A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe. Vicki Thompson Lewis

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      “If I concentrate, pretty much.”

      “Amazing. What a talent.”

      He smiled and shook his head. “Maybe, but I can’t take credit for it. I was born that way.” He hesitated. “So was my mom.”

      She accepted that admission as the gift it was. He trusted her enough to tell her something personal. All things considered, this date was off to a great start. “That’s a nice legacy.”

      “That’s what my foster mom said a long time ago. She was right, but then, she usually is. I guess you’ve met her.”

      “Rosie? Oh, yeah. She pops in at least once a week. Usually she orders a Mocha Madness, but every once in a while she’ll have a Crazy for Caramel instead. She keeps telling me I need to get a liquor license so I can serve Baileys in her coffee.”

      He laughed. “She does love that combo. By the way, she and Herb, plus a couple of my brothers and their girlfriends, are out dancing tonight. We’re invited, but I didn’t make any promises.”

      “Oh!” Maybe she wouldn’t have him all to herself, after all. He’d come to Sheridan to visit his foster family and they were off having fun without him. “Of course we can. I’ll decorate my tree another time.”

      “But you’d set aside tonight to do it. I’ll take a wild guess that the Friday after Thanksgiving is when you normally put up your tree.”

      “It is, but—”

      “Then that’s what we’ll do. I want to. I haven’t decorated a tree since I lived at Thunder Mountain.”

      “You don’t put up one in your apartment?”

      “I have a predecorated tree I haul out of the closet and plug into a timer.”

      She gazed at him. “That sounds very...practical.”

      “And boring?”

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “But tell the truth and the whole truth. You were thinking it.”

      She smiled. “Yes, your honor, I was. Okay, we’ll decorate the tree, but it won’t take long, and we can probably still meet your family afterward.”

      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 СКАЧАТЬ