“Don’t remind Maverick.” Faith made a soft tsking noise. “He’s already got his stress dial turned up to eleven.”

  “It’ll all work out.” As usual, I kept my tone bright. My role was to have the confidence others lacked for both the holiday and the wedding. Colt’s mother and aunt had the wedding prep firmly in hand, not that Maverick seemed to trust that everything would work out. The girls were also in a tizzy of anticipation, and I’d been called to admire their outfit choices multiple times. Faith, however, was harder to read. “A better question is, how are you holding up?”

  “Me?” Faith sounded a bit too skeptical, a deflection technique I was only too familiar with. “I’m not the one getting married.”

  “Last year was my first sober holiday in a long time.” I’d been alone to boot. I’d attended virtual meeting after virtual meeting to keep the loneliness at bay. I could have gone home to New Jersey, but somehow that prospect had seemed even worse. “I’m not afraid to admit that celebrating hits differently sober.”

  “Eh. I never was much on eggnog.” Faith chuckled, but I didn’t.

  “That answer might fly with others, but not a fellow addict.” I made my voice stern. I’d spent enough time around Grayson that I was mastering my imitation of his firm tone. “How are you really?”

  I could ask myself the same question, but I wouldn’t. I was living in the present moment. That was enough. My near-nightly visits with Grayson and the dogs kept me going. Sure, he wasn’t going to grant my request of a dance at the wedding, and I’d be foolish to hope he’d ever want to take this thing between us public, but I was happy with what we had. Maverick needed me for wedding help and reassurance. Life was decent. Pining for more would be an exercise in futility.

  Faith stayed silent for several long minutes on our drive back to the ranch before she took a deep breath. “I’m on the outside of my life looking in. Hannah is thriving with Maverick as her guardian. She’s riding horses far better than I ever did, she’s deep into a TV show I’ve never heard of, and she’s doing advanced math in school and talking about friends and teachers I haven’t met yet.”

  “That’s hard and a lot to sit with.” I chose my words carefully. Faith hadn’t shared at the meeting, and I was a little surprised she’d opened up here in the truck. I wanted to validate her without denying the truth that Maverick was providing her daughter with a stability Faith had struggled with in the past. “How are you coping?”

  “Barely. I alternate between keeping my distance and showing interest in Hannah’s new life, but I seem to keep asking the wrong questions.” Faith’s cultured voice took on a mournful edge.

  “She’s also a teenager,” I pointed out as I slowed for an ancient farm truck plodding along. “Teens are notorious for not talking.”

  “True.” Faith didn’t sound like she bought my logic.

  “Sometimes all you can do is keep trying. Take it one interaction at a time.” I gave the same sort of advice we heard over and over at the meetings, hoping that it might resonate with Faith this time.

  “Maverick keeps urging me to find a new passion.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Wish I had a clue where to start. So far, I’ve tried bead art, adult coloring, and card making, but crafting isn’t cutting it.”

  “Trying to fill empty hours is hard.” I knew that particular pain well, but I wanted to keep the focus on Faith. Besides, my days were much fuller lately, what with Grayson and the dogs as well as work and bunkhouse activities like the card games. I glanced over at Faith as she stared vacantly out the truck window. “What did you want to be when you were younger?”

  “Me?” Keeping her face turned away, she shrugged. “Nothing serious.”

  “I wanted to be a cowboy. In New Jersey.” I gave a hearty laugh, inviting her to join in at my younger self’s expense. “That or I wanted to operate a carnival. Trust me, I know all about unrealistic dreams.”

  “I wanted to be a hair stylist.” Faith’s voice was so soft that I had to strain to hear her over the hum of the truck heater. “My favorite place in town was the little beauty shop where my mother would take me to get my hair trimmed. I thought hairdressers had the best job—get all the town gossip firsthand and make people happy with a makeover.”

  “I love it.”

  “But what did I know?” Faith failed to match my enthusiastic tone. “Kids are silly.”

