The Christmas Challenge

With her mortgaged farm, rebellious brother and two jobs, Layla Silver is struggling to keep afloat for the holidays. But does she need Gage Cooper riding to her rescue? Back in high school, Gage was nobody’s hero. Now he’s an injured bull rider home for Christmas to make amends for his checkered past. And something about the stubborn, beautiful Layla has him wanting more than forgiveness. Can a wandering cowboy turn a Christmas courtship into an everlasting love?

Cooper Creek: Home is where the heart is for this Oklahoma family

“Gage, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I have a suggestion. Have dinner with me.”

“I don’t know.”

He placed the last decoration on her tree, finding a bare spot. “We’ve become friends and I’d like to take you out.”

“My life is really complicated. And I haven’t been on a date in a long time. It isn’t fair going out with some nice guy when I have all of this going on.”

“Well, that’s how I’m different. If you go to dinner with me, you’re not going with a nice guy.” He winked and then looked in the box. “No angel for the tree?”

Layla shook her head.

“This will have to be a cowboy tree.” He pulled off his hat and placed it atop the tree, wrapping it with lights. “Perfect.”

She had to agree. The tree was perfect.

She looked at Gage, with his perpetual five-o’clock shadow, his hair messy from the hat. Unfortunately for her heart, he was perfect, too.

BRENDA MINTON

started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the way—as well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006 her dream to write for Love Inspired Books came true. Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldn’t trade for anything—except, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her website, www.brendaminton.net.

The Cowboy’s

Christmas Courtship

Brenda Minton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

—Isaiah 9:6

In memory of Ed Tonellato,

for all of his love and support.

Dedicated to Bonnie, Chloe and Lisa.

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

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Gage Cooper hit a curve in the road going too fast. His truck slid a little, warning him to slow down. For the first time in a long time, he was in a hurry to get home. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face the music or his well-meaning family, but at least home sounded good.

He thought maybe it was the time of year. It was the end of November, and with the holidays coming, winter edging in, it made Dawson, Oklahoma, inviting to a guy who had been on the road a lot. Maybe it was just time to make things right. When a guy looked death in the face, in the form of a one-ton bull, it made him think about how he’d treated the people in his life.

As if the bull hadn’t been enough, Granny Myrna Cooper had called him last week to let him know what she thought of him. She’d said he was nearly twenty-seven, and he needed to figure out who he was and what he wanted.

What did he want to do with his life, other than ride bulls?

As the eleventh kid in the Cooper clan, that wasn’t so easy a decision. Being second to the last sometimes made him feel like the kid waiting to get picked for a dodgeball team in grade school gym class. The kid that always got picked last. Or second to last.

He topped a hill, George Strait on the radio, his thoughts closing in on the homecoming that would take place in less than five minutes. Suddenly he saw a woman standing on the shoulder of the road as rain poured down. He hit the brakes. The truck slid sideways and came to a shuddering halt as a couple of rangy-looking cows and a calf walked across the paved country road.

The rain-soaked woman brushed hair from her face, and glared at him from where she stood in the ditch. A black-and-white border collie at her side hightailed it toward the cattle. He could ease the truck into first gear and pass on by once the cattle moved out of the road. His attention refocused on the woman standing in the ditch, tiny and pale, big work gloves on small hands.

No, he wasn’t going to drive on by. He was a Cooper. Cooper men weren’t bred to leave a woman in distress. Man, sometimes he wished they were. The woman standing in that ditch had a bucketful of reasons to dislike him. Good reasons, too.

He parked his truck, sighing as he grabbed his jacket and shoved the door open, easing down, careful not to land on his left leg. Rain poured down. It was the kind of rain that chilled a man to the bone.

The cows scattered. The dog nipped at hooves and the woman, Layla Silver, called a command. She held wire cutters. A big chunk of fence had been cut and the barbed wire pulled back. Why didn’t she just run the cattle to the nearest gate?

Gage moved to block the cows from running down the road. Layla ignored him, except to flash him a brief, irritated look. Well deserved. He’d been driving too fast for this road, in this weather.

She moved a little as the dog brought the cattle around.

“Nice driving,” she eventually said.

Gage stood his ground, keeping the cows from slipping past his truck. When the cattle moved, he got in behind them, pushing them back to the ditch, in the direction of the fence. He didn’t respond to Layla’s criticism. He had it coming, and for a lot more than driving so fast.

A heifer tried to break free and turned to run past him.

“Watch that one,” Layla shouted, her long brown hair soaked and rain dripping down her face.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and moved, helping the dog bring the cow back to the herd. The animals moved through the soggy ditch. Gage eased his right leg first because the brace on his left knee didn’t have a lot of give, not for stomping through grassy ditches or rounding up cattle.

He was two weeks postsurgery. Maybe he should explain that to Layla, not that she would care. She stood back as the cows and the calf went through the break in the fence and then she grabbed the barbed wire and started making repairs, twisting with pliers held in her gloved hands.

“Let me do that.” He reached for the pliers and she looked up, gray eyes big in a pretty face, her mouth twisted into a frown.

“I can do it myself, thank you.” She held tight and fixed the fence as he stood there like the jerk he was.

“Why’d you cut the fence?”

“It was cut by someone other than me. I finished it off so I could go ahead and put them back in, then fix it.”

“Who...”

“If I knew that, I’d put a stop to it. You can go now.”

Yeah, he could, but that would make him a bigger jerk than he’d been years ago. At seventeen he’d been pretty full of himself. A few months short of twenty-seven, he should be making things right. Another fact about a bull headed straight at a guy, it made him want to fix things. His life had flashed before his eyes. Every wrong thing he’d done, and there’d been a lot.

“I’ll give you a ride to your place,” he offered.

“I can walk.”

“Layla, it’s pouring and it’s cold, just get in the truck.”

She shoved the pliers into the pocket of her jacket and stared up at him. Somewhere along the way she’d gotten real pretty. Not made up, overly polished kind of pretty. She was naturally pretty with big gray eyes, sooty lashes and a sweet smile. When she smiled.

“I’ll walk.”

“No, you won’t. Don’t make me have to pick you up and put you in that truck.”

“Stop pretending to be a nice guy, Gage Cooper.” Her voice broke a little. She turned and started to walk away.

Her house was back down the road and then up her long drive, unless she walked through the field. The rain had gone from steady to a downpour. He reached for her arm, lifted her up off the ground and trudged through the ditch with her. She smacked his back, kicking him to get loose. Gage cringed, because this probably wasn’t what his surgeon would call “taking it easy.”

With what felt like a wildcat in his arms he climbed the slight incline to his truck, yanked the door open and deposited the soaking wet female on the seat. Man, this was exactly why he didn’t play the nice guy. Because it didn’t work for him. Women didn’t fall over with soft eyes and smiles. They fought him, and in general thought he couldn’t do a nice thing unless he was after something in return.

He whistled and told the dog to get in the back before he limped around the front of the truck and climbed in behind the wheel. Layla sat in the passenger seat, shivering. He turned up the heat, shifted into Drive and pulled back onto the road.

“Thank you for helping, Gage. I guess you’re not such a bad guy.” He mimicked a female voice and saw her lips turn just a little. He went a step further and forced his voice a little deeper than reality. “Why, you’re welcome, Layla. And thank you for noticing.”

He offered a flirty grin that usually worked. She didn’t smile back. She wasn’t the kind of woman he was used to.

“You’re not a nice guy, but thank you for helping.”

“Okay, you get the points for that one. I’m not a nice guy. Where’s your brother?” Because the kid had to be a teenager now and old enough to help out.

“I’m not sure.”

