Picking Up Cowboys by Lori Soard

she’d always handed him a neatly wrapped and beribboned package on Christmas morning.  Well, actually, it was usually Christmas evening by the time he woke up from his drunken daze.  This year, there was no one to buy for, she didn’t even have a cat.  Weren’t pathetic, lonely women supposed to at least have a cat?
    A display of heavy, insulated leather gloves caught her eye.  Before she could slap it down, her imagination conjured the image of Gage rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. Gloveless.  Her hand reached out to touch the gloves before her mind registered the motion.
    The soft rasp of cowhide slid over her fingertips and the heavy scent of tanned leather rose to tease her nostrils.  She slid her hand into one of the gloves and immediately felt the warm comfort of the insulation.  She closed her eyes.  She shouldn’t. He wouldn’t appreciate it, just like Pop.  He was a jerk and a swindler. 
    He was also the only thing standing between her and a solitary Christmas.  Surely one little gift wouldn’t compromise her position.  It was the season of good will after all.  What was one little gift?  Feeling a light skip in her pulse, Catherine grabbed the larger size and headed for the register before she could change her mind. What was it about giving that made you feel almost giddy, like you’d just eaten candy canes, rich fudge and a box of fine chocolates all in one sitting?  Catherine could hardly wait to see the expression on Gage’s face when he found a present under the tree on Christmas morning.
     
    * * *
     
    The off key notes of another Christmas carol drifted up the stairs.  Gage tugged the pillow over his head and tried to muffle the sound.  For the last two days, all he’d heard were poorly sung songs.  Why was Cat in such a good mood anyway?  Gage was irritated at the tiny thrill that ran through him.  Why would he be looking forward to Christmas?  He’d had one goal to reach by the end of the year, to regain possession of this ranch.  And it didn’t appear that Santa would be wrapping that up for him.
    Tossing the pillow at the door, Gage sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed.  He scruffed his fingers through his hair and yawned, glancing at the digital clock on the night stand.  Five in the morning.  There were some drawbacks to running a dude ranch, one of them was getting up early to feed the animals, although Cat only kept a small number here in the winter, sending the rest back to owners they’d been on loan from.
    That was another thing that would need to change, he frowned.  It was important that the resort have horses here year round in case guests wanted to ride.  He would need to purchase at least seven or eight more horses and some staff to care for them.  If he could go ahead with his plans at all, he shot a glare at the closed bedroom door.
    “Oh, holy night...”  The phrase ended in a high key which immediately cracked and dropped to an off-octave lower one.
    Gage winced.  One thing was certain, Cat wouldn’t be leaving the ranch to make her singing debut.  Despite that, her songs were beginning to work a strange magic on him.  Christmas.  It had always been his favorite time of year.  Why should he be deprived of enjoying it just because his family was in Boston and he was here in Durango?  Cat would just have to put up with his Christmas traditions whether she liked it or not.
    First, he would finish decorating that ridiculous tree that had sat bare and lonely in the corner of the room where he’d left it.  That decided, he quickly showered and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt before heading downstairs.
    Following the wail of Cat’s voice, he found her in the kitchen stirring a long wooden spoon in a heavy black pot.
    Gage sniffed appreciatively at the sugary butter smell filling the room.  Cat was oblivious to it, stirring and singing and swaying her hips.
    His gaze focused on the erotic sway of her backside, Gage