Her Candy Cane Cowboy Bonus Scene
Ginger
Our luggage is haphazardly stacked in the living room between the sofa and the tall Christmas tree. We haven’t been home from Montana but a few hours.
Every year since we married, we’ve traveled back to see Mary and Christopher for the holidays and the trip always passes too quickly. There never seems to be enough time for all the conversations and activities. I love both of them so much.
Mary was instrumental in changing my life because I met my handsome cowboy husband thanks to her hiring me.
The front door opens and Dallas walks into our beautiful home. He’s my shelter. My foundation. The support and the love I know will never fail me.
He looks down, then checks behind him and calls out, “Waylon Robert! Come inside.”
“Why?”
With the patience he always has with our four-nearly-five-year-old son, Dallas says, “Because it’s too cold out right now.”
Our little ball of energy bounds into the house, narrowly missing plowing into Dallas and beelines to me, hugging his arms around my legs. He looks up at me with his angelic face and smiles. “Mommy’s warm like my blanket.”
He spins toward the tree and begins to bounce up and down. “I want more presents!”
“You received plenty of gifts,” I tell him, smoothing his hair down where it’s sticking up from the way he slept. He’d insisted he didn’t need a nap and then slept the entire drive home from the airport.
“Come here. Mommy has something to tell you,” I say and Dallas and I exchange a glance. We’re not sure how he’ll take the news that he’s going to have a sibling.
I sit on the sofa and pull him into my lap.
His eyes shine. “Is it a puppy?”
“No, but it’s a good surprise too,” Dallas says.
Waylon claps his hands together. “What is it?”
“You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”
“Oh. Can I have some juice?” He slides off my lap to implore Dallas.
Dallas looks at me. “He took that well.”
I laugh.
“Wait on the juice. Grandpa is on his way, and I know he’s going to take you out to eat,” Dallas says.
“Yay!” Waylon spins around.
“My dad or yours?”
“Yours. He’s coming to pick up Waylon and then they’re going with my folks to that new chicken restaurant.”
I’m not surprised. Not a day goes by without one or both of our families wanting to spend time with their grandson. It’s thanks to Dallas that our son isn’t spoiled rotten.
Dallas ruffles Waylon’s hair. “Son, before Grandpa gets here, unpack your suitcase and toss the dirty clothes in the hamper. Then put away the toys Mary and Christopher bought you.”
“Why?”
“Because you can’t leave a mess.”
Waylon contemplates his suitcase. “Mommy will do it.”
“No, you’ll do it. You’re a big boy.”
His shoulders slump. “Daddy, I work hard.”
“And?” Dallas chuckles, scooping him up to hug him.
“I don’t get to ride my horse all day like you do.”
“I ride because I’m working.”
“But you’re smiling.”
“That’s because I’m happy. I like working.”
“Then unpack my suitcase. You’ll be happy.”
“Nice try, little guy.” Dallas sets him down. “Go unpack.”
I turn away to hide a laugh as Waylon makes a big production of dragging his suitcase to his room.
Dallas wraps his arms around me. “He’s quick witted like his mom.”
I snuggle against him. “And cute like his dad.”
A loud knock on the door interrupts us.
I go open it to welcome my dad in. It was hard for him to sell the family home in Coyote Bend because it holds the memories of mom and my childhood, but I’m thankful he’s living nearby.
He hugs me, greets Dallas, then looks around before calling out, “Waylon! Pops is here.”
A loud thump comes from the bedroom and then our son races down the hallway. My dad catches him mid leap and hugs him. “There’s my favorite boy.”
In a stage whisper, Waylon says, “I have to unpack.”
“That was before Pops got here. I’ll spring you from duty.” My dad strides to the foyer closet to get a coat. He lowers Waylon to his feet and puts the coat on him. “Get your shoes.”
Waylon looks at me and I nod. In a flash, he has his shoes on and is out the door with barely a wave.
I sigh, aware of how quickly the years are flying by. “He’s growing up too fast.”
Dallas tips my chin up and looks into my eyes. “I know,” he says softly. “And I know you wish time was a tangible thing you could hold onto and slow down. I feel that too. Especially when it comes to you.”
He kisses my forehead. “I feel like just yesterday we met at the post office.”
I laugh. “With your merry little dildo.”
He laughs too.
“I was so embarrassed and mad at you,” I say, remembering the day I snatched it from his box.
“I don’t blame you.” He taps the center of his belt buckle. “I’d be mad too if I had a substitute when the real one is right here and so much better.”
I loop my arms around his neck. “With the holidays, everything’s been so hectic and I’m forgetful about what’s better and what’s not.”
“Are you saying you need me to refresh your memory?”
“Not if you don’t have time. I know you wanted to check on the horses when we got back.”
He gives me a look as he lifts me into his arms and strides toward out bedroom. “I always have time for you.”
And that’s true. The other half of my heart never makes me feel like I get shorted on his time. Because of him, not only did I learn to love Christmas again, but I learned that there really is a love that doesn’t leave. I learned that I could be my imperfect self, and he’ll still think I’m perfect.
The day that I mistakenly grabbed that dildo was the best day of my life. It was the beginning of our love story. And if I had to describe Dallas, I’d say he’s a great husband. A wonderful father. He’s my candy cane cowboy in my Christmas past, present and future.
