Crazy Woman Christmas Read online

  She bit her knuckle and moaned. That was twelve hours ago. Why, God? Why lead my daughter home only to tear her from my fingertips?

  The door opened a crack and Petr Kolceski, her husband of thirty-five years, stuck his head in the room. His tall frame and blond, curly hair sent music trilling through her heart even as the harsh Texas sun turned his skin to leather. “Honey?”

  Angela threw an arm across her hot, swollen eyes. No matter how she tried, no sound made it past the lump in her throat.

  Pete’s booted heels knocked against the wood floor and the mattress sagged beneath his weight. His coarse palm scratched the top of her hand before he cupped her fingers and brought them to his lips. His sharp exhale whistled through the still room. “I talked to the highway patrol.”

  Angela opened her eyes and a frisson of fear slid down her spine at her husband’s expression. If she’d hog-tied her daughter, she’d never have ran away. Never gone to Seattle, and none of this would be happening.

  “The storm’s stalled. All the main roads are closed—whoa there, honey.” He grabbed her upper arms when she lurched out of the bed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  She pried at his fingers to loosen his vice-like grip. “To Wyoming. Let me go.”

  He gave her a small shake and enfolded her face with his hands. “Everything’s closed. The airports, train…even the bus stations. We won’t help her by getting stranded ourselves. I told them to contact us here.”

  “Our daughter’s missing!” Fragmented images of her little girl ripped through her mind. She dropped her head to his chest as deep sobs tore from her soul. “I can’t do nothing, Pete.”

  Her husband wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders and waited until she met his sea-green gaze. “That’s the last thing I expect you to do, Angela Kolceski. And you know it.”

  * * *

  Bianca cradled the trembling dog close to her chest and examined the chiseled profile beneath the cowboy hat. He’d only glanced at her once since loading Mimi, her backpack, and small tote in the pickup.

  She eyed the Border collie on the seat next to her. The pup’s fur in front of its left ear had been shaved to the skin. A horseshoe-shaped gash formed a half moon around his temple.

  Bianca pulled her gaze from the wounded animal and searched their surroundings in the cascade of white. At least she wasn’t the one behind the wheel this time. “How long before we get to Buffalo?”

  His head swiveled. His platinum gaze swept her and Mimi. She waited but he didn’t answer. His attention was on the blinding storm. Bianca swallowed the frustration spiking through her marrow and forced a smile. “Thanks for the ride. We couldn’t stay in that snowbank much longer. Mimi was frozen.”

  Truth be known, her toes were numb. If they’d been stuck in the car overnight, she’d be a chef without fingers. That may make her job search efforts a bit tough. Who would hire a fingerless cook in Dallas?

  The harsh laugh shook her chest. The tiny dog in her arms cocked her head. Bianca rubbed her ears. Knowing her mother, she’d already found a job for her…with or without working digits. She’d probably hook her up with someone in the church or one of her friends and wouldn’t stop with the guilt trip until she agreed. Never mind that she was twenty-four years old.

  “Why didn’t you use the heater?”

  The cowboy’s coarse question raised the hackles on her neck, and for a second, Bianca heard her father. She swallowed the acid words biting at her lips and licked the dry corners instead. “I did, but the battery died.”

  The wide brim of the black hat tilted forward in a slight nod. She waited but he didn’t say anything more. “What’s your name anyway?”

  The muscles along his jawbone pulsed and the high cheekbones turned a faint pink.

  Well, that was rude, missy. Bianca bit the inside of her cheek when her mother’s soft Texas twang chided. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and forced a smile to her face. “I’m Bianca Kolceski. How much further to Buffalo?”

  “It’s Devon.” His silver eyes shot at her from beneath the wide brim. His hand left the wheel to comb the injured pup’s fur. “Devon Dawson. Nice to meet you. It’s about thirty miles that way.”

  Fear slid down Bianca’s spine when his thumb jerked to the window behind them. She clutched Mimi to her chest and eased as far away from the man as she could get.

