Christmas in Cowboy Country (9 page)

The first month of the new year to come seemed like a long way off, but it was only a few weeks away. Marshall Stone would be long gone by then.

She waited until she'd left the office and was warming up her car to try and reach him. The call went straight to voice mail.

Disappointed, Annie didn't leave a message, deciding to send a text instead. Meet me on the mountain? She suggested a date and time and a few other details just in case he needed them.

He texted back immediately. Can't make it then. Some other time, okay? Thanks.

She bit her lip. His terse reply could be interpreted in a lot of ways. Maybe he really was busy, because he'd replied to the text just a few seconds after he'd let her call go to voice mail.

But why had he refused so quickly when she'd used the words
how about
so he wouldn't have to commit to a specific date and time?

And to think she had once been so inundated with male attention that she never analyzed phone calls or texts on a molecular level, she thought ruefully.

The more she thought about it, the more his reply seemed like a brush-off, one she had never expected.

And she'd been so sure, briefly, that she'd known how he felt about her. Maybe it was all in her imagination.

Annie tapped the screen to make the text go away, silently chiding herself for trying to read between the lines of such a short message.

She had arrived at the ranch and was parked in the driveway before she texted someone else. Darla would do.

She could ski and Annie could—well, she could bird-watch from the top of the mountain. That was about it. She wasn't much of a bird-watcher, but she did have binoculars somewhere. Then they could talk over coffee in the small lodge. Annie knew for sure that Lou wouldn't be there. Her mother hated heights.

B
undled up against the cold, Annie settled herself on the attached bench of an outdoor picnic table and took in the glorious view. The day was incredibly clear and the mountains seemed much closer at this elevation. The dark pines dominated now that the aspens were leafless, dusted with snow that also lay in deep drifts within ravines no longer hidden.

She'd somehow forgotten that most birds went elsewhere in winter. The binoculars went back into her pocket once she'd watched Darla hurtle downhill a few times and wave from the ski lift on the way up again. Annie pulled the drawstring of her hood to tighten it around her chilly cheeks and lifted her sunglasses to see what the white world looked like without them.

The intense sunlight made her squint. Annie put the sunglasses back in place and turned to look in a different direction.

Velde had gotten at least two inches of snow overnight. Still, it wasn't much for early December. Snow machines were providing an acceptable depth on the trail. But the town at the foot of the mountain sparkled.

Annie played the game of identifying local landmarks for a while. There was Jelly Jam Café, her mother's favorite hangout. And there was Albert's Mercantile, where you could still buy everything from overalls to canned ravioli. And there was Nell's saloon at the center of town.

She took out the binoculars again to check out the decorations affixed to the old-fashioned lamp posts. There were tall candy canes tied with giant red bows on every one. She could just make out garlands of lights hanging high over the streets that would add a delicate touch of sparkle at night. Nice. It was beginning to look like Christmas. She just wished she were more in the mood for the holiday.

With nothing to do, she peered through the binoculars. They weren't that powerful and she was too high up to recognize any individual on the streets. But it was fun to watch everyone bustling about below.

Her gaze moved to the outskirts of town, stopping on the new development she'd noticed before. The raw lots were visible under the light snow, rectangles of flat dirt and nothing more. No structures of any kind were in evidence, not even a construction-site trailer. Just the same winding street lined with lamp posts, which were, oddly, also adorned with candy canes and red bows, even though there wasn't a stick of lumber in sight, let alone finished houses.

But there was a truck parked out there. She adjusted the focus knob.

It was a big black truck, so new that the bright light hit it like a diamond. She knew whom it belonged to.

Marshall Stone must be inside it. Unless he'd just parked it and was walking around somewhere out of sight. She swept the field of vision with the binoculars, seeing no one. Maybe he was finishing up a survey with the gear he stashed in the cab.

Was it a point in his favor or not that he was actually working at the time he'd told her he couldn't make it? Yes, she decided. If he
was
working.

But what could he be doing out there? The subdivision had to have been professionally surveyed before ground was broken or permits wouldn't have been issued. The site had been parceled out with mathematical precision. The development company didn't need a freelancer to second-guess their measurements.

Although he didn't freelance. Stone worked for a company he hadn't named. Hmm.

