Christmas Gifts: Small Town ChristmasHer Christmas Cowboy Page 13

  Travis sat down. Elizabeth pulled an extra chair close and patted it. “Put your foot up.”

  “Yes, dear.” His smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, don’t worry about it. I take over. I don’t mean to, but in my world I’m used to getting things done.”

  “I understand. You’re a little like my older sister. She’s always responsible.”

  “Don’t say it as if it’s a bad thing.”

  He turned toward the door, his smile brightening. “Uncle Uri, good to see you.”

  A tall man, silver-haired and with wire-framed glasses perched on a straight nose, walked into the room. He smiled and pulled out a chair at the table next to theirs.

  “I’ve seen you several times during the night.” Travis’s uncle leaned and looked into his eyes. “I woke you up.”

  “I guess you did.”

  His uncle studied the duct tape–bandaged ankle. “You think that’s going to fix it?”

  “I guess it will.”

  Uri shook his head. “About the ankle, I’ll take a look later, without the tape. But I have crutches in the closet. Stay off it and no driving.”

  “I have a lot to do today. Elizabeth needs a ride to the airport.”

  Uri stood. “Elizabeth won’t have a flight out today. Backlog. I know the rest you aren’t going to listen to.”

  “Probably not, but thanks anyway.”

  “You’re welcome. Yelena has breakfast on the buffet.” He nodded to a table covered with a white cloth. Stainless steel warmers lined the table, steam rising from beneath the lids.

  Elizabeth had caught the scent of cinnamon when they first entered the room. “I’ll get you a plate.”

  “I can do it.” Travis started to stand. His uncle placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You sit.”

  Travis shook his head. “You all understand that at home I’d be out feeding cattle, probably cleaning stalls.”

  “And you’re not at home, nephew. My home. My rules.” Uri didn’t smile. “I mean it.”

  Elizabeth lifted lids from the warming trays. “Do you want biscuits and gravy? Scrambled eggs. Oh, waffles.”

  “All of the above.” He said it with an obvious frown in his tone.

  Elizabeth turned. “I’m sorry. Sometimes life is taken out of our hands.”

  He laughed then. “I think I might have said something like that to you.”

  “Yes, but I’m the one who likes a schedule. You’re the one without a calendar. Right?”

  “But today was important. The kids are expecting Santa.”

  She carried the plate to him and sat it on the table. “Let me guess. You’re Santa.”

  “I’m Santa.” He turned a little pink.

  She tried to picture him as Santa. The image just didn’t work. Santa didn’t wear Wranglers and a cowboy hat. Santa didn’t tape his ankle with duct tape. Santa was jolly. Travis Cooper was…

  She looked away.

  “A skinny, cowboy Santa. Sorry, I’m not seeing it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a good Santa.”

  She went back for her plate. When she returned to the table, she’d made up her mind because the children she’d seen last night deserved to have their Christmas. “I’ll drive you to the group home.”

  He smiled the most delicious smile and she knew she’d made a mistake. “Thank you, Mrs. Claus. But what will the kids think on Christmas Day when you’re not there to help deliver the gifts?”

  “Oh no, I’m not Mrs. Claus. I’m just an angry elf who missed her flight north.”

  As she sat down, unfolding her napkin, Travis reached for her hand. Before she could pull back he lifted it, brushing a kiss across the back of her knuckles.

  “We’ve got to see if we can find you some Christmas cheer, Mrs. Claus. Maybe a little joy and some faith.”

  Elizabeth pulled her hand back to her lap. “Bah humbug, Santa.”

  “You’re not a Scrooge, Elizabeth. You just have to find Christmas.”

  “Find it?”

  He touched his chest. “Yeah, in here. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

  An hour later Elizabeth wasn’t sure she wanted help finding Christmas. Not when it meant driving Travis Cooper’s truck on the icy streets of Tulsa, Oklahoma, as he sat in the passenger seat cringing as if someone was throwing knives at him.

  “Stop looking so antsy.” She slowed at an intersection. The light stayed green, and she eased through.