He let it go because the cool tone of her voice told him it wasn’t any of his business. He would drop her off at her place and head on to Cooper Creek Ranch. End of story. Yep, none of his business.

But for some reason those thoughts pulled a long sigh from deep down in his chest. It had a lot to do with that moment on the ground before the bull tried to trample the life out of him. It had to do with facing the past. His past. And now, his past with Layla.

Because Layla was probably the person he’d hurt the most. And then life had hurt her even more. Another reason he was angry with God, he guessed. Layla and Reese, two people who didn’t deserve the rotten hands they’d been dealt. Why did good people suffer while Gage walked through life without a care in the world?

* * *

Layla closed her eyes for a brief moment to gather her wits and push back the sting of tears. She was so tired. So completely exhausted. She’d been tired for seven years and it wasn’t getting any easier. Seven years ago her little brother, Brandon, had been eight years old, and he’d needed her. Now he needed someone with a firmer hand than hers. But she was all he had. They were the last of the Silvers.

Their parents had died in a car accident just months past her nineteenth birthday. Somehow she’d convinced a judge to give her custody of her little brother. Her plans for college, dating, getting married, had ended the day she and Brandon walked through the doors of their house. He had needed her.

The truck slowed, then bounced and bumped up the long driveway to her house. She opened her eyes as they drew close to the little white house she’d been raised in. Her stomach churned, thinking about how hard it had been lately to hold on to it.

She’d lost a decent job in Grove and replaced it with an okay job at the feed store in Dawson. She’d had to take out a loan against the place to put the new roof on last summer and then to pay for the medical bills when Brandon broke his arm.

“You okay?”

Gage’s voice cut into her thoughts. Why’d he have to sound like he cared? Oh, that’s right, because he was good at pretending. For a second she’d almost fallen for it. Again. And that made her feel sixteen and naive. The way she’d been when he’d sat down next to her at lunch one day back in high school. He’d offered her a piece of his mom’s pie and then told her he needed help with chemistry.

“I’m good,” she answered. She’d fallen in love with him her junior year. He’d walked her to class. He’d taken her to the Mad Cow Café; he’d been sweet.

He stopped the truck in front of her house and before she could protest, he walked around to her side to open the door. The last thing she wanted from him was chivalry. She didn’t want or need his kindness.

“I said I’m good.” She hopped down from the truck. “I didn’t get my knee busted up in the world finals or get a concussion that knocked me out for a day.”

“But I won.” He grinned and she held her breath, because that handsome, cowboy grin with those hazel green eyes of his could do a number on any girl, even one who wasn’t interested.

He was scruffy, and sorely needed a shave and a haircut, because his brown hair was shaggy. That made her smile a little, because she liked the thought of the homecoming he’d get looking like something the dog dragged in on the carpet. Ripped jeans, threadbare T-shirt beneath a denim jacket and several days behind in shaving. His mom, Angie Cooper, wouldn’t be happy.

“I’m going inside,” she announced.

He glanced away from her, to the stack of wood at the side of the house and then up, at the thin stream of smoke coming from the chimney. “I’ll grab some wood.”

“Please don’t.”

He turned and looked at her. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, but drops of moisture dripped from his hat. She swiped at her face and headed to the porch. “Go home.”

“I’m going to get you a stack of wood and make you a pot of coffee.”

“I drink tea.”

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

She stomped up to him. “I don’t want you to do this. Your guilt is the last thing I need.”

“It isn’t...” He shrugged off the denial. “I’m going to get you a load of wood in and make you a cup of tea while you get warm.”

“I would rather you not. I can get my own firewood and make my own tea.”

For a second she thought he might leave. He looked down at her, emotions flickering through his eyes. And then he smiled. “Layla, I’m sorry. It was a long time ago, and I haven’t done much to make things right. Let me get the wood. Please.”

Contrition. She always fell for it. Every time her little brother said he’d help more or do better, she believed him. Gage had soft eyes that almost convinced her he meant what he said. Besides, she was older now. She could withstand that Cooper charm.

“Okay.” She inclined her head to the woodpile. “Thank you.”

As he trudged off, grabbing a wheelbarrow along the way, she headed for the house. She’d managed to get a wreath on the front door and the other day she’d bought a pine-scented candle. That was as far as she’d gotten with Christmas cheer.

When she walked through the front door she shivered and wanted to keep her jacket on. But it was soaked through. She hung it on the coatrack by the door and did a quick search for her brother.

Brandon was nowhere to be seen. She thought maybe he’d taken off with friends while she’d been out in the barn. He was hard to keep hold of these days. And he was less help now than he’d been as a little boy.

She needed some warm clothes. The sound of wood thumping into a wheelbarrow meant Gage was still outside. She hurried upstairs to her room and pulled a warm sweatshirt over her T-shirt. Her hair was still wet so she ran a towel over her head, then dried her face. As she walked down the stairs, she heard clanking and banging from the living room. Wood smoke filled the air and she smiled.

Gage Cooper squatted in front of her cantankerous old fireplace insert, rattling the vents and coughing as smoke filled the room. She hurried forward and twisted the right lever. The smoke started up the chimney again. He looked up at her.

“Sorry, I couldn’t get it to work.”

She shrugged off the apology. “It takes skill.”

“I have skill.”

“Of course you do.” She glanced at the pile of wood on the hearth. “Thank you for bringing that in. I could make you a cup of coffee but I don’t have a coffeemaker. I only drink tea.”

“I’m good.” He shoved in another log. The embers glowed brighter, sparked, and the fire came back to life. “There you go.”

He pushed himself to his feet. Layla’s hand went out to steady him, but she pulled back, unwilling to make contact. He smiled at her, as if he knew.

“I’ll make tea.” She walked away, leaving him to make the slow trail after her. “And then you should go.”

She called back the last without looking at him.

He chuckled in response.

When he entered the kitchen she turned, watching as he sat at the rickety old table that had been in the house since before her birth. The wood had faded. The chairs wobbled. She’d tightened them dozens of times over the years but they were close to being firewood.

“So, how’s...”

She cut him off. “Let’s not make small talk and pretend to be friends.”

The microwave beeped and she pulled out a cup of hot water, dropping a tea bag in before chastising herself for sounding like a shrew. But the stern lecture didn’t last long. He deserved her anger.

She looked at him as she dunked the tea bag. He had settled on one of those wobbly chairs, his left leg straight in front of him. His hat was on the table and he’d folded his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“I think you’ve said that before.” She put the second cup of water in the microwave and brought the finished cup of tea to Gage.

“I was a kid, Layla. I was spoiled and thought I could do no wrong. I didn’t think about your feelings.”

The words stunned her because he sounded so amazingly sincere. His face looked sincere. His eyes looked sincere. She was not a good judge of character. She was the person who kicked the dog out of the house for chewing up shoes and then let him back in, thinking he wouldn’t do it again.

The few relationships she’d had in her teen years had been with the wild ones her mother had warned her to stay away from. But then, at sixteen her mom had told her to fall in love with a Cooper, a man who would treat her right.

Layla didn’t want to think of all the reasons her mom had said that to her. The list had been long. Her mom’s life had been hard. She hadn’t wanted her daughter to follow in her footsteps. Layla’s mom had wanted her to marry someone who would take care of her, who wouldn’t hurt her.

“Layla, I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Right, I know. I’m no longer a naive kid, so thank you for the life lesson and now for the apology but...”

He grinned again. “But you’d rather hold the past over my head.”

I’d rather keep my heart safe. “I’d rather you drink your tea and go.”

Because if he sat there any longer, she’d remember how it felt when they studied chemistry together, and how she’d discovered chemistry of a different kind when he kissed her, a sweetly chaste kiss but one that had changed her life. And then she learned that he’d been using her to get to her best friend. At sixteen, it had felt like the worst thing that could ever happen. If only she’d known how much more life could hurt, she would have cried less over him.

