the cold.

“Your daughter. Your husband. Your colt. You’ve had a rough time of it, and—”

“Mr. Moore, please don’t.” The wind swept hair in front of her eyes, and she impatiently pushed it away. “The girls and I got along fine before you got here, and we’ll be fine long after you go.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t be fine? All I said was—”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I really should get back to the house. Thank you for agreeing to check in on Honey.”

He nodded, but he could’ve saved himself the effort as she was already out the door.

What was it with her always running away? Why wouldn’t she talk to him? Why was she shutting herself off from the very practical fact that if she were going to run any kind of successful ranch, there was no way in Sam Hill she could ever do it on her own? And what was she planning on doing about her kid? Lexie. The girl was obviously in a bad way.

Catching his reflection in the dresser’s mirror, he scowled. “What’re you doing, man?”

Too bad for him, the stranger looking back at him had no more clue why he cared about Jess Cummings or her little girl or her ranch than he did.

Chapter Three

“Mommy? Is he dead?” Ashley poked her thumb in her mouth and grasped Jess’s hand.

“No, hon, Mr. Moore’s fine. Just sleeping.” Six in the morning on Christmas Eve, freezing rain clattering like a million dimes on the barn’s tin roof, Gage Moore was sound asleep in Honey and Buttercup’s stall, using a hay bale for a pillow and a saddle blanket for warmth. The air in the barn was more bearable than outside, but still cold enough to see your breath. It took a good man to sleep in conditions like this just to look after a horse—it was something her husband would have done.

“Thought he was leaving?” Lexie asked, arms crossed, shooting their guest her customary glare. Jess’s stomach tightened. What was she going to do about the girl? She used to be all smiles and full of life. Now, she was sullen and argumentative and wielded her pout like a weapon.

“Sweetheart, he is leaving, but the roads are a mess, so he can’t exactly get to Texas. Not only that, but it’s almost Christmas. Don’t you think the charitable thing to do would be to at least be polite? After all, he did come here to help us.”

“We don’t need help.”

The girl’s demeanor softened when she knelt to stroke Honey’s muzzle.

Buttercup neighed.

“Hey, girl,” Jess crooned, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Gage. “Your baby’s looking much better.”

“Mommy?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, hon?”

“What’s chair-it-abble mean?”

Jess patted the mare’s rust-colored rump. “When someone does something nice for someone not because they have to, but because they want to.”

“Oh.” The little girl took off her coat, lightly settling it over Gage.

Whereas moments earlier, Jess’s stomach had been knotted with worry for her eldest daughter, her heart lightened at her youngest girl’s good deed. Though her green coat barely covered the large man’s shoulder, the generosity of the child’s good intentions filled the whole barn.

“You’re lame,” Lexie said, standing and heading for the door. “Because of him, our Christmas is ruined.”

Jess sighed.

Why was it that just when she thought everything might be all right, something—or, in this case, somebody—brought her hopes crashing down?

“We should just cancel Christmas.”

“Lexie, stop. Just stop, or Santa’s bringing you nothing but a bag of switches.”

“Good. Because I don’t even believe in Santa.”

“He’s real!” Ashley shouted.

“Shut up!” Lexie shouted back.

Gage shifted and groaned. “What’s going on?”

“Lexie Margaret Cummings,” Jess said, hands on her hips, “that’s enough out of you. Apologize to your sister, then march straight to your room.”

The girl’s apology consisted of sticking out her tongue before taking off for the barn’s door.

“Lexie!” Jess shouted. “Lexie! Get back here this instant, before—”

“Let her go,” Gage said, stepping up behind her.

Ashley had her thumb back in her mouth as she quietly watched her sister go. “Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“How come Lexie hates me?”

Jess pulled her youngest into a hug. “She doesn’t hate you, pumpkin. I think she hates—” Chest aching from bearing the weight of both of her girls’ emotional pain, Jess couldn’t go on. Not here, with Gage looking on. What her daughter hated, but was too emotionally immature to vocalize, was most likely every man on the planet for living when her daddy had died. How did Jess make Lexie see it was all right for her to go on with her life? To be happy again and run and skip and play jump rope? But then how did she teach her daughter all of that when Jess didn’t begin to know herself?

Behind her, Gage cleared his throat. “Honey made it just fine through the night. He’s a scrapper, Jess…. Just like your little girl.”

With everything in her, Jess wanted to fight him, this virtual stranger. After all, what did he know about her daughter or anything else? But he had spent the night in the frigid barn, sleeping alongside the dearest of colts. That kindness deserved something, even if all she had in her was to bite her tongue.

She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“It’s the truth. Lexie’s just going through a phase that—”

“I meant, thank you for staying with Honey. Lexie’s my problem. I appreciate your advice, but—”

“Mind my own business?” His mouth’s grim set told her that once again, where he was concerned, she’d gone too far. She didn’t mean to be short with him, but couldn’t seem to help herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Gage, squeezing Ashley’s hand. The girl was staring up at her, big brown eyes taking everything in. “Hungry?”

“Starved,” he answered. “It’s been a while since Georgia’s chili.”

