Merry Christmas, Baby Read online

  But the blizzard was upon them and he had to get in out of it. They’d work out the details later. She lowered her head and leaned into the wind as she returned to the fence. Tucker stood like a marble statue beside the horse, and Lacey wondered if he held himself rigid so he wouldn’t betray any weakness with an unmanly shiver.

  “I called the ranch.” His lips looked a little blue and his eyelashes and eyebrows were crusted with snow. “I said I’d wait out the storm here. I explained you were an old high school friend.”

  “Perfect.” She had a little trouble manipulating the wire cutters with her thick gloves on, but she managed to cut both strands and pull them back, creating a decent-size opening. “Let’s get going. It’s cold out here.”

  His chuckle became a cough. “I noticed. Oh, wait. There’s a sack of oats in the saddlebag. I’ll lead Houdini if you’ll grab the oats. He’ll need something to eat.”

  “Right.” She moved quickly through the opening in the fence and over to the snowmobile, which, at the rate it was snowing, would soon be covered. Oats in hand, she followed Tucker through the fence and across what had been a defined road an hour ago. Soon it would be obliterated, too.

  She dashed around both horse and man to open the double doors into the outbuilding. The cold must have had a calming effect on the paint, because he walked into the shelter without protest. Maybe he had realized that it wasn’t so much fun being outside in a blizzard.

  Lacey gestured to the heater designed to prevent engines from freezing. “This should help keep him warmer, too.”

  “He’ll appreciate that.” Tucker brushed the snow from Houdini’s back before glancing around the makeshift garage. “Do you think I could use that bucket in the corner to feed him some oats?”

  “Don’t see why not.” She retrieved the bucket and handed it to him, along with the small sack of oats. “Will this be enough?”

  “I’ll only give him half for now, in case I need to ration it.” He opened the sack and poured some into the bucket while managing to hold it away from Houdini. Once he set it down, the horse shoved his nose deep into the bucket and began munching. The bucket rattled against the outbuilding’s cement floor.

  Lacey couldn’t imagine that little bit of oats would satisfy an animal of Houdini’s size. “I brought apples, and I have some carrots left over from the stew I made, if you want to give him those later on.”

  “Stew?” Tucker was so obviously trying to control his shivers as he smiled at her. “God, that s-sounds wonderful.”

  “You’re frozen, aren’t you?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Then let’s get inside and warm you up.” She’d thought it was an innocent remark, but as they closed the horse inside the outbuilding and she led the way into the cabin, she thought about how she could warm him up, and it had nothing to do with stew.

  That kiss had replayed itself in her mind quite a few times since she’d found out who he was. He’d had a reputation in high school as a skilled lover, and if that kiss had been a sample, his reputation had been well deserved. For several months after the kiss, she’d had potent dreams involving naked bodies writhing on soft sheets.

  And here she was, snowbound with the object of her teenage fantasies. She blew out an impatient breath. What nonsense. For all she knew Tucker was married and had a couple of kids.

  Once they were inside the warm cabin and had started divesting themselves of their jackets and gloves, she glanced at him. “I suppose someone will be really disappointed if you don’t show up for Christmas Eve.”

  He hooked his coat on a peg by the door and followed it with his hat. “Can’t say that they will.” He turned to gaze at her. “Are you out here by yourself?”

  “Yes.” So he was single, apparently. “It just turned out that way.” She tried not to gawk, but damn, he was even better looking now than he had been in high school. His features were more chiseled, and the hint of a beard gave him a rugged look that stirred up butterflies in her stomach.

  His glance swept the cabin’s living room and open kitchen. “No holiday decorations, I see.”

  “Nope.” And he smelled good, too—the musky scent of a man who worked with animals. She hadn’t realized how much she liked that earthy aroma on a man.

  “I’m going to take a wild guess that you’re not into this holiday any more than you were years ago when we had that conversation outside the school gym.”

  “So you remember that.” She met his gaze. It wasn’t the conversation she was focusing on, but what had followed. The mouth she’d kissed long ago looked much the same except for some added smile lines bracketing his firm lips.

  “Yeah, I do remember, in fact.” A telltale flicker in his green eyes contradicted his casual tone.

  Her heart rate increased another notch. She’d bet money he was thinking about that kiss, too. “Well, you’re right. I still don’t much like Christmas. How about you?”

  “Can’t say it’s my favorite time of year.”

  She kept her attention on his face, but she was very aware of the snug fit of his Western shirt. The soft blue plaid revealed muscles honed by ranch work. “I’ll bet the Last Chance goes all out.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. Fifteen-foot tree in the living room, holly and pine boughs on the banister going upstairs, red velvet bows on everything that doesn’t move. They’ve even decorated the damned barn.”

  She ignored a sharp pang of longing. Being surrounded by that kind of festive atmosphere would only make her sad. “You won’t find that here.”

  “Good. Maybe it’s just as well we ended up together tonight.” He smiled. “We’re birds of a feather.”

  Oh, yeah. She remembered that smile—the one that went from boyish to seductive in zero-point-five seconds. Heat spiraled through her system. Ten years ago she hadn’t allowed herself to be swept away by his animal magnetism. But tonight, after being dumped last week by the man she’d thought she’d eventually marry, all bets were off.