As for her best friend, Cheryl, the friendship had ended. Not because of Gage, but because Cheryl had stayed in college when Layla had come home to raise Brandon. Cheryl married a man from Texas, and she had a baby now.

From outside she could hear the loud engine of a truck. She heard laughter and then doors slamming. Brandon was home. After a few minutes he tumbled into the kitchen, bringing cold air and the strong odor of alcohol.

“What’s for supper, sis?” He glanced in Gage’s direction, grinned and plopped into a chair that nearly collapsed. “What’s he doing here? Got yourself a new man? One with money?”

Before she could stop him, Gage Cooper jumped out of his chair. He grabbed her little brother by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Gage’s face went red and Brandon’s went a few shades paler.

“Don’t talk to your sister that way.”

“Or you’ll what?” Brandon slurred. “What’ll you do, Gage Cooper?”

“I’ll mop the floor with your sorry hide.”

“Oh, right, because you always do the right thing.”

Gage let him drop into his chair. Layla hurried to separate the two of them.

“Gage, you should go.”

Gage looked long at her brother and then at her. “Layla, you deserve more respect than that. More than either of us has shown you.”

“He’s a kid. He’s made mistakes.”

“He needs someone to yank a knot in his tail.”

“It won’t be you. He’s my brother and we’re handling things.”

“Of course you are.” He looked around and she knew that he was seeing the ramshackle house for what it was. The kitchen appliances were on their last legs. The floors were sagging in spots. Insulation was nonexistent. Wind blew in through the windows strong enough to move the curtains.

“We are.” But she was barely holding it together at the moment. She knew how to be strong. But she didn’t know how to accept his sympathy.

Gage leaned over Brandon again. “If I ever hear you talk to your sister like that again, you’ll answer to me.”

“Whatever.” Her brother turned his head.

Gage let out a long sigh and pushed his cup in front of Brandon. “I’ll take a rain check on the tea.”

Layla nodded, too stunned to find the right words. She watched Gage shove his hat back on his head and walk slowly down the hall to the front door. A minute later his truck started, and she knew he was gone.

The fight left her in one fell swoop. She sat down at the table and reached for the steaming cup of green tea. Brandon leaned forward and lost his lunch all over the kitchen floor.

She was handling things.

She was handling being a single parent to a rebellious teenager. She was handling the bills that had to be paid. And somehow she would handle Gage Cooper being back in town.

Chapter Two

Gage rolled up the drive to Cooper Creek. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to let go of the urge to go back and beat some sense into Brandon Silver. But that would put him smack-dab in the middle of Layla’s life, and that obviously wasn’t where he wanted to be. Layla was the kind of woman a man married. He made a habit of staying away from the marrying kind.

He parked next to his brother Jackson’s truck and got out. For a minute he stood in the driveway looking up at the big old house where he’d grown up. In a week it would be hung with lights and trimmed with red bows. His mom sure loved Christmas. And she loved her family.

He took off his hat and scratched his head. He didn’t know why that love had been feeling like a noose for the past year or so. Maybe because it had felt like he couldn’t meet any of the expectations placed on him. As he walked up the steps, the front door opened. His mom stood in the doorway, her smile huge. She wasn’t a big lady but sometimes she seemed like a giant. She had a way of being strong and in control, even with a bunch of men in the family towering over her.

“It’s about time.” She smiled, and he smiled back.

“I haven’t been gone that long.”

“Since summer.” She grabbed him in a big hug. “I thought you’d be here an hour ago. I was starting to worry. I even called your cell phone.”

“I left it in my truck.”

“Weren’t you in your truck?” She pulled him inside. “Where were you?”

“Helping Layla Silver put some cattle in.”

His mom’s smile dissolved. “She’s had a rough time of it lately. Word around town is that Brandon has been pulling some capers.”

Capers. That was his mom’s way of saying the kid was in deep trouble.

“What kind of capers?”

“Stealing, setting hay on fire and vandalizing. But he hasn’t been caught, so it’s all just hearsay.”

“Well, right now he’s sitting in her kitchen drunk.”

“I’ve heard that, too. And it’s a shame. His daddy was a horrible alcoholic before that accident. They say he was drunk that night.”

“I know.” He didn’t need to hear the story again. He didn’t need to relive his own guilt again. “What’s for dinner?”

Change of subject. His mom looked up at him, her smile fading into a frown. “I thought we were discussing Layla?”

“I know what we were doing. Now we’re avoiding discussing Layla.”

He’d like to avoid reliving his past and all of his mistakes in the first few hours of returning home. There wasn’t a thing he could do about what he’d done. He couldn’t do anything about the injustices in the world, when guys like him walked through life without a bump or bruise while the good guys took the hits.

Good guys, like his brother Reese, blinded after an explosion in Afghanistan. Gage was not on good terms with God right now, and Reese was the big reason why.

The last thing he wanted to think about was Layla, and how he’d become her friend because Cheryl Gayle wouldn’t talk to him. Finally, after a few short dates with Cheryl, he’d realized his mistake. She’d been pretty—and pretty close to annoying.

And he’d missed Layla. He always thought she’d be married by now. If things had been different, she probably would have been.

“Gage, I’m glad you’re home,” Angie Cooper said, reading the look on his face.

“I’m glad I’m home, too.” He walked with her through the big living room. In a few days they’d put up a tree. Not a real one. They’d changed to fake trees the year his brother Travis met Elizabeth. Her allergies had almost done her in that first Christmas.

Now the wagon ride they used to take to cut down a tree was just a wagon ride. They would all pile in the two wagons, take a ride through the field and then come home to hot cocoa and cookies. Family traditions. The Coopers did love them.

He wasn’t crazy about them. He’d been living in Oklahoma City off and on. Had even spent some time down in Texas. Anything to avoid coming home.

“It was good to have Dad out there for the last night of the finals.” It had been even better to wake up in the hospital and see his dad sitting next to the bed.

“He was thrilled that he could be there. And so proud of you. But I would have liked for you to come home and have the surgery here instead of in Texas.” His mom touched his arm. “How is Dylan?”

Dylan was a year older than Gage, and the two brothers had always been close. Dylan had been living in Texas for about a year, avoiding the family. Mainly because he had known they wouldn’t understand what he was doing. “Mom, he’ll be home as soon as he can.”

“Why is he doing this?”

“Because Casey is his friend, and she needs someone to help her while she goes through chemo. She doesn’t have family.”

“I know but it’s a big responsibility for a young man.”

“He’s twenty-eight, and you’ve taught us all to help those in need.”

“It’s one lesson you’ve all learned.” She hooked her arm through his. “Jackson is here.”

“Good. I meant to tell him about a few bulls that are going up for sale.”

“You boys and those bucking bulls.” She shook her head. He didn’t mind that she didn’t get it. She got just about everything else that mattered. Before she walked away he hugged her again.

“I’ve missed you.”

She smiled at that, “I’ve missed you, too. Sometimes I don’t know if you know how much. Which reminds me. You missed Thanksgiving last Thursday. But you did not miss serving dinner tonight at the Back Street Community Center.”

He nearly groaned. He hadn’t timed this as well as he’d thought. Each year they had a community dinner a week after Thanksgiving.

“How long do I have?”

She patted his back. “A few hours. Don’t try to leave.”

From the kitchen he heard Jackson laugh. Gage walked into the big open room that always smelled like something good was cooking, and usually was. He ignored Jackson and opened the oven door. Rolls. He inhaled the aroma and closed the door.

“Better stay out of there or Mom will have your hide.” Jackson poured himself a cup of coffee and offered one to Gage.

