The Cowboy's Christmas Baby
A Family for ChristmasNo one expected Erin McCauley to arrive in Saddlebank, Montana, with a baby…and no wedding ring. Especially not Dean Moore, who cared for Erin but knew the by-the-book girl would never go for a hard-living cowboy like him. While helping renovate Erin's new home, Dean realizes he's still in love with her—and with her beautiful daughter. As far as he's concerned, past mistakes don't have to define them—but guilt is holding Erin back from seeing that Dean is offering exactly what she's longing for. Because if she lets him, he'll give her the home—and the family—she's always wanted.
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A Family For Christmas
No one expected Erin McCauley to arrive in Saddlebank, Montana, with a babyâ¦and no wedding ring. Especially not Dean Moore, who cared for Erin but knew the by-the-book girl would never go for a hard-living cowboy like him. While helping renovate Erinâs new home, Dean realizes heâs still in love with herâand with her beautiful daughter. As far as heâs concerned, past mistakes donât have to define themâbut guilt is holding Erin back from seeing that Dean is offering exactly what sheâs longing for. Because if she lets him, heâll give her the homeâand the familyâsheâs always wanted.
âIt was a long trip.â
Dean heard a note of sorrow in Erinâs voice, and wondered precisely what had caused it.
âYou drove all the way up from San Francisco?â he asked.
She nodded, shooting him a quick glance.
âSo what were you doing there?â As if he didnât know exactly what had kept her occupied all these years. Because somehow, in spite of all the girls between then and now, Erin had always hung, like a painting, in the back of his mind. Elusive and mysterious.
âWorking as a graphic designer.â
He wanted to ask her more and fill in the gaps between the last time he saw her and now. Wanted to know what had put those shadows under the eyes of the sweet, innocent girl who had turned him down with a sad smile. A girl whoâd told him he had to turn his life around.
Well, he had. Just too late for her, he guessed.
CAROLYNE AARSEN and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey. Visit her website at carolyneaarsen.com.
In repentance and rest is your salvation.
In quietness and trust is your strength.
âIsaiah 30:15
To my sisters, Yolanda and Laverne.
Thanks for keeping me grounded. And to my brother-in-law Jan, who bid on the opportunity to be a part of this book.
Contents
It looked comfortably the same.
Erin McCauley parked her car in front of the Grill and Chill on the main street of the town of Saddlebank and turned off her car, her ears ringing in the sudden silence.
Though she had arranged to meet her sisters, Lauren and Jodie, at the ranch, sheâd thought of stopping at the café to grab a soda because she was parched.
Her thirst was only part of her reason for her detour.
The other was that each mile she clocked northward from California to Montana increased the shame of the last ten months digging its unwelcome claws deeper with every roll of her carâs tires. Now that she was so close she had to fight the urge to turn her car around and drive back south.
So she used the excuse of a pit stop to delay the inevitable surprise and questions.
I should have told them, she thought, her mind ticking back to a time when she was a more innocent girl walking down these very streets. I should have told Lauren and Jodie everything that was happening in my life.
They would know soon enough, she reflected, stretching her hands out, making a face at her chipped nail polish. She eased her stiff and sore body out of the car and looked around the town with a sense of nostalgia.
The same brick buildings lined the street but the trees in front of them had grown taller and many of the flags flapping from their standards looked new. A bench and a couple of tables stood on a sidewalk in front of the Grill and Chill, but otherwise it was still the town of her early childhood.
A cool wind sifted down the street, tossing some stray papers and tugging a few leaves off the trees. It was mid-September. The kids were back in school and soon the leaves would be changing color.
Iâm almost home.
The words settled into a soul in need of the solidity of this place. A soul disillusioned by life and by people. A soul that had grown tougher the past year.
The door of the Grill and Chill opened and a tall, lean figure stepped out, dropped a cowboy hat on his head and painstakingly worked his way down the three steps leading to the sidewalk. He moved with a pronounced limp, though he didnât look that old. His plaid shirt was sprinkled with sawdust. A leather belt and a large rodeo competition buckle cinched frayed, faded blue jeans that ended on scuffed cowboy boots with worn-down heels.
He was the real deal, Erin thought, mentally comparing him to the fake cowboys sheâd seen advertised on billboards on her drive up here from San Francisco.
When he lifted his head sea-green eyes met hers and her world spun backward.
