Dear Santa, Send Me a Cowboy

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

DIANA

I was a sucker for Hallmark Christmas movies. There was something about the unrealistic, cheesy plotlines that brought comfort into my mundane, lonely existence. Though the romance could be a tad bit spicier, I still enjoyed the swoon-worthy scenes of the small-town hero and the city girl. With my favorite holiday candles burning, a fresh batch of homemade cookies cooling off on my favorite snowman-shaped tray, and an endless selection of Christmas movies to choose from, I was set up for the perfect night in.

The lights were dimmed, creating the perfect, cozy ambience while just beyond the glass-paned window, a heavy downpour of snow was falling. Even though I wished Silvan was here, it was nice to have some time to myself where I didn’t have to think about what was for dinner or if I switched the laundry over. Instead, I could lounge on the couch all night and eat every single one of these cookies without judgment or him trying to steal them all.

The only thing missing, and I do mean the only thing missing in my “Christmas Town” decorated home, was the main attraction.

The tree.

Every year, the sweetest old man, Fred, from Boone’s Tree Farm would make a special trip to my house to drop off the perfect tree. A few years ago, Silvan and I had taken a drive to his farm to pick out a tree but, unfortunately, due to my lack of driving skills in the snow, we ended up in a ditch. Granted, no one was hurt, but Fred now demanded that every year he’d personally drop a tree off so I wouldn’t have to risk ending up in another ditch.

I, of course, argued being the “I can do it myself” type of woman, but reluctantly agreed to his persistent demand.

With Christmas only a couple weeks away, I figured it’d be any day now that Fred would come knocking on my door. I had everything prepared and sitting in the spot where the tree was going to be. From my box of ornaments to the red and green tinsel that I had ordered off amazon.

From the years prior, I estimated either tomorrow or the next couple days he would show up, but just then, as I was about to take a bite of a freshly made sugar cookie, the sound of knocking on the front door interrupted me. At first, I wasn’t sure if I had even heard a knock, or if something had just blown over in the wind, but when a series of persistent knocks came soon after, I realized to my confusion that someone was here.

With tentative movements, I lowered the cookie down onto the tray in front of me and slowly rose from the couch. My heart rate climbed as I began to walk the short distance to the door, wondering who might be waiting on the other side.

Could it be Fred? Surely he wouldn’t come by at this hour… or would he?

As I finally came to a stop at the door, the sound of ragged, labored breaths reached my ears—definitely the breathing of a man. When I finally summoned enough courage to peer through the peephole, all my senses went completely blank.

I was right about one thing, it was a man standing just beyond my door. A ruggedly handsome man whose face was twisted with a scowl as if he was seconds away from losing his shit on my front porch. But it wasn’t his declining composure that had me intrigued, it was leather cowboy hat and the big, gaudy belt buckle wrapped around his waist that nearly sent me into a stupor.

His big, thick arms laid heavily at his sides, as his towering frame left me wondering how tall he truly was.

Six-three, maybe? Either way, he’d loom over me, making me feel tiny in comparison.

“Jesus, fuck…” I heard the tail end of his grumbles as he pounded his fist once again on my door.

Who the hell is this man? And why is he here?

“I think you have the wrong house.” My voice resembled a mouse as the shock of what I was looking at began to fully register. Even now after blinking at least ten times, the strange man still didn’t disappear.

Which meant he was real.

“Look, darlin’, I’m freezin’ my balls off out here, so can you please just open the door?” he growled through shivering teeth as he rocked back and forth on some faded cowboy boots that looked the size of my whole arm.

Jesus, he was big.

My throat dried as my eyes scaled the length of him again, dressed in faded Wranglers, a tan jacket, and cowboy hat. I couldn’t formulate a single word as I took this stranger in. I swear my thighs heated when I caught the sight of his callused hands lift and plant themselves on each side of the doorframe.

“Uh, you definitely have the wrong house. I don’t know you.” My teeth captured my bottom lip in a gnawing motion as I watched his face shift into a scowl. Clearly agitated, he cursed under his breath, causing a ripple of wrinkles to form on his forehead.

“I’m here with your fuckin’ tree.” He moved to the side a bit where I saw a balsam fir propped up against the siding of my home.

I pulled myself away from the eyehole to catch a much-needed breath.

Who the hell was this guy and why was he dropping off my tree?

Peering down at my flannel pants and stained tee, I contemplated running to my room to change, but those thoughts quickly dissipated when I heard a low growl reverberate from beyond the door.

“Swear to god, woman…” I had a feeling his words weren’t meant for me to hear, and once again, I found myself looking back through the eyehole. I almost laughed when I saw his head tilted back on a low groan, but something more heated passed through me as I caught his tanned, corded throat. Thick and tempting, I swallowed back a moan as a heavy exhale escaped the confines of my chest. He looked nothing like my ex, or any man I’d been with for that matter. His presence was looming and almost dangerous in a way that had my heart galloping and thighs clenching.