  2

  LACEY EVANS. WHENEVER he’d thought of her in the years since high school, which had been more times than he cared to admit, he’d pictured her with a stodgy but successful husband and a couple of cute kids. Once again she’d be totally out of reach, as she had been when they were in high school.

  Instead, against all odds, he was standing in this cozy cabin with her. She didn’t seem to be attached to a guy, let alone have any kids. She hadn’t known he would show up, so the setting she’d created had nothing to do with him.

  But she couldn’t have planned a more tempting scenario than a welcoming fire, a home-cooked meal and the prospect of spending time with a woman he’d wanted desperately when he was eighteen. Who needed Christmas?

  The years had been good to her. Her honey-colored hair was slightly darker now, and she wore it shorter, too, an easy-care mop of caramel curls. Those curls were tousled by the stocking cap she’d pulled off, and he had the urge to comb her hair into place with his fingers.

  Her blue eyes were no longer so wide and endearingly innocent. After she’d run from his kiss that night, her cheeks bright pink, he’d decided that he’d been French-kissing a virgin. But there was nothing virginal in her frank appraisal of him now. The glow in those amazing eyes told him that if he kissed her again, she wouldn’t run.

  The possibility heated his blood, and suddenly, he wasn’t the least bit cold. She’d had that effect on him from the first day he’d glimpsed her walking down the hall at Jackson Hole High, her snug sweater and jeans showing off a sweetly curved figure. He’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven the one and only time he’d held her in his arms.

  When she’d ended that unforgettable kiss, she’d returned his coat. He’d left it off in hopes cold air would deflate his penis enough for him to walk to his truck and drive home. The wait had seemed like hours.

  He liked to think he had more control these days, but apparently not when it came to Lacey. She still favored snug jeans and close-fit
ting sweaters. Today’s sweater was green, which signaled full speed ahead to his eager package.

  Tucker decided, in the name of his own self-respect, to show some restraint. Although he wasn’t proud of it, he’d engaged in some meaningless sex over the years. When life was one big party, a guy didn’t much care who he slept with if the woman was willing and warm.

  But Lacey was different. She wasn’t just some girl he’d met in a cowboy bar. Yeah, he wanted her, but he didn’t have to act on that urge. Instead, he could distract himself by concentrating on a different kind of hunger.

  He glanced over at the stove, the source of mouth-watering aromas. “I don’t know much about cooking, but is there any chance that stew is ready to eat?”

  She smiled. “Yep. Your timing is excellent.”

  “Dumb luck.” But he’d had quite a bit of luck lately, especially landing the job at the Last Chance. He was beginning to wonder if Houdini’s escape had been an example of good luck disguised as potential disaster. “What can I do to help?”

  “Not a thing. If you want to wash up, there’s soap and towels in the bathroom.” She gestured toward a short hall. “First door on your left.”

  “Thanks. Good plan.” He probably smelled of horse. Some women liked that, but he didn’t know if Lacey did or not. He headed down the hall, his boots clicking on the hardwood floor of the cabin.

  The bathroom was plain—white fixtures and a tub with a white shower curtain. Tucker caught a glimpse of himself in the medicine cabinet mirror and winced. Hat hair, red nose, five-o’clock shadow. He must have imagined that glint of interest in her eyes. What woman would be attracted to that?

  Rolling back his sleeves, he turned on the water and picked up the soap. He couldn’t do anything about the five-o’clock shadow, but soap and warm water would make him feel more presentable. Then he noticed that the soap was embedded with an image of Santa Claus.

  The cabin’s owners might have left it, but the lack of frills everywhere else made that unlikely. Probably somebody had given it to Lacey and she was practical enough to make use of it. He could help her with that.

  He lathered up, scrubbing his face and hands until they tingled. The soap smelled like candy canes. He hadn’t thought of those in a while. His mom used to buy a lot of them to decorate the tree because they were affordable.

  His dad had thought the whole tree thing was a waste of money, but his mom had insisted on having one every year. She and Tucker had strung popcorn and made chains of construction paper. That had all ended when she died.

  No point in dredging up those memories, though, especially when he was with a woman who also ignored the holiday except for some soap she was trying to use up. He splashed cold water on his face, grabbed a towel and dried off. Then he finger-combed his hair as best he could.

  He walked back into the kitchen, where a loaf of what looked like homemade bread sat on a cutting board in the middle of the table. Lacey was dishing stew into a couple of generously sized bowls. The light caught in her caramel curls as she glanced up and smiled at him.

  His breath stalled at the beauty of the scene, at the beauty of her, all flushed from the heat of the stove. Or maybe her extra color had something to do with him being there. That was a happy prospect.

  “This looks wonderful. Thank you.” Then he had a thought. “Listen, if you feed me now, are you going to have enough supplies for your stay?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She laughed as she opened the refrigerator, which was stuffed. “I read the weather reports and decided to be prepared for anything. As I said, I can probably help feed your horse if it comes to that.”

  “He’s not exactly my horse. I just work there. But I’m relieved to know you stocked up.”