  “Don’t panic, lady. But nobody’s going to town for a while, including us. Not in this storm.” He downshifted and the powerful truck shuddered. “I’m taking you to my ranch”

  When she stiffened, he snorted. “Don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m around.” A wooden arch emerged through the white curtain and Devon slowed. “I’ll take you to Buffalo and we’ll arrange for you to get your car when the weather clears.”

  Bianca reached for her phone and realized she’d left it behind. Not that it mattered. Her battery died long ago. All hope vanished. She sank into the seat and whimpered. What have I gotten myself into?

  Chapter Three

  “Go.” Devon snapped his fingers and pointed to the drifted-in porch. Chester jumped off the bench seat.

  He scooped Bianca’s bag over one shoulder, cradled Pistol in his arms, and plowed through snow toward the front door. He stopped after a couple of steps and squinted back at her. “Well, come on.”

  Bianca shoved away from the bumper and shuffled past in her hip huggers and sequined leather jacket. The little pooch in her arms yipped, and he buried a moan. What was he supposed to do with a city slicker? Babysit? Devon blinked at the flakes blowing in his face. He didn’t know if he could, even if it was Christmas.

  Why didn’t he keep driving? But if he’d done that, he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror. The wooden planks of the old porch quaked as he stomped the snow from his boots. The young pup began to shiver and he snuggled him close to his chest.

  Devon drew the flap of his coat over Pistol’s wounded head to shelter him from the howling wind. Man, this weather was nasty. “Can you grab the door for me? It’s unlocked.”

  Was that a nod? He couldn’t see past the end of his nose in this storm. Suddenly, warm air blasted his cheekbones as Miss Metropolitan shuffled into the house.

  He staggered in after her, slamming the door with his heel and, in so doing, banished the blustery blizzard to the outside world. A quick flip, and his hat found its usual perch on the banister before he dropped the backpack at the blonde’s feet.

  “Go ahead and grab one of the spare bedrooms upstairs.” He carried Pistol to the dog bed in front of the fireplace without a backwards glance. “Chester, come.”

  * * *

  The old collie shifted his weight against Bianca’s leg and whined. She juggled Mimi for a brief moment and reached down to scratch his ear. “You better go. You’re going to get us in trouble.”

  His tail swayed side to side, brushing against the steps. A gentle nudge sent Chester toward the living room. “Don’t worry…I’ll be okay.”

  “Poor fella.” Bianca tracked the old dog’s uneven gait with her gaze. Tears welled when his master greeted him with a thorough but gentle welcome.

  Bianca bit her knuckle. She had to admit…the guy reminded her of her dad. She scooped up her pack and ran up the stairs. After sticking her head in a few of the rooms, she decided on the one at the end of the hall next to the bathroom. Simple…small, but good enough for her.

  The wind howled outside the window, driving pine branches against the glass. The clatter echoed through the room and she shivered. This day—night—kept getting better. Still, the accommodations weren’t bad. This place resembled her parent’s home in Dallas.

  “What do you think?” Bianca lifted Mimi and gave her nose a rub. “I hope it’s fine with King Kong down there.”

  The second her words left her mouth, shame washed over her. What would her mother think? Would she say something like that? She doubted it. A chunk of their last true daughter-mom conversation—not the fight—rang
through her head. There’s more to a person than what you see, Bee. The surface can be tough, hard…like a callus. But it’s only a shield and formed by life, my dear.

  Bianca flinched when the tree whacked the side of the house once again. Mimi barked and she tossed her belongings on the bed. “Shhh, sweetie. It won’t last forever. I hope.”

  No doubt about it, the man in the living room was tough. He was hard. But rude? Not so much. And for a brief instant, she’d seen something akin to pain flash in those silver gray eyes. “What’s beneath the alligator skin, Devon Dawson?”

  One last attempt to release Mimi resulted in a flurry of quivers. Bianca rolled her eyes. “Really, girl? He’s not a monster. Give him a chance. You may just fall in love with those gorgeous dimples…if we can get him to smile once in a while.”

  She rubbed the dog with her nose, but seconds later, Bianca trembled as hard as Mimi. The cowboy stood in the hallway, and if his expression was any indication, he’d heard every word she’d said.

