A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe Read online

  He polished off his wine and picked up the bottle to refill their glasses. “Maybe. Let’s see how the evening goes.”

  And just like that, her mind went right back to thoughts of kissing him. If they stayed here, she had a much better chance of that happening.

  4

  TY WOULD LOVE to dance with Whitney, but not tonight. They were still figuring out whether this relationship had possibilities and he wanted to give them time to do that before getting involved with his family.

  He could see why Rosie would think Whitney was perfect for him, though. Her openness and sense of humor definitely appealed to him. Whether he was perfect for her was a whole other question. He had a few issues. Near as he could tell, she didn’t have any, or certainly not major ones.

  Although he liked to think he’d handled his problems, his relationships never seemed to last very long. He knew he was picky, but still, he was a little surprised that he’d never come even close to proposing. Despite Rosie’s intuition, Whitney could end up being another of his dead-end affairs.

  Physically, though, they were like a pile of kindling waiting for a match. He couldn’t speak for her, but he was trying to hold off. Although technically they’d known each other for almost a year, he wasn’t sure those short conversations at Rangeland Roasters counted for much. They’d been more like teasers.

  Yeah, that was a good word for those interactions, and maybe that explained why they were both so eager to get on with it. He could see it in her eyes. A couple of times he’d held her gaze a little too long and had felt a really strong urge to kiss her. He had a feeling she’d be fine with that.

  But no matter what did or didn’t happen between them, he’d be driving back to Cheyenne on Sunday. At first he’d considered that a negative, but now he could see the positive side of it. The attraction between them had built-in boundaries.

  Considering how strong the chemistry was, boundaries might be a good thing. Driving back to Cheyenne would be like taking a recess during an intense trial. Nothing like a cooling-off period to allow those involved to reason more clearly.

  He helped her clean up the kitchen, which was another test to see if he could keep his hands to himself. It was a compact kitchen and they weren’t small people. Each accidental—or maybe not so accidental—brush of their bodies jacked up his pulse.

  By now he had a clear and detailed mental image of her and he knew they’d fit together like puzzle pieces. More than once he wondered how she saw this evening ending. She’d been the one to suggest spending it in her apartment.

  But she was naturally friendly, so coming here might have been a spur-of-the-moment idea because her time was so limited and she’d planned to trim the tree. Just because they had the opportunity for more than a casual evening together didn’t mean they should act on it. They probably shouldn’t, in fact.

  He couldn’t totally banish the thought, though. She smelled terrific, a spicy scent mixed with the aroma of the brewed coffee she’d spent her day serving. Whenever she moved past him in the kitchen he could almost taste that Peppermint Pleasure latte. He had a hunch she’d taste even better.

  Somehow they made it out of the kitchen and into the living room without ending up in a clinch. Apparently she’d been bold enough to invite him into her apartment but she wasn’t bold enough to make the first move, at least not yet. That was good, because if she so much as dropped a hint, he’d fold. A guy could only be so noble.

  But she didn’t hint. Instead she walked straight over to her tree and crouched next to the cardboard box sitting beside it. Rosie and Herb had no set schedule for putting up theirs, but his parents had always designated the Friday after Thanksgiving for buying and trimming the tree.

  He’d be on vacation from school and they’d take off work so all three of them could head for the tree lot first thing in the morning for a better selection. Then they waited until after dinner to trim it so they could see if the lights were spaced right. He hadn’t thought about any of that in years.

  She pulled out a strand of lights and looked up at him. “I don’t know if you have a favorite method, but—”

  “I don’t and besides, this is your tree. You get to be in charge.”

  “Then lights go first.” She handed him the strand. “There’s a plug right by the tree. I only have two of these, but that should be enough.”

  “Should be.” He leaned down and plugged in the lights. The multicolored glow brought an unexpected tightening in his throat. Damn, now was not the time to get all mushy.

  He never had when he’d helped with the Thunder Mountain tree. But that had been a noisy, rowdy process filled with teasing and arguments among the guys about light and ornament placement. This intimate evening with just the two of them was a lot closer to his childhood Christmases.

  “Good. They work.” She stood. “If you’ll unplug them for a minute, I’ll be right back. I forgot to start the Christmas music.”

  He almost asked her to forget the music, but that wouldn’t be fair. If she was anything like his folks had been, then she loved decorating a tree while listening to carols. He’d loved it, too. He could do this.

  She left the room. Moments later, an instrumental version of Silent Night started up, and he sighed in relief. That wasn’t the version his parents had played.

  Funny, but he hadn’t thought helping her with this would be any kind of problem after all these years. He held the strand of lights and waited for her to come back, but she was taking a while. Maybe she was checking her teeth for bits of Chinese food.

  When she finally reappeared, she gave him a bright smile. “That’s better. You can’t decorate a tree without carols, right?”

  “Right.” Unless he was mistaken, her smile was a little too bright, almost as if she’d had to force it. And her mascara was slightly smudged, too. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “It’s stupid, really. I’m almost twenty-seven years old and I’ve lived on my own ever since I graduated from college. But even after I moved out and had my own tree, I always went over to my folks’ house to help with theirs. Hearing Silent Night got to me a little bit.”

