A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (The Boones of Texas 1)

She was thinking, overthinking, letting her mind take over and fill in all the silent spaces with doubt. She’d always been real good at letting her head overrule her heart.

“...but she’s eating fine,” Carl finished.

“Good.” Hunter nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

Jo was scowling at him. And she looked mighty fine doing it. One look from her made it all too easy to forget any past hurts and move on to their next adventure. He knew the two of them would be better than ever, if she’d give them the chance.

His phone started vibrating. “Eli?” she asked.

He heard the catch in her voice as he checked his phone and glanced her way. “Yep.”

She smiled. “It’s awful cold, Hunter. Too cold to leave him waiting outside for long.”

He shook his head. After the knives his son had been shooting at her all night, he was fine with letting his son suffer a few minutes of cold. “He’s fine.”

She scowled again. “Hunter—”

“I’m going.” He patted Carl on the shoulder. “Enjoy your hot chocolate.” He walked right up to Jo. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” And, before he could stop himself, he dropped a kiss on her cheek. When he stepped back, her eyes were huge. She might be surprised, but she wasn’t angry. If anything, she looked pleased. Not that she was happy about it.

He winked at her, ignoring the way she frowned in irritation, the way she stood straight as if prepping for battle. He touched his hat at Jo, said good-night to Carl and slipped from the house.

It was cold and dark, a steady pelting of icy rain clicking against the sidewalk. But, even with the winter wind cutting through his thick Carhartt jacket, he wasn’t too bothered. If anything, he was excited. It had been a long time since anticipation warmed him.

“Took you long enough,” Eli mumbled when Hunter arrived at the high school. But he didn’t let his son’s tone or long-suffering sighs get to him. Instead, he turned up the radio, blasting Christmas carols the entire ride home.

Once he’d closed the door behind him, he turned to find Eli waiting. “Dad,” his son began.

He put his hands on his hips. Eli had no idea how close he’d come to being publically put in his place. “Yep?”

“I owe you an apology.”

That was the last thing he expected to hear. “You do?”

“Yes, sir.” Eli looked at him. “I was disrespectful.”

“To me?” he asked, trying not to feel impatient.

Eli’s mouth pressed shut.

Hunter sighed. “Why do you think you owe me an apology? You weren’t bound and determined to make me uncomfortable tonight.”

“I wasn’t trying to make anyone uncomfortable tonight.”

Hunter shook his head and hung up his hat and coat. “Now you should apologize.”

“I just did,” Eli shot back.

“No—” Hunter folded his arms across his chest. “Not for your behavior tonight. But for the lie you just told.”

Hunter watched his son. Eli had a temper on him, but he’d never let it slip. It killed Hunter to see his son’s hands fist, see the raw anger twisting his boy’s features. That was bad. But watching his son turn, storm out of the room and slam his bedroom door shut behind him made Hunter feel as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

Chapter Seven

Josie was tired, bone-tired. But watching Dara and Lola at work, being part of their comfortable chatter, made the daylong baking less of a chore. When Dara and her father had shown up early this morning looking for breakfast, Josie had offered to let Dara stay and bake while he did some holiday shopping. Lola had knocked on the door at seven, bringing in a basket of fresh biscuits and some fresh jam, and set to work alongside them. They’d been mixing, baking and decorating gingerbread, sharing stories and laughing the whole time. At the rate they were going, they just might have a complimentary cookie for everyone in Stonewall Crossing.

Dara piped an icing smile onto the gingerbread girl she was finishing, then placed a small gummy spice drop right in the middle of the bow she’d made. Josie watched the girl, noting the satisfaction on her young face. “Sure you’ve never done this before?” she asked.

Dara shook her head. “My mom doesn’t like to bake. If she can’t