A Cowboy Firefighter for Christmas (Smokin’ Hot Cowboys #1)

When Trey reached the sliding glass doors in front of the house, Temple slipped out of the darkness. He looked up and meowed, obviously requesting more tender beef.

“Sorry, boy. I’m fresh out of your favorite food tonight.” He reached down and stroked the soft white fur.

Temple yowled in displeasure as he walked up to the doors, sat down, and waited for entry.

“Maybe next time.” Trey was well aware that cats never forgot something they liked to eat. For that matter, they never forgot any of their favorite things. Guess he didn’t either.

He slid open the doors and Temple walked inside first, tail held high. He followed the cat and stopped when he saw J.P. and Charlene sitting in the swing. Temple did no such thing. He tiptoed over, sniffed their shoes, shook his head in displeasure, and walked over to the front door to be let inside the house.

Trey chuckled at Temple’s response to the couple. “Guess he didn’t like where you’ve been.”

“What does a cat know,” Charlene said with disdain as she patted her perfect coiffure.

“I’d never bet against the olfactory abilities of a cat or dog.” Trey had meant his first words as a joke, but he felt a need to defend Temple in light of Charlene’s response.

“Trey’s right, dearest,” J.P. said as he stroked Charlene’s red-nailed, long-fingered hand. “Our abilities in that area are puny in comparison to cats and dogs.”

“At least they can’t talk.” She looked pleased with that idea.

“Mostly they don’t need words to make their opinions clear.” Trey didn’t know how he’d gotten into this conversation. He just wanted to get inside to the meeting. He glanced over at Temple waiting by the door. It was never a bad idea to defend a four-legged friend.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Charlene quickly agreed, batting her long false eyelashes as she tapped the pointed toe of a red-and-black high-heel shoe. “How was your day?”

“Busy.” Trey wasn’t going to get into a serious discussion with them.

“Heard a house burned down,” J.P. said. “Sad business.”

“Yep,” Trey agreed. “Derelict, so not much loss.”

“That’s good.” Charlene smiled as she patted the spot beside her. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a meeting inside.” He started toward the door and stopped, remembering his manners. “You have a good day?”

“Oh, yes. We’re quite pleased with our work. Aren’t we, snookum?” Charlene squeezed J.P.’s hand.

“That’s true,” J.P. agreed.

“Great. Talk with y’all later.” Trey quickly crossed the room to the inside front door.

“Anytime,” Charlene called.

Trey opened the door for Temple, followed the cat inside, and shut the door behind him. He watched as Temple made a beeline for the peacock Christmas tree, carefully stepped in between packages, selected a soft spot, turned around several times, and settled down for a long nap.

“Up here,” Ruby greeted Trey. “We’re gathered around the table.”

Trey took the three steps up to the large kitchen and dining area, smelling the rich aroma of hot apple cider. And stopped cold. Misty stood in the kitchen holding a mug and looking pretty as you please. She also looked as if she belonged exactly there. He felt his heart speed up at the sight of her. Hard to believe, but she’d only been in town a couple of days. And here she was at a fire-rescue meeting with his closest friends and kinfolks, if you didn’t count his absentee parents, who’d decided to take a much wanted and even more needed Caribbean cruise for the holidays.

“Hey, Cuz.” Kent chuckled from where he sat at the table. “Meeting’s over here. Not in the kitchen.”

Trey jerked around to look in that direction, not wanting to be considered smitten by the new gal in town. Hedy sat at one end of Ruby’s 1940s enameled, tin-top pie table once used by women to roll pie dough upon the smooth surface with a rolling pin. This one had a Western-design top attached to a wood Art Deco–design base painted in faded yellow and orange. Ruby sat at the other end of the table. Kent, Slade, and Sydney sat on one side. Three chairs were left empty on the side facing him.

“Uncle Trey!” A pint-size urchin with wild ginger hair and big hazel eyes ran toward him. She wore a rhinestone-studded T-shirt in bright aqua with pressed jeans and turquoise cowgirl boots.

“Hey, Storm.” He knelt down in time to catch her as she flung her small, wiry body into his arms.

“I won Little Wranglers All-Around Champion!”

“Gotta love youth rodeo in Texas.” He looked with pleasure at her animated face.

“And I won a saddle, too.”

“Good for you. Stiff competition?”

“Hah! You jest. Never for me.”

“You sound like your mama.” He glanced up at Sydney, who appeared like the proud mother hen she was since she’d brought Storm into the world five years ago.

“Glad you could make it.” Sydney gave him a lazy smile that belied her high energy level and knockout appearance.

“What’s up?” Trey hugged Storm, got to his feet, pulled out a chair, and sat down at the table.

“We got important bidness.” Storm wiggled into the chair beside him.

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