Yuletide Cowboys. Arlene James

and fudge. His mouth was watering already. They were going to be worried if they didn’t hear from him, but there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it, short of sending smoke signals. Hopefully the storm would die down by tomorrow and he’d be able to be on his way.

      Despite the deep longing to be home for Christmas, the thought of driving away from Sarah clouded his chest with emotion. It had been so many years since they’d seen each other. At one time she’d been the most important person in the world to him. Now that they’d run across each other’s paths again, or more accurately, had been craftily thrown together by his mischievous grandmother, it seemed a shame just to leave without renewing their acquaintance. Much had happened to him during the years they’d been apart, and he imagined she had many stories to tell, as well.

      Then again, maybe they would do little more than exchange numbers and stay in touch this time, and not let twelve years go by without seeing one another as they had last time. Could they even be friends now?

      “Where’s the baby?” he asked as he returned to the cabin, welcoming the warmth that enveloped his frosty limbs. He shivered and rubbed his hands over his biceps. He expected Sarah to come back with an “I told you so,” but she didn’t say a word.

      She was still seated on the raggedy armchair, her elbows propped on her knees. Her somber gaze was fastened to the contents inside the coffee mug she held clasped in her hands, and the slight hint of a frown hovered on her lips. She appeared as if she were searching for answers in the depths of the black liquid.

      She looked up, her eyes shaded by dark circles. “Asleep. I put her down in her crib for a nap.”

      “Wait—didn’t she just wake up from a nap?”

      She chuckled drily. “Babies have a fairly predictable rhythm. Sleep, eat, soil their diapers. Wash, rinse, repeat. Pretty much twenty-four hours a day at first, which is why parents of newborns usually look so ragged. It’s better now that she’s six months old—she is awake for longer periods and interacts with her surroundings. Still, I think all the excitement might have been too much for her.”

      Was that why Sarah appeared so world weary? Because she had to care for her baby twenty-four/seven?

      “Parents have to be available according to the baby’s cycle,” she continued, “even in the middle of the night.” Her gray eyes lightened to the color of heather. Her gaze was tender, and just the smallest hint of a smile played about her lips.

      Marcus took a breath. It was a relief to see her countenance brighten, even if it was only a shadow of the woman he’d once known.

      “You’ll experience all the sleep deprivation firsthand when you become a father.”

      His gut knotted. A father? He still held a grudge with his own mother a mile long and wasn’t absolutely convinced he would succeed as a parent where his own had failed. Still, he remembered a time when he’d wondered what it would be like to be a dad—to Sarah’s children. He might even have been able to overcome his apprehension, if their lives had taken a different turn.

      After she’d broken up with him, he’d put all notions of a wife and family aside. He’d told himself that it wasn’t because of Sarah, that his feelings must not have been any deeper than a teenage infatuation. Yet in all the years since, he hadn’t had one single long-term relationship. He was a social person and he dated a lot, but conscientiously backed off at the first sign that a woman might be getting serious about him. He didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. He just wasn’t in it for the whole race. He was perfectly content in his career working with the teenage boys at Redemption Ranch down in Serendipity, Texas—or at least he’d thought he had been.

      Until today.

      Now he couldn’t help but wonder—what might life have been like for him and Sarah, if things had turned out differently? If she hadn’t broken his heart?

      He’d always known Sarah would be a wonderful mom. She was sweet and kind right down to her bones. The fact that she put Jewel’s needs before her own without a second thought didn’t surprise him at all, nor did it astonish him when she spoke of getting up in the middle of the night to care for her child as if it was a privilege and not a chore. Despite the stress she was obviously feeling at celebrating the holiday without her spouse, her expression softened whenever she spoke of her children.

      She glanced up and met his gaze, a smile still lingering on her lips. “Were you able to get a hold of Sheryl?”

      He shook his head and sat on the couch facing her, leaning forward and clasping his hands on his lap. “Nope. No service. I couldn’t get a single bar.”

      “That happens a lot up here, especially when there’s a storm. I hope your grandma doesn’t worry about you.”

      “Me, too. Although in this case I suspect she might not be surprised that I’m lingering, with or without the weather acting up. But I hate putting an extra burden on her.”

      “An extra burden?” she repeated. She studied his face as if looking for an answer in his expression.

      He’d said too much already. He pressed his lips and raised his brow. There was no need to get into his issues when she had enough of her own to deal with.

      “You can tell me to mind my own business if you want, but I have the distinct impression you aren’t just talking about the delay caused by the snowstorm, are you?”

      Well, one thing hadn’t changed from the time they’d been dating. She could still read him like a book.

      “I wish I could say the storm was all that was worrying me, but that’s not entirely accurate.” He reached for the mug sitting on the end table beside him and took a sip of coffee Sarah had rewarmed for him, telling himself the burning in his throat was the result of the hot liquid and not the emotions roiling through him.

      “Is Sheryl ill?” Her voice raised in alarm.

      “No, nothing like that. I didn’t mean to worry you. Grandma’s in perfect health, thank the Lord. It’s my mother.”

      “Oh.” Sarah inhaled with an audible gasp. “What happened to her?”

      “Nothing happened to her,” he corrected, shaking his head. “It’s more what happened to me. She called me a couple of weeks ago, right out of the blue. After all these years, she just phoned me and expected me to speak with her.”

      “What did she want?”

      “Reconciliation, I think. To be part of my life and Matt’s again, as if she can just waltz back in and take her place in our family like she never left. It was like a punch in the gut. Still is. I guess she decided to reach out to me and not Matt because I’m the sucker of the bunch.”

      “No, you are not,” she exclaimed, rising to her feet and planting her hands on her hips. “Marcus Ender, I don’t ever want to hear you speak that way about yourself again. You are the nicest man I’ve ever met. If your mother chose to call you, it’s because she knows how kindhearted you are. That is not a bad trait to have. You should be proud of yourself.”

      “She doesn’t know anything about me,” he retorted bitterly, staring down at his clenched fists, squeezing them until it hurt. “She was long gone before she had the chance to find out what kind of man I’d become.”

      “No, you’re right. I spoke in haste.” Sarah dropped onto the couch next to him and tucked one leg underneath her so she was facing him. “She doesn’t deserve a son like you.”

      Despite the fact that speaking about his mother always renewed the feeling that his heart had been chewed up and spit out, he was vibrantly aware of Sarah’s nearness, of her arm around his shoulders and the gentleness and understanding in her eyes. The air between them snapped with electricity.

      She got him, right to the depths of his being. She was the only one who ever had. The realization was accompanied by an inexplicable feeling of loss.

      “I can see where you