  “The good news is I’m loaded with provisions. The bad news is the provisions are everything I like, but you may not like the same things.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m grateful for whatever you’re willing to share.”

  Her quick glance in his direction told him that she’d taken that in a way he hadn’t meant. God, he hoped he hadn’t offended her. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  She became very busy ladling out the stew. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, we had that one silly moment together after the winter formal, but I’m not at all your type.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s obvious.” She set the bowls down on the table with brisk efficiency. “You went out with the party girls, whereas I was—”

  “Too good for me.”

  “What?” She looked up in obvious surprise.

  “You heard me. I was the bad boy with the souped-up truck and mediocre grades. You were an honor student with goals and a curfew.”

  “Okay, so we were different, but I never thought I was too good for you, Tucker.”

  “No, you wouldn’t think that, because you’re a nice person. But I knew it. It didn’t stop me from kissing you, though. I saw my opportunity and took advantage of you being sad and vulnerable.” He rubbed the back of his neck, where tension had gathered. He hadn’t meant to start confessing his sins, but now that he had… “I shouldn’t have kissed you that night.”

  “So you regret it?”

  He met her gaze and something in the depths of those blue eyes demanded complete honesty. “No,” he said softly. “I’m not that noble.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” The corners of her mouth turned up in a saucy smile.

  He stared at her. He still hadn’t quite made the adjustment from the virginal Lacey to the more self-assured woman standing in front of him. Once he did, he’d have a helluva time keeping his hands to himself.

  She gestured toward the table as if ready to change the subject. “As I was saying, the supplies are all things I like. That means your choice of beverage is coffee, water, or wine. Most cowboys I know prefer beer.”

  He was more than ready to change the subject. Although he did prefer beer, he’d been known to drink wine. But he wasn’t going to use up whatever she’d brought for herself. That would be rude. “I’ll just drink water.”

  “You’re sure? I’m having wine and unless you hate it, you’re welcome to have some with me.”

  “I don’t hate it, but I wouldn’t feel right using up your—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She pulled two goblets out of the cupboard and set one by each plate. “Besides, I think we need to toast.”

  “To Christmas?” He had a tough time believing she’d want to do that.

  “No, to meeting again after all these years.”

  “Oh.” He was flattered that she’d count it a toasting occasion. “I guess we could toast to that.”

  “It’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “I do. It took a runaway horse and a wrecked snowmobile to accomplish it.”

  She opened the wine and poured each of them a glass. “And a slimeball. Let’s not forget my worthless ex.”

  “Husband?” His high spirits plummeted. He should have known she hadn’t intended to be out here all by herself, that a man had originally been part of the deal.

  “Boyfriend.” She picked up her wineglass and handed one to him. “Fortunately that’s all he ever was.”

  Tucker understood now why she’d looked at him with interest. With his playboy reputation, he had a history of attracting women on the rebound. That kind of relationship wasn’t built to last. Either the woman moved on after she felt better about herself or she went back to her ex.

  Usually that was fine with him, because he was careful not to get invested. But he didn’t feel like being Lacey’s rebound guy. She held a special place in his heart, and he didn’t want to tarnish that memory.

  Still, he knew his lines in situations like this. “Your ex is obviously a loser if he let you go.”

  “Thank you. I agree.” She lifted her glass. “To old friends.”

  “To old friends.” He touched his glass to hers and drank. But as he lowered the glass, hone
sty made him speak up. “We weren’t really friends in high school, Lacey.”

  “Depends on how you define it. I thought we became friends that night outside the gym.”

  “I guess.” If she hadn’t run away, they would have become more than friends. He was glad they hadn’t. He’d have enough trouble keeping this night from veering toward sex when all he’d done was kiss her. If she hadn’t left, he would have continued the seduction he’d begun with that kiss. He’d been eighteen and flooded with hormones.

  Now he was twenty-eight, and still somewhat hormone driven, but not to the exclusion of all reason. When necessary he could summon a little common sense. Lacey was a woman he could fall for, and yet she’d been recently dumped. That combo meant she was off limits.

  She waved a hand at the table. “Let’s eat.”

  “Good idea.” Tucker hadn’t been particularly polished when he’d arrived at the Last Chance, but Sarah Chance was a stickler for good manners. He’d learned that any cowboy who worked at the ranch had better know the fundamentals or risk losing his job.

  Setting down his wineglass, he rounded the table to pull out Lacey’s chair.

  “How gallant.” She accepted the gesture with a smile and slipped gracefully into the chair.

  As he scooted it forward, he breathed in the scent of candy canes and woman. Obviously she’d used that soap, too. He wanted to bury his nose in the curve of her neck and nibble on her earlobe. But that wouldn’t be wise.

  He took a seat opposite her, unfolded the paper napkin she’d provided and settled it on his lap. Outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes, which made their dinner seem all the more cozy in comparison. The food smelled delicious, but hungry as he was, he waited for Lacey to start eating.

  She began by picking up a serrated knife and slicing off a couple pieces of bread. The scent of it burst forth, beckoning him with an aroma that reminded him of good sex. He’d always thought food and lovemaking went together.