My Christmas Cowboy

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It meant oil and horses and brothers.

It meant his dad. It meant little Ginny, and the promises each one of them had made to their mother on her deathbed.

In short, the name Riddell still meant a lot.

Maybe, right at that moment, it meant more to him than ever before.

Chapter Seven

No matter how mixed-up things might be, no matter how screwed up her life was, there was a fact that trumped everything else in Jolene Arnold’s life.

Amanda Rose, her beautiful little bundle of joy, was a Riddell.

And that, well, that was something pretty darn special.

Yep, even at three months of age, little Amanda was headed toward a better future than Jolene had ever dreamed about.

Being a Riddell meant security and respect. Being a Riddell meant opportunity and choices—all things Jolene had had precious little of but used to yearn for like other kids yearned for chocolate ice cream.

But until Jolene could figure out how to get Trent to do anything but schedule a paternity test, all of her big hopes and dreams for Amanda needed to be put on the back shelf for a while.

Because she needed to get back to work.

With a sigh, Jolene put on her “uniform,” such as it was. Bob, the owner of Bronco Bob’s Honky-Tonk, didn’t care too much about what she wore, as long as she could meander through the tables and serve drinks and smiles without a lot of fuss.

Some women wore T-shirts and jeans. But Jolene had learned that a little cleavage worked wonders in the tip department—and those tips made the difference between a box of mac and cheese and baked chicken for dinner. Without even looking in the mirror, she slipped on her jean short-shorts, a black tank top—low enough to show a discreet bit of black lace—and her boots.

This little getup was going to be cold as heck on the way to Bob’s, but she’d be warm enough once she was working hard. Bob’s furnace ran two ways: hot and hotter.

She’d just swiped lipstick across her bottom lip when her best friend Cheryl knocked, right on time.

“How are you doing, sugar?” she asked, her auburn curls looking tamed for once.

“I’m fixin’ to go to work,” Jolene said with a grin. “Again.”

“Looks to me like you’re working that body of yours.”

“Yeah, well, a girl’s got to do what she can with what she’s given …”

“But you’ve been given so much.” Cheryl shook her head in exasperation as she poked Jolene’s tummy. “Girl, when are you ever going to look like you had yourself a baby three months ago?”

“Hopefully not anytime soon. I’ve got bills to pay.”

“It’s just not fair that you look that good in a tank and shorts. I still looked like a beached whale eight months after Tyler was born. You, on the other hand, even looked sexy when you were six months along.”

She might have looked sexy at six months, but definitely not after that. A lot of the men had taken to ignoring her, either feeling bad asking a pregnant girl for beer, or maybe just not eager to look at a woman who was so swollen with baby.

Soon after, Bob had asked her to help Carter in the back of the bar, but that had been a courtesy job. Carter hadn’t liked the idea of her being on her feet all night long. The most he ever let her do was wash glasses and fill snack jars.

She’d practically lived on mac and cheese then.

“As long as the boys tip me, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you’ll be more than fine tonight.” Once more looking over her figure with a hint of jealousy, Cheryl sighed. “Now, don’t forget to save me some stories. You know how I like hearing about your antics.”

“I won’t forget.”

What Jolene didn’t say, though, was that she wouldn’t have minded Cheryl sharing some stories about her life, too. But of course that would just be embarrassing.

Cheryl was happily married, and living Jolene’s dream. She had Dwayne at home, who thought Cheryl had done something pretty darn remarkable by growing a baby in her stomach. Dwayne wouldn’t have cared if Cheryl had gained a hundred pounds, he was so smitten.

But things were a fair sight different for Jolene. She’d learned to rely on herself the best way she knew how. It was up to Jolene to bring home the bacon or she’d have nothing to cook. And, well, no one had ever made a secret of enjoying anything other than her sassy smile and curvy figure.

As Cheryl took off her fleece coat, mittens and scarf, Jolene picked up her bag. “Amanda Rose is still taking her nap. I expect her up within the hour.” Glancing at her watch, she winced. “I’m late again. But … do you need anything?”

Cheryl waved a hand. “I’m fine. Go on, now.”

“I’ve got a bottle in the fridge, and some chips and wine if you want some.”

“Don’t worry.” She winked. “Dwayne is going to bring me some dinner on his way home from work.”

“Enjoy that for both of us, will you?” Jolene’s mouth watered. Dwayne worked at the Golden Dove and Cheryl was always talking about the latest dish he was trying out.

“I’ll do my best. Now go on, honey, before you’re late. Don’t you worry about Amanda or me none.”

She took two steps closer to the door. “Have I thanked you properly for sitting for me twice a week?”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. My mamma’s enjoying grandma time with Tyler, and my husband’s bringing me dinner. All I have to do is sit here, hold Miss Amanda, then watch TV and nap until you come home. Believe me, being here’s a real treat.”

“Thank you—”

“Go, Jo.”

With a brief wave behind her back, Jolene grabbed her ski jacket then ran out the door.

And wished she was sitting next to a roaring fire, sipping tea and watching Frosty the Snowman instead of almost turning into one.

Bob’s was loud and bright and booming when she slipped in the back door. Carter, one of Bob’s bartenders, was sitting in the storage room having a cigarette.

“Oh, Carter, you’re gonna get in big trouble,” she teased as she walked past his perch and pulled off her ski jacket. “You know Bob don’t like us smoking back here.”

Before answering, Carter lit the end of a new cigarette with the remains of his first one. “Bob’s just going to have to deal, Jo. It’s freezing outside. No way am I sitting in the alley.”

Looking at the goose bumps on her legs, Jolene nodded. “Don’t I know it. I thought my rear end was going to freeze to the seat of my car before I made it here.”

Carter shook his head as he exhaled. “That would be a shame, given the caliber of your butt … but it would also be your own fault.” He looked her over and shook his head. “A girl needs to know when to put on more clothes, and that’s a fact.”

“You know the guys like seeing me in this.”

“You could change when you get here.”

“Carter, that would take more time than I ever give myself. Don’t fuss. I’m fine.”

“All I’m saying is that you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

After pulling out her short canvas apron and tying it neatly around her waist, she shrugged. “This girl also needs to eat, Carter. I’ll see you out front.”

She left just as she heard the rustle of another cigarette getting pulled out of its pack. Feeling better about quitting smoking, she shook her head at poor Carter. He was going to die of lung cancer before he was fifty at the rate he was going.

Jolene was still thinking about Carter and his nicotine habit when she entered the noisy front room. At least a dozen people surrounded the bar, some chatting in groups of twos and threes, others looked happy to just be taking up a bar stool.