  “Sorry, that’s something I can’t really change.”

  She quickly glanced his way because she really didn’t want to take her eyes off the road. “Is it my driving? You know, I grew up in St. Louis and we have ice there, too.”

  “I kind of figured you had a driver.”

  “I’ve been working since I was fifteen. My dad believes that hard work builds character. I think he’d take a dim view of having me driven anywhere.”

  Her father had taught her to work hard, stick to a schedule and make goals. Those lessons had served her well in life. They were lessons Travis Cooper should learn.

  “I’m sorry. And you’re doing a good job. My knuckles are barely white.” He flexed his fingers. “Turn up here to the right. And really, your driving doesn’t bother me.”

  “That’s good to know. How are you going to get home?”

  She wasn’t going to offer. She wasn’t going to offer. She repeated the phrase to herself, over and over again, in case she wasn’t getting it.

  I’ll figure something out.”

  Nope. She wasn’t going to offer.

  “Do I keep going straight?” She eased on the brake before hitting a long stretch of ice. The truck slid just a little.

  “That big brick house at the end of this street.” He closed his eyes and leaned back.

  “Do you actually dress like Santa?”

  Eyes flashed open, blue-green with dark lashes. “Yeah, I dress like Santa. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “I kind of pictured Santa as an older guy.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a Scrooge, so what do you know?”

  She pulled into the driveway of the big house and parked close to the front door. Her heart raced and she knew a moment of fear.

  “This is way outside of my comfort zone,” she admitted.

  “What, being Mrs. Claus or the kids?”

  “Both, I think. You know, we usually spend Christmas on a beach somewhere.” She’d never thought of that as empty. Now it felt pathetically so.

  “Sounds like a good time, just lacking Christmas cheer.” He opened his door. “Let yourself have fun, Elizabeth.”

  Right, fun. She met him at the front of the truck. Santa on crutches. A skinny Santa in faded jeans and a plaid shirt under a Carhartt coat. They walked up the front steps together. He hopped, she walked.

  At the top of the steps he settled the crutches under his arms again and knocked on the door. It opened and a motherly lady in a blue dress covered with a flour-stained apron opened the door.

  “Travis, you’re here. We really didn’t know if you’d make it, with the ice and all.” She motioned them inside. “And what happened to you?”

  “It’s a long story. It started with a concussion and ended with icy steps. I’ve always been graceful.”

  She laughed and motioned them down the hall in the direction of the sweet scent of cookies. “The kids are in the activity room. Your costume is in the back bathroom.”

  “That sounds good. Jemma, have you met Mrs. Claus?”

  Jemma turned, her eyes widening, her mouth opening in surprise. “Mrs.?”

  Travis laughed. “Just for today. No wedding bells for this cowboy. Elizabeth Harden, meet Jemma Coburn. She and her husband, Dutch, run this place.”

  “With a lot of help.” Jemma wiped her hands on her apron and held one out to Elizabeth. “Thank you for supporting our home.”

  “You’re welcome.” Elizabeth didn’t know what else to say. Harden Industries had helped many charities over
the years. But Elizabeth didn’t get involved in those activities. Her mom took care of charitable contributions and events.

  “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Travis pulled off his hat. “Lead the way, Jemma. I think there are kids here who want to see Santa.”

  Jemma laughed. “Travis, you know that most of them don’t believe…”

  He put a finger to his mouth. “Shh, you’ll break Elizabeth’s heart if you say it.”

  Travis watched Elizabeth turn three shades of red. Yeah, he was getting back in his groove. He’d always talked too much, but he’d also usually known what to say to a woman. With Elizabeth Harden he seemed to be saying the wrong thing more often than not.

  But back at the house, when he’d kissed her hand, that had been a moment. And then he’d felt guilty. She’d been hurt, broken, left. She deserved more than a cowboy who flirted out of habit.

  She deserved to smile, not look like a scared rabbit. That’s how she looked as Jemma led them down the hall to the bathroom where the costumes were being kept.

