Marrying the Billboard Cowboy (Christmas in Redemption Ridge)

Chapter 5

5

Z eke’s grip on the steering wheel of his truck tightened, the leather groaning under the strain. He sat parked outside Flapjacks, the diner’s neon sign buzzing faintly. His gaze flitted from the entrance back to the expanse of dusty dashboard before him, the weight of the decision pressing down like the heavy Colorado sky.

The familiar ache of responsibility settled in his broad shoulders—a reminder that as the oldest Reynolds, stepping back wasn’t in his nature. The prospect of meeting Kaitlyn, a woman who had known more than her fair share of abandonment, tugged at something deep within him. Some protective instinct spurred a sense of duty he couldn’t easily dismiss.

Zeke had never been one for rash actions, preferring the steady rhythm of ranch life to the unpredictable dance of human connections. Yet, here he was, making the most unpredictable step of all.

He unlatched the door and swung it open. The familiar crunch of gravel under his boots grounded him to the moment as he stepped out.

Closing the door with a resolute thud, Zeke squared his jaw and fixed his stubble-framed mouth into a line of determination. This was no time for second-guessing. Kaitlyn needed someone she could count on, someone who wouldn’t just up and leave when the snow started falling or when the nights grew too cold. And he needed someone so he could chase his dreams from the security of being partial owner of Redemption Ridge Ranch.

With each stride toward the diner, his heartbeat hammered a steady rhythm against his chest. He wasn’t just walking toward a woman he’d yet to meet; he was walking toward a crossroads in his own life. And as the scent of pine from the surrounding woods mixed with the aroma of sizzling bacon and pancakes, Zeke felt an ember of hope kindle within—the hope that this Christmas might bring new beginnings. For Kaitlyn and maybe for a gruff rancher who thought he’d sworn off surprises for good.

The bell above the door jangled, announcing Zeke’s entry into Flapjacks. His gaze swept over the familiar restaurant, the clamor of chattering families and clinking cutlery filling the space. The warmth inside fought off the chill that had set into his bones during the drive, but it did little to ease the tension knitting his broad shoulders tight.

His eyes moved methodically, dismissing each face that wasn’t hers—a ranch hand laughing boisterously, a waitress balancing a tray laden with steaming mugs, a couple nestled in a corner booth sharing secret smiles. None of them were Kaitlyn.

Then, he saw her—seated alone near the corner window where artificial snowflakes clung to the glass. His lips pulled to the side as he recognized the petite figure huddled there. Kaitlyn’s head was bowed, a curtain of brown hair partially shielding her face from view, her fingers twisting a napkin into tight spirals.

He paused, taking in the sight of her—so much smaller than she had seemed in the worn photograph he’d memorized over the past week. Her shoulders, though squared with a silent type of tenacity, were undeniably fragile under the overhead lights. And beneath the strands of her hair, dark circles hinted at the exhaustion etched deep within her skin.

Zeke’s chest tightened, an unexpected surge of concern flaring within him. This was not the vibrant woman whose laugh he’d imagined echoing through the stables. This was someone who had been weathered by storms he could only guess at, someone who wore her weariness like an ill-fitting garment.

He took a silent step forward, drawn to her vulnerability and strength intermingled so clearly in her posture, in the way she held onto the napkin like a lifeline. His protectiveness, always just below the surface, now rose like a tide. He couldn’t turn his back on her—not now, not when every fiber in his being told him she needed someone to stand beside her.

Zeke’s boots carried him across the diner, each step heavier than the last. He could hear the muffled conversations around him, but they faded into the background as his gaze remained fixed on Kaitlyn. His throat tightened, a knot forming as he drew closer, and he cleared it softly to announce his presence.

“Kaitlyn?” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Startled, she lifted her head, her dark eyes locking onto his. The surprise that flashed across her face gave way to a quick swipe at her cheeks, where tears had etched a path through the fatigue. She straightened up in the booth, a feeble attempt at composure that couldn’t hide the tremor in her fingers as they abandoned the napkin.

“Ezekiel?” Her voice was a whisper, barely audible above the din of Flapjacks’ lunchtime rush. Her eyes flicked down to the table.

In the silence that hovered between them, Zeke’s gaze followed hers to the booth across from her, where a pair of dark eyes mirrored hers, wide and curious as they stared up at him with awe. A coloring book and crayons scattered across the table like a rainbow in disarray. The resemblance was uncanny, and Zeke’s heart skipped a beat as realization dawned on him.

“Hello,” he managed to say, though his voice betrayed a hint of the shock that rippled through him.

Zeke took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of this unforeseen revelation. But the protective urge that had brought him here, that had pushed him past his own reluctance, now anchored him in place. He couldn’t simply walk away; not from Kaitlyn, and certainly not from the little boy who shared her eyes.

“Who’s this?” he asked, voice steady despite the rapid drumming of his heart against his ribs.

“This is Stetson,” she replied, her voice shaky. Her fingers brushed his, a tremor running through them as they clasped hands briefly. He noted the chill of her skin, the fragile grip that spoke volumes of her recent hardships.

His gaze flickered to the child, whose curiosity was piqued enough to draw dark eyes up from the crayon chaos. “Hi, Stetson. I’m Zeke.”

“Hi,” the little boy responded, his tone guarded yet polite, revealing an upbringing amidst uncertainty. “Are you a cowboy?” he asked, his voice an impressed whisper.

Zeke usually wrestled with the answer to that question, his reality warring with his dreams. But with the awe in the little boy’s eyes, there was only one right answer. “Yeah, I am.”

Zeke offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile to the boy before turning back to Kaitlyn. His eyes locked with hers, conveying a promise to delve into uncharted conversations later. For now, he shelved his questions along with the shock of her unmentioned son.

“Mind if I join you two for a bit?” Zeke motioned toward the empty seat next to Stetson. Without waiting for an objection, he slid into the seat, the leather creaking under his weight. “Let’s eat.”

Kaitlyn’s mouth opened, then closed, a silent war waging behind her eyes. In a place like Flapjacks, full of laughter and clinking cutlery, her vulnerability seemed soft and quiet. But she held his gaze, a flicker of gratitude shining through her wariness.

“That’s not necessary,” she murmured.

Zeke ignored her and flagged down a passing waitress with a practiced nod. “We’ll take a look at the menus. And coffee, lots of it.” He was going to need a cup or five to process the curveball she’d just thrown at him.

The waitress hurried off to fetch the menus, and Zeke leaned back, observing the pair. The boy’s attention had already returned to his coloring book, but he kept sneaking glances at Zeke. Kaitlyn’s eyes lingered on Zeke, studying him with hesitation.

“You like pancakes, Stetson?”

Stetson’s head popped up, a small smile playing on his lips. “With syrup and butter!”

“Then pancakes with syrup and butter, it is,” Zeke declared, his protective nature finding solace in the simple act of providing a meal. “What would you like, Kaitlyn?”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” she protested.

The rumble of her stomach could be heard from his spot across the booth. His eyes dropped to her stomach and he raised an eyebrow. Kaitlyn’s cheeks flushed with a tinge of embarrassment, her hands tightening around the napkin she’d been fiddling with.

She was gorgeous.

She looked at Stetson, whose attention remained on the promise of pancakes, then back up at Zeke.

“Guess that settles it,” she said, with a small attempt at humor, though her voice barely rose above a hush.