  “Do you want to skip the music?”

  “No! It’s part of the tradition and I love Christmas carols. I’ll be fine. It’s just that I’ve always been there so I have to get used to being here, instead.”

  “If you’re sure, because I don’t have to have it on.”

  “Well, I do.” She sounded determined. “I can’t imagine decorating a tree without Christmas music.” Taking a deep breath, she gazed at him. “Ready to plug those lights in again?”

  “You bet.” Too bad he couldn’t pull her into his arms for a sympathetic hug, but ironically he didn’t know her well enough for that kind of friendly, nonthreatening embrace. When he took her in his arms for the first time, he didn’t want her to wonder about his motivation.

  He arranged the lights across the bottom front of the tree and halfway around the back. Then he placed what was left of the strand in her outstretched hand so she could continue around to the front again. That brief touch of her warm fingers made him long for more contact.

  A few kisses would be okay, but he’d stop before things went too far. They were both feeling vulnerable, which wasn’t a good way to begin a sexual relationship. Judging from the mood developing between them, he was fairly sure they would end up having one, even if they did live five hours apart.

  “This would have been tougher working alone.” She handed the lights off to him. “Come to think of it, when I trimmed my apartment tree in Cheyenne, I always roped somebody into helping me.” She laughed. “So I’m continuing my pattern. Consider yourself roped in.”

  “Glad to do it.” And he was, even if he’d had a bad moment at first. “I’m ready for the next set of lights.”

  He admired the ripple of her golden hair as she leaned over to pull out the second strand. He imagined running his fingers through it and gazing into her eyes. He
wanted to taste those full lips. He closed his eyes briefly as he imagined how amazing that would feel.

  “Ty?”

  “Sorry.” Caught. He took the lights she held out to him. “Got distracted.” He joined the first set to the second and thought of the terminology for the connecting ends—male and female plugs. He and his foster brothers used to joke about that when they were raunchy teenagers who thought about sex constantly.

  “You must have been thinking of something nice.”

  “I was.”

  She didn’t pursue it, which probably meant she knew the sort of thing he’d been thinking about.

  They traded the bunched cord back and forth, winding the lights around the branches until Ty looped the end at the top. Then they both stepped back and squinted at the lit tree to check placement.

  “It’s almost perfect,” she said. “But there’s a blank space in the middle.”

  “I see it.” He stepped forward and adjusted one strand lower. Then he backed up. “I think that does it.”

  “I think so, too.”

  He heard something in her voice, something soft and yielding that made his heart beat faster. He glanced over at her. She was staring right back at him, her eyes dark and her breathing shallow. If any woman had ever looked more ready to be kissed, he’d eat his hat.

  And damned if he could resist her. His gaze locked with hers and his body tightened as he stepped closer. Slowly he combed his fingers through hair that felt as silky as he’d imagined. “We haven’t finished with the tree.”

  “I know.” Her voice was husky. “And there’s the dancing afterward...”

  “We were never going to do that.” He pressed his fingertips into her scalp and tilted her head back. “But I think we were always going to do this.” And he lowered his head.

  She awaited him with lips parted. After the first gentle pressure against her velvet mouth, he sank deeper with a groan of pleasure. So sweet, so damned perfect. She tasted like wine, better than wine, better than anything he could name.

  The slide of her arms around his waist sent heat shooting through his veins. As she nestled against him, he took full command of the kiss, swallowing her moan as he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

  She welcomed him, slackening her jaw and inviting him to explore. He caught fire, shifting his angle and making love to her mouth until they were both breathing hard and molded together. As he’d known, they fit exactly.

  He registered the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the press of her thighs. His cock hardened. The red haze of lust threatened to wipe out his good intentions, but he caught himself before he slid his hands under her sweater. Gulping for air, he released her and stepped back.

  Looking into eyes filled with the same need pounding through him nearly had him reaching for her again. He fisted his hands at his sides. “Let’s...maybe we should...back off for a bit.”

  She swallowed. “Okay. Care to say why?”

  “I had a really valid reason a second ago.”

  She laughed. “It’s a good thing you’re so damned cute. I’ll give you a minute to collect your thoughts.”

  “Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck and struggled for clarity.

  “You did say there’s no girlfriend.”

  “Right. No girlfriend.” Then he remembered why they needed to put the brakes on. Boy, she’d really fried his circuits. But the tree trimming had stirred up neediness in both of them. She might not be overly affected by it, but he was.

  Saying all that out loud, though, would mean bringing up a touchy subject, one he wasn’t prepared to discuss at the moment. Maybe a distraction was in order. “What’s your schedule tomorrow?”

  “My schedule? Why?”

  “Humor me. What shifts are you working?”

  “Most of them. Pretty much all day and for a couple of hours in the evening, too.”

  “Any breaks?”