  As she walked close to his side, he noticed something else, something he’d already noticed in the very long truck ride from Yelena and Uri’s to Samaritan House. Elizabeth Harden smelled like spring and warm sunshine.

  “We’ll let Elizabeth go first.” Jemma reached into a closet and pulled out a red dress, black boots and a cap. “Mrs. Claus, your wardrobe.”

  Elizabeth took the costume, held it out and looked at it.

  “I thought you were kidding.” She shot him a look and he shrugged it off.

  “I never tease.” He winked and she laughed just enough to let him know she’d survive this.

  “Fine, but you really owe me.”

  “You’re keeping a list?” He took the Santa costume that Jemma handed him.

  “I am definitely keeping a list.” She stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

  She walked out and for a few minutes he believed in Santa. Especially if she was really Mrs. Claus. The dress was loose, but she’d tightened a belt around the waist. The boots were clunky and scuffed. But wow, she wasn’t the type of woman a man cheated on or left at the altar.

  She was forever, wrapped up with a bow. And he was the last person who should be having thoughts like that. He was the guy who considered three dates a long-term relationship.

  “Okay, I’m going to get dressed.” He eased past her, distracted and nearly tripping over the metal crutches.

  “Don’t fall.”

  “Never.” He would never fall. He’d never fallen before. But he was pretty close, he decided. If this was what falling felt like, he just hoped that someone like her was on the other end to catch him.

  When he walked out of the bathroom, she laughed. He stood there, feeling kind of ridiculous in the red pants and jacket made of red velvet and trimmed with white fluff. The boots were big and the right boot fit over his swollen, taped ankle. He leaned on the crutches, knowing why she was laughing. He had kept his hat in favor of the Santa hat that had come with the costume. The white fake beard drooped low on his chin.

  “Well, aren’t you a jolly old soul.” Elizabeth in the red velvet dress had the nerve to make fun of him. He drew close to her.

  “I wouldn’t laugh if I was you, Mrs. Claus.”

  Her brown eyes warmed with laughter.

  He had never wanted to kiss a woman the way he wanted to kiss her. And he’d definitely never used as much self-control as he did at that moment.

  “Mrs. Claus, if I wasn’t a gentleman…”

  Her brows raised a notch and she backed up. “I think we should go find the children.”

  He closed his eyes, one last attempt at chivalry. He brushed past her, grazing next to her ear with a kiss she wouldn’t feel.

  “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” He shouted as he walked away and left her standing in the tiny hall outside the bathroom. Kids shouted and somewhere a dog barked.

  Man, he was falling hard and fast.

  As he walked down the hall to the activity room, Elizabeth behind him, he managed to get it together. He put a jolly smile on his face and braced himself for twenty kids tackling him as he walked through the door.

  Behind him, Mrs. Claus let out a screech as the tackle advanced and kids circled her, hugging her tight. He smiled and watched as she settled into her role, hugging the kids back, listening as they told her all about Christmas. One of the kids tugged at her arm and said something about Christmas really being about Jesus.

  He thought his Santa suit would burst with pride. Until yesterday she’d been nothing but a name, a story. The fact that she was hugging these kids, his kids, shouldn’t matter. But it did. For some crazy reason, it did.

  Jemma pointed him toward the chair she’d set up for him. He sat down, arranging the pillow he’d shoved under the jacket of his costume.

  A little girl holding Elizabeth’s hand led her to the nativity the kids had put up on a table next to the Christmas tree. As the child pointed and talked, Elizabeth leaned to listen.

  If ever a woman had needed a little Christmas cheer, it had to be Elizabeth Harden. More than that, he thought, she needed faith. But how did he help her find faith at Christmas?

  Chapter Four

  Drained. Elizabeth didn’t know why that word described her emotions as she left Samaritan House. She glanced back before driving away. Her heart squeezed a little. The kids in that home shouldn’t be smiling, laughing, full of joy. They were sucked into a system of foster care and group homes. Most would never return to their biological parents. And yet, they smiled. Oh, did they smile.