“No, thanks.”

“Did I hear you say something about Layla Silver?”

Gage shook his head.

Jackson took a sip of coffee and stared at him over the rim of the cup. Gage zeroed in on the pies lined up on the counter. He went for one but his mom slapped his hand away.

“Those are for the community center.”

“I had restaurant food for Thanksgiving. Don’t I rate at least a piece of pumpkin pie?”

“Not on your life, cowboy. You could have come home.”

“I couldn’t leave Dylan.”

His mom went to the fridge and opened the door. “I have a coconut cream pie I made a couple of days ago. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks, Mom. That’s why you’re the best. Where’s Dad?”

“He took a load of cattle to Tulsa. He’s staying there tonight.”

Gage grabbed a fork and headed for the table to finish off the pie. “So, you guys have fun at the community center.”

He knew he wouldn’t get away with skating out on helping. He thought it would be fun to try. He took a bite of pie, closing his eyes just briefly to savor the taste. His mom’s pies were the best.

“You’re going with me,” his mom said from the kitchen as she opened the oven door and removed the homemade rolls. “Jackson, Madeline and Jade are helping, too.”

“You know I can’t stand for long periods of time.” He grinned as he tried out his last excuse, pointing to the knee he’d had surgery on.

“We’ll get you a chair to sit on.”

He’d lost. He knew when to let it go.

Jackson sat down next to him. “Lucky for you, Layla Silver will be there, too.”

“Thanks...that makes it all better.” Gage finished off his pie. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”

He made it upstairs to his room and collapsed on the bed that had the same bedspread he’d used as a teen. The posters on the walls were of bull riders he’d looked up to as a kid. Justin McBride, J. W. Hart and Chris Shivers. He crooked one arm behind his head and thought about how life had changed. He’d wanted to be them. Now he rode in some of the same events they’d ridden in. But he was still running from life.

Since he had time he flipped on the TV and searched for reruns of the finals. He didn’t find them so he settled for a few minutes of a popular sitcom. A guy who had made mistakes and was trying to make amends to the people he’d hurt. Gage thought about how much he had in common with the guy in that show. Since his bull wreck at the finals, he’d been thinking a lot about his list of wrongs.

How did he make amends to the people he’d hurt? Where did he start? He sighed, because he knew that he needed to start with the person he’d hurt the most. The person who liked him the least.

How did he do that without giving her the wrong idea?

* * *

The parking lot at Back Street Community Center held about fifty cars. So far there were only a dozen or so. Layla parked her old truck and reached for the green bean casserole she’d brought. In the passenger seat, Brandon looked miserable and almost as green as the casserole.

“Come on. You can help serve.” She handed him the dish. “Don’t drop it.”

“I think I can manage to carry a pan.” He had that sullen, teen look on his face. She ignored it because she knew he wanted to get a rise out of her.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Why can’t I help the guys put together the buildings for the nativity?” He nodded in the direction of Bethlehem, or at least the Dawson version.

As they walked by, the star over the manger lit up briefly, flickered and went out again. Someone yelled that they’d found the short in the cord.

Brandon slowed, probably hoping she’d tell him to do what he wanted. She shook her head.

“You’re going inside.”

He groaned. “I thought helping out was a good thing, and you’re telling me I can’t.”

“You’re helping, just not where you want to help.”

They walked through the light mist to the front of the church that Jeremy and Beth Hightree had turned into a community center. Brandon lagged, his face one of absolute misery. For a second she almost caved, nearly told him he could help with the nativity buildings. But then she remembered why she’d dragged him along.

Days like this made her wish for someone to lean on. An aunt or uncle, anyone. But the one uncle they had was just as bad an alcoholic as their father had been. An aunt who was married lived in Africa. She and her husband were missionaries and rarely came home.

She walked through the doors of the old church and paused for a moment, feeling a wonderful sense of calm. The sanctuary of the church had been turned into a dining room. Tables were spread with white cloths. Pretty centerpieces added color. Layla could smell the aroma seeping up the steps. Turkey, ham, all of the typical Thanksgiving foods for this community dinner.

Peace. She looked to the front of the church where the wooden cross still hung on the wall. For a brief moment she closed her eyes and drew on a strength that came from within. She didn’t have family to turn to but she had God. She had a community that loved her.

“Are you going to stand here all night?” Brandon sulked behind her.

“No.” She moved on, walking through the sanctuary to the stairs.

“I’m going to stay the night with Lance,” Brandon informed her as they headed down the stairs.

“No, you’re not.” She took the dish from his hands. The friend he’d mentioned was off-limits. “You’re going to help me and then we’re going home. And you’re going to stay home. You’re grounded.”

“Layla, you’re five feet tall. How are you gonna make me?” He towered over her. She knew he had a point. And it made her mad. In the past year he’d started challenging her, making things difficult. It had been easy when he was little. Now he needed a dad.

Standing in the kitchen of the community center, they had an audience. He did that on purpose. He picked public places to argue because he thought she would give in.

“Brandon, you’re staying home.”

“Who’s going to stop me if I decide to leave?”

“I guess I’ll make you.” She knew that voice.

Gage stepped out of the shadows. He’d shaved and changed into new jeans and a button-up shirt. He’d left behind the shadow of growth on his chin. The dark stubble distracted her. He was talking again and Brandon looked a little cornered.

“Brandon, if I have to, I’ll drive you home and I’ll make sure you stay there.”

Brandon smirked. “Who gave you a suit of armor and a white horse?”

Layla’s thoughts exactly. Brandon had probably heard her say that at some point. She’d repeated more than once that she didn’t need help. She could handle things. But lately it had been getting a lot harder. Losing her job had been the last straw.

“I don’t need a suit of armor, jack...” Gage closed his mouth and then smiled across the kitchen at his mother, who had cleared her throat to stop him from going too far.

“Well, I don’t need you to play daddy to me. I’m doing just fine.”

Gage got close to her brother. “You’re going to serve turkey, smile and be polite to your sister. If not, we’ll call the police and have a talk with them about you coming home drunk.”

Layla wanted to scream. Gage Cooper had been home for one day and suddenly he thought he had to ride to her rescue. She could do this. She’d been doing this for a long time. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought about how to take control of the situation.

Angie Cooper appeared at her side, always warm and smiling, always generous. Layla wanted to sink into her arms, but she couldn’t let herself be comforted right now. It was too risky because she was too close to falling apart.

“Let Gage do this.” Angie slipped an arm around Layla. “You need to take a deep breath and let people help.”

Layla nodded, but she couldn’t speak. Her strength was a thin cord that was unraveling. Instead of objections she mumbled something like “thank you,” and then she allowed Angie Cooper to lead her back to the kitchen, where they searched for serving spoons and talked about the weather forecast.

People were starting to file in. There were families who might not have had a Thanksgiving dinner and people from the community who wanted fellowship with neighbors, talk about the price of cattle and the drought, maybe catch up on other news.

All around her, people were talking, smiling and laughing. Layla was trying to find a way to hold her life together and keep her brother from ruining his. She served her green bean casserole and kept an eye on Brandon, who had been given the job of serving drinks.

She avoided looking at Gage. He’d found a kitchen stool to sit on while he served potatoes. From time to time he’d stand and stretch. Typical bull rider with a broken body and too much confidence.

Once, he caught her staring. He winked and she knew she turned a few shades of red. She could feel the heat crawl from her neck to her face, and probably straight to her hairline. She turned back to the next person in line and served a spoonful of green beans, smiling as if everything was perfect. Wonderful.

But Gage Cooper smiling at her was anything but perfect.