  “There’s likely a beauty school in Durango, or you could dream even bigger.” If I weren’t driving, I’d already have my phone out to do a search for her. “Head to Denver or another big city with one of the best schools for hair and makeup, and see where it takes you.”

  “You want me to go from Houston society to beauty school?” She scoffed. “And I’m well over forty.”

  “So?” I shot back. “How old will you be in five years if you don’t go to beauty school?”

  “Funny.” Faith let out a rusty chuckle. “Kat said something similar when I said I was too old to ride a horse.”

  “I didn’t know you were friends with Kat.”

  “I’m not.” Faith waved a slim hand, bracelet jingling. “We just got to talking while watching the girls ride recently. Willow and Hannah make riding look easy and fun.”

  “It is.” I gave her an encouraging grin before finally taking the turn for the ranch, leaving a slow-moving truck behind. “Get on a horse. Let Kat teach you. And think about beauty school.”

  “Easy for you to say, cowboy.” Her tone shifted to a light tease. “You’re living your dream.”

  “You could too.” I hadn’t forgotten the wistfulness with which she’d shared. “Sometimes you simply have to go for what you want.”

  I was much better at giving this advice than taking it. Ever since Grayson nixed my request for a dance, I’d let the topic die, not willing to risk our tentative peace. And sure, I’d learned to ride a horse, but few would mistake me for an actual cowboy. I might be living parts of my childhood dreams, but there were other tightly held dreams and wishes I rarely let myself admit I wanted now more than ever.

  “Maybe.” Faith pursed her glossy lips as I pulled in by the main ranch house. “We’re back. Are you staying for dinner?”

  “Maverick invited me.” I hopped out and was greeted by a bracing chill. “And I offered to help cook.”

  I’d also helped plan the menu, provided decorating assistance, and supervised the girls’ present-wrapping efforts. Would I have been included otherwise? I didn’t particularly want to dwell on that thought. I was excellent at party planning, and if it earned me invitations, who was I to complain?

  Instead of asking questions I didn’t want answers to, once we were inside, I threw myself into helping. Maverick already had a big pot of chicken chili bubbling away. I glanced out the kitchen window toward the bunkhouse. What was Casey cooking tonight?

  I felt caught between two worlds, not belonging in either. Here, I was a friend or possibly an honorary uncle on a good day, but I wasn’t part of the tight quartet of Colt, Maverick, and the girls. On the outside looking in. Faith had described that feeling perfectly. At the bunkhouse, I was a temporary hand, an easy mark for cards, an extra pair of hands, and good for a laugh, but I wasn’t sure my absence would register with most.

  We ate dinner, and my latest batch of Christmas cookies was a hit, but I couldn’t seem to shake the weird funk that had settled over me. Rather than inflict my mood on others, I busied myself with cleanup until Maverick found me as I shut the dishwasher door.

  “You didn’t have to do dishes,” he chided, lightly slapping my shoulder. “Thank you. This was a perfect night, thanks to your help. I hope the wedding is as seamless.”

  “It will be.” I forced the smile he undoubtedly expected from me. “Trust.”

  “And after the wedding, we need to schedule some time to sit down, really hit the ground running for a spring launch for guests.”

  “Sure.” Another faked smile on my part, but his seemed real enough.

  “You’ve got to be tiring of being a hand.” Maverick had no clue, not that I was about to enlighten him. I liked my work, and not simply the time with the horses. I liked the physicality of the work, being too tired at night for my overactive brain to run away with my thoughts, having camaraderie with my fellow hands, and most of all, I liked the nearness of Grayson.

  “Eh.” I waved away his concern. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Well, we’ll need to meet anyway. I’m looking forward to talking about tiny cabins and guest activities.”

  I nodded, and I should have been excited as well. Hospitality was a much more natural fit for me than cowboy life, and I’d be happy working with the ranch guests. However, I couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that washed over me every time I thought about moving on from my time as a hand. If he didn’t have to supervise me, would Grayson still make time for me? Even the dogs needed me less and less these days, and I was desperate for an excuse for Grayson to keep me around longer. Sure, I’d still be on the ranch, but I’d miss the close contact with Grayson, and I could already feel him slipping away.