  She brushed at tears, ashamed but somehow uplifted. She had so much and she took it for granted. These children had found happiness and were loved at Christmas.

  She’d skipped Christmas at times, letting go of tradition. Maybe because her family didn’t have small children in their lives to remind them to keep the traditions, to keep the meaning of the holiday. Way back in her memory she snagged hold of a childhood memory of loving Christmas. The lights, the trees, even an occasional church service on Christmas Eve.

  “You okay?” Travis leaned against the passenger door of the truck, allowing him to stretch his leg.

  “I’m good.” She sniffled a little. “Thank you for letting me be Mrs. Claus today.”

  “Yeah, I knew you’d love it once you got there.”

  “I did.” She turned back toward the bed-and-breakfast. “What happens now? I mean, do you buy them gifts or does someone else? What about the event last night? Does the money have to be refunded to the ticket holders?”

  She had a list of questions ticking through her mind. He raised a hand, stopping her.

  “It’ll get done.”

  That answer caused her to get a little itchy. It sounded like a plan without having a plan. “But how?”

  “Are you worried?” He pointed for her to turn right. “You love being organized, don’t you?”

  “It does make me feel better if I have a plan and I know what needs to happen.”

  “Right, I work better off the cuff. But don’t worry, it’ll get done.”

  “Christmas is two weeks away.”

  “Yes, it is.” He glanced at his watch. “That’s scary.”

  She had to let it go. Her responsibility had been to travel to Tulsa and represent Harden Industries, nothing more. Represent, make an appearance. Now it was time to go home, not worry about when or how the gifts would be bought.

  But she couldn’t stop thinking about those children and the lists they’d given Travis. They wanted the normal toys: trucks, dolls and games. They had also asked for a new stove for Jemma and a truck for Dutch. They’d asked for gifts for siblings not placed with them, and for parents they rarely got to see.

  “I need to call the airport and see if I can get a flight this evening.”

  “Yeah, I kind of forgot about that. I need to see if Uri can drive me back to Dawson.” He stared at her for a long minute. “Or you could driv
e me. And then you’d be around to make sure I got everything done. We wouldn’t want the kids to go without gifts.”

  He was baiting her. She knew it. And yet…what if he didn’t get everything done? It wasn’t her problem. But she kept remembering that little girl who had hugged her tight. Becka had just turned five. Her parents had lost their parental rights permanently.

  The Coopers had invited her to stay with them, at their home in Dawson. Why not? What did she really have in St. Louis? She could go to the office. She could write thank-you cards for wedding gifts she would return. And then what?

  “The house is at the end of this block.” Travis broke into her wandering thoughts. “Relax, I was teasing. I really do have a plan for getting everything done.”

  “I know.”

  Elizabeth pulled the truck up the long drive to his aunt’s bed-and-breakfast. The big Victorian home was cream-colored with sage-green trim. Wicker furniture lined the porch that wrapped around the front and one side of the house.

  “I’ll drive you home.” She parked the truck and avoided looking at him. “I can get a ride back to Tulsa, right? And maybe fly out tomorrow or the next day?”

  “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “You could go over my list, check it twice and make sure I’m organized enough.”

  “I’m sure you’re organized. The thing you can’t do is drive yourself.”

  “Right, concussion and sprained ankle.” He opened his door and grabbed the crutches as he got out. “You’ll love Dawson. You might even want to spend Christmas with us. After all, the kids will be expecting Mrs. Claus when Santa returns with their gifts.”

  “Yeah, I think you’ll have to explain that Mrs. Claus had to go back to the North Pole.”

  “Okay, but you’ll break their hearts.” He waited for her to join him and they walked up to the house together.

  She didn’t want to think about broken hearts, neither hers nor the hearts of the children she’d met that day. If she stayed here, drove him home, helped with the gifts, that would keep her busy and keep her from thinking about Richard. Would it be so bad, staying away from St. Louis for a few extra days?