She peered at the truck from several angles without seeing him, but noting that his tire tracks were the only marks in the snow. After a while, she stuffed the binoculars back into her pocket. It felt weird to be spying on Stone and she didn't want to do it.

A muffled clomping made her turn around. Darla was approaching, wearing abominable-snowman boots that looked awful, but comfortable.

“Hey, Annie. Whatcha doing?” she called. Her face was flushed with the exhilaration of her swift downhill runs.

Annie fought back a pang of envy. “Soaking up the sun.”

“You must be freezing, sitting there like a lump,” Darla said cheerfully. Darla had never been particularly tactful, but she meant well.

“I'm a little cold,” Annie said.

“I say we treat ourselves to hot cocoa and to hell with the calories.” Darla turned, stumbling in the huge boots but quickly righting herself with a skier's honed sense of balance. She pushed open the sliding glass door to the lodge interior.

Annie allowed herself one last look below. The truck was in the same place.

They had to shed a few layers of outerwear shortly after they got inside the lodge. Darla tossed her jacket over a sofa positioned in front of a stone fireplace, and Annie did the same. Blazing birch logs were piled high and would burn for hours, radiating heat throughout the great room.

Darla led the way when they returned with two cups of marshmallow cocoa, which Annie carried. She set hers down on the low table in front of the fireplace and gave the other to her friend.

“Ahh.” Darla's hands curled around her cup as she sipped it slowly. “Bliss.”

There weren't very many people in the lodge on a weekday and Annie was fine with that. She listened absentmindedly to Darla, getting in a soft-voiced question or comment now and then.

Darla was as talkative as ever, but not as nosy as Annie remembered. Still, she seemed to think it was her obligation to get Annie caught up on everything and everyone in Velde.

“So what was it like being the queen of Aspen and Vail?”

Annie gave a low laugh. “Some queen. I worked really hard. But I had a great time.”

“We were wondering about you coming back home to this little town.”

Those would be the friends Annie still kept up with online, who had scattered all over the West. Only a few had stayed on in Velde. Facebook was better than nothing, but she didn't check her page too often. After the initial flurry of get-well wishes and concern, the news tended to be about the same and she wasn't into posting her every thought and what she had for lunch.

“Are you going to keep on being a ski instructor?”

The direct question rattled her a little. “That's what I do,” Annie answered vaguely.

“Aspen and Vail are so pricey. I've been to both, but I had to stay in some funky places. Still and all, I pretty much had a blast.”

“It's not any less expensive when you work there.”

“Do you think you'll go back?”

Annie gave herself a few seconds to respond. Even though Darla had mellowed some, she was still a talker. Annie didn't want her plan for the future broadcast all over town. Mostly because she didn't have one.

More and more, she felt like one part of her life had ended and the next part had yet to begin. She didn't know what she would do next or where she would go.

“I haven't decided,” she replied. That was true enough and Darla seemed content with the simple answer. She returned to her favorite subject: herself.

Warmed by the fire and the hot drink, Annie paid minimal attention—until she heard Darla mention Marshall Stone.

“You should check him out. What a hot guy. He's, like, a surveyor or something.”

“I know who you mean.” Annie's answer was nonchalant. “He was at the town meeting. I went with my parents.”

“Oh. I didn't go. Too boring. But I would have showed up with bells on if I'd known he was going to be there.”

Annie breathed an inward sigh of relief. Now she knew with absolute certainty that no one had seen her and Marshall kissing in the doorway. That was something Darla would have brought up right away.

“He showed up just in time,” Darla added.

“Huh?”

“There's a man shortage in Velde. All the good ones are taken.”

Annie smiled politely. “I don't think he's moving here.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Yes. He was out by our ranch, surveying Chuck Pfeffer's land.”

“Lucky you.”

Annie braced herself for a barrage of curious questions. But Darla had more to confide on the subject of the handsome stranger, who apparently wasn't as reserved as Annie had first thought.

“Some friends of mine decided to go to Nell's saloon for beers and sandwiches and there he was, long legs and all. One or two of us made eye contact. From a distance. Nothing happened, but something could have, put it that way.”

“So he was there alone.”

The thought just came out. Annie bit her lip. “No. He was with a woman. She was gorgeous,” Darla emphasized. “I have no idea who she was, but they sure seemed to know each other.”