  * * *

  Devon couldn’t move. The woman was standing in his mother’s room…holding her yappy dog. And did she just compare him to a reptile? His parents would love that one. His lips quirked.

  He nudged the door with his boot. Scraping at a smudge on the floor with his toe, Devon ignored the midget mutt’s obnoxious yips. “Finding everything you need?”

  Now that sounded downright solicitous. His folks would be proud. A loud crack jerked his attention from the beautiful vagabond. The clattering glass reminded him that a storm raged across the ranch, and frustration dug into his gut. “Go ahead and settle in. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Devon spun on his heel. He didn’t wait for an answer but beat it from the room as fast as his scuffed soles could carry him. Oh, he’d deal with Bianca Kolceski sooner or later but right now, it’d have to be later.

  * * *

  The fireplace popped from the living room when Bianca descended the staircase. She stopped on the bottom step when she noticed Devon shrugging on his coat. “What are you doing? You can’t go out there.”

  His eyebrow arched and heat flew to her cheeks. Even with leather hanging from his teeth, he had to be the sexiest man alive. Bianca cleared her throat and waited while he finished sliding on his gloves.

  “I have animals—horses, cattle—I need to tend to.” Instead of his cowboy hat from the banister, he grabbed a stocking cap. The red knit shielded his face except for his eyes and mouth. “There’s food in the kitchen.”

  Spurs jangled as he walked across the room. The aged Border collie lumbered to his feet, drawing Devon to a halt. “No, Chester. Stay.”

  “When will you be back?” She hoped that didn’t sound as desperate as she thought it did, but when he turned and raked her from head to toe, Bianca sank onto the stairs and bit her lip. Yeah, that was pathetic.

  He picked up an abused bucket of tools from next to the wall and sucked a tattered brown cowboy hat down over the knit covering. “Stay inside.”

  He paused at the door when she didn’t answer. “Bianca?”

  She grimaced. “I heard you and call me Bee. Bianca’s reserved for bill collectors and my mother—when I’m on her bad list.”

  His smothered but capped head tilted to the side and she barely kept her giggle within her chest. Her mom and dad would never believe this. If only she’d preserved her phone—she could’ve finagled a pic without him noticing.

  “Bee…all right. I can tell by your accent that you’re not from around here. The south? Texas?”

  His voice rang clear although all that was visible through the mask were his lips and those gorgeous silver spheres. She lost the battle she was waging against the absurdity of the situation and grinned. “Yes, but I lived in Seattle for a couple of years. Does that count?”

  Instead of returning her humor, Devon Dawson’s glittering gaze narrowed. “No. I need to buckle up the ranch for the night. Stay here.”

  “I will.” Bianca suddenly realized he needed more than mere words to convince him she could handle anything this crazy place may dish out while he was gone. But how could she tell him? Was there a way? “Do you want me to come with you? I know a thing or two about a ranch. Maybe I can help?”

  His eyes widened a brief moment. “Just stay inside and take care of Pistol.” He spun with a grunt. “He’s a stubborn little cuss.”

  * * *

  Devon flung open the door and stepped into the swirl of white. His spurs jangled as he plowed through the storm. He had to admit. This land could appear unfriendly to a stranger. Of course, life in Seattle wasn’t all sunshine and blossoms. At least not all year and not for a chick from Texas.

  A gust of wind blasted his side, and snow obliterated any ability to see past the end of his nose. He searched for the railing. His shin connected with wood and he mumbled beneath his breath. This day kept getting better. After a minute of searching blind, his gloved hand brushed one of the posts. “Finally.”

  He tripped down the steps and onto the drive. The setting sun and any pretense of warmth hid behind thick clouds and pelting snow. The dim glimmer of light in the sky alerted Devon that the day was almost over. He needed to buckle down the ranch before it disappeared altogether.

  As he made his way across the lawn, the horses’ whinnies rose above the storm, and the impact of hooves against the side of the barn resembled gunshots. He stumbled as another blast slammed his legs, nearly taking him to the ground. A few more steps and a railing materialized through the wavering blur. He latched onto the fence.

