The Lawman's Christmas Proposal

Finally, Tina smiled. “Well, I can’t argue with that. All right. You can count me in, too.”

“That’s my girls,” he said.

* * *

MITCH AND ANDI left the hotel through the lobby and went down the porch steps, and still, as she walked along beside him, Andi said nothing.

Apprehension showed in the tiny lines around her eyes. Why wouldn’t she feel uneasy? She knew as well as he did they had unfinished business to discuss.

He remembered another day they had spent together when she hadn’t said a word. When they strolled down to the creek hand in hand, accompanied only by the sounds of crickets chirping. When his heart had thumped so hard he worried she could hear that, too.

Now his heart revved only in anger. Jaw clamped tight, he strode toward the parking area behind the hotel as quickly and steadily as his leg would allow.

“Been a long time,” he said as mildly as he could. A half-dozen years had passed since he’d last seen Andi. “I hear a lot has happened in your life.”

She nodded. “I’m a mom now, with two children, a boy and a girl.”

Her voice sounded strained, yet he couldn’t mistake the pride in it. He didn’t want to acknowledge even to himself how her statement made his anger rise.

When they were teens, he hadn’t thought too far into the future. He had simply known he would be settled down in Cowboy Creek and wearing a gold sheriff’s badge. He had also somehow known he would one day be the father of her kids.

Wrong, yet again.

He noticed she hadn’t mentioned her husband. In letters, his mom filled him in on all the happenings in Cowboy Creek. No one knew about his relationship with Andi, but as he had worked with Jed, Nancy put special emphasis on everything concerning Garland Ranch. She had told him about Andi’s becoming a widow, losing her husband when he was killed in a car accident while traveling for his job.

“I was sorry to hear what happened,” he said.

“Thanks.”

She crossed her arms as if the sun had gone behind a cloud and left her chilled. Or as if she needed a comforting hug. He swallowed hard, feeling a small part of his anger slip away. Somehow, he managed to keep from wrapping his arms around her.

He could see the effect the loss had on her. While she was still as beautiful as ever, her face now looked stretched taut. Grief left her with nothing to soften her cheekbones or to fill the hollows beneath them.

Her eyes held a deep sadness. Tiny lines creased the skin in the outside corners. Those lines made him want to touch her. To stroke away her tension.

Instead, he reached into the truck for the box Nancy had sent along with him for the Hitching Post. The action gave him something else to do with his hands. It gave him time to pull himself together. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, that beat of time would let him swallow his remaining anger. For now.

He balanced the box on the truck’s hood and turned back to her. “I’m glad Jed sent you out here. It keeps me from having to track you down.”

He could see her nerves take hold in the way she brushed her hair away from her temple. The movement distracted him, again making him want to reach out to her. Unfortunately, the urge wasn’t strong enough to derail his thoughts for long.

He had all the sympathy in the world for her...but that still couldn’t give him answers. “What happened that summer, Andi? You were here one day and gone the next, and that was it. No note, no letter, nothing.”

She didn’t respond.

“You owe me an explanation, at least,” he said harshly. “You walked away from me as if I’d never existed. I thought we had something good going.” Something good? Hell of an understatement. “I guess, no matter what you’d said then, thought is the key word here.”

Over near the corral, a horse neighed and one ranch hand called out to another. Andi’s silence went on long enough to make him wonder if she would ever answer. But he’d had plenty of practice at holding on, waiting for a witness to make a statement or a perp to make a confession.

Which would she do?

“My mom got sick,” she said finally.

“And when she got better, you couldn’t get in touch?”

“She didn’t get better. She had breast cancer, and she wasn’t a survivor. Grandpa didn’t tell you?”

He sucked in a breath. “I’d heard from my mom...after your mom passed away. But I didn’t know she’d gotten sick back then. Or that it was why you’d left.”

“She wouldn’t let us tell anyone here, because she didn’t want Grandpa to worry.”

“Jed didn’t know?”

“Not right away. And once Mom got sicker, she didn’t want anyone around her except my dad and me. She held out for a long time, and we were grateful for every minute we had left with her. That’s why I didn’t come back here to visit until...until after she was gone.”

Now he couldn’t keep from touching her. He rested his hand on her arm, feeling the warmth of her skin and the way her muscle tightened beneath his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, then grabbed the carton from the hood and rushed away, but not quickly enough to keep him from seeing the tears in her eyes.

He’d gotten answers to his questions, discovered his anger had slipped away, but didn’t know what he could find to replace it.

He curled his fingers, trying to hang on to the warmth he would swear he still felt from her skin.

* * *

HER ARMS TREMBLING, Andi carried the carton Mitch had given her into the Hitching Post’s kitchen. She wasn’t shaky from the weight of the box but from seeing him again. And she wasn’t ready to consider what had brought on the reaction.

As Andi set the carton down, Paz crossed the room to investigate. “Ah, very nice,” she murmured with a born chef’s appreciation.

Jane merely leaned forward from her seat at the table to peer into the box. “All those healthy vegetables. They look heavy. I’m surprised Mitch didn’t volunteer to carry the box for you.”

Andi heard the teasing in her cousin’s tone, but couldn’t summon the energy to match it. She said simply, “He had to get home.”

She wasn’t about to tell anyone how abruptly she had turned and walked away. At the porch, she had risked a look over her shoulder and saw him climbing into his truck. Seeing the way he eased into position told her how much he must have been hurting.

She didn’t want to think of him in pain.

She didn’t want to think of him at all.

“That’s good, right, Andi?” Jane said loudly.

She started. “What?”

Paz smiled at her. “I said, tomorrow, I will make my vegetable soup.”

“That’s great. Sorry, I was daydreaming...” Andi looked toward the door. “I need to check on the kids.”

“They’re fine,” Jane said. “Grandpa has them all in the sitting room.”