Jess summoned a cautious smile, then said, “I’m not half as good a cook as my mother, but if you’re feeling brave, I’d be happy to whip up something simple like pancakes and bacon.”

“MMM…” GAGE SAID with a groan, pushing back his plate. “Your mom lied,” he said to Ashley. “She’s a good cook.”

Cheeks puffed with an oversized bite of pancakes, the girl nodded.

He hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, but something about Jess’s welcoming country kitchen made him want to eat, and it felt good having his belly full.

The blue linoleum floor was peeling in the corners, and the whitewashed cabinets might be in as desperate need of paint as the home’s exterior, but the yellow flowered curtains covering fogged-over paned windows were ruffled and feminine and pretty, and the abundance of thriving houseplants told him that despite the home’s shabby appearance, it was indeed a home. Gut feel told him Jess was an expert at transforming life’s lemons into sweet lemonade. If only he’d learned the same.

Jess had taken Lexie a plate to her room, leaving him on his own alongside Ashley at the round oak kitchen table.

“Guess what?” she asked, half a canned peach in her chubby fingers. The syrup dripped down her wrist.

“You might want to—” He gestured for her to use her napkin.

Instead, she licked the dripping mess.

Gage winced.

“What’s wrong?” the girl asked. “I haven’t even told you what I was gonna tell you yet. And it wasn’t awful.”

“Oh,” he said, striking a solemn pose. “Sorry. Please, carry on with what you were about to say before I so rudely interrupted.”

Her grin warmed him more effectively than Jess’s fragrant coffee.

“Okay,” Ashley said, “did you know a brakeeo-sore-us is as long as two school buses and tall as four buildings?”

“I did not know that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Here—” She plopped a second peach half on his plate. “I’m full, so you can have this.”

“Um, thanks.” Though the fruit swam in a sea of buttery syrup, and Gage had never been big on mixing his foods, seeing how Ashley stared at him expectantly, he went ahead and forced a bite. “Mmm…Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She pushed back her chair and leaped to her feet. “See ya.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to work on my pictures for Santa. Daddy always said if you left cookies and some pretty drawings for Mrs. Claus’s ’frigerator, he’d leave more toys.”

“Your dad sounded very smart.”

“He was. I loved him lots.” She pushed her chair in and took her plate to the sink. “Bye.”

Just as Ashley went out, Jess headed back in. “I hope she didn’t yak your ears off.”

Chuckling, he checked if his ears were still attached. “All good.”

She laughed, a really heartfelt laugh that made him feel funny inside. Not ha-ha funny, but strange as it sounded even to him, proud to have made her smile. “Is she off to work on her pictures for Mrs. Claus?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He rose, grabbing his plate and the butter dish before heading for the sink. “Cute custom.”

“I love that she still believes.”

“Yeah. It is nice.” Gage used to believe in magic. Then he’d urged Marnie into taking up with Deke, and nothing had ever been the same.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, stopping him halfway to the sink and reaching for his dish.

“I know I don’t have to,” he pointed out, “but the rule in my house is that whoever cooks doesn’t have to clean.”

“I think I like your house,” she said, backing away. “By all means…go for it. The scrub pad and soap are under the sink.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” he added while Jess refilled her coffee mug, “but what’s gotten into you to actually accept help?”

She grimaced. “Have I sounded that bad?”

“Pretty much.”

“Sorry.” Jess sat at the table, munching a piece of bacon she’d snatched from a plate on the counter by the stove. “It’s just with Lexie’s mood swings and Ashley’s penchant for mischief—not to mention Honey’s—I’ve been snappier than usual.”

“No biggie. Especially after what you’ve been through.”

“Don’t,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“Make excuses.” She sipped her coffee, taking her time finding just the right words. She was tired of coming across as bitchy when there was so much more behind her needing him to leave. There were Lexie’s issues and her own need to make the ranch as perfect as she and Dwayne had always dreamed it would be. Moreover, deep inside, when she was alone in her bed in the cold still of night, only then did she acknowledge the terror she felt at the thought of depending on anyone ever again.

Hugging her fingers around her mug, she said haltingly, “I-I hate when everyone blames my every problem on my husband’s death. Dwayne died last fall. I should be over it, you know? Not that I ever want to forget him, just that my never being able to fit enough work into any given day shouldn’t have anything to do with his being gone.”

“Sure,” he said, rinsing and then drying the frying pan. “I get it. But—and please, don’t take this the wrong way—you’re a damned fool if you think you can handle an operation this size on your own.” He reached for a plate to scrub. “Truth is, you could really use a few more men…or women. I don’t get why you feel this compulsion to run this place all by your lonesome.”

How many times had her parents and Doc said the same thing? How many times had Jess tried telling them she didn’t know. Only she did. And telling anyone would make him or her believe her certifiable.

“You’re right,” she confessed. “I do need help, and plenty of it. But so far, the ranch hasn’t profited like I’d hoped. Once we’re out of the red, I’ll hire lots of hands. But now…It just isn’t feasible.”

ISN’T FEASIBLE?

A couple hours later, scooting across the ice rink that had become her yard with socks over her sneakers to help with traction, Jess wished she had an extra leg with which to kick herself. How dumb had that sounded? Especially in light of the fact that Gage’s services were already paid for.

