My Christmas Cowboy. Shelley Galloway

said, I was just taking a little ride. I’m going to head on home and rest my arm for a while, anyhow.”

      “Can I get you anything?”

      “I’m good. I’ll lock up now and be on my way.”

      For a moment, Pete looked as if he was stuck in a mud hole with no way to turn. Then he nodded and followed Trent out.

      When Trent was locking the padlock, he glanced Pete’s way. “How many people have these keys, Pete?”

      “What?”

      Trent held up the keys and jiggled them a little.

      “I’m not rightly sure,” Pete said, finally pulling the straw from his teeth. “Probably your brothers and father do.”

      “I mean besides family … any idea?”

      “I couldn’t say exactly.”

      “Maybe we should check into that, hmm? You know, just to be on the safe side and all.”

      “Oh, sure. Sure.”

      As the flakes started falling again, Trent gazed at the sky and grimaced. “Don’t think we’re going to see a lick of sunshine anytime soon. Wouldn’t you say?”

      “What? Ah, no.”

      “Well, you keep warm now. I’ll see you later, Pete.”

      The hand visibly relaxed. “Sure, Trent. See ya.”

      As Trent opened his door, he called out. “Hey, Pete? Come to think of it … what brought you out this way?”

      “I’m sorry?”

      “I read the schedule this morning, and I could have sworn I saw that you boys were going to be inoculating cows near the north barn. What brought you out this way all alone?”

      After a deer in the headlight moment, Pete turned cocky. “I’m just trying to do my job, Trent. We all know you ain’t used to things around here. I’m just doing my best to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

      “That’s real kind of you.” Jackass.

      Pete winked as he climbed in the cab. “It was no problem. No problem at all.”

      Now, that’s where that man was mistaken, Trent decided. There was something very wrong going on.

      And before everyone came home again, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

      He might be a rodeo star, but he was also a Riddell.

      And no matter what everyone else thought, that name still meant something to him. It meant security and land and a heritage.

      It meant oil and horses and brothers.

      It meant his dad. It meant little Ginny, and the promises each one of them had made to their mother on her deathbed.

      In short, the name Riddell still meant a lot.

      Maybe, right at that moment, it meant more to him than ever before.

      Chapter Seven

      No matter how mixed-up things might be, no matter how screwed up her life was, there was a fact that trumped everything else in Jolene Arnold’s life.

      Amanda Rose, her beautiful little bundle of joy, was a Riddell.

      And that, well, that was something pretty darn special.

      Yep, even at three months of age, little Amanda was headed toward a better future than Jolene had ever dreamed about.

      Being a Riddell meant security and respect. Being a Riddell meant opportunity and choices—all things Jolene had had precious little of but used to yearn for like other kids yearned for chocolate ice cream.

      But until Jolene could figure out how to get Trent to do anything but schedule a paternity test, all of her big hopes and dreams for Amanda needed to be put on the back shelf for a while.

      Because she needed to get back to work.

      With a sigh, Jolene put on her “uniform,” such as it was. Bob, the owner of Bronco Bob’s Honky-Tonk, didn’t care too much about what she wore, as long as she could meander through the tables and serve drinks and smiles without a lot of fuss.

      Some women wore T-shirts and jeans. But Jolene had learned that a little cleavage worked wonders in the tip department—and those tips made the difference between a box of mac and cheese and baked chicken for dinner. Without even looking in the mirror, she slipped on her jean short-shorts, a black tank top—low enough to show a discreet bit of black lace—and her boots.

      This little getup was going to be cold as heck on the way to Bob’s, but she’d be warm enough once she was working hard. Bob’s furnace ran two ways: hot and hotter.

      She’d just swiped lipstick across her bottom lip when her best friend Cheryl knocked, right on time.

      “How are you doing, sugar?” she asked, her auburn curls looking tamed for once.

      “I’m fixin’ to go to work,” Jolene said with a grin. “Again.”

      “Looks to me like you’re working that body of yours.”

      “Yeah, well, a girl’s got to do what she can with what she’s given …”

      “But you’ve been given so much.” Cheryl shook her head in exasperation as she poked Jolene’s tummy. “Girl, when are you ever going to look like you had yourself a baby three months ago?”

      “Hopefully not anytime soon. I’ve got bills to pay.”

      “It’s just not fair that you look that good in a tank and shorts. I still looked like a beached whale eight months after Tyler was born. You, on the other hand, even looked sexy when you were six months along.”

      She might have looked sexy at six months, but definitely not after that. A lot of the men had taken to ignoring her, either feeling bad asking a pregnant girl for beer, or maybe just not eager to look at a woman who was so swollen with baby.

      Soon after, Bob had asked her to help Carter in the back of the bar, but that had been a courtesy job. Carter hadn’t liked the idea of her being on her feet all night long. The most he ever let her do was wash glasses and fill snack jars.

      She’d practically lived on mac and cheese then.

      “As long as the boys tip me, I’ll be fine.”

      “I’m sure you’ll be more than fine tonight.” Once more looking over her figure with a hint of jealousy, Cheryl sighed. “Now, don’t forget to save me some stories. You know how I like hearing about your antics.”

      “I won’t forget.”

      What Jolene didn’t say, though, was that she wouldn’t have minded Cheryl sharing some stories about her life, too. But of course that would just be embarrassing.

      Cheryl was happily married, and living Jolene’s dream. She had Dwayne at home, who thought Cheryl had done something pretty darn remarkable by growing a baby in her stomach. Dwayne wouldn’t have cared if Cheryl had gained a hundred pounds, he was so smitten.

      But things were a fair sight different for Jolene. She’d learned to rely on herself the best way she knew how. It was up to Jolene to bring home the bacon or she’d have nothing to cook. And, well, no one had ever made a secret of enjoying anything other than her sassy smile and curvy figure.

      As Cheryl took off her fleece coat, mittens and scarf, Jolene picked up her bag. “Amanda Rose is still taking her nap. I expect her up within the hour.” Glancing at her watch, she winced. “I’m late again. But … do you need anything?”

      Cheryl waved a hand. “I’m fine. Go on, now.”

      “I’ve got a bottle in the fridge, and some chips and wine if you want some.”

      “Don’t