Good Together (23 page)

If he
really
found her attractive, surely he wouldn’t be so noble.

A week after spending the afternoon at his place, however, she saw the situation more sensibly. She
was
still legally married. And a rebound affair wasn’t really her style—or Nat’s, obviously. One good thing about that kiss though. It gave her something to think about that had nothing to do with Wes or the sold horses, or the fact that a realtor had been by to measure each room in the house for the sales listing.

With no chores to do in the morning and evening, no horses to exercise or groom during the day, Mattie filled her days by cleaning the house with a thoroughness that she’d never had the luxury to indulge before, including washing walls and polishing light fixtures.

And then it was time to think about Christmas. Since her marriage, she’d always celebrated here at Bishop Stables. But with no livestock tying them down, there was no reason they had to stay put. Mattie decided to give Callan a call.

“So I’m the last to know,” Callan said bluntly, even before hello.

“Honey, I’m sorry if it seems that way. It’s just that—getting divorced isn’t the sort of news that’s fun to spread. I hoped Sage would fill in you—and Dad.”

“She did,” Callan conceded. “And I’ve been meaning to call to see how you’re holding up. So. How are you holding up?”

“Good days and bad days. I was hoping we could talk more about this in person—how do you feel about the girls and me descending on you for Christmas?”

“Seriously? That would be awesome! I’ve always wanted to celebrate the holiday with my nieces. You, too, of course.”

Mattie wasn’t offended at being an afterthought. Her parents had spaced their children about four years apart, which worked out to a twelve-year gap between her and her baby sister. Callan was only six when Mattie married and left home, so it was no wonder they weren’t very close.

“That’s good to hear. Since Wes sold all our horses, we’re free to travel this year.”

“He sold
all
of them?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God. I couldn’t stand it if—” never the most tactful person, Callan did have the sense to end her sentence there. “I’m so sorry, Mattie.”

“Yes, it’s rough. And it’ll be even worse when Wes sells the land and the house.”

“Surely that won’t happen for a while?”

“I didn’t think so—but everything’s been happening at breakneck speed. I figure I should be prepared just in case. Right now Wes is working at a lumberyard in Billings. He likes the job and wants to buy a house in the area. To do that he needs to sell this place.” It was so weird to talk about her husband as someone totally apart from her.

But she was starting to get used to it.

“Well, of course you and the girls should come here for Christmas. And stay as long as you like.”

“Possibly the girls will be spending part of their holiday with their dad,” Mattie cautioned. Which was another argument in favor of celebrating at the Circle C this year. Marietta was much closer to Billings than Polson.

“Right,” Callan said. “I guess that’s only fair. Even though their dad’s a jerk.”

“I’m inclined to agree. But don’t say anything like that in front of the twins.”

* * *

P
ortia wanted to study, but she didn’t know where to start. Why hadn’t she buckled down sooner? She had exams every two days for the next ten days and was so far behind it wasn’t funny. Thanks to all the classes she’d skipped, her notes were patchy at best. And she hadn’t kept up with the readings. She’d scraped by on most of her assignments—mostly by copying bits from some of her and Kirsten’s friends who were more studious.

Usually she’d have been studying with that same group now, but their parents had sprung for tutors who were working with them in a private group. Portia didn’t dare ask her Mom for money to do the same.

Portia groaned and let her head sink onto the stack of books on her desk. She’d been in this stupid library cubicle for forty minutes and hadn’t accomplished a darn thing.

If only Wren were here. In high school, her twin sister had been her savior at times like this.

“Looks like you could use one of these.”

She lifted her head. A take-out coffee cup was now on her desk, next to the books. Beside her was a tall guy with dark hair. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. Gradually the other corner went up, too, in a sweetly crooked smile.

The pretend cowboy from Helena.

“I am in big trouble,” she confessed.

He slouched in the cubicle seat next to hers, tossed a binder on the desk. “I figured. We could hear your moaning from all the way over there.”

Portia glanced where he was indicating and saw Annie Larimer and several other kids sitting at a round table. They all had coffees, too. The cowboy from Helena must have bought a round for everyone.