With both girls and the dog sharing a rare moment of unity over cookies and milk and a Disney movie, Jess was midway to the barn to check on Honey when she got a little too cocky with her speed and her feet went out from under her.

Her resulting yelp echoed across the frozen yard.

She tried scrambling back onto her feet, but only ended up sliding.

Lying back, she stared up at the gray sky. Swell. Just swell.

“Need a hand?” called an all-too-familiar masculine voice from the barn.

“I probably do,” she conceded to Gage with a weary smile, “but I’m not all that sure you can make it out here.”

“I s’pose I could throw you a rope.” He was leaning against the doorjamb, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Don’t do me any favors,” she sassed, scrambling to her knees, surely resembling a drunken crab.

He snorted, making a valiant stab at reaching her. At least until he fell, too.

“Holy crap, that hurt,” he complained, rubbing his backside.

“You okay?” She was back on her knees, crawling toward him.

“Yet again, I’m thinking everything but my pride will be fine.” He tried getting to his feet, but this particular stretch of the drive was sloped and enough snow had fallen during the night to create a drift. More freezing rain had coated it, transforming an already bad situation into a disaster.

“Here, let me try getting to you.” She made it, only to start sliding.

“Give me your hand.”

Jess did, and he caught her just before she started sliding into the icy abyss—well, really more of a dip, but considering how cold the ice felt seeping through the seat of her jeans, she preferred not to be outside a second longer than necessary.

“Hang tight and I’ll pull you up.” Gage tugged her arm, pulling her along the ice, and for a split second it hurt, but then she was laughing and he was laughing and she was resting against him, clinging to his jacket, relishing his warmth…his strength.

“Th-thanks,” she said, teeth chattering.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He hammered his boot heels into the ice, then pushed up with his powerful legs. His arms cinched her to him, and while she should’ve been put off by his proximity, what she really felt was safe. Protected. And for the fleeting moments it took to reach higher, flatter ground, she rejoiced in the emotions. But then Gage released her and struggled to his feet. Ever the gentleman, he offered her his gloved hands and for the briefest of seconds, she accepted them, telling herself it wasn’t a tingle of awareness flooding her with heat, but the barn’s warmer air.

“That was, um, good thinking,” she said, once again stable on her feet now that they were on the barn’s dirt floor. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

As Gage headed for Honey’s stall, Jess watched him. The breadth of his shoulders under his coat. The smattering of ice and snow clinging to his hair. He smelled fresh and clean, like the straw he’d spent the night on. But there’d also been a trace of the bacon they’d had for breakfast. The syrup. The coffee. The smells of normalcy—it seemed a lifetime since she’d last experienced them.

Frustration balled in her stomach, building into a wall of panic she wasn’t sure how to break down. Gage Moore had to go. Now. This second. Only it was Christmas Eve, and judging by the clatter on the tin roof, additional freezing rain had arrived instead of Santa and his reindeer.

“You’re a sweetheart,” she overheard Gage croon to Honey’s momma.

Jess rounded the stall’s corner to see him stroking the mare’s mane. Gage seemed so gentle and kind. Responsible. Hardworking. Exactly the kind of hand she’d want. So why, why couldn’t she take a gamble on letting him stay? So what if he took off? It wouldn’t be the end of the world. He would just be a hired hand. She would find another.

“This little fella’s looking better,” Gage said, turning his attention to the colt. “Doc called my cell while you were refereeing the girls. Gave me a list of warning signs to watch for, but he looks good.”

“How long have you known Doc?”

“Long as I can remember,” he said, coming out of the stall for a handful of oats he fed the mare. “When my parents lived here, I guess they were friends with Doc and his wife. Over the years, they kept in touch.”

“That’s nice,” Jess said, stroking Honey. “My parents have a few couples they’ve known forever. Every so often, they get together. Meet up for fun weekends in Dallas or Kansas City.” He grabbed a pitchfork, and scooped manure into a wheelbarrow. “You look like you’ve done that before. Been around horses much?”

“All my life.” After spreading fresh straw on the floor, he moved on to the next stall. “Well, all of my life, that is, save for recently.”

“Right. I remember you saying you live in Dallas. But does your family still have a ranch?” She grabbed a second pitchfork so she could help.

“Yep.”

“In Texas?” Jess probed.

“Uh-huh.”

“So that’s where you learned to work with horses?”

“Yep.”

They both moved on to other stalls.

“How come you’re not with them for Christmas? Your family?” Despite the barn’s chill, beneath her heavy coat and sweater she was already working up a sweat.

“Long story.”

“Thanks to the weather, looks like we’ll be together a while.”

“Ha-ha.” He jabbed his pitchfork in the wheelbarrow’s rapidly growing manure pile.

When Gage made no further conversational attempts, Jess prompted, “Well? Christmas? Your family?”

“Truth is, if it’s all right by you, I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Fair enough.” She jabbed her fork alongside his. Lord knew, she had plenty of her own issues she’d rather not discuss. Still…Who voluntarily left their loved ones this time of year? “But why aren’t you still working for them?”

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