  “Going to stay for some Christmas movies?” Maverick asked.

  “Not tonight.” I managed a cheery tone. “This Santa is exhausted.”

  “I bet.” Maverick patted me on the back before releasing me to go fetch my coat. However, I already knew exactly where I was headed, and it certainly wasn’t to my bunk.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Grayson

  I wouldn’t say I was shocked by the knock on my door or who was standing on my front step, but I was a little surprised by the timing.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as I ushered Adler in. “Thought you were hanging with Maverick and the family today for Christmas Eve?”

  December twenty-fourth was largely simply another day of the work week for me—chores to do, horses to see to—but when Adler had asked to be let off early to go to a meeting with Faith and do dinner with Maverick, I’d assumed I wouldn’t see him again today. And I’d been happy to grant the request. Good on him, doing his meetings. It was a rough time of year for those in recovery, as I well knew from my dad’s journey.

  “Yeah. Dinner was good.” Adler didn’t sound all that enthusiastic about a night I knew full well he’d planned for weeks. Something must have happened, but I didn’t press as he dug two stuffed candy canes out of his coat pockets. “I wanted to bring the dogs their Christmas Eve treats.”

  “My place is drowning in dog toy carcasses.” Groaning, I stepped aside so he could give one to each dog. They’d made a full recovery from their spaying, and without their cones, they were back to their attention-hound ways. Rory was growing by the day, and both dogs had put on much-needed weight. For the most part, they were well-behaved housemates, except they did love a good joint toy murder, working together to send fluff all around my living room.

  “But tearing apart the toys makes them so happy.” Adler threw his coat in his usual spot, setting a wrapped plate on top. “You wouldn’t want to deprive them of their joy.”

  Nor would I want to keep him from his obvious love of spoiling the dogs, so I merely nodded. “True.”

  I headed back to my chair, knowing full well he was likely to follow. Which he did, stopping to frown at the TV I’d paused for his knock.

  “You’re watching without me?” He sounded far more wounded than I would have thought. Guess I was making a game show fan out of him.

  “Not Jeopardy. A stupid movie.” My skin heated, an uncomfortable prickle racing up my spine as I reached for the remote.

  “You’re blushing.” Adler grinned at him as he came to stand in front of me. “Is it a naughty one? Stuff Santa’s Stocking Volume One?”

  “Nothing like that.” I waved the remote. I’d be less embarrassed over porn, and my discomfort gave my voice a testy edge. “Just a movie I watched every year with my folks, then my dad, and now me. It’s silly. I know every word of A Christmas Story, yet I keep on watching.”

  As much as I wanted to pretend the date didn’t mean anything, clearly, my brain had paid attention to the calendar because I’d had the movie cued up before I’d really registered what I was doing. It had been my holiday-averse father’s one nod to the season, a habit I couldn’t seem to kick.

  “That’s not silly. It’s a tradition.” Adler plopped himself down in my lap. I had a perfectly good sofa, which he never used as more than a coat rack. “I brought cookies.”

  “You gonna stay to eat one?” I asked. He didn’t need an invitation, but I knew him enough to know he’d appreciate one anyway. “I don’t have to finish the movie.”

  “Yes, you do.” He wriggled, as happy as the dogs with their new toys. “And I love this movie too. Bet I know as many lines as you.”

  “You’re on.” Smiling came so much easier around Adler. He wasn’t wrong about having memorized the movie. It didn’t take long before we were cracking each other up by delivering lines along with the characters.

  “Okay, you win.” I gave a fond chuckle as the movie neared its predictable conclusion. “My dad had a leg lamp tattoo, and you might know more quotes than even him.”

  “I’m glad you have some good holiday memories with him.”

  “Eh.” A heavy sigh escaped my chest, the weight of a whole lot of years of missing pushing down on my shoulders. “Sometimes thinking about the good hurts worse than the bad.”