“Where’s…” The word came out faint, so then clearing my throat, I repeated myself again. “Where’s Fred?”

“He’s sick. I’m his son Lawson. Told me he was goin’ to come by sometime tomorrow to drop it off, but I offered to bring it tonight.”

Oh…

Fred had a son? Why didn’t I know that? And why, out of every possible type of man out there, did he have to resemble a cowboy? My kryptonite. The one and only thing I foolishly and desperately asked for in my “Dear Santa” letter. What were the odds of having the exact replica of what I drunkenly imagined in my head that night, standing just beyond the door?

Either I was right, and I have been a very good girl, or someone was playing a dirty trick on me.

Snapping out of whatever trance I had been in, and without a second thought, I swung open the door and was greeted by a blast of cold air and dark, obsidian eyes. The force of both almost knocked me onto my ass, but I remained rooted to the ground as I let his stare roam over the tiny length of me. Even in my not-so-sexy pajama set, he made me feel like I had been wearing the most revealing, skimpiest outfit out there as he left no part of me unscathed. But just as he was getting his fill of me, I was doing the same. Trailing my stare along those broad shoulders and thick arms, I couldn’t stop the rush of air that filled my lungs.

God, he was perfect.

Not only was I shocked by the fact his hands were still clinging onto the doorframe in a menacing stance, but I was gobsmacked by the raw, unfiltered beauty of this man and the scowl lines that marred his tanned forehead. Confusion and maybe agitation filled his stunning features as he slowly dropped his arms from the door and gave me his full height.

Oh. My. God.

“You’re the shitty driver my dad brings a tree to every year?” His chest flared, causing a current of shocks to strike me at the core. At first, it didn’t register that he called me a shitty driver and when it finally did, I placed my palms onto my hips.

“Um… Excuse you? I don’t think spinning out in basically a blizzard and ending up in a ditch makes me a shitty driver.” I scoffed in annoyance as his intense gaze still lingered on my body.

“Yeah, so what does that make you then?” he asked in an amused tone.

My eyebrows slammed together as a puff of air escaped from my mouth.

“I think everyone ends up in a ditch once in their lifetime, don’t you think?”

“That’s somethin’ only a shitty driver would say, darlin’.” His face dipped down as the brim of his hat concealed his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the beginnings of a smirk.

Narrowing my stare at the grumpy cowboy, I then took a quick glance over at my tree and sighed.

“Look, thanks for going out of your way and bringing my tree, but I can take it from here now.” I tried to go around him, but with his whole body taking up the space in front of the doorway, I brushed up against his stone-like arm.

Jesus, he was built. I wonder what he did to have a body that feels rock solid?

Then, quickly as I brushed off those unwarranted thoughts, I rushed past him in only my fuzzy socks and thin pajamas and headed for my tree. Instead of gauging where to grab or how to carry it, I quickly wrapped my short arms around the middle of the broad tree and lifted.

Oh fuck.

There was no way I could get this inside my house. Not without help anyway. My cheeks puffed out and my legs wobbled as I lifted the oversized tree about an inch off the ground. I’m sure I looked as ridiculous as I felt, with my face pressed into the prickly tree and my ass arched out in hopes I could lift it higher. Unfortunately, both my legs and arms began to spasm, causing me to drop the tree back onto the ground.

“Jesus Christ…” A low, rumble of a voice manifested from behind me and the next thing I knew, my giant tree was lifted with ease and propped up onto his shoulder like it was nothing. All I could do was stare with wide eyes as the grumpy cowboy gave me a stern look before stomping past me. My eyebrows scrunched in confusion as I silently watched him, or more specifically his ass flex with each step until he disappeared into my home.

“Where do you want me to put this thing?” His voice echoed from inside, causing my feet to move and follow him. With a little pep in my step, I ran inside and slammed the door shut behind me before refocusing my attention back on to the stranger in my home.

Or, not technically a stranger. Fred’s sex-on-a-stick son.

I found him standing awkwardly in the living room where he made everything look miniature-sized. For a second, I wondered if he would even be able to fit his large body on my couch, but the thought quickly fizzled when I heard an expulsion of air fall past his lips.

“In that corner is fine.” I waved in the direction behind him and watched as he grunted in acknowledgment and dropped the tree until it is now leaning against the wall.

Asshole.

“You didn’t have to help me, you know. I would have gotten it inside eventually.” I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him with narrowed eyes. Just because he was quite possibly the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on, or the fact he was Fred’s son, didn’t mean I trusted him.

“Right.” He chuckled while that perfect mouth tilted upward into a smirk. “Before or after you slipped on the ice patches on your front porch?”

My god, he was a sight for sore eyes.

Damn him.

