Cowboy Christmas Jubilee Read online

  Also by Dylann Crush

  HOLIDAY, TEXAS

  All-American Cowboy

  Cowboy Christmas Jubilee

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2018 by Dylann Crush

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Blake Morrow

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  For Mr. Crush—my own happily-ever-after hero. This one’s for you. YAYFY

  Chapter One

  Jinx Jacobs glanced at the custom-rigged cuckoo clock behind the bar of the cheesy North Hollywood biker club she’d been working at for the past six months. At any moment, an engine would rev, and a Hulk Hogan action figure decked out in pleather would roll out on a miniature Harley, marking the half hour. Her boss thought the clock was classy. Jinx thought it looked like an overgrown child’s failed mixed-media art project.

  Yep, there it went. She had fifteen minutes before her boss/very-ex-boyfriend would strut in. Hooking up with Wade hadn’t seemed like such a big deal when she’d taken the job. But over the past six months, his true colors had shone through. She couldn’t afford to be around when he discovered she’d taken the back pay he owed her from the till.

  “Whatcha doin’, sweets?” Geri, the gussied-up, full-time waitress who should have turned in her red leather mini about thirty years ago, leaned her hip against the bar.

  “I’m done. Can’t take it anymore.” Jinx carefully counted the cash, not wanting to take a dime more than her fair share. She’d never taken from the register before, but Wade had strung her along for too long.

  Geri pulled a compact out of her short apron and lined her lips in her signature fuchsia. “Wade know you’re heading out?”

  Jinx grabbed her arm, causing the bright line to swerve across Geri’s cheek. “No. Please don’t tell him, okay?”

  “He’s not that stupid, hon.” Geri wet her finger with her tongue and rubbed at the pink mark. “Thousand bucks or more gone from the till? Even Wade could figure that out. Don’t take a genius to put two and two together. And we all know Wade ain’t no freaking genius!”

  “Think you can buy me some time?” Although Jinx hesitated to call her a friend, Geri had been her only ally in this hellhole.

  “I’ll see what I can do. He’s gonna be pissed though. They got that Halloween costume contest coming up, and now he’ll be short a bartender.”

  Jinx wrapped a rubber band around the cash and stuffed the wad of bills into her bag. “It’s his own fault. You know he’s dealing drugs out of here. I can’t be involved in that—and you shouldn’t be either.”

  Geri shrugged. “The pay’s good. Wade’s always been fair with me.”

  “You can’t keep buying those gift cards for him. He’s using them to pay off the guys running drugs. He thinks he’s covering his trail, but someday, someone’s going to catch on to him. I don’t want you to get caught up in that.”

  “Where else am I gonna go?” The older woman crossed her arms under her chest, dragging her low-cut tank even lower.

  For half a heartbeat, Jinx thought about suggesting they take off together. But there wasn’t enough room for both of them on her bike, and there was no way she was leaving that behind. The 1953 Indian Chief Roadmaster was the only thing she had left from her dad.

  Jinx slung an arm around Geri’s neck, wrapping her in a half hug. “Just take care, okay? You’ve got my new number if you need to call me.”

  Geri nodded, wiping a tear away from her electric-blue lined eyes. “Be careful, Jinx.”

  “Promise me you won’t give him my number.”

  “Sure, kid.”

  Jinx slipped a few bills from the stack of cash and handed them over to Geri. “For the cats.”

  That small gesture opened up the waterworks, and Geri dissolved into a puddle of tears. The woman may have looked like she got stuck in the 1960s, but she had a heart as sweet as honey and ran an unlicensed cat rescue out of her two-bedroom mobile home in Kagel Canyon.

  “Get outta here before he gets back.” Geri nudged her with her shoulder. “Take care of yourself. Hendrix too.”

  “I will.” Jinx bent down to scoop up her tiny traveling companion. Taking a Chihuahua on a cross-country motorcycle trip probably wouldn’t end up being one of her wisest decisions, but she couldn’t leave the little guy here. He’d been with her for three years now, by far the longest relationship she’d ever been able to—or wanted to—maintain.

  She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed through the door to the gravel parking lot. The door slammed closed behind her, causing the giant Z in the BEER & GEERZ sign to come loose and swing down like a sickle, missing the top of her head by a mere few inches.

  The sunshine-yellow paint job on her bike sparkled in the bright California sun. She wrapped Hendrix in a baby blanket and tucked him into the pricey dog carrier she’d attached to the rear of he
r bike. After securing the rest of her stuff in the saddlebag, she straddled the seat. Her fingers shook as she buckled the helmet under her chin and slid her shades in place.

