Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy - Diana Palmer Page 0,70
had ended.
Something had to change—it wasn’t fair to Pax.
“Have I mentioned what a good friend you are?” Faith said through the emotion pushing at her throat.
“Hey, it will be okay,” Shelby whispered. “I remember how hard it was before Cody, juggling hours at the hospital and raising JT. You never blinked when I needed help, bailing me out more than a few times when I couldn’t get home on time. Plus, you know Pax is always welcome here. So are you, Faith. Anytime you need a break, come on over.”
“Thanks.” Seemed like she’d been saying that a lot lately.
Faith needed to figure out a better way to juggle making a living and Pax’s busy schedule. It would only get fuller the older he became. And she didn’t want to miss out on the important stuff.
“But I think you’re giving up more than I am,” Faith said. “When I take JT, it only cuts into my Game of Thrones marathon, not quiet time in bed with a sexy rancher.”
Shelby snorted. “Sweetie, with the house this full, we’ve had zero time alone. I told Cody all I want for Christmas is one uninterrupted hour of ‘adult’ quiet time. Although, if the house is empty, we won’t have to be quiet.” They both laughed.
Cody was a great guy, and he and Shelby had the kind of relationship people aspired to. Faith had never seen her friend so happy. Ever since Cody moved back to Sweet and the two reunited, it had been like watching some epic love story unfold.
And Faith had a front-row seat. Which was the only reason she believed that men like Cody actually existed, and finding a love that pure and solid was a possibility. Before meeting Shelby, Faith had never bought into the whole happily-ever-after BS. Heck, she’d never believed that love could be healthy.
Clearly, Faith had been doing it wrong. Or something was wrong with Faith. Even her relationship with her mother was complicated. Hope had done her best to raise and care for Faith, working hard to make sure Faith never went to bed cold or hungry. But when it came to making a safe home for her kids, Hope wasn’t equipped with the necessary tools. Her kids came second to her need for a co-man-ionship.
Hope desperately wanted to be loved, which drove her from one man to the next. The more frogs she kissed, the more desperate she became, and the lower that bar was set. If he had a good sense of humor and good looks, Hope was game, and it didn’t matter that he might also have a good reason for being incarcerated for life.
She was the type of woman who needed a man to be happy but was too afraid of men to be around them—a side effect of sustained close proximity to Faith’s father. Which made Inmates.com Hope’s dating site of choice, and Faith’s life more and more unpredictable.
But watching Shelby and Cody, the way they put each other first, and JT’s well-being above all else, was eyeopening. Looking in from the outside, Faith recognized that their relationship was helping her reconsider her self-imposed table-for-one lifestyle. She was no longer petrified at the idea of having someone to come home to, to share her day with over a home-cooked meal. What would it be like to have a person, her person, to stand next to when times were rough or, even better, when they were amazing?
Faith wasn’t afraid of commitment or even love. She was gun-shy about putting herself out there, only to learn that she wasn’t worthy of love, wasn’t worthy of protection or care from others.
“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” Shelby asked again.
“Yeah, fine. I was thinking about my fun-filled night of baking ginger bear cook . . . ies . . .” Faith froze, looked around her dark kitchen, then out the window at the other houses on her block. All dark.
She flicked the switch on the wall. A big fat nothing.
“No, no, no, no, no.” She rushed to the electrical panel next to her back door and did a complete reset—three times. Still nothing.
“This can’t be happening.”
“What’s going on?” Shelby asked, but Faith was checking on her cookies, which were no closer to frosting-ready than they had been in her refrigerator.
She put her hand in the oven, warm but not the 375 degrees her little bears needed in order to bake. She thunked her head against the stovetop. “I have no power!”