“Do you think I’m inept on ice or something? Besides, I’ve been carrying a tree in this house by myself for the past nine years, so… I think I could have managed another one without you.”

Normally, I wasn’t this sassy or felt the need to be so defensive. If anything, I was the opposite most of the time, but something about this arrogant beast of a man standing in my living room with an “I’m better than everyone else” look on his face made my blood run hot. Even more so now as his beard-covered jaw went taut and those intimidating eyes took a plunge down my body again. Then, as if catching himself, his throat contracted with a cough.

“Look,” he ground out as his stare wavered off to the side before slinking their way back to mine. “I don’t like watchin’ a woman struggle. If I can help, I will.”

“Yah, well, you didn’t look too eager to help me.” I scoffed.

Honestly, I didn’t know why he was still here and yet, here he was taking up residence in my home like he belonged here. God, he looked so out of place surrounded by Christmas knickknacks and shiplap walls. He belonged somewhere dirtier, rougher, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and the other holding the waist of a woman.

“Trust me, the last thing I want to see is a woman slip and break her fuckin’ back because I wasn’t bein’ a man and helpin’,” he grunted while removing his hat and running a hand through his thick, tawny waves.

And a man he was.

“So, what are you saying? That women are more prone to slip and fall on ice than men? That’s a bit sexist, don’t you think?” A sarcastic laugh spilled from my mouth as I watched his chest deflate in annoyance.

“Not tryin’ to be sexist. But helping a woman in red fuzzy socks trying to walk backward on her icy-as-fuck front porch with a tree that’s three times the size of her makes me sexist, then so be it.”

The smug tilt of his mouth had my skin pulsing red. If he was trying to get under my skin, it was working.

Tremendously.

We held each other’s eyes in a silent stare-off, and for some odd, infuriating reason, my brain decided to malfunction as it no longer could formulate any wittier comebacks. Instead, it was too focused on studying the full layout of his body and the minor details that took up residence on his rugged face. The only man I could compare him to was my ex, and by no means was there any resemblance. Just looking at him made me question why I had even wasted my time and energy on the poor excuse of a man who I let fumble around between my legs. As I scaled my eyes over his waistline, I caught the sight of a silver belt buckle, and the worn, brown strap that hugged his wide waist.

Jesus, why was that so hot?

My fingers twitched at the thought of tearing the belt from the loops and unleashing whatever was concealed behind that zipper, but the thought quickly fizzled when I heard him cough.

Shit.

Averting my eyes, I found myself escaping his line of vision and headed into my kitchen where I felt his stare heavy on my back.

“Well, congratulations, you helped a perfectly capable woman.” I hid behind my counter where I shoved a cookie in my mouth and kept my stare off the cowboy. It wasn’t like I could see him from this distance without my glasses anyway, but it didn’t help that I could feel his gaze scorching down my body.

“I don’t doubt that you’re capable, darlin’.” I heard the steady clunking sound of his boots walking along the floor until they gradually crept closer and into the kitchen.

God, why was he still here? He was ruining my cozy night with his too arrogant and too rugged presence, but a small part of me—a very tiny, microscopic part—wanted him to stay.

“What are you doing?” I reluctantly lifted my eyes until I found him on the opposite side of the counter with his palms resting on top of the granite. Rough, large hands were splayed out on my marble tops as his thick veins that trailed up beneath the sleeves of his jacket caused my throat to become dry instantly.

“You got a man?” His voice turned hoarse, almost like he didn’t want to ask.

A bead of sweat broke out across my brow as a forced chuckle tumbled out of my mouth. Stuffing my mouth with another delicious sugar cookie, I tried to awkwardly eat my way out of the question.

Who asks that anyway? Who asks someone if they have “a man”?

Surely, it was more than obvious that I didn’t have one, but when I mistakenly captured his stare with mine, I saw just how obvious it wasn’t. His dark brows were drawn inward, and an unamused glower was directed at me, spawning my chewing to slow.

“Well?” he asked again with a grunt. “I’m really hopin’ your answer is no because I might have to kick his ass when he gets here.”

Swallowing the rest of the cookie, I watched for a change in his expression or at least an “I’m just messing with you”, but when that didn’t come, I narrowed my eyes.

“You’d kick his ass? Why?”

Sometime between me walking over here and shoving cookies down my throat, he had put his hat back on. But on a huff, he removed his palms from the counter and crossed those thick arms across his chest.

“For makin’ you feel like you have to do it all yourself.” His eyes searched mine. “Don’t get me wrong, a woman like you is more than capable, but with a man around, you shouldn’t have to be all the time.”

My mouth dropped open, but when no words came out, I slowly closed the gap. How can he go from looking at me like I was the biggest inconvenience to him, to now looking at me like I was his dessert?

Like he wanted to devour me whole and take care of me all at the same time.

