A Cowboy Christmas. Ann Major

lights circled the trunk of the cherry tree. Lighted blue balls the size of cantaloupes hung from the lower branches—another bargain from last year. Cassidy’s hair-cutting shed sported more icicle lights and—whoa, where had that come from? A life-size inflatable snowman with a plastic scarf fluttering around its neck stood next to the back door.

      Pure happiness filled Cassidy and she laughed with joy. The snowman was gaudy and big and she loved it. Christmas was her favorite holiday, but this year she struggled with the blues because of her pregnancy. She wanted the baby—that had never been the issue. But the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy had dampened her usual excitement for the holiday. She owed her neighbors a big hug for putting the Merry back into her Christmas.

      An hour later her mother was settled in bed with a stack of magazines, which she’d read until she fell asleep. Cassidy slipped on a sweater and sat on the porch steps, watching the twinkling blue balls twirl in the breeze. The doctor appointment hadn’t gone well. Her mother had enough wits left about her to realize Dr. Klinger had been testing her memory. When he’d asked Sonja’s opinion of the new president, she said, “What do you think of the new president?”

      When asked the day of the week…

      “I’m retired. Every day is Saturday.”

      In the end the verdict had been the same—medication wasn’t slowing the progression of the disease. Her mother’s memory continued to deteriorate.

      Eyes welling with tears, Cassidy rested her hand against her stomach. She’d hoped for better news. Not only did she not have her mother to lean on during this pregnancy but her mother would never know her grandchild in the traditional sense. Dr. Klinger had warned Cassidy that Sonja might feel threatened by the baby and become more cantankerous.

      When they’d left the office, the doctor had given Cassidy information on convalescent homes specializing in the care of Alzheimer’s patients. Her mother’s retirement fund would cover three years at the most, then she’d have to transfer to a facility subsidized by Medicare and forfeit her social security check.

      Logan said he’d help.

      With the baby, not her mother.

      An image of Logan filled her mind. The man was a looker. If they had a son, he’d grow up to be tall and strong like Logan. A daughter would be the perfect height—somewhere between Cassidy’s five-feet five and Logan’s six-foot whatever. Whether girl or boy they’d have brown eyes and dark hair.

      The other night Cassidy’s heart had ached at the despair in Logan’s eyes when he’d insisted he wanted nothing to do with raising their child. Instead of her pregnancy making Logan happy, she suspected her condition simply brought up sad memories for him.

      The cowboy had made it clear he wouldn’t be pushed into doing anything he didn’t want to do—well, neither would she. She’d meant what she’d said—she didn’t need Logan. Her mother had managed without a man. Raised Cassidy without the help of a husband or grandparents. Cassidy would do the same for her child.

      The sound of crunching gravel caught her attention. Betty and Alice had arrived home. She walked to the front yard where she found the women admiring the trailer. “I can’t thank you enough for doing such an incredible job decorating.”

      “We didn’t string the lights.” Betty peeked at the side yard. “Alice, come see this.”

      The ladies ooh’d and ahh’d.

      Bewildered, Cassidy trailed after the women. “You didn’t buy the snowman?”

      They shook their heads.

      Then who? She supposed any of her neighbors might have fixed up the yard since they all knew where she stored the decorations. “Maybe the Millers felt bad that they beat me to the punch.”

      The older women smiled.

      “What?” Cassidy asked.

      Alice giggled. “I think we know who did this.”

      “Who?”

      “That nice young man you invited over for supper a few nights ago.” Betty winked, then nodded to Cassidy’s stomach and whispered, “The baby’s father.”

      “Logan?” No. Logan wouldn’t do this. Not after she’d insisted she didn’t want his help.

      If it was Logan…Why? Had he changed his mind about being involved in her and the baby’s life? Or was this favor done out of guilt because he intended to keep his distance?

      “How did the doctor visit go?” Betty asked.

      “He said I should consider putting Mom in a home sooner rather than later.”

      “For heaven’s sake. Sonja’s not that bad. She hasn’t started the trailer on fire.” Betty quirked a pencil-thin eyebrow. “Has she?”

      “No, but the doctor warned that Mom might become jealous and hurt the baby.”

      “We’ll help, dear,” Alice said. “We’ll watch the baby while you cut hair.”

      “Or,” Betty added. “We’ll keep Sonja occupied when you need time alone with the baby.”

      Tears stung Cassidy’s eyes. The women’s generosity humbled her. “Thank you. I’d like to keep Mom with me as long as possible.”

      “When is your due date?” Alice asked.

      “Early June. I’m scheduled for an ultrasound on Friday. I’ll know for sure after that.”

      “We’ll sit with Sonja while you go to the appointment,” Betty said.

      “I’d planned to bring Mom with me.”

      “No, no, dear. That’s a special time for you and the baby’s father.”

      Her and Logan? Cassidy hadn’t thought to tell Logan about the ultrasound.

      Betty cleared her throat. “He is going with you, isn’t he?”

      “Of course.” She crossed her fingers inside the pocket of her sweater. She didn’t have the energy to explain her relationship with Logan—whatever it was—to her neighbors. “I’m getting chilled. I think I’ll go inside.”

      The women murmured good-night and walked off.

      Tomorrow Cassidy would drive out to Logan’s ranch and thank him for the snowman and for hanging her Christmas lights. Depending on her reception she might even mention the ultrasound.

      LOGAN HAD JUST STEPPED OUT of the shower when Twister’s bark alerted him that he had company. Probably Fletcher. Needing advice on how to handle the situation with Cassidy, Logan had left a message on his friend’s cell to stop by when he had a minute.

      In truth, he was surprised Fletcher hadn’t phoned as soon as he’d heard the gossip that Logan had fathered Cassidy’s baby. Then again his buddy might have been too busy with his new online love interest to pay attention to the latest hearsay.

      After toweling dry he slipped on jeans and socks, then shoved his feet into his boots. He hurried into the bedroom and grabbed a clean shirt from the closet. Thrusting his arms through the sleeves he hustled downstairs. “’Bout time you showed your ugly—” he opened the door “—Cassidy.”

      She stood on the front porch, a tentative smile lighting her face. Then her gaze shifted to his chest—his naked chest. He heard a tiny gasp of air escape her mouth. Logan swallowed a groan. No sense denying they were attracted to each other—the two feet of space separating them sizzled. All Cassidy had to do was breathe and Logan’s hormones went haywire.

      “I came at a bad time.” The statement left her mouth in a husky murmur, the sound familiar to the whiskey-laced voice he heard in his dreams. His attention shifted from her mouth to the baby-blue sweater hugging her breasts—breasts he’d already seen, touched and kissed—but damned if he could remember.

      “Sorry.”