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Tricking Christmas: A Sweet Western Holiday Romance
-- EXCERPT: Obviously insulted, two twin lines created furrows between his eyebrows. “I’m not doing this for the money, Jolee.” He scoffed at her and swirled the ice around in his tea glass. “Then, why are you offering to save my bacon, so to speak, if you don’t mind my asking?” Truitt shrugged. “Because you’re a good person, Jolee Judson, and you’ve worked hard to establish your act with a sterling reputation. You’ve always been the driving force behind it. Amy even said as much. It’s not fair that you’ve been put into a bind because your partner quit without any notice.” “Amy had a good reason. She needs to be with her family.” “She does, but I got the idea she’s had one foot out the door for a while. She mentioned last time we spoke about going back to school to become a veterinarian.” Shock widened Jolee’s eyes. “I had no idea she was considering it. I think she’ll do great in that field, though. She loves animals.” “She does.” Truitt took the last bacon tot from the bag. “Dibs on the last one.” He popped it in his mouth, drained his glass, and stood. Once again, the trailer felt cramped by his presence. Jolee wondered if it was his large personality as much as his muscular physique that made the space seem smaller. “I better get going. I promised Troy I’d help him with a few farrier jobs he’s got lined up. Do you want me to try to perform with you tonight or during this rodeo?” “No. Let’s leave things as they are this week, although I wouldn’t mind if you had time to help set out props.” “Sure. Troy and I are scheduled to rope in the slack tomorrow afternoon, but I can help you out during your performances. Just let me know what you need, honey.” Jolee bristled as Truitt opened the door and stepped outside. When he turned to face her, his smile melted faster than the ice cream cone she’d attempted to eat the previous afternoon. She’d heard Truitt call babies in diapers, old women with walkers, and females of every size, shape, color, and age in between “honey.” And she didn’t like it. Not one bit. “You will not ever, under any circumstance, call me ‘honey,’” she commanded in a tone dripping frost despite the heat already surging outside. “Understood?” “Yes, ho—Yes, ma’am.” Truitt ducked his head, but she caught the hint of his smile. 
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