When the meal ended and the kitchen was clean, Layla went in search of her brother. She found him upstairs helping Gage carry bags of trash to the Dumpster. The night was dark and cold. The stars were hidden by clouds and the weatherman had said something about snow flurries. It was early in the season for snow in Oklahoma.

“Time to go.” She stood on the sidewalk as they tossed the bags into the receptacle.

Gage turned to Brandon. “Get in my truck.”

“Gage, I can do this.” Layla pulled her jacket tight against the wind and looked from him to her brother.

“I know that.” Gage pointed to his truck, and Brandon hurried across the parking lot like an eager puppy. Layla felt the first bits of anger coming to life.

“What in the world?” She watched Brandon climb in the passenger’s side of Gage’s truck.

“He’s going to help me at the ranch tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“To keep him out of trouble.” Gage tilted his hat back and walked toward her. “Layla, I’m trying to help. Maybe show you that I’m sorry.”

“So this is your way of making things right? You pretended to need help in chemistry.”

“I did need help in chemistry.” He grinned that Cooper grin that went straight to a girl’s heart. Not hers, though. She knew better.

“And now I’m just a charity case that makes you feel better about yourself?”

“You aren’t charity,” he started. “But you’re right. I am trying to feel better about myself.”

“Use someone else to soothe your guilty conscience.”

He smiled again, and her heart ached. “There are plenty of people that I need to make amends to. I’ll get to them.”

“As soon as you’re done with me?” She shook her head. “At least you’re honest.”

“Yeah, trying to be.” His eyes softened, hazel-green and fringed with dark lashes. “You’re too good for me, Layla.”

She thought about it for a minute. “You’re right. I am too good for you.”

“Exactly. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m about done in. I’m going to drive your brother home, and I’ll pick him up bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“I have to work at the feed store in the morning. You might have to wake him up.”

“I can do that. And I’ll bring him home when you get off work.”

She bit down on her bottom lip and stared up at him, wondering if this was another game he was playing, a game she didn’t have the rules for. He liked those games. She didn’t. At the same time, she really needed help with her brother. Hadn’t she whispered that prayer just hours earlier?

Across the way lights came on in Jeremy and Beth Hightree’s home. The tree in the front window lit up, and a spotlight hit the manger in the yard. Christmas. It was a beautiful, wonderful time of hope and promise.

“I’m not sure.” She looked from the Hightree’s decorated house back to Gage.

“Layla, let me do this. The kid’s in trouble and you need help with him.”

She didn’t want to admit it, but she did need help. She was worried about Brandon, about the guys he was hanging out with and the rumors about what they were doing. It had never been easy for her to accept help.

The first few years she’d worried that if she struggled, they’d take her brother away. It became a habit, doing things on her own.

“You can trust me.”

She nodded and walked away, Gage’s words following her to her truck. She doubted that she could trust him, but for a few minutes she had the very break she’d been praying for.

She would have to accept that it had been given to her by Gage Cooper. He was home, and she would have to face the past, and the way he’d hurt her all those years ago.

Chapter Three

Gage pulled up to the Silver place the next morning. It was eight o’clock and he’d already been to the barn that morning. He’d fed horses, driven out to check on cattle grazing on the back part of the ranch and then he’d had a big breakfast. Jackson had showed up to work with some young bulls they were hoping to buck next spring.

He walked up to the square white house, just a box with wood siding, a fairly new metal roof and a front porch that could use a few new boards. The only sign of Christmas was the wreath on the front door. He guessed it was still early, barely December.

The house was silent. Gage knocked on the door twice. No one answered. He turned the doorknob. It was unlocked so he walked inside and walked from room to room. No sign of Brandon. He went back outside. Maybe the kid had actually gotten up early to feed for Layla. But Gage doubted it.

He walked out to the barn, his left leg stiff in the brace. It was going to be a long two months gimping around. The dog joined him. It wagged its tail, rolled over on its back for him to rub its belly. He obliged and then straightened to look around.

The few head of cattle were munching hay. He turned, scanning the horizon. That’s when he spotted a lone figure heading across the field in the direction of town.

“Good grief.” He shook his head and turned back to the truck. The dog followed. “Stay.”

The border collie sat, tail wagging, brushing dirt back and forth. He smiled at the dog. “Okay, you can go.”

The dog ran to his truck and jumped in the back. He doubted Layla would thank him for that. He’d call her later and let her know where the animal had gone. As he pulled down the drive he watched the figure getting smaller and smaller. Brandon had cut through the field and he was climbing the fence to get to the road. Gage hit the gas and took off, dust and gravel flying out behind his truck.

When he pulled up next to the kid, Brandon shot him a dirty look and kept walking. Gage rolled down his window.

“Get in.”

“I can’t. I told a friend I’d help him get some hay up today.”

“There isn’t anyone putting up hay at the end of November.” Gage stopped the truck. “Get in, now. If you don’t, I’ll call the police and we’ll see what they think about underage drinking.”

“Like you’ve never done it.” Brandon stopped. He stood at the side of the road, all anger and teenage rebellion.

“Right, well, I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of. But I never came home and puked on my mom’s floor.”

“She’s my sister, not my mom.” Brandon shot him a look and then looked back at the road ahead of him. “How’d you know?”

“I overheard Layla telling someone at the dinner last night. You know, she’s given up just about everything to stay home and take care of you. The least you could do is man up a little and help her out. She only got one semester of college in before she had to be a full-time mom to you. I don’t think she’s had much of a social life. She sure isn’t having a lot of fun.”

Brandon walked toward the truck. “Aren’t you the user who pretended you liked her back in high school?”

“I told you, I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of.”

“So now you get to tell me how to live? Maybe we could both get right with Jesus on Sunday.”

Gage whistled low. “You don’t really play fair.”

“No, I don’t. I just figure you aren’t really the best guy to be preaching at me.”

Gage opened his truck door fast, and Brandon jumped back, no longer grinning. “Get in the truck.”

Brandon’s hands went up in surrender, and he put distance between himself and Gage by walking around the truck to get in on the passenger side. Gage climbed back behind the wheel and shifted into gear. Neither of them talked for a while. As they were pulling up the drive of Cooper Creek Ranch, Brandon glanced in the back of the truck.

“Is that my dog?”

Gage pulled up to the barn. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“She acted like she didn’t want to be left at home alone today.”

“That’s crazy. Layla’s going to be pretty ticked if she comes home and the dog is gone.”

“I’ll call and tell her I have you and the dog.” He parked and got out of the truck. Brandon took his time joining him.

The side door of the barn opened, and Jackson walked out, his hat pulled low. He took off leather gloves and looked from Gage to Brandon before shaking his head. He shoved the gloves in his jacket pocket and waited.

“You two ready to work?” Jackson made strong eye contact with Brandon.

“Sure, why not.” Brandon edged past Jackson into the barn.

“Nice kid.” Jackson slapped Gage on the back. “The two of you can be surly together.”

“I’m not surly.” Gage strode past his brother, not much different from what Brandon had done. He watched him walk down the aisle between stalls, looking closely at the horses in the stalls.

“Nice horses.” Brandon stopped in front of the stall that belonged to the champion quarter horse Jackson and Lucky had bought a year or so back.

“Yeah, he’s nice all right. Don’t let Jackson catch you messing around with him.”

“Yeah, guess we could actually pay off the mortgage on the farm and then some with a horse like that.”

Mortgage. Gage tried to pretend he hadn’t heard the remark, but it settled in his mind, making him wonder what mortgage they could have on a nearly decrepit farmhouse and twenty acres of rough land.

Maybe that explained the dark circles under Layla’s eyes? Not that a guy was supposed to notice those things. He’d learned that lesson from his sisters the hard way.

“Where do we start?” Brandon moved on past the stallion to the office.