  She hadn’t driven the vintage motorcycle more than a couple hundred miles in the past two years. With any luck, it would hold together until she made it to New Orleans, where her friend Jamie had promised her a high-paying bartending job. She could save up some cash and eventually see about turning her artwork into some sort of money-making opportunity.

  But even if her bike crapped out on her along the way, she needed to head south. Wade had his hands in too many questionable activities along the West Coast. Wouldn’t be safe to go home to Seattle. The way she figured, the only place he wouldn’t be able to come after her would be Louisiana. Wade had told her once he had a warrant out for his arrest in his home state. She hoped that hadn’t been another one of his lies.

  With a last look at the desperate, run-down bar she’d considered a temporary home for the past several months, she revved the motor, let the tires spin on the dusty gravel, and accelerated onto the two-lane highway.

  * * *

  “But, Daddy, I want to be a unicorn.”

  Cash Walker ground his molars together and took a deep breath in through his nose. “Kenzie, honey, it’s getting late. We’ve still got a few stops to make before we head home.”

  The seven-year-old drama queen clamped her fists to her hips and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t wanna be a cowgirl for Halloween again. All I do is dress up in my regular clothes.”

  “That’s not true. Nana made you that suede vest with the fringe you wanted. She spent a lot of time on that costume. You don’t want to hurt her feelings, do you?” Trying to reason with his daughter once she made up her mind about something was more difficult than trying to talk sense into some of the repeat offenders he dealt with on a regular basis as the deputy sheriff of Conroe County. He made a move to grab her hand. She was faster, wrapping her arms around the sparkly unicorn costume hanging on the rack in front of her.

  “She didn’t make it new, Daddy. It’s the same one Ryder wore two years ago. It’s a boy costume. I want to be a unicorn, not a cowgirl this year.” Her lower lip stuck out in a pout.

  Glancing toward the filtered sunlight streaming through the suburban mall’s skylight, he counted to ten in his head. He should have known better than to bring Kenzie with him today. But when his mom found out he had to go into Austin, she’d asked him to stop by the mall and pick up a baby gift she’d put on hold for his sister’s shower.

  “Come on, Tadpole. Can’t you pick something else? Aunt Darby has lots of other choices.”

  “They’re all boy costumes, Daddy. A stormtrooper. A policeman. A fireman. I want a girl costume this year.” She stroked the unicorn’s long, rainbow-colored mane. “Why can’t I dress up like a mommy like Aunt Charlie?”

  Over his dead body would his seven-year-old stick a pillow up her shirt and dress up like a pint-size pregnant woman for Halloween. Kenzie’s fascination with her aunt’s bulging belly bordered on obsessive. Sure, he was just as excited as the rest of the family that Charlie and Beck had tied the knot and were expecting the newest member of the family. But it also rubbed like a burr in his boot, seeing his baby sister get her happily ever after while he struggled to find his own way after Kenzie’s mom had passed. Being a single dad had never been on his bucket list, although he wouldn’t trade his little tadpole for anything.

  As his mother never tired of telling him, maybe it was time for him to try again. Kenzie deserved the best. He knew one thing for sure—if he ever decided to go looking for a potential partner, he wouldn’t let himself get swept away like he had with his ex. He’d learned his lesson the hard way: love made a person blind. Any future relationship he went into would be with his eyes wide open.

  He put both hands on his daughter’s waist and hoisted her up over his head to sit on his shoulders. “We’ll talk about it when we get home. Now where’s that shop Nana wanted us to stop at?”

  Kenzie let out an exaggerated sigh. He bounced her up and down a few times with no reaction. Even at seven, she could hold a grudge longer than most grown men. Finally, he pulled out all the stops and tickled the underside of her knee. She kicked her hot-pink cowgirl boots against his chest and erupted into a fit of giggles.

  “You better hang on up there. Don’t want to fall off,” he warned.

  She grabbed a handful of his hair in each fist. “Walk faster, Daddy!”

  If he ended up with a receding hairline, he’d know who to blame. He stopped at the mall directory and figured out the store he needed was two floors up and on the opposite side of the mall. By the time they picked up the custom onesies his mom had ordered, his shoulders ached. He carried Kenzie out to the truck and waited as patiently as his type A personality would allow while she buckled herself into her booster. She’d always been bullheaded, but since she had started second grade this fall, she’d been especially independent.

