Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy - Diana Palmer Page 0,63
why don’t you pick me up at five?”
Sadly for him, Faith didn’t bat—her eyelids or anything else for that matter. And she didn’t date. “Sorry, cowboy, but it looks like I’m booked every Sunday from here until, well, you leave. But you enjoy that cocoa.”
Chapter Four
Noah headed back toward the Crossing after the last rays of sun had disappeared behind the rolling hills, settling in for a long winter’s nap. But his smile was beaming like it was high noon in July.
He rolled down the window, breathing in the crisp night air. Without the bright lights of the big city, the sky was a deep, never-ending blue, lit by millions of twinkling stars.
It reminded him of the antique glass ornaments his mama used to collect. Over her lifetime, she’d amassed dozens of them. Each a different color and size, and each with its own story of origin. One she uncovered at a yard sale, another in an antique shop in Gatlinburg, and her favorite was a gift from her granddaddy. They weren’t expensive or even that pretty, but she and her granddad would drive up and down the South looking to add to their collection. She’d even bought her sons one on their first Christmas. Noah’s was a twilight blue with iridescent golden specks.
Every year, they were the first thing unpacked and the last things hung on the tree, as if once in place his mama was saying that Christmas could officially call on the Tucker house.
The year she passed was the last year the ornaments had hung on the family tree. It was also the last time Christmas called on the Tucker house.
So when Noah pulled through the iron gates of his family’s ranch, he let out a surprised bark of laughter. Down the rough gravel road he could make out all six horses, standing in front of the barn, wearing matching Santa hats. Big red bows topped the gas lamps that lined the drive, with garlands twirled down each of the poles.
Then there was the house—his mama’s house—outlined in so many lights, it looked as if it belonged on one of those Holiday Wars shows. Strings of lights dripped down from the gutters, mimicking icicles, and soft white strands twinkled along the gabled roof down to the wraparound porch. And poking out of the chimney was a set of Santa legs, wiggling as if he’d had one too many of Ms. Luella’s pies.
But what held Noah’s attention was Santa’s most disgruntled employee. Cody Tucker—six-one, thirties, 180 pounds, and wearing a red Santa hat—was affixing a bow to the front porch light.
Cody must have heard Noah’s approach because he gave a wave from the top of the ladder. By the time Noah pulled up next to the barn, his older brother was walking down the steps, carrying a tangle of bows and lights.
Noah hopped out of his SUV and let out a laugh because he could now see that MR. DECEMBER was written across the brim of Cody’s hat. “All you need is a boom box and rip-away pants and you’re set. I hear the senior center’s looking for some holiday entertainment.”
“I’d wait until you see your hat before you start making jokes,” Cody said, and Noah groaned over all the different hats Shelby could have ordered for him. “And don’t think you missed all the fun. There’re still seven or eight boxes of lights left on the porch. So why don’t you gather them up and meet me at the barn? Shelby’s holding her pumpkin pie hostage until the barn’s finished.”
“I could skip the lights and go enjoy your slice of pie, little brother,” he said, knowing the nickname riled Cody. Although Cody was two years older than Noah, by the time Noah reached first grade, he’d gained an extra two inches on Cody—and that hadn’t changed.
Cody snorted. “If you let my wife think you’re some poor Tiny Tim, she’ll sit you at the family table and feed you until you’re nice and plump.”
“That what happened to you?”
“Between Shelby’s cornbread and Luella’s pies”—Cody gave a low whistle—“it takes an extra two hours working in the barn just to button my pants. No more teen-hires from the neighborhood to shovel my stalls.”
Cody took off a glove and when Noah went in for a shake, Cody pulled him in for a hug. Which caught him off guard. They didn’t do hugs. None of the Tucker men did. But Logan had been right—things had changed around there.