Gage followed him inside and watched as the teen took a seat and kicked back, his booted feet on the desk.

“Get your feet down.” Gage knocked Brandon’s feet off the desk. “First, we have steers needing to be vaccinated. We’ll drive them into a round pen on the twenty where they’re pastured.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

Gage motioned him toward the door. The two of them headed for an old farm truck. Jackson was stowing supplies in the metal toolbox on the back of the truck. He turned as they approached.

“Ready to go?”

“We’re ready,” Gage opened the door and motioned Brandon in. He joined Jackson at the back of the truck. “Is there anything you need me to grab?”

“Nope, I have lunch in the cooler and coffee in the thermos. We’re set to go.”

“Let’s do it then.”

“Gage, why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

Jackson shot a look at the cab of the truck where Brandon waited, and then back to Gage. “Don’t play stupid.”

“I’m helping Layla get control of her little brother before he lands himself in trouble.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Yeah, why not?” Gage started to walk away but Jackson stopped him.

“When do you ever do anything just because it helps someone else?”

Anger flared but quickly evaporated because Jackson had a point. “So, I haven’t been the most charitable Cooper ever. But sometimes a guy sees the right thing to do and he does it.”

“And it has nothing to do with Layla Silver being downright pretty and available?”

“Layla’s pretty?” He scrunched his eyebrows in thought and scratched his chin. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

“She’s also the girl you treated poorly back in high school.”

“Well, maybe I’ve decided to make a few things right.” He was itching to get away from Jackson and this conversation, but Jackson didn’t appear to be letting go any more than a dog that had found a good bone.

“Making amends, are we?” Jackson headed for the driver’s side door of the truck.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“There’s a lot more to it than just doing a few good deeds to make you feel better.”

Gage whistled for Layla’s dog and pointed to the back of the truck. Once the animal was in, he walked around the truck to climb in. He wished he could get in his truck and take off, no looking back.

But he’d made a commitment, and he was going to see it through. Besides, even though he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t feel like running.

* * *

After work that evening, Layla drove up to Cooper Creek Ranch to get her little brother. She parked her old truck in front of the two-story garage, but she didn’t get out right away. It felt too good to sit in the truck and relax. The silence felt almost as good as the sitting.

A scratching on the door of her truck caught her attention. She pushed the door open and Daisy jumped back, wagging her feathery black tail and panting ninety-to-nothing.

“Traitor,” she said. Daisy didn’t mind. Instead she licked Layla’s hand and then ran off in the direction of the barn.

Layla started walking in the direction the dog had gone, her feet dragging. The barn made her poor old wood building look miserable by comparison. Her barn had been built by her grandfather in the early 1900s. This barn was a metal building, half stable and half arena. It even had an apartment attached.

The Coopers had a little of everything. Quarter horses, bucking bulls, cattle, not to mention the banks, oil and apartment complexes. They were wealthy, but they were also the kindest people she knew. They were generous and good to their neighbors. Not that they were without their own problems. Not that their children, most now grown, didn’t occasionally do something wrong. She guessed she liked the Coopers because they were genuine and sometimes they messed up.

She walked to the barn but she didn’t go in. Early evening had settled over the countryside, turning the sky dusky gray and pink. In the field cattle grazed. It was peaceful. She needed that moment of peace. It was too cold to stay outside, though, and she’d left her jacket in the truck. She shivered, reaching for the door as it opened. She jumped out of the way.

Jackson Cooper smiled as he stepped through the door. “Layla, long day?”

“Always.” Every day for nearly eight years. She managed a smile. “Is Brandon making a nuisance of himself?”

“Not at all. We worked him hard today. He asked about pay and Gage said we’re putting part of it in an account for college and giving the rest to you to decide what he gets.”

“Really? That was Gage’s plan?”

Jackson grinned. “He came home responsible or guilty. Whatever happened, he’s trying to help you out.”

“He doesn’t owe me.”

“He thinks he does.”

“I should get Brandon and go. I’m sure you all have more to do than keeping my brother out of trouble.”

“Go on in. They’re in the arena. I’m heading home.” Jackson patted her shoulder and walked away as she headed into the barn.

She could hear them in the arena. Her steps slowed as she neared the entrance that led from the stable to the arena. She listened carefully to the clank of metal, the pounding of hooves, shouts from someone other than Gage or Brandon.

Through the wide opening in the arena she saw her brother in a metal chute, settling on the back of a bull.

She yelled out, “No!” But it was too late. The gate opened and the bull came spinning out, her brother clamped down tight on its back. She walked fast around the metal enclosure, keeping a cautious eye on the bull and her brother.

The ride didn’t last long. The bull spun fast and Brandon went flying. He rolled out of the way as Travis Cooper moved between him and the animal. Gage headed her way, grinning, obviously proud of himself. Quickly, something obviously clued him in to the fact that she was as far from happy as a woman could get. His smile faded and he shot a worried glance in the direction of the arena, where her brother had gotten to his feet.

“How dare you!” She pushed past him to open the gate now that the bull had been penned up. “Brandon, let’s go. We’re going home.”

“I’m not.” Brandon said, but then he had the sense to look a little worried.

“I didn’t give you permission to ride bulls. I don’t have the money for hospital bills. And I can’t...” She couldn’t lose anyone else. She swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat and refused to look at Gage. He had a hand on her arm but she shook her head. She didn’t want to see sympathy in his eyes.

She avoided those looks from people. Had made it a habit right after her parents died. Those looks had turned her into a sobbing mess, and she’d had to be strong. She didn’t have time to fall apart. Brandon needed her to be strong.

“It was a steer,” Gage offered. “I wouldn’t let him get hurt. And I’m not going to start him out on our bulls. Come on, Layla, you know that.”

“Right.” She motioned Brandon through the gate. “We’re going home. I have chores to do and I still have to cook dinner.”

“I ate with the Coopers, and we did the chores at the house a couple hours ago.” Brandon kept his eyes down, staring at his boots.

“Thank you.” The anger seeped out, leaving her shaking and weak. “But I haven’t eaten and I’m ready to go home.”

“Layla, can we talk?” Gage maneuvered her away from Brandon and Travis. “We’ll catch up with you guys at the house.”

“Right.” Travis gave Gage a long look before nodding. “Come on, Brandon, we’ll see if there’s any leftover pie.”

Travis and her brother walked out of the arena, leaving her alone with Gage. He nodded toward the bleachers that served as seating when the Coopers held small events on the ranch. Layla didn’t want to sit and talk. She wanted to go home and put her feet up. Most of all she wanted not to think about Gage Cooper or how her life was falling apart while he played at fixing his.

She sat down on the second row of seating, shivering as the cool metal bench seeped into her bones, chilling her. Gage didn’t sit down. He shrugged out of his canvas jacket and placed it around her shoulders.

“Thank you.” She looked up at him, wishing he could always be this person. But this Gage was the dangerous Gage. He was the person a girl could lose her heart to. Even when she knew better.

“Let me teach him to ride bulls.”

Gage gave her an easy smile. Life was a big adventure for him. He traveled. He rode bulls. He lived for himself. She closed her eyes because she knew she wasn’t being fair.

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her. Intent. Curious. Handsome in a way that made a girl’s heart melt. It was his eyes, she thought, and shook her head.

“I do not want him to ride bulls, Gage. I want him to grow up, go to college, get married and have kids. I want...”

She couldn’t say that she wanted him to be grown-up so she could stop worrying. That wasn’t fair. She’d known when their parents died that her life had to be put on hold to raise her brother. She had worked hard to keep the authorities from placing him with strangers.

She’d put aside her dreams of college, a career, marriage and children. That wasn’t Brandon’s fault.