  After a few more stops, he turned the truck southwest and started the hour-plus drive back to Holiday, Texas. This had been a relatively quick trip, and Kenzie had only talked him into a few things not on the list—a big bag of cotton candy that would probably be stuck all over the leather seats, a sparkly collar for her grumpy old barn cat, and a new stuffed dog. The kid could already outfit an entire stuffed zoo, but as the most important female in his life, she pretty much had him wrapped around her pudgy little finger.

  He might curse her mother with every four-letter word he’d ever heard, but the woman had given him one good thing—Kenzie.

  “Turn it up, Daddy? Please?” Her favorite song had come on the radio—Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.” Not that kiddie crap his older brother had to play when his wife and kids were in the truck. Hell no. He’d raised Kenzie on classic rock, country, and the country-western star who’d inspired his name—the Man in Black.

  “Should we stop by the big house when we get back or go home and eat dinner first?” he asked.

  She clapped her hands together in time to the music. “Stop at Nana and Papa’s. I asked Nana if she’d make cookies today.”

  “All right. Nana and Papa’s it is.”

  The truck ate up the miles of asphalt until they turned off the pavement and onto the private road that ran through the Walker family ranch. When he had first moved out on his own, he had found it stifling to have a house on the edge of the family compound. But now, with Kenzie, it was comforting to know he had family close by. They passed Waylon and Darby’s place, then turned down the long driveway to the big house.

  He brought the truck to a stop behind his sister’s dually.

  “Yay! Aunt Charlie’s here! I can pretend to be an almost-mommy just like her!” Kenzie scrambled out of the back seat, her sticky, cotton candy–covered hands leaving traces of syrupy pink goop all over the seat.

  Great, just great. That fifty-dollar sparkly unicorn costume suddenly seemed like a reasonably priced alternative to Kenzie wanting to dress up like his pregnant sister.

  Chapter Two

  Jinx climbed off her bike and set the kickstand. Thank goodness for modern rest areas, although she’d just about kill for a shower. The grit and dust from driving halfway across Texas had somehow managed to cover every inch of exposed skin. Even with her old motorcycle jacket and a pair of windproof pants protecting her from the elements, the dirt had worked its way into all kinds of places she couldn’t clean with a quick wipe down over a sink.

  “How ya doin’, Hendrix?” She nuzzled him against her cheek. He yipped and rewarded her with a sloppy kiss, then took the bit of kibble she held out to him. Stopping every couple of hours for him to water the bushes and stretch his legs hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought. Better than leaving the little guy behind.

  “Spare some change?” A woman sat with her back resting against the building. She appeared to be in
even worse shape than Jinx. A mottled purple bruise covered one side of her face, and she looked like she hadn’t bathed in weeks.

  “Where you headed?”

  “Does it matter?” The woman didn’t make eye contact, just focused on a spot on the ground in front of her.

  Jinx crouched down, putting them on the same level. “What’s your name?”

  The woman let out a harsh laugh that sounded more like a moan. “Why? Are you gonna try to save me?”

  Jinx recognized the familiar signs. The last time she’d seen her mom, her face had reflected the same defeated hopelessness along with some similar bruises. She reached into her pocket for a couple of bucks. This woman needed help. If someone had provided a leg up for her mom, would she have found the courage to lift herself out of her own desperate circumstances?

  “The only one who can save you is yourself, you know.” She handed the money to the woman, who slid it into her pocket.

  In a voice so quiet Jinx had to lean closer to hear, the woman spoke. “Mona. My name is Mona.”

  Jinx reached out to squeeze her hand. As she did, Hendrix hopped down and scrambled onto the woman’s lap. Before she could grab him, he put his front paws on Mona’s chest and gave her a half dozen Chihuahua kisses.

  “Hendrix!” Jinx grasped the dog. “I’m so sorry. He’s usually much better behaved.”

  Mona smiled. “What a sweetie.”

  “Sometimes.” Jinx grinned back. “He can also be a giant pain in the ass. Good luck, Mona.”

  A tear slid down Mona’s cheek. “Thanks.”

  Jinx nodded, making sure she caught Mona’s eye before she headed into the bathroom. If only she had more. A couple of dollars wouldn’t make a difference for someone in that kind of situation, but at least she could get something warm to drink out of the vending machine, maybe ease her suffering a tiny bit.

  Jinx cleaned up as best as she could using a sink that stopped running every time she took her hand off the faucet. Digging through her bag for a fresh shirt, her hand hit something hard and heavy at the bottom. What the hell? She felt around the item, the size of a brick. How could she have missed that when she packed?