Breaking up the tension with a cough, I spun on my heel and went for my opened bottle of wine. “Well, lucky for you, Rocky, I don’t have a man, but I do have a son. ” I grabbed a glass from my cabinet and began pouring a hefty amount, trying my damndest to deflect the tension I had created.

It wasn’t like it mattered anyway, but it was an instinctual reaction that kicked in whenever I brought up Silvan to another man.

“Yeah?” His voice softened as if to ease my angst. “And where is he?”

“Spending time with his father…unfortunately,” the last bit came out in a low grumble but was still heard by Lawson. Then doing whatever I could do to change the subject, I added, “You seem the opposite of your dad. He’s one of the nicest, sweetest men I have ever met. I couldn’t even picture him arguing with anyone, let alone fighting.”

With the glass in one hand, I spun back around until my back was pressed up against the counter beside the fridge and I had a good view of the large cowboy. Still stoic and reserved, his eyes hadn’t wavered from mine as a ripple of butterflies exploded throughout my stomach. A feeling I hadn’t felt in years, and a part of me wanted more.

More of whatever this grumpy man could give me, even if it was a silent stare-off or a pointless argument. “You don’t think I have a soft side?” He leaned in with a faint smirk on his mouth.

“Define soft.”

His smirk deepened.

“Those curves you got, darlin’.” He nodded his head in the direction of my hips and dragged his stare over my waist. Suddenly feeling hot, I took a long swig of wine. “Think I could be real soft to those.”

I froze mid-sip.

Did he really just say that out loud?

A surge of heat shot up my legs as I tried swallowing the mouthful of wine, but ultimately failed as it went down the wrong pipe, causing me to erupt into a fit of coughs. An image of him holding on to my hips while those rough hands squeezed and kneaded my flesh assaulted my already fuzzy head.

A man that looked like him, built like an ox, with hands meant for getting down and dirty, I could only picture him treating my hips with the same intensity as he did his job—whatever that might be. It was clear he engaged in something physically demanding and taxing on the body that required a lot of muscular strength.

And where I’m sure he had his moments when he was soft, though it was hard to picture, I had a feeling deep down, straight to the core of the burly cowboy, there was a sweet, caring side to him that one very special person could bring out.

But when it came to having his hands on my body. My curvy, plump-like hips that had grown fuller over the years, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t handle them like you would fine china. Instead, he’d use the same fervor and passion that he devoted to his labor, on my body.

“You good, darlin’?” he teased with a knowing smirk. My daydream ended abruptly as my face ignited.

Please tell me I wasn’t drooling.

Spinning around to conceal my flushed cheeks, I set my glass down onto the counter, but not before almost knocking over the bottle with my elbow and hitting my shin on the oven.

God, I was such a mess.

“I’m fine,” I spluttered, avoiding eye contact entirely, knowing that if I met his stare, my red cheeks would only worsen.

“Sure about that?”

The arrogance in his tone had me seething. How in the world did sweet old Fred produce such a pompous, crotchety asshole?

“I’ll be even better once you leave.”

Pretending to be busy, I shuffled around with some of my spices that were lined up on the counter and tried my best to ignore his intense presence looming behind me. Nothing was as uncomfortable as giving birth, but this was a close second. It’s been entirely too long since a man has occupied my space and right now, I had no clue how to handle it. Clearly that had to be the case if I was avoiding him like the plague.

“Got a ladder?” He completely ignored what I had grumpily mumbled, causing my eyes to snap to his.

Confusion halted my random shuffling and I found myself facing the cowboy again. “A ladder? What do you need that for?”

Though his expression wasn’t so smug like before, there was something in those fiery eyes that had me sweating.

“Gotta fix those lights you have hangin’ up outside. Half of ’em ain’t even workin’.”

“That’s… that’s completely unnecessary, Lawson. I can fix them when it’s not snowing its ass off outside.” I dropped my hands onto my hips as he clenched his jaw. “It’s not your responsibility, plus I’m sure you have other things you’d rather be doing.”

I could already picture the long list of things this man could be doing, and not one of them involved helping out a single mother. Yet here we were, in another silent standoff because I was too stubborn to let him help me and he was too stubborn to leave.

“I’m already here. Might as well use me, right?”

Use me?

“I don’t need to use you,” I fired back, even though I was currently going over all the ways I’d use him.

His eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Then at least use my help.”

God, why was he being so persistent about this?

“I don’t need your help.”

And why was I acting like a complete bitch about it?

He didn’t respond right away, instead, he let me squirm under his gaze until he made a low grunt and spun around.

Did he finally take a hint? Was he leaving?

My back straightened and my hands lowered from my hips as a sense of relief but also something like regret struck me. I should be thrilled that he was finally leaving, but the feeling didn’t hit me entirely like I thought it would. I watched somberly as he stomped his way into the living room, but instead of going for the front door, he was headed toward the garage.

What the hell was he doing?