  “Truth.” Adler turned to offer me an understanding look. “I miss my family and some of our traditions too. Sometimes it’s easier to not think about the parts I miss. And it’s not that they wouldn’t welcome me back, but I doubt they really notice my absence.”

  I hoped he was wrong and that his folks missed him fiercely, but I’d known enough people with difficult family situations to not offer an empty promise that they did care. His truth was his truth, and his family hadn’t paid attention when it mattered.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Adler gave a dismissive gesture, almost knocking the remote off the end table. “I don’t even have trauma to point to. Not fitting in is hardly that terrible of a story. Many people yearn for a big family.”

  “Maybe so.” I held him tighter, both to stop the flailing and because he needed it. “Doesn’t mean growing up wasn’t hard on you. Something I learned in the tattoo chair is that sometimes letting go of a hurt means you gotta acknowledge the burn first.”

  “That’s wise.” Adler traced the rope tattoo ringing my forearm. “Is that why you get tattoos? Therapy?”

  “Guess that’s one way of putting it.” I shrugged, but he continued to look all expectant, so I added, “Dunno. Got the first one when I was so fucking pissed at the world, and it seemed to give the anger a place to go.”

  “When you were injured on the rodeo circuit?” Adler was a good guesser.

  “Yep.” I nodded curtly, not enjoying unearthing the memory of never-ending months spent on crutches until the inevitable realization that my rodeo days were done for. “Long recovery. Lots of time to build up one helluva cranky mood.”

  “Your dream got shattered.” Adler sounded far too indignant on my behalf. “I think you’re allowed some grief.”

  “Not sure if it was my dream or another place for all that righteous teen indignation,” I admitted. I hadn’t hated the rodeo life, but it hadn’t been in my blood, not like cowboying was. “I was angry for a long time before and after rodeo.”

  “Again, not unwarranted.” Adler Kelly was my fiercest defender.

  “You keep tryin’ to see the good in me.” I made my voice stern, but he merely chuckled. “I’m no saint.”

  “You’re a good man, Gray.” Adler stroked a hand down my torso. “A fair boss. A great friend. An excellent dog parent.”

  “What are you buttering me up for?” I faked skepticism.

  “Well, if you’re taking requests…”

  “Depends on the request,” I hedged. His vulnerable expression when he’d shown up was lodged in the front of my brain, and I was already prepared to meet whatever demand. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to hoping for a non-public, sexy wish.

  “This.” Adler gave me the sweetest kisses, both cheeks, the tip of my nose, chin, then finally my mouth. “Just this. A Christmas kiss.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” Scooping him more firmly into my embrace, I stood up with an armful of Adler. Despite his months of hard work, he was still lighter than some hay bales.

  “Hey!” Adler squawked as I strode toward my bedroom. “What are you doing?”

  “I can kiss you better in my bed.”

  “Fair.” Grinning, he started to unbutton his shimmery green dress shirt as soon as I set him down next to the bed.

  “Let me.” I pushed his hands aside. I had something of a plan, and I was eager to see it through. If he wanted kissing, then kissing he would get. I kissed his neck and then each bit of exposed chest as I unbuttoned his shirt. That job finished, I took some time to tease his cock through his pants before slowing unzipping his fly, making him hiss and pant.

  “Gray.” He made an impatient noise. “I want to play too.”

  “Later.” I pushed his pants the rest of the way off before dumping him unceremoniously in the center of my bed. I shucked my own jeans and shirt before joining him. On a mission, I loomed over him, kissing his mouth until he went sweetly pliant again, then retracing his collarbones and chest. He moaned softly when I zeroed in on his nipples, which I spent several minutes toying with, but they weren’t my final destination.

  I kissed my way down his chest and light trail of hair on his belly before blowing a warm breath across his cock, which jutted up to meet me with an adorable eagerness.

  “Oh.” Adler made a surprised sound at odds with his cock’s readiness. “You don’t have to…”

  “That’s what you say every time my mouth gets near your dick.” I glanced up at him, trying to read his flushed expression. “Do you not like getting blown?”