Holidays on the Ranch (Burnt Boot, Texas #1)(41)

He swung the ax one final time, and an old bull lumbered toward the edge of the creek for a drink. He nodded at the bull and jogged back to the truck, tossed the ax into the back, and got inside in a hurry.

“Maybe we should have Christmas this week. Then we’d be guaranteed to get our white Christmas.” He removed his gloves and stuck his hands on the heater vent. “This thing isn’t throwing hardly any heat.”

“You need to buy a new thermostat next time you’re in town, and I’ll put it on for you.”

“Is there anything you don’t do?”

“Define ‘do.’” She put the truck in reverse, and the tires spun twice before she got turned around. “While you’re thinking of a definition, I don’t knit or crochet or do any of that needlework stuff, and although I don’t mind gardening, I’ve got a black thumb when it comes to raisin’ flowers. Roses wilt and die when I pass by them, and if you’re depending on me to keep those flower beds all pretty next spring, you can fire me right now.”

“I reckon I can do without flowers for a decent mechanic,” he said.

The truck hit a hole and she yelped. “Holy shit! Looks like this thing needs shocks, too.”

She’d barely gotten the words out when a hissing noise and a long, greasy slide send them straight into a grove of mesquite trees. “Dammit! We’ve got a flat.”

“It don’t require knitting or none of that crochet shit, so you can fix it,” Finn teased.

She shook her head from side to side. “I don’t think so, cowboy! Not even if you fire me. I can fix a tire but not when there’s a big, strong handsome man who can do it.”

He pulled on his gloves. “Flattery is the only thing that would make me get out in this cold wind.”

***

Callie expected the rear passenger side of the truck to rise as he jacked it up to change the tire. At that point she’d planned to get out and help him take the blown tire off and put the new one on. The front end probably had another dent or two, but there wasn’t any steam coming out, so they probably hadn’t busted the radiator.

He tapped on her window, and she rolled it down an inch.

“Spare is flat. Shut it down. We’ll have to walk to the house and come fix it later, or if you’d rather, I’ll bring my truck back and get you. Either way, it’s going to get cold.”

“How far?” she asked.

“Half a mile at most. Maybe a little less. We should have saved our PT until after we’d done chores. You up for a second run?” he asked.

“I’m not going to just sit here and wait.” She looked down at the shoes on her feet and wished to hell she hadn’t been so stubborn about a pair of boots. Now she had to walk half a mile and maybe get frostbite on her toes by the time she got home.

He opened the door. “How about a nice little Thursday afternoon stroll, darlin’?”

She looped her arm in his and said in a sarcastic Southern twang, “Are you asking me on a date, Finn O’Donnell?”

“Can’t fraternize with the partner, but it’s a lovely day for a walk.” He grinned.

“Walk, nothing, soldier. I’m going to jog.”

As if on cue, the heavens opened up and snow began falling so hard that visibility was limited to five feet. By the time they’d gone twenty feet, Callie couldn’t even see the truck when she looked over her shoulder.

“I could give you a piggyback ride,” he said.

“If we can live through a sandstorm, I reckon we’ll make it through a blizzard,” she told him.

“Just follow the ruts.”

“They’re filling up fast,” she said.

When they reached the backyard fence, her feet were numb and her fingers tingled. The glow of the lights coming from the kitchen window was the most beautiful sight she’d seen in years. Finn tried the gate, but it was frozen shut, so he climbed over and then reached up to help her when she made it to the top of the rails.

“Just a few more feet, Callie. Martin is going to get his snowman this weekend for sure the way this stuff is coming down.”

“My feet are freezing.”

“You are getting boots as soon as I can get to the store and buy them, and so is Martin. He needs them in weather like this, and you can argue with me until hell freezes over, but you both will be getting boots,” Finn declared.

She didn’t argue. Swallowing her pride was easy when she couldn’t even feel her toes. She didn’t wait for him to be a gentleman and open the door for her but rushed in ahead of him, sat down on the chair under the phone, and kicked off her shoes. Then she peeled off her wet socks and started rubbing her feet. A towel landed in her lap as Finn stomped the snow from his boots and jerked them off. She rubbed feeling back into her bright red feet before she looked up to see where the towel came from. Then the aroma of ginger mixed with something that smelled wonderfully like tacos or Mexican food hit her nose.

A short woman with short jet-black hair and brown eyes set in a bed of deep wrinkles poked her head around the door. “Y’all best go on and change clothes while I put this dinner on the table. Old truck finally give up the ghost, did it? It’s been a good one, but the damned old bastard could have gotten you home before it quit. I hope y’all meant it when you said I could come for a visit. I put my things in the bedroom across the hall from the bunk room.”