She took a sip. Vanilla flavored latte. “Delish. Thank you. I’m not sure the caffeine is going to be enough though.” She pulled her psych text off the pile of reading material. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Must be hard when you haven’t been to half of the classes.”

“Why bother, when I can get lectures from you?” she asked sweetly.

“So I take it you’re not interested in seeing my study notes?” He started to get up.

“Hang on,” she said quickly. “Did you say
study notes?
” She looked at him suspiciously. “How much are you charging?” Maybe the coffee was just to warm her up, before he hit her for some big-time cash.

“I’m hurt. That you would suspect my motives, when I’m just trying to be a nice guy and get you out of a jam.”

She studied his expression. Was he serious about helping her? If so, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Is this about my Dad? Do you want his autograph or something?”

He seemed amused by that. “No strings, Portia. I even made a copy so you don’t have to return them.” He pulled a set of notes from his binder, neatly typed and stapled. “You learn all this, you’ll have no problem passing. That’s a guarantee.”

She grabbed the notes eagerly. “Thank you—” he still hadn’t told her his name, but before she could ask, he was gone, rejoining his friends at the other table. Ten minutes later, they were packing up their books and leaving.

Portia stayed where she was. The notes were fabulous. Several hours later, she still hadn’t taken a break when she heard an incoming text message on her phone. She could tell by the generic text tone that it wasn’t from anyone she had programmed into her contact list.

Had the guy from Helena somehow tracked down her number?

She couldn’t resist a look.

But the message was from her dad.

Finally.

“Hi Portia. How are you? Wondering if I can see you this Christmas?”

* * *

M
attie knew Sage would do tons of baking for the Carrigan’s Christmas, but she decided to bake shortbread cookies using her mother’s traditional recipe. She made six dozen snowflakes, throwing any that weren’t perfect into a plastic bag. She’d crush them up for use as a crumb piecrust at a later date.

Carefully she iced the snowflakes, then dusted them with silver sparkles.

Once they were dry, she bundled two dozen onto a plate, covered it with plastic and a pretty silver bow.

Then drove to the Double D.

She hadn’t seen Nat since the afternoon they’d kissed. He’d phoned a few times, “how are you doing” calls—probably making sure she wasn’t contemplating slitting her wrists or anything. But actually, she was doing better these days, getting to a place where she could contemplate the uncertainty of her future without too much panic or despair.

It was only five when she reached the gate to the Double D. She drove slowly over the cattle guard, then down the long approach that branched off about a quarter-mile later. To the left were the outbuildings, to the right, the house. Despite the early hour, the shortest day of the year had just passed and the sky was already dark. Red and green lights twinkled on the long roof-line, as well as on two thirty-foot pine trees that flanked the front yard.

It was a festive sight, and helped put a smile on her face as she knocked on the large pine door. Nat answered within a few seconds. He was wearing faded jeans and a flannel shirt over a white T-shirt and the welcome in his eyes was unmistakable. “Mattie. Come in.”

“I love all your Christmas lights. They look so festive.”

“That’s as far as I got, unfortunately.”

“More than I did this year. Decorating seemed like a waste of time since the girls and I are spending the holidays at the Circle C. And speaking of the holidays—” she handed him the plate of cookies.

“Thanks. These look too pretty to eat.”

“Don’t let a little sparkle stop you.” She’d been worried they would be awkward in each other’s company, but she felt completely at ease and Nat seemed the same. “It’s nice to see you, Nat. I hope you don’t mind me stopping in unannounced, but I’m leaving early tomorrow for Marietta.”

“I’m glad you did. Come in for a drink.”

She intended to refuse, but he already had the door closed behind her, and was one handedly helping her off with her coat.

“How does an eggnog sound?” he offered. “I was just going to have a glass myself.”

“Sure.” She followed him to the kitchen, and noted that he’d been totally right about not having done any decorating beyond the outdoor lights. There wasn’t so much as a poinsettia inside to indicate that this was the holidays.

A fire crackled in the hearth, however, and Christmas carols played quietly in the background. Nat poured their drinks, then carried them to the family room. Together they sat on either side of the sofa where they’d watched the movie together two weeks ago.

She noticed his gaze slide from her eyes, to her lips. Was he remembering their kiss?