“I’ll keep him on steers until I know he can handle bulls. I think if you’ll listen to me, you’ll understand why this is important.”

She looked up, meeting those sincere hazel eyes of his. He’d been in the Southwest, so his skin was still golden-brown from the sun. “Tell me.”

“He needs something to keep him busy and people who will keep him busy. He’s in with a bad crowd right now, Layla. You can’t be with him all of the time. So if he’s here when he isn’t at school, we can keep him out of trouble. I can help you with that.”

“Right, so this is about you?”

He grinned again, white teeth flashing. “Could you stop being so mean?”

Layla closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m not a mean person. I’m just tired.”

The bleachers moved and creaked as he sat down next to her. His shoulder bumped hers, and she inhaled the scent of the outdoors. How could he smell that good when he’d been working all day?

“I know you’re not mean.” His voice was soft. “I was teasing.”

Her heart tried to open up. She couldn’t let it. “You hurt me.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”

She nodded, not looking at him because she couldn’t look into his eyes right then, not when her emotions were worn thin and she needed someone to lean on. It couldn’t be him.

“What is it you’re doing, Gage? Are you trying to earn my forgiveness?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned back against the bleacher seat behind them and stretched his leg in front of him. “Maybe I’m trying to find my way back.”

“God doesn’t require you to make amends to be forgiven.”

He didn’t respond for a minute. She wondered if she’d hit the nail on the head. She looked up at him. He was staring at the arena, his strong jaw clenched. She focused, for whatever reason, on the pulse at the base of his throat.

Finally he sighed. “I have to do this.”

“I forgave you a long time ago. When we’re young everything feels like forever. I was a typical teenage girl who thought if you smiled at me, we’d probably get married. I know better now.”

“Girls really think that?” He smiled at her.

“Maybe not that drastically. But when the teenage girl is already...” She didn’t want to have this conversation, but it was too late. “When the girl isn’t feeling loved, she is probably looking for someone to love her.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t the person to love you.”

So was she. “Well, you did me a favor. You taught me to be more careful. We’ve all hurt people, Gage. It’s part of life, part of growing up.”

“I know. But somehow I’ve skated through life with almost no repercussions and other people have suffered....”

He had more to say, but she didn’t want to hear it. They weren’t friends. They didn’t share secrets. She stood up and moved away from him, away from his story and his emotions.

“I should go.”

He grinned and stood up. “Too much?”

“Yeah. I think if you need to confess, I’m not the person. But I’ll take the help with my brother.”

“Thank you.”

She took off his coat and handed it back to him. His fingers brushed hers. Layla pulled back, surprised by the contact, by the way his eyes sought hers when they touched.

“Good night, Gage.” She hurried away, leaving him standing in the arena alone.

Chapter Four

Gage didn’t plan on going to church with the family Sunday morning, so he woke up before sunrise and headed out, dressed for work in old jeans, a flannel shirt and work boots. Layla had a few fences that looked like a cow could walk right through them, and he knew she’d fight him if he offered. So he wasn’t going to ask, he was just going to do it.

It was cold, so cold he could see his breath as he walked along the fence line after parking his truck at the end of Layla’s drive. Talk about a mess. The fence posts leaned and the barbed wire was so loose a cow could walk between the strands.

He didn’t know why kids had bothered cutting the fence. They could have pushed the fence posts over. But not after today. He planned on pounding the posts back into the ground and tightening the wire, maybe replacing some of it.

It would take all day. So he wouldn’t have to sit across the Sunday table from Reese and fight his anger all over again. He wasn’t angry with Reese, but with the hand he’d been dealt. Gage wouldn’t have to go to church and face God with that anger.

He stopped at the corner post. The sun was coming up over the tree line, shooting beams of light into the hazy morning. It wouldn’t take long for it to burn up the fog and melt the frost that covered the grass and trees. But it sure was beautiful.

As the sun rose, he pounded away at fence posts, working his way down the line. He eventually had to get his sunglasses, and then went back to work. He didn’t know how Layla did it all. She was working, trying to keep her brother from becoming a juvenile delinquent and holding on to this farm. He shot a look toward the house, a good thousand feet to the east of where he stood. At that moment she walked out the back door, her tiny frame hidden inside a big coat, a knit cap pulled down tight on her head.

He didn’t move on to the next post. Instead he watched as she leaned down to pet her dog and then walked to the barn. He watched as she walked through the doors and a minute later she opened a side door. The horse that ran into the corral took his breath away. Maybe it was the distance, maybe it was the rising sun catching the gold in the red-gold coat, but the animal was crazy beautiful.

Where’d she get a horse like that? How had he missed it last night when he and Brandon had fed the livestock? Right, he’d fed the cattle. Brandon had taken care of the horse, and Gage hadn’t thought much about it.

The animal tossed its head and ran around the small enclosure. Layla stood on the outside of the corral, her arms rested on the top rail. The horse changed to a slow, gaited trot that was pretty showy.

Eventually Gage shook his head and went back to work, pounding the next post deeper into the ground. Five more to go. He was down to the second from the last post when Layla walked up to him, her arms crossed and that knit cap making her gray eyes look huge.

“What in the world are you doing?”

He finished the last post, pounding once, twice, three times. He tried to push it, but it was in tight. “Fixing your fence before the cattle realize they can walk right through.”

“I can fix my own fences.” She looked like a woman about to stomp her foot.

“I know you can. I’m being helpful.”

“No, you’re feeling guilty. And angry. And I don’t know what else. But I am not your problem. You are your problem. Stop trying to fix your life by fixing mine.”

He stepped back, stung by her words. She might have a point. “Whatever.”

Yeah, that didn’t sound much like a teenage girl. He let it go. He had fence to fix. He pulled the tools out of his jacket pocket and grabbed the fence.

“Stop.”

He looked up from the wire he was holding and pushed his hat back so he could get a better look at her. He yanked off his sunglasses and shoved them in his pocket. “Why?”

“Because I’ve got to get ready for church, and if Brandon sees you out here, he isn’t going to want to go.”

“He’ll go.”

“Because you’ll make him?” She nearly smiled. The edge of her mouth pulled up, and her eyes sparkled just briefly. It took him by surprise, that almost smile.

He shook off the strange urge to hug her and went back to work, ignoring her as she continued to yammer at him, telling him why he was about as low on the food chain as a guy could get.

Finally she did something that sounded a lot like a growl and then she punched him on the arm. He swallowed down a laugh and turned to look at her. She was madder than spit.

“Are you about finished abusing me?”

She yanked off her knit cap and shoved it into her pocket, setting her light brown hair free to drift across her face, set in motion by a light breeze. “No, I’m not done. If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the police.”

“You’re going to turn me in for fixing your fence?”

“Yes.” She bit down on her bottom lip and the angry look in her eyes melted. “You make me so mad.”

“Because I’m cute and hard to hate.”

“Something like that.” Her mouth opened like a landed trout. “I didn’t mean the cute part.”

“Of course you did.”

“No, I didn’t. You think you’re cute. I don’t.”

“I could use a cup of coffee. And where did you get that horse?”

“I don’t have coffee. And the horse is mine.”

“I know he’s yours.”

“My old stallion died a few years ago. The filly is the last foal I got from him. Her mother was a pretty Arab that I bought at an auction.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I had to sell the mare, but I kept the foal. She’s three now.”

They were walking toward the house at this point. Gage didn’t know exactly how it happened. Maybe she started to walk away and he followed. Or maybe they both started walking as they talked about the mare. It didn’t really matter; it just meant he was losing it. No big deal.

As they got closer to the house, he glanced toward the corral and the mare that now stood at the opposite side of the enclosure. He whistled and the horse turned, her ears twitching at the sound. She trotted across the enclosure, her legs coming high off the ground in the prettiest dance he’d ever seen. Her neck was arched and her black tail flagged behind her.

