My Christmas Cowboy. Shelley Galloway

before you’re late. Don’t you worry about Amanda or me none.”

      She took two steps closer to the door. “Have I thanked you properly for sitting for me twice a week?”

      “There’s nothing to thank me for. My mamma’s enjoying grandma time with Tyler, and my husband’s bringing me dinner. All I have to do is sit here, hold Miss Amanda, then watch TV and nap until you come home. Believe me, being here’s a real treat.”

      “Thank you—”

      “Go, Jo.”

      With a brief wave behind her back, Jolene grabbed her ski jacket then ran out the door.

      And wished she was sitting next to a roaring fire, sipping tea and watching Frosty the Snowman instead of almost turning into one.

      Bob’s was loud and bright and booming when she slipped in the back door. Carter, one of Bob’s bartenders, was sitting in the storage room having a cigarette.

      “Oh, Carter, you’re gonna get in big trouble,” she teased as she walked past his perch and pulled off her ski jacket. “You know Bob don’t like us smoking back here.”

      Before answering, Carter lit the end of a new cigarette with the remains of his first one. “Bob’s just going to have to deal, Jo. It’s freezing outside. No way am I sitting in the alley.”

      Looking at the goose bumps on her legs, Jolene nodded. “Don’t I know it. I thought my rear end was going to freeze to the seat of my car before I made it here.”

      Carter shook his head as he exhaled. “That would be a shame, given the caliber of your butt … but it would also be your own fault.” He looked her over and shook his head. “A girl needs to know when to put on more clothes, and that’s a fact.”

      “You know the guys like seeing me in this.”

      “You could change when you get here.”

      “Carter, that would take more time than I ever give myself. Don’t fuss. I’m fine.”

      “All I’m saying is that you’ve got to take care of yourself.”

      After pulling out her short canvas apron and tying it neatly around her waist, she shrugged. “This girl also needs to eat, Carter. I’ll see you out front.”

      She left just as she heard the rustle of another cigarette getting pulled out of its pack. Feeling better about quitting smoking, she shook her head at poor Carter. He was going to die of lung cancer before he was fifty at the rate he was going.

      Jolene was still thinking about Carter and his nicotine habit when she entered the noisy front room. At least a dozen people surrounded the bar, some chatting in groups of twos and threes, others looked happy to just be taking up a bar stool.