Free A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) by Carolyn Brown

without someone calling me. There are no secrets in Burnt Boot and you can’t get away with anything.”
    “I believe it. I’m on my way out. Programs delivered. No need to come back to church until Sunday morning now.”
    “I will see you later,” Naomi said, and the call ended.
    * * *
    Declan arrived at the theater first and paid for a ticket. The movie was one of the chick flicks that he’d never have chosen to watch, but it started at seven thirty and there weren’t many folks lining up to see it.
    He bought the popcorn-and-drink deal of the night and hung back until he caught sight of Betsy’s flaming-red ponytail bouncing along with every step she took. He nodded toward the movie when he caught her eye and held up the huge container of popcorn.
    The older people were joined by two more couples about their age, and they didn’t waste any time getting past the usher when he pulled back the velvet ropes. Declan gave them an extra few minutes to get seated before he went inside and sat in the back row. He’d barely gotten settled when Betsy joined him and stuck her hand into the popcorn box.
    “Hungry?” he asked.
    “Starving. FYI, I eat when I’m stressed.”
    “What’s got your blood pressure up?” he teased.
    “Every bit of this. My granny thought I was sinnin’ with Quaid last night in the church nursery.”
    “Mine knew by breakfast this morning.” He passed the drink to her. “Don’t look at it like that. We’ve already shared a whiskey bottle and I got two straws. The short one is yours.”
    “Is that supposed to mean something?” she asked.
    “Just that you aren’t as tall as me.”
    The movie started, and she pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged so she could face him. He leaned toward her so they could talk without disturbing the people who’d actually come to see the show rather than to have a dark, quiet place to plan a Christmas program.
    “So I’ve got a plan,” he said.
    She grabbed another fistful of popcorn. “What is your plan? I got nothing, other than my truck can go to the church on Thursdays only, so I can put the programs inside. Other than that, I can’t even drive the old work truck to town and hide it behind the bar without someone seeing and, worse yet, telling, so if you can find a way to get inside without being seen, we could still meet at the church.”
    “I think we should rent a storage unit here in Gainesville to unload our things once a week,” he said.
    “And I could slip a note in the preacher’s program envelope telling him what we’re doing, so he wouldn’t be disappointed that there’s nothing piling up in one of the Sunday school rooms. Then, on the last Thursday that we have donations, I could give him the key to the storage unit,” she said. “I like it. That way it would be totally anonymous.”
    “Did you get anything yet?” he asked.
    Betsy shook her head. “Granny had me in the office all afternoon so I didn’t have time. You?”
    He grinned. “I’m ahead by five items, then. And I’m only counting a box of twelve ornaments as one since they’re in a box.”
    “What did you get?” she asked.
    “The ornaments. A box of green garland stuff that likely doesn’t go on the tree but probably around the ceiling in the church; it looks like fake holly. And a package of gold tinsel, a bale of hay, and a little drummer boy costume. You need to write it down?”
    “What size is the costume?”
    “I don’t know. One of my cousin’s kids used it a couple of years ago when the Brennans did that part of the program and he was about this tall.” Declan measured three feet from the floor with an open hand.
    * * *
    One second, Betsy was looking at a big rancher’s hand showing her how big a little drummer boy was, and the next, Declan had wrapped both arms around her and his lips were on hers.
    Her first instinct was to pull back and slap him, but then his tongue traced the outline of her lips. From that moment, all she could think