A Cowboy for Christmas by Lori Wilde Read Free Book Online Page A

Kyle.
    â€œDid you ever meet your father?” she asked.
    Rafferty shook his head.
    â€œI never met him either.” She moved to pour up the coffee in matching blue earthenware mugs. “Gordon died before Jake and I met. Everyone says he was a die-hard cutting horse cowboy. Real alpha male.”
    â€œSo my mother tells me. I guess that’s why she fell for him.”
    â€œAnd the wedding ring on his finger didn’t stop her?” She slid a mug in front of Rafferty, stepped back to lean against the kitchen counter, putting distance between them. “Sugar? Cream?”
    He placed a hand over his cup, indicating black coffee was fine with him. Lissette stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her mug.
    â€œMy mother is what she is,” he said evenly, no judgment in his voice.
    â€œWhy didn’t she demand Gordon provide for you? She could have forced him to pay child support.”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    Perplexed by his calmness, Lissette pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Didn’t she ever think about what she was doing to you?”
    â€œGood coffee,” Rafferty mused, and took a long sip.
    To hell with the coffee. She settled her hands on her hips, unexpected fury digging into her. “I don’t understand why your mother would do that to you.”
    He shifted, said nothing for so long that she thought that he wasn’t going to answer. It had been rude of her to ask. It was none of her business. She stared out the window, saw a sparrow perch on the rooster weathervane Jake had installed, and wished she could take the question back, because she understood all at once that her anger had nothing to do with Rafferty or his mother.
    Finally, he said, “I love my mother, but she’s bipolar. She’s much better now, with the right medication, but when I was a kid . . .” He let his words trail off. His eyes stayed impassive, unreadable, giving no clue as to how he felt.
    â€œI . . .” She swallowed, traced an index finger over the countertop. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through because I know how wearing other people’s pity can be. But you’ve done well for yourself in spite of your childhood.”
    â€œI’ve done well because of it,” he corrected. “If my mother had been strong, I wouldn’t have had to be. She made me who I am.”
    How could he not be filled with rage and pain? How did a person get to such lofty acceptance? She bit down on her thumbnail. Why couldn’t peace come in a powder that you could stir in your coffee like sugar and drink it up?
    â€œSo how and when did you first make contact with Jake?”
    His unflinching gaze met hers. That head-on look told her that this man did not shy away from trouble, but neither did he go searching for it as Jake had. “Jake came to California looking for me after Gordon died. It was the summer he turned twenty.”
    â€œThat would have made you sixteen.”
    â€œYep. To me, Jake was superhero. Larger than life. Over the top. He did everything in a big way.”
    â€œThat’s Jake,” she said. Stopped. Corrected. “Was.”
    She saw it, the first glimpse of raw emotion on his face. Loss. Regret. But then it disappeared like smoke up a chimney. “What was that like? Meeting your half brother for the first time?”
    â€œI was excited,” he said. “It felt good to have someone looking out after me for a change.”
    â€œHow long did he visit you?”
    â€œThe entire summer.”
    â€œYour mother didn’t mind that he stayed so long?”
    â€œHe paid room and board. She liked that. Jake kept trying to talk my mother into moving. The neighborhood was so rough that gunfire woke us up more nights than not. Finally, before Jake left, he rented an affordable apartment in a safer part of town and moved us all in. He paid up the rent for two months,