A mud-slinging battle ensued until every inch of their clothing was covered in smelly muck.
Enough! Logan hollered, collapsing on the embankment, sides heaving with laughter.
Fletcher fell down next to him, chuckling. Man, I havent heard you laugh like that in a long time.
His friends words sobered Logan. He struggled to catch his breath.
A long silence stretched between the men, then Fletcher spoke. You think I should have given Sandi a second chancefor Dannys sake?
The two men were thirty years old, their birthdays two weeks apart in July. Theyd been friends since kindergarten and had stuck by each other through thick and thin. Through divorce and death.
Did Sandi want a second chance? Logan asked.
No.
Did you want a second chance with her?
No. Fletcher released a loud gust of air from his lungs. If Bethany had cheated on you, would you have divorced her?
I dont know. Logan wished Bethany had cheated, instead of dying. Were a real pair, arent we?
Dear Reader,
I love writing about cowboys and what a treat its been writing not one but two cowboy Christmas stories. In A Cowboy Christmas best friends Logan Taylor and Fletcher McFadden have each recently struggled through hard times and theyre hesitant to give love a try again. Logan must find the courage to move on after his wifes death and Fletcher struggles with dating and single fatherhood after his recent divorce.
Christmas isnt just a holiday for presents and parties. Its also a time for forgiveness and new beginnings. I hope you enjoy reading how Logan and Fletcher find their happy-ever-afters with the women they least expected to.
May the spirit of Christmas fill your heart and bring many blessings to you and your loved ones.
For more information on my books visit www.marinthomas.com. For up-to-date news on Harlequin American Romance authors and their books visit www.harauthors.blogspot.com.
Happy reading!
Marin
A Cowboy Christmas
A Christmas Baby
Marry Me, Cowboy
Marin Thomas
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marin Thomas grew up in Janesville, Wisconsin. She attended the University of Arizona in Tucson on a Division I basketball scholarship. In 1986 she graduated with a B.A. in radio-television and married her college sweetheart in a five-minute ceremony in Las Vegas. Marin was inducted in May 2005 into the Janesville Sports Hall of Fame for her basketball accomplishments. Even though she now calls Chicago home, shes a living testament to the old adage You can take the girl out of the small town, but you cant take the small town out of the girl. Marins heart still lies in small-town life, which she loves to write about in her books.
Contents
A CHRISTMAS BABY
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
MARRY ME, COWBOY
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
A Christmas BabyTo my son, Thomas
congratulations on your high school graduation!
Im proud of the wonderful young man youve become. Whatever path you choose in life I hope it brings you
happiness, joy and most of all love.
Go get em, Dude!
Chapter One
How the hell did your bull end up in my mud bog? Logan Taylor asked his best friend and neighbor, Fletcher McFadden. Fletcher had called Logan a half hour ago requesting help. Luckily Logan had his cell phone with him in the barn where hed been mucking out stalls.
Danny left the gate open again. Danny was Fletchers seven-year-old son. The kid was a handful.
Logan didnt comment on the boys carelessness. Danny was going through a rough patch after Fletcher and the boys mother divorced. Come to think about it, all three of themDanny, Fletcher and himselfhad seen better days. I brought a sling, Logan said. Hed also loaded a few hay bales into the truck bed. Hed spread the hay around the edge of the bog to help the bull gain its footing after the animal was freed. He motioned to Fletcher who stood knee-deep in muck. What do you plan to dopush the bull end over end until he rolls out of there?
Ha, ha. Hurry up, hoss. My feet are numb.
Logan tossed two ends of the sling through the air. A warm spell had ushered in the first week of December, but a chill hung in the early-morning air and white clouds puffed from Fletchers mouth as he struggled to work the harness beneath the ten inches of space between the bulls belly and the mud.
You ever think about fixing this bog? Fletcher grunted.
Granted, Logan should have filled the mud hole long ago. The problem was he didnt give a crap about much anymore. After Bethany died everything had lost its urgency. He was marking time. Waiting for something to change his life. Waiting forjust waiting.
Although Fletcher had his share of troubles recovering from a divorce and raising a son, hed tried to drag Logan back into the world of the living after Bethanys death. Logan appreciated his friends concern but preferred a solitary existence.
All set. Fletcher flung the ends of the harness over the bulls body and Logan secured them to the trailer hitch on his truck.
I cant lose this bull to a broken leg, Fletcher warned.
The McFaddens raised some of the best breeding bulls in Texas. How much is he worth? Logan asked.
So much he aint for sale.
Logan removed a pair of wire cutters from his pocket and opened the bales in the truck bed. After tossing the hay along the edge of the bog he hopped in his truck.
Nice and easy! Fletcher hollered.
Nice and easy was the only way to pull a two-thousand-pound hunk of beef from a muddy hole. Logan pressed the accelerator and the trucks tires dug into the earth. He checked his side mirror. Fletcher had his shoulder jammed against the bulls side, trying to coax it to move its legs.
The animal slowly toppled onto its side. With steady pressure on the gas pedal, Logan moved the truck a few feet forward. For a second the bull sank beneath the mud, only the whites of its eyes visible. Logan gave the truck a little more gas and the animals head emerged.
Keep going, Fletcher said. Hes almost to the edge.
The diesel truck engine groaned in protest, but finally the bull reached solid ground. Logan dragged its body a few more feet until the bull lay on the hay, then he cut the engine and rushed to untie the harness from the hitch before the animal became tangled.
The bulls sides heaved with exertion but after Logan slapped its hind quarters, the animal scrambled to its feet, slipping once but remaining upright. He trotted off, bellowing in disgust.
You coming out of there?