Too bad there was no mistletoe over her head.

She took a sip of the eggnog which was fresh, creamy, and sweet, and felt granules of nutmeg stick to her upper lip. Before she could discreetly lick them off, Nat reached over and did the job with his index finger.

“So what are
your
plans for Christmas?”

“Not much. A bunch of us bachelors are going to the Smoke House for dinner on the twenty-fifth. They do a nice job—lots of decorations, and a traditional turkey meal with all the fixings.”

That sounded fine. But very different from the Christmases
she
was used to. House full of family, stockings hung for Santa, noise, confusion, laughter and games... did Nat ever hunger for a holiday like that? “And you don’t have to worry about washing a bunch of dishes at the end of the evening.”

“Another plus.” He leaned back, stretching out his legs. “I know it probably sounds lame to you. But I’m used to having a low-key Christmas. I was an only child growing up. And since Julia and I never had kids...”

“Just because you didn’t have children with Julia, doesn’t mean they can’t ever happen. You
could
marry again.” She wasn’t thinking of herself when she said that. Of course she wasn’t. Anyway, she’d had her children. And while getting pregnant was a possibility for her, it was definitely not a road she intended to travel again.

“At forty-nine? No.”

He sounded very decided. “What are you saying ‘no’ to—children? Or marriage?” Maybe it was a bold question. But after all they’d been through together the past few months, she didn’t feel it was inappropriate.

“Both.”

Again there seemed no room for doubt in his answer. Which she just didn’t get. No one was ever too old to get married again. Heavens, she’d heard of people in their eighties doing it. “Was being married to Julia so terrible that you’ve sworn off women?”

Nat smiled. “Who said I’ve sworn off women?”

Her mouth went dry. Did he mean to sound provocative? She sipped at her eggnog and regarded him cautiously, while he just laughed.

“Relax, Mattie, you’re safe with me.”

That was the trouble, she thought. Maybe she didn’t want to be.

* * *

F
ortunately the weather was sunny and temperate the next day and Mattie had an easy drive to Marietta. She arrived just before six, and was able to admire the Christmas lights her dad always strung on the big Douglas Fir at the top of the yard—a task that must be getting progressively more challenging with each passing growing season.

Mattie opened the crate so Tuff could jump out and explore the new territory. Bob, her father’s current border collie—he’d owned one since Mattie could remember—came to check out the newcomer. While the dogs did their requisite sniffing, Mattie clipped Tuff onto a leash to prevent her running off. She was too inexperienced to run unsupervised around an unfamiliar cattle ranch.

The front door opened and Callan came out on the front porch in her work shirt, jeans, and stocking feet. As usual, her long brown hair was in a ponytail and she wore not a dab of makeup. Not that her thick-lashed blue eyes needed any.

“Mattie! You’re here!” Just a little over five feet tall, slender, with delicate features that belied her toughness and grit, Callan was constantly being underestimated by people—a mistake that they soon came to regret.

What took a little longer to discover about Callan, however, was her big heart—which was easily won over by the new puppy.

“I forgot you said you’d be bringing your new dog. Oh, she’s so cute! Come here, Tuff. That’s a good girl.”

As Tuff happily claimed a hug and scratches from the friendly stranger, Mattie grabbed her suitcase, then the bag of Christmas gifts. Her dad appeared then, just under six feet tall and closing in on two-hundred pounds. He had a time-worn face, tired eyes, gray hair that needed a trim. He lumbered down the stairs and took the case and bag out of her arms.

“Mattie,” he said. Not “hello” or “it’s good to see you” or “how was your drive?” Just—“Mattie.”

“Hi Dad, how are you?”

“Getting old,” he grumbled. “Might as well get in here. We’re about to have dinner. Good thing we made extra.”

Mattie felt her heart lighten as she stepped inside. Coming home, the first few minutes, always hit her the same way. Beyond the aroma of Callan’s signature chili and the fresh scent of newly cut pine, was the underlying smell that was home. The foyer wasn’t grand, but it was large enough for an eight-foot Christmas tree—decked out in colored lights and an array of western-themed ornaments. Mattie stopped for a moment to admire it.