A Very Maverick Christmas. Rachel Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ “I’m going to have a latte,” he said. “Don’t let anybody know. I’ll be hearing from my brothers how I need to drink real coffee. The manly stuff.”

      More of her tension seeped away, and she laughed. “Grow-hair-on-your-chest coffee, huh?”

      “Something like that, although that day is long past. Did you ever wonder why they tell you coffee will stunt your growth when you’re young, and then when you get older it’ll make you manly?”

      She laughed again. “No, sorry. Wrong gender.”

      His head tipped a little, a laugh escaped him, then he leaned toward her a bit, his eyes dancing. “The things your gender has spared you. What will you have? My treat, and the sky’s the limit.”

      She looked up at the menu hanging over the counter. “I’ll have the mocha cinnamon latte,” she decided, then nearly patted her own back for finding it so easy to order. So natural. Some things didn’t feel at all natural to her anymore. So maybe her previous self had liked that kind of coffee?

      Pointless question.

      Braden called the waitress over. “Candy? When you have a sec?”

      She returned her attention to Braden as he ordered for them, adding a couple of blueberry muffins. “I hope you like them,” he said to her as the waitress walked away.

      “I do,” she admitted. Then a thought occurred to her. He’d called the waitress by name. “Do you know everyone in town?”

      “Certainly not you,” he said lightly. Then more seriously, “No, I don’t know everyone. We’ve had a lot of new people come to help with the floods and other things.”

      “And you’re very busy at the ranch?” Keep asking questions, don’t give him a chance to pry.

      “These days, yes. My brothers are busy with their personal lives. They have their own businesses and families to take care of these days. Can’t say I blame them.”

      Her smile came easily. “Me neither. Which is how you came to be wrestling with barbed wire?”

      He grinned. “Exactly. And wrestling is a good term for it. Are you ready for our winter?”

      The change of subject seemed abrupt, but at least she could answer truthfully. “I love winter.”

      “Maybe not winters here so much. We get dang cold. Where’d you come from?”

      “New England.” Which was truthful insofar as it went. “Part of what drew me out here was the idea of snow-capped mountains. Real mountains. And Lissa Roarke’s blog, of course. Though I gather she’s now Lissa Christensen.” Julie had learned from local gossip that Lissa had married her own Rust Creek cowboy, Sheriff Gage Christensen, a few months after her arrival in town last year.

      “I never had much time to read her blog,” he said, leaning back as the waitress, Candy, served them. He thanked her. “I hope she didn’t make us seem overly romantic.”

      “Depends on what you mean by romance. I just knew I wanted mountains and snow, and this place sounded friendly.”

      “Do you ski?”

      She blinked. A blank wall answered that question. “Not really,” she hedged.

      “Most people who like snow do. Just asking. I don’t have a lot of time for it, myself, but if I can arrange it, I like cross-country. I don’t need a slope and don’t have to risk permanent disability.”

      He was cute, she thought, and he made it so easy to laugh. She wanted to keep her guard up, but she was beginning to feel safe with him. For now, at least. Growing warm, she slipped the coat off her shoulders and reached for her coffee.

      “Want me to cut the muffins up?” he asked.

      “It might make it easier.”

      Again that twinkle in his eyes. “Depends on who’s eating and where.” But he unwrapped the flatware that was rolled in the napkin and cut the two muffins into bite-size pieces. Crumbs tumbled all over the plate, but he didn’t seem concerned.

      “That’s an interesting necklace you’re wearing,” he said, pushing the plate toward her in invitation. “It looks old.”

      “It is,” she admitted. She at least knew something about it for certain. “It’s an heirloom.” She reached for a piece of muffin and pulled a napkin out of the dispenser to place it on, while she tensed for the next question.

      “It’s nice to have something like that,” he said, picking a piece of muffin for himself. “I like things that pass down through the generations. They create a great sense of connection.”

      A cowboy philosopher, she thought, and wondered what he’d think if he knew that necklace was her only connection. Probably find an excuse to head back to his ranch and pretend they’d never met.

      She picked up her coffee, nearly hiding behind it, wondering why she was so ashamed of her amnesia. It wasn’t some kind of personal failing. She’d been severely injured, probably in some awful accident, and should just be grateful to be alive. Why did she feel so embarrassed by it?

      Because she wasn’t normal. She wasn’t anything approaching normal. Missing a limb was more normal than missing your entire past, and most people would probably think she was making it up, or crazy in some way. That was the problem. Her dirty little secret.

      “I’ve never experienced winter in New England,” he said when he’d swallowed more muffin and coffee. “I wonder how it compares.”

      “I can’t answer. This is my first time here.”

      Again that devastating grin came to his face. “Maybe we should track the weather this winter and compare the two places. Betcha we get colder.”

      Remembering the last winter, she felt a smile play around her mouth. “I wouldn’t be so sure. We got pretty darn cold last winter. Colder than normal, though.” She knew that because she’d heard it countless times.

      “Then maybe we beat you in the snow department.” When she didn’t answer immediately, he winked. “Say, aren’t you willing to get into an argument about whose home has the worst winter?”

      “You might have better luck with your brothers.”

      He laughed with pure pleasure. “Good one. Points for you.”

      She felt her cheeks warm at his approval. Maybe this would become easier.

      “You seem thick as thieves with Vanessa.”

      “She’s great. She and Mallory and Cecelia and Callie. They’ve all been wonderful to me. And I just adore little Lily.”

      “She’s easy to adore, although I suppose I should defend the Traub honor and claim that for Noelle.”

      “She’s adorable, too.”

      “I just hope she doesn’t grow up quite as mouthy as Lily. That girl! Whatever pops into her head comes out of her mouth. I actually like it. Caleb does СКАЧАТЬ