  “Yeah, for an hour between one and two and again from six to seven. Usually I eat something at my desk.”

  “Let me take you to lunch at one and dinner at six.”

  She blinked in obvious bewilderment. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. We’ll go to that little diner. It’s close.”

  “For both meals?”

  “You don’t like the food?”

  “I like it fine, but I’m confused. What’s going on?”

  “I...want to spend more time with you before we’re in a kissing situation again.”

  A slow smile curved her kiss-reddened mouth. “Speaking of that, I’ll leave the coffee shop at nine tomorrow night. Is there a chance you might want to drop by here after I’m off work?”

  “If you’ll have me.”

  “Now there’s a loaded statement. How should I answer that?”

  He groaned. “Don’t try. You’ll get us both in trouble. I’ll be at the shop at one.” He walked toward the kitchen and got his coat.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He grabbed his hat from the counter before turning to face her. “If I stay, I guarantee things will get out of hand.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  He gazed at her without speaking.

  “Okay, you’re right. That kiss was a barn burner. Dampened my panties.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me that.”

  “Why not? You might as well know how you affect me since I’m well aware how I affect you. I was there, remember? I could tell what was going on with you.”

  “I’m sure you could.”

  Her gaze swept down to his crotch. “Still going on, I believe. When we have these pre-sex meals you’re determined to share, you’d better keep your hands and knees to yourself or no telling what might happen in the privacy of our booth.”

  “Nothing will happen because we’ll sit at the counter.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “I’m just trying to—”

  “I know.” She sighed. “And I get it, actually. I need to stop giving you grief. Tonight’s been emotional for me, and you don’t want to take advantage when I’m feeling needy. But you won’t say so because you’re a true gentleman.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are, Ty. You came over for a night of fun and games and instead you ended up with a woman getting teary and homesick over Christmas carols. Another guy might have seen that as an opportunity, but not you. You’d rather get together when I’m feeling strong and happy. Am I right?”

  “Sort of.” His conscience was giving him hell. “For the record, I had a reaction to those carols, too.”

  “You did?”

  “My folks and I always put up our tree on the Friday after Thanksgiving and played Christmas music while we did it.”

  She drew in a breath. “Oh, Ty. I’m so sorry. I should have realized that the holidays might be a tough time for you.”

  “They’re not. It’s been fourteen years since they died, and the plane went down in July. It wasn’t a tragic accident during Christmas.”

  “Fourteen years might sound like a long time to some people, but it doesn’t to me. And holidays can be difficult no matter when the tragedy happened.”

  “Thanks for that, but I’m pretty much at peace with losing them.” He’d discovered that saying he was at peace usually kept people from feeling sorry for him.

  “I’m glad.”

  “Besides, I enjoy Christmas. I hadn’t put any importance on the Friday night tree decorating tradition, and I’m surprised it bothered me.” He put on his hat and shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat.

  “Still, I wish I’d known.”

  “What if you had? I wouldn’t have wanted you to change your plans because I might get upset.” He gestured to the tree. “But I apologize for not finishing the job.”

  “The lights are the hardest part. I’ll take care of the rest. It’ll be all decorated when you come over tomorrow night.”

  “That sounds great.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and hea
ded for the door. “See you at one.”

  “You don’t have to take me out for two meals. That seems silly.”

  He turned back and smiled at her. “Just go with it, okay? I want chaperones to make sure we sit and talk.”

  “Does that mean we won’t be talking tomorrow night?” She stood in the glow of the colored lights, her skin flushed and her breathing shallow. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.

  He gripped the door handle to remind himself that he was leaving, by God. “Probably not much.” And he walked out before he changed his mind.

  5

  SOMETIME AFTER ELEVEN the next morning, Rosie Padgett came through the door of Rangeland Roasters. Whitney wasn’t terribly surprised to see Ty’s foster mother. In Rosie’s shoes, she would have done the same.

  Rosie pushed back the hood of her down jacket and fluffed her blond hair as she walked toward the counter. Then she unzipped the jacket to reveal a red sweatshirt with “Dear Santa, I can explain...” lettered on the front.

  Whitney laughed. “Nice sweatshirt.”

  “Couldn’t resist it. Herb says it’s so me.”

  “He should know. Mocha Madness today?”

  “You know it, girlfriend.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, thanks. Ate too much apple pie yesterday.” She took money out of her purse and handed it to Whitney. “But I really need the caffeine. Christmas shopping after this.”

  “Good for you. I haven’t even started.” Whitney rang up the coffee and turned to Meryl, who’d just finished making a Peppermint Passion order. “Are you caught up, or do you need me to make it?”

  “I’m caught up.” Meryl smiled. “Hi, there, Rosie.”

  “Hey, Meryl. Whitney’s keeping you busy, I see.”

  “That’s how I like it.” She started putting together Rosie’s drink.

  “Busy is definitely good.” Whitney was glad nobody had come in after Rosie, though. It gave her a chance to mention last night’s invitation. “Sorry I didn’t make it out dancing with everyone, but thanks for asking me.”