  A snort startled him and Devon jerked. He blinked at the nose of one of his Hereford cows as it poked under the barrier. He chuckled. His mom would call him a ninny. He’d hate to think of his dad’s terminology. Pulling himself upright by the top rail, he brushed the snow from his face as his dad’s voice rang in his ears. “The weather only waits for fools, boy.”

  Devon smiled and the ice-cold wind lashed at his teeth. His father wasn’t the most genteel man when he was alive, and a bit of father’s grit would be handy right now. He waded through the snow to his truck and grabbed the fuel can out of the back. Even with the additional weight of the gas, the wind tossed it around like a toothpick. The barn’s generator provided electricity for this part of the ranch, and it’d been running since he left for town. He needed to top it off…may as well be now.

  The side of the barn gave him a small respite from the gale and he breathed a sigh of relief. After the quick, if rather chilly, fill up, Devon capped the tank and made his way around to the door. His toes were numb, his fingers…and the animals needed to be fed before he could call it a night.

  Shadows danced along the rough floor as he threw feed into each stall. His draft horses bucked at the intrusion, and Devon babbled under his breath as he proceeded down the barn. The last thing he wanted was a cantankerous horse blowing through his door. “Hush, boys. I know, it may be a long haul tonight. You need Billy in here, Jeb?”

  A couple more tosses and he stopped at the end gate. “What do you think, Billy Bob? You and Minnie want to shack up with the horses tonight?”

  The young female goat paused in her crunching and stared at him. But when Devon realized she was alone, his heart dropped into his boots. “Minnie, where’s Billy?”

  He searched the building. The cattle, team, the four-wheeler, the gear—everything was down from the winter pasture. Everything except his dad’s favorite goat.

  A high-pitched squeal echoed in the rafters as hooves thumped the outer wall of the stable. Devon gripped the handlebars of his ATV and contemplated the storm outside the window. He needed to find the little fella. Now. Or his draft horses may not be a team come morning. And Billy could be dead.

  Chapter Four

  “No, Pistol.” Bianca slid to her knees in front of the fireplace as the pup clawed at the raw skin on his head. “You’ll tear your stitches.”

  She ran a hand along his soft coat and kissed his dry nose. The older collie scooted closer on his
belly. When his chin landed on her thigh, Bianca burst out laughing. “You want a scratch too, huh? Well, okay, I guess I can spare one. Now don’t get jealous, Mimi. I’ll pet you, too.”

  While the dogs closed their eyes in “absolute bliss,” she perused the ranch house. Only one word came to mind as the firelight danced off the oak floor…old-fashioned. The drapes appeared as if they were from another century, long, heavy, and thick. And the furniture…what was that? Corduroy? She’d never seen upholstery like it before. And wasn’t it Christmas? Where were the decorations?

  “Where’s the television, buddy?” Chester blinked at her with those soft brown eyes. “Well? How does he find out what’s going on in the world, or does he?”

  His sudden bark caused her to smirk. “Don’t fuss at me. I’m just making an observation about the man. He’s a scrooge too. Am I going to have to decorate for Christmas while I’m here? There’s not one festive thing in this house.”

  The dog sank his teeth in the sleeve of her shirt and tugged. Bianca gave his furry head a rough shake and yawned. “Okay, okay, I won’t mess with your house. You and your unsociable dude can celebrate any ol’ way you want.”

  One more rub, and Bianca crawled to the couch. The texture of the material brought her up short. It wasn’t coarse or rough or frayed. In fact, for an older piece, the large sofa was in remarkably good condition.

  Bianca stretched out with her arm under her head. A moan pushed past her lips. “Oh, man, this is way too comfortable.”

  The tension of the drive seeped from her bones and evaporated as she relaxed into the sofa. A periodic snap from the hearth was the only sound in the room and in a few minutes, she drifted into oblivion.

  A series of thumps roused Bianca from her nap and her eyelids fluttered open. She struggled to decipher the shadows in the darkened room. The coals lingering in the fireplace gave a meager bit of light and Bianca made her way toward the lamp. She breathed a sigh of relief when the bulb responded to the switch. For a moment, all she’d thought was “no power.”