I cant feel my legs, Fletcher complained.
Logan grinned.
Give me your hand.
Sorry, buddy. No can do. Logan wasnt about to risk falling into the bog. Here. He threw one end of the harness and Fletcher snatched it mid-air, then Logan tied the other end to the trailer hitch.
Take it easy. These are my favorite boots.
Not for long, buddy. Logan hopped into the front seat and revved the engine. Hang on! As soon as Fletcher tightened his grip, Logan pressed the gashardand the truck exploded forward. Fletcher flew through the air, sans boots, and landed on his belly at the edge of the bog. When he tried to stand, Logan hit the gas again and dragged Fletcher through the hay.
God damn it, Logan! Fletcher released the ends of the harness and attempted to stand. His feet slid out from under him and he went down a second time.
You look like the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, Logan called out the truck window.
Think thats funny, eh?
Logan hopped out of the truck and went to help his friend stand. Fletcher grasped Logans wrist and yanked. Logan stumbled forward, bumping Fletcher, and the two men toppled over like felled trees into the muck.
From there things went downhill faster than a California mudslide.
You shithead. Fletcher flung a clump of mud at Logans chest.
You would have done the same thing if it had been me standing in that bog. Logan landed a mud ball against the side of Fletchers head.
A mud-slinging battle ensued until every inch of their clothing was covered in smelly muck. Enough! Logan hollered, collapsing on the embankment, sides heaving with laughter.
Fletcher fell down next to him, chuckling. Man, I havent heard you laugh like that in a hell of a long time.
His friends words sobered Logan. He struggled to catch his breath. Now that the fun was over, his body felt chilled.
A long silence stretched between the men, then Fletcher spoke.
You think I should have given Sandi a second chancefor Dannys sake?
The two men were thirty years old, their birthdays two weeks apart in July. Theyd been friends since kindergarten and had stuck by each other through thick and thin. Through divorce and death.
Did Sandi want a second chance? Logan asked.
No.
Did you want a second chance with her? Logan asked.
No. Fletcher released a loud gust of air from his lungs. If Bethany had cheated on you, would you have divorced her?
I dont know. Logan wished Bethany had cheated. Pretty damned difficult to work out marriage troubles with a dead spouse. Stop beating yourself up over the divorce. Danny needs time to adjust is all.
Youre probably right. Fletcher punched Logan in the arm. I met a woman named Daisy on MySpace. Fletcher had set up a MySpace page months ago and had tried to persuade Logan to join in the fun. Hed refused.
Daisy? What the hell kind of name is that?
Everyone uses fake names on MySpace, Fletcher said.
Whats your handle?
Leonard. Lenny for short. He grinned.
Yeah, well, good luck with your little flower.
They crawled to their feet. Thanks for helping with the bull, Fletcher said.
Anytime.
Hobbling sock-footed toward his truck, Fletcher said over his shoulder. Im throwing steaks on the grill tonight. Youre welcome for supper.
Think Ill pass.
If you change your mind, were eating at six. Fletcher honked and drove off.
Logan watched the blue horizon swallow his friends truck. West Texas was flat and barren and not a tree in sight. Most people considered this part of the Longhorn State the ugliest but the vast emptiness matched the way he felt on the inside.
Keeping to himself might be easier on the heart and mind, but it sure was damned lonely on the soul.
LOGANS FOOT ITCHED like the dickens, which meant only one thingbad luck headed his way.
After helping Fletcher rescue the bull from the mud bog a week ago Monday, there hadnt been much excitement in Logans day-to-day routine. The red Ford Focus hatchback winding its way along the ribbon of ranch road was about to change all that.
He slunk into the shadows inside the barn doors. Hed rather go another round with a mud-bogged bull than face the woman heading in his direction.
Three months had passed since hed gone on a bender and had himself a hog-killin time at Billies Roadhouse ten miles south of Junket. When the local hairdresser had strolled into the honky-tonk, Logans boot heel had been planted on the brass rail long enough to take root.
If Cassidy Ortiz hadnt left him a note the following morning, he would have speculated the rest of his years about who had worn the sultry scent that had clung to his pillow. Until now hed been successful in avoiding the ladynot an easy task in a town the size of Junket, Texas. Population two-hundred-sixty-nine.
The hatchback stopped next to his truck parked in front of the house.
Turn around and leave. He slunk deeper into the shadows.
The car door opened.
No. No.
A cowboy boot appeared, then a jean-clad leg. No need for a jacket since the morning chill had worn off. A sweater would dolike the tight one that hugged her breasts when she reached across the front seat forA dish?
Object in her hands forgotten, he zeroed in on her curves. How did any man, even a drunk one, forget a body like Cassidys? A tightening below his belt buckle suggested that certain parts of his anatomy had no trouble recalling her.
A wind gust blew her long midnight-colored hair against her face, blocking his view of her high cheekbones and dark, slanted eyes. She bumped the car door shut with her hip and strolled along the sidewalk. The swish-sway of her fanny reminded him that the stylist had nothing in common with Bethany, whod been a small-boned, frail blonde.
Cassidy knocked on the front door.
Nobodys home.
Another round of knocking. Then she crossed to the front window by the porch swing and peered inside.
Persistent woman.
Right then Twister loped around the corner of the house. Logan didnt know who was more surprisedthe deaf German shepherd when he spotted the visitor or Cassidy when the dog snarled. Twister was all bark and no bite, so Logan didnt intervene.
She tossed a piece of whatever was on the plate to the dog. Twister caught the treat midair, then wagged his tail as if it were a checkered flag at a stock car race. Cassidy inched toward the porch steps, pausing every few feet to fling another morsel at Twister.