horses to my wagon and fill it full of hay and take a ride back into town for the evening fun.”
Libby’s eyes widened with more than a hint of interest. “But I doubt you two would be interested in joining me,” he added.
“We could be interested,” Libby said. “We like horses and hayrides, don’t we, Mom? And maybe we could stop and pick up Megan.” She looked up at Jake. “She lives on Mistletoe Lane and she’s my best friend in the whole wide world.”
Jake rocked back on his heels. “It wouldn’t seem right to have a hayride without a best friend included.”
Libby’s eyes narrowed. “Just because I’d like to go ride in your wagon and go on a hayride doesn’t mean I like you, Cowboy Jake.”
“Libby!” Melody’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment to match the color of her coat.
Jake grinned. “That’s okay. I think maybe we can have some fun even if you don’t like me. Why don’t I plan on picking up the two of you about seven?”
“I can’t imagine why you would want to be so nice to a little girl who shows such bad behavior,” Melody replied. “But I have to admit the idea of a wagon ride into town to listen to people caroling sounds like fun. We’ll be ready, and maybe as we eat our girl-food lunch, we’ll talk about a little attitude adjustment.” She released a sigh that Jake found charming.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you two at seven, and I’m sure we’re going to have a fine time.”
“We’ll be ready,” Melody replied.
As he walked away from the two females, his heart beat faster than it had in a very long time.
Something about Melody stirred a spark of life inside him that he hadn’t even known still existed before sitting down across from her at the café the day before.
He couldn’t let his heart be vulnerable ever again, but surely there was no harm in just enjoying some time with Melody and her daughter.
If nothing else, maybe their company would help him get through this holiday, which for the past five years had meant nothing more to him than loss and heartache.
He thought about all the things he needed to take care of in order to get the old wagon out and appropriately bedecked for the night’s festivities and hurried toward his truck, a foreign excitement flooding his veins as he thought of the night to come.
A DOZEN TIMES throughout the afternoon, Jake thought about calling Melody to cancel the wagon ride. The first thought came when he viewed the wagon, which had been stored in a shed for the past five years.
It had been Stacy’s idea to buy the wagon with the bench seat and slatted sides specifically to chauffeur friends and neighbors into town for the Christmas festivities. He hadn’t realized that the sight of it again would bring a pang as he remembered his late wife.
He hitched up two of his strongest horses and pulled the wagon from the shed, and then spent the next two hours cleaning away the dust and cobwebs that clung to it.
He unhooked the horses to let them graze on some hay, as it was far too early to have them ready for the evening ride, then he grabbed a machete and headed for a large stand of evergreens that stood on his property.
Instantly he was surrounded by the sweet scent of pine. It took him two trips to get enough boughs to tie along the sides of the wagon.
Again, he thought of calling Melody and canceling the whole night when he pulled down from the shed a box of huge bright red bows that Stacy had made specifically to decorate the wagon.
He’d loved going to all this work for her, and now he was doing it for a woman he hardly knew and a little girl who had taken an instant dislike to him. Still, he tied the bows onto the wagon and didn’t make a call to cancel.
In the box with the bows, he found several brand-new packages of battery-operated red-and-white lights, and he knew that Stacy had bought them for the wagon just before her death.
Emotion rose in his throat while he strung the lights and tested each string, vaguely surprised that after all this time they worked.
It was nearly five o’clock by the time he had finished the transformation from an old dusty wagon to a vehicle Santa would be proud of. All he had left to do was lay down fresh hay, put bows on the horses’ ears and strap a band of jingle bells across their backs.
He ate a dinner of leftover chili, and thoughts of Stacy filled his head. She’d been a Christmas freak, ready to put up a tree by Thanksgiving, and decorating the house with spinning Santas and dancing reindeer and all the tinsel and baubles the furniture would hold. She’d been so filled with life, and when she died, she’d stolen the very life out of him.
He’d gone through all the stages of grief, denial and anger, isolation and depression, but he realized now that at some point over the past year he’d moved quietly into tenuous acceptance.
He would always mourn what he’d lost, but he was also tired of being angry and depressed, and something about Melody Martin had pulled him out of his shell of isolation.
After dinner he showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt, and as an afterthought sprayed on a bit of cologne.
He grabbed his suede coat, knowing the night would be cold, and headed back outside to finish up the final touches to the wagon and the horses.
* * *
NERVES JANGLED THROUGH his veins as the time to leave arrived. Crazy, he told himself. It was crazy to be nervous about a simple jaunt down Main Street. It was even crazier to believe that his nerves had to do with Melody sharing the bench seat with him.
At the last minute he grabbed a thick red blanket and tossed it on the bench next to him. He and Melody would get the brunt of the cold as they traveled. Libby would be warmed by the sweet, scented hay that filled the wagon.
The sound of the jingle bells filled the air with a joyous melody, and the lights twinkled along the sides of the wagon as night fell fast. He pulled up in front of Melody’s house at precisely seven o’clock.
It was as if she and her daughter had been standing at the door waiting for him. They burst out of the house, and as he saw Libby’s face light up with such excitement, such joy, he knew at that moment why he’d gone to all the trouble.
“Oh, Mom, it’s beautiful,” she exclaimed.
“It is,” Melody agreed. Her gaze met Jake’s, and he wanted to fall into the warmth that radiated from those beautiful blue eyes. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”
“What are the horses named?” Libby asked. She jumped up and down, looking cute in a red coat that matched her mother’s.
“Why, Dasher and Dancer, of course,” he replied. “I thought your mother might ride up here next to me, and as you can see, the wagon bed has bales of hay for seats and a nice soft bedding of hay to help keep you warm.”
Libby walked to the back of the wagon and looked