“Nice, isn’t she?” Layla looked at the horse with obvious pride.

“What are you going to do with her?”

“I had planned to train her for Western pleasure, but then I realized she was a barrel racer.” She shrugged slim shoulders beneath the oversize canvas coat. “I don’t know...I might sell her.”

“Why would you do that?”

She didn’t look at him. He guessed if she did, he’d see tears in her eyes. He didn’t know what he’d do if faced with those tears.

* * *

Layla hadn’t meant to tell him that she planned on selling Pretty Girl. But the words had slipped out, her emotions were strung tight and she had confided in the last person on earth she should have been confiding in.

“Layla?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t have the money to haul her around the country or the time to train her. She really deserves to be a national champion.” She stumbled over all of the reasons she’d been telling herself. When she looked up, he was looking at the mare and not at her. She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t need to see sympathy in his eyes.

“I’ll buy her.”

“No.” She practically shouted the word and then felt silly.

This time he looked at her. “Really?”

“No, not really. I don’t know. Maybe I won’t have to get rid of her. Vera said I could work nights waiting tables at The Mad Cow.”

The owner of the local diner had always been good to Layla. When the job opened, Layla had jumped on it. Yes, it added one more thing to her to-do list, but it would bring in a little extra money at Christmastime.

“When are you going to start working for Vera?”

She walked up to the corral and reached up to pet Pretty Girl’s velvety nose. The mare nuzzled against her palm, her breath warm, her lips twitching and soft. The mare was her dream horse. But dreams changed.

A hand, strong and firm rested on Layla’s back. She wanted to shift away from the touch, but she couldn’t. Not even when the hand rested on her shoulder, his strong arm encircling her.

“Don’t get rid of her, Layla.”

Why did his voice have to be so soft, so sincere?

Buck up, Layla. She gave herself the stern lecture and moved from his embrace. “I need to get ready for church.”

“I’m going to finish that fence.” He reached for her arm and she stopped. “Layla, don’t give up.”

“I won’t.” She smiled and backed away from him. “And thank you, for the fence, for talking. I’ll see you later.”

He waved and then headed back to the fence he’d been working on. She watched him go before she hurried across the yard to the house to finish getting ready. As she headed to her room she yelled at Brandon to get up. He wasn’t skipping church. She heard him mutter that he was awake.

She’d give him ten minutes.

Now she had to figure out what she would wear to church. She opened her closet and rummaged through the clothes. A stack of notebooks on the bottom of the closet caught her attention. She hadn’t looked at them in years. She didn’t plan on looking at them now. Who needed voices from the past to remind them how it felt to have a broken heart?

That girl of sixteen was long gone. She had work-callused hands, a heart that didn’t have time for romance and bills to be paid at the first of the month.

At a quarter to ten she walked through the house, carrying the boots she would wear with her denim skirt and searching for her Bible and her brother. She found her Bible on the table next to the chair she’d fallen asleep in two nights ago. She didn’t find Brandon.

She slipped her feet into her boots and grabbed a jacket off the hook next to the door. She knew where she’d find her brother. And she was right. He was down at the fence with Gage.

After tossing her purse and Bible in the truck, she walked down to where the two were working away, laughing and talking like old friends. She watched as Brandon pulled the wire tight and Gage clipped it to the metal post.

“It’s time to go to church.” Layla shivered in the cool morning air.

“I’m going to stay here and help Gage.” Brandon didn’t even look up. But Gage met her eyes and she glared, letting him know this was his fault.

“You’re going to church.” Layla cleared her throat and stood a little taller. “Come on.”

“Layla, Gage doesn’t go to church, so I’m not going.”

She heard Gage groan. She shot him another disgusted look.

He sighed.

“Guess I’m going today,” Gage grumbled, clipping the last strand of wire. “Come on, kid, before you get us both in trouble.”

Brandon looked from Gage, whom he had obviously counted on to be his ally, to Layla. “Seriously, you’re giving in to her. Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“I’m not dressed for church.” Brandon tried the argument, and Layla knew it was because she always made him put on his best jeans and shirt for church.

Gage wasn’t dressed for church, either. His jeans were faded and ripped at the knees. His boots were covered in mud. He obviously hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gage shot back at Layla, probably because of the once-over she’d given him. “We’re going to church, and this is how we’re going. Besides, I’m about ready to sit down.”

“So church is a good place to get warm and put your leg up?”

He laughed, a rich, velvety laugh. “You said it. And I’m driving.”

“We’re not going to church together.” Layla found herself walking next to him, and even feeling a little bit sorry for him because he walked slower than normal. When she glanced up, she saw his mouth tighten in pain.

“You’re riding with me. And after church, I’m pretty sure my mom will insist on you all coming over for lunch.”

“That should be a good reason for me to take my truck, so that you don’t get stuck with us at lunch.”

“Layla. Stop arguing for five minutes. Please?”

She stopped, because he looked as if he needed a break. When they reached his truck, he limped around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. Brandon climbed in the back without an argument. She wanted to be mad, but instead she felt a little jealous. After fighting with her brother the past couple of years about everything, he was suddenly compliant, and it had to do with Gage Cooper.

He had a way of bringing people to his side. She remembered back to high school, even in grade school. Gage had always had a crowd of friends. She’d seen him step between friends who were about to go at it, and somehow, with a few words and an easy smile, manage to settle things.

“You know this is going to start rumors, right?” she said as she reached for the seat belt while he got in behind the wheel.

“Oh, well.” He turned to the backseat and Brandon. “Is there a pair of boots back there?”

Brandon handed him a pair of boots, beautiful deep brown leather with perfect stitching. Gage took them with a grumbled thank-you. While the truck warmed up, he jerked off his mud-covered boots, grimacing as he pulled the shoe off his left leg. Layla started to tell him he didn’t need to fix fences, babysit her brother or drive them to church. He needed to slow down and get better.

But she let it go. If he worked off whatever he was going through, whatever he wanted to change in his life, he’d soon ride off into the sunset and leave her alone. Again. The sooner he was out of her life, the better she’d be.

She grabbed the mud-covered boots he’d taken off and handed them back to Brandon as Gage pulled on the other pair. He now looked like a cowboy who’d been riding range in his best boots. The image made her smile.

A few minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of the Dawson Community Church. People turned to look at them. Layla resisted the urge to slump down in the seat.

“Are you trying to hide?” Gage pulled into a parking space. Killing the engine, he looked at her.

“I’m not.” She sat up straight.

“Yeah, you are. Worried about how it will look, you showing up to church with someone like me?”

She shook her head and reached for the door handle. Brandon was already out and headed across the parking lot. Layla watched him go, focusing on his retreating back and not the man sitting next to her, smelling of the outdoors, soap and ranch.

“Layla, I get that I’m the last person you want to be seen with.” He laughed a little. “Sometimes I’m the last person I want to be seen with. But you need a little help with your brother and with the farm. I know people have tried to help you over the years and you’ve said you could do it all yourself. Well, I’m not as willing to believe that as everyone else. Or maybe I’m just not as willing to be run off.”

“I’ve noticed.” She smiled and opened her door. “They’re ringing the bell.”

He wasn’t willing to be run off. Yeah, she got it. But she was counting on the fact that eventually he’d get bored. Or the lure of the road would pull him away.

As she walked across the parking lot to the pretty country church that she’d attended most of her life, she thought that maybe he wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her. Brandon was in church this morning. He’d stayed home last night. And he’d talked about his plans for the week, about going to Cooper Creek Ranch after school and what he’d learned from Jackson Cooper about cattle.

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