Annie was quiet as she gazed into the fire, tuning out Darla's speculations on the subject. Apparently her own talent for fooling herself had led her to believe that she might have an exclusive on a man who'd made it clear that he was just passing through. But it didn't really matter. It wasn't like she and Marshall had done anything more than kiss a few times.

Darla stopped and poked her. “Hey. Are you listening?”

Annie only shrugged. “Sure. But he really can't be the only available guy in town.”

“Please. He is,” Darla insisted. “And right now he's at the top of everyone's wish list. I can't believe you don't want to get to know him better.”

A small smile curved Annie's mouth. She wasn't going to fill Darla in on her efforts to do that so far. “Go for it,” was all she said.

“How? Follow his truck around?”

“Whatever works.”

A college-age waitress with a tray stopped by the sofa. “Can I get you ladies anything else?” she chirped.

“Nothing for me, thanks.” Annie wasn't sure she liked being referred to as a lady. It made her feel—not old, but older than she was.

Darla handed over the cups. “Me neither. Here you go. Appreciate it.”

“No problem.” The waitress walked away, balancing the tray with the cups as if she was practicing.

Annie had started the same way, covering weekend shifts at ski resort restaurants and bars just to be close to the action and able to ski during the weekdays, when the slopes were less crowded. It seemed like a long time ago.

“You ready?” Darla asked. She pulled up the socks inside her huge boots.

“Yes.” Annie stretched a bit, then put on her jacket, glancing up at the clock framed by antlers. They had been talking longer than she'd thought.

Darla went out first, lift ticket in her hand. Annie stopped briefly at the deck railing and looked for Marshall's truck.

It was still there. A flash of black and white circled it and stopped at the passenger side door. Someone opened it from the inside and Rowdy jumped in.

Annie was pretty damn sure that Marshall hadn't done the opening. The person had been wearing pink.

She blew out the breath she'd been holding. Better to know than not to know, even though what Marshall Stone did was none of her business. It was no big deal. Life went on no matter what she might want. Annie was an expert at getting up and moving on. The trick was to stay busy and not brood. Maybe Nell needed her help with something.

 

 

Darla dropped her off in front of the saloon, but not before Annie looked up and down the main street for Stone's truck.

“Right here is fine,” Annie said. “I parked around the corner.”

“Okay. Nice talking with you, Annie. Let me know when you can ski again. I felt kinda guilty having so much fun.”

“You shouldn't. I like doing nothing sometimes. It's probably good for me.”

“Stay in touch.”

“I will. Thanks for the ride.”

She got out and waved to Darla as she sped away in her zippy little car.

Annie turned and looked through the windows of Nell's saloon. The sign said OPEN, but she didn't see her friend. Or anyone else.

She went through the swinging half doors to the winterized entry and took a final peek through the glass of the inside door, looking for a pink sweater or jacket. The booths were empty.

Annie heaved a sigh. She couldn't fault Marshall Stone for just being a man like all the others. She went in. “Nell? You here?”

“Coming.”

The older woman appeared, maneuvering a hand truck stacked with liquor cartons. “Hi, Annie. Want to help me restock?”

“Sure.”

The two of them filled in the empty spots in the display of bottles in front of the mirror and got set up for happy hour. There were no customers, which made the various tasks go quickly.

Nell stepped back and cast a critical eye on the display. “I think that'll do it,” she said with satisfaction. “Thanks for your help.”

“You're welcome.”

“Lucky for me you were in town,” Nell added.

“I was meeting a friend up at the ski lodge.”

“Such a clear day,” Nell enthused. “The view must have been amazing.”

“Yes.”

“So are you heading home now?”

“Might as well.”

“I'll walk you to your car. I could use a breath of fresh air.”

Annie slipped on her jacket again and waited for Nell to put on her coat and gloves. The older woman turned the O
PEN
sign to the side that said B
ACK IN
F
IVE.

They stopped to admire a few shop windows along the way, decked out with tinsel and gift-wrapped boxes to attract holiday shoppers. The Thanksgiving themes painted by the schoolchildren had been washed off, replaced by spray snow and glitter applied from the inside to frame the merchandise.

“Hmm. I'm trying to remember if I need something,” Nell said thoughtfully. “Still haven't put up those Christmas decorations.”