Rocking the Cowboy's Christmas

Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Also by Vicki Lewis Thompson About the Author Cover Title Page Copyright Contents Beginning Also by Vicki Lewis Thompson About the Author 
 
 
 
 
 Rocking the Cowboy’s Christmas
 
 Rowdy Ranch
 
 
 
 
 Vicki Lewis Thompson
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ROCKING THE COWBOY’S CHRISTMAS
 Copyright © 2022 by Vicki Lewis Thompson
 ISBN: 978-1-63803-940-2
 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, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 Ocean Dance Press, PO Box 69901, Oro Valley AZ 85737
 Visit the author’s website: VickiLewisThompson.com
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 1
 
 
 Chapter 2
 
 
 Chapter 3
 
 
 Chapter 4
 
 
 Chapter 5
 
 
 Chapter 6
 
 
 Chapter 7
 
 
 Chapter 8
 
 
 Chapter 9
 
 
 Chapter 10
 
 
 Chapter 11
 
 
 Chapter 12
 
 
 Chapter 13
 
 
 Chapter 14
 
 
 Chapter 15
 
 
 Chapter 16
 
 
 Chapter 17
 
 
 Chapter 18
 
 
 Chapter 19
 
 
 Chapter 20
 
 
 Chapter 21
 
 
 Chapter 22
 
 
 Chapter 23
 
 
 Chapter 24
 
 
 Chapter 25
 
 
 Chapter 26
 
 
 Chapter 27
 
 
 Chapter 28
 
 
 Chapter 29
 
 
 Chapter 30
 
 
 Chapter 31
 
 
 Chapter 32
 
 
 Chapter 33
 
 
 Chapter 34
 
 
 
 
 Also by Vicki Lewis Thompson
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter One
 
 
 
 
 
 Twenty luminarias. As the Canadian Brass blared Christmas carols in the background, Bret McLintock put the finishing touches on number fifteen and shut down the torch. He glanced at the clock. Almost six.
 His passion was forge welding, the historic choice, but this order on a short timeframe required him to be nimble and speedy. He’d resorted to the torch. If he kept up a steady pace, he might finish by nine, assuming he didn’t stop for dinner. His stomach rumbled.
 He should have agreed to make ten instead of twenty, especially this close to Christmas. Gil, his younger brother and business partner, had said as much. But the customer had come up with the idea at the last minute and had a party planned for Saturday, one week before Christmas.
 Gil had gallantly offered to help complete the last-minute order. But he would have had to cancel his plan to take his date for a sleighride out at the ranch. Bret wasn’t about to let his brother make that sacrifice because his idiot sibling had bitten off more than he could chew.
 And speaking of chewing, a burger from the Fluffy Buffalo would go good right now. Since he and Gil had rented this storefront in town back in October, that option was open to him. But if he took a break, he’d be tempted to order a beer and settle into the festive mood at the Buffalo.
 Wiping his forehead on his sleeve, he took a few swallows from his water jug and picked up the torch. Before he could turn it on, his phone chimed. A number he didn’t recognize rolled across the top of the screen. Likely a nuisance call.
 He put down the torch and grabbed the phone anyway. Gil teased him about his habit of doing that. Let it ring, bro. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message. “McLintock Metalworks. How can I help you?”
 “Hey, Bret, it’s Jerry over at the tree lot. I noticed your truck was still there.”
 “Finishing up a project I promised to get done before tomorrow morning.”
 “Oh, then never mind.”
 “What’s up, Jerry?” The tree lot owner was a good guy who wouldn’t call unless he had an issue.
 “I have a customer who—excuse me a minute.” He broke off and had an animated discussion with a woman.
 Bret couldn’t catch all of it, but clearly the customer hadn’t wanted him to make the call.
 Jerry came back on the line. “She says she’s fine with a small tree, but you should have seen her face when she found the one she really wants. The thing is, it won’t fit in her itty-bitty car.”
 “Sell her the big one. I’ll be over with my truck.”
 “I was hoping you’d say that. This is her first Christmas in Montana. She should have the tree she wants.”
 “Definitely. I’ll see you in ten minutes.” Taking off his goggles and apron, he shut everything down before grabbing his keys, his jacket and his hat. He wouldn’t finish by nine. Oh, well.
 A light snow coated the windshield but a quick swipe with the blades took care of it. The snow had stopped for now. He backed out, made a tight turn and pulled onto the tree lot across the street.
 Strands of lights created a canopy over the rows of trees and Dolly Parton’s Hard Candy Christmas poured from the speaker mounted near the entrance. Bret had no trouble spotting the woman’s car, a light blue compact in a row of pickups and SUVs. Hardly anyone