A Snow Country Christmas. Linda Lael Miller
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Название: A Snow Country Christmas
Автор: Linda Lael Miller
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: The Carsons of Mustang Creek
isbn: 9781474075619
isbn:
She pulled out a cutting board from a side cupboard. “Somehow I suspect your culinary skills are limited to making reservations, but if you can slice an onion, you have a job to do.”
“That I can do.” She was right, he didn’t cook often, but then again, he traveled constantly and home-cooked meals were hard to come by when one wasn’t often home. Maybe that was part of what he liked about Mustang Creek—every aspect of the community felt welcoming and homey. If you walked into an establishment like Bad Billy’s Burger Palace, you’d be greeted by name.
He hadn’t even realized until recently that that appealed to him.
Maybe he was just getting a little restless in his life. Something was missing, and he knew he was in Mustang Creek for Christmas for more than just work.
Standing in Raine’s kitchen, admiring the shapely curves of her body under that silvery sweater, he wondered again what it was about her that had caught his attention. It had served him well in the business world to play hunches and go with his instincts, and his instincts had started humming the instant he’d first laid eyes on her. Raine wasn’t classically beautiful but she was one of those women who, whenever she walked into a room, unconsciously made everyone turn to look. Her vitality was part of the appeal, and since he himself was reserved and self-contained, he’d been fascinated from the start.
“Knife is in the drawer.” She looked up and caught him staring. Wiping her hands on a towel, she looked down as a sudden faint hint of color bloomed in her cheeks. “What?”
“You’re just so—” he cast about for the word “—alive.”
“I hope so, since the alternative is pretty undesirable.” The smile she gave him was quizzical this time.
He wasn’t about to elaborate. “True enough, Ms. McCall.”
“Knife is in the drawer, by the way.”
“You mentioned that.” He tugged open the drawer she indicated and found the object in question. “On the job.”
Mick chopped onions while she dropped the burgers in the grill pan and in less than a minute, his mouth was watering from the tantalizing smell of sizzling meat. Outside, the snow was thickening, draping the trees and the wooden fence out back in a festive wardrobe of white. The whole scene was relaxing in a way he didn’t often allow himself, a respite from the world, and the music softly playing in the background didn’t hurt one bit.
Fire in the hearth, a concerto in the background, a glass of wine, a home-cooked meal and a beautiful woman...
The perfect way to spend Christmas Eve.
“THAT WAS A real treat. I felt like I was home again.”
For someone who obviously hit the gym, Mick could eat on a par with the Carson brothers, and that was a high bar. As Red, the head hand at the ranch would say, he could really strap on the ole feed bag. Raine was happy she’d decided to make three burgers instead of just two because that third one disappeared quickly. Mick’s manners were meticulous, of course, but he had devoured his food with flattering enthusiasm.
“I warn you,” she informed him when she got up to clear their plates, “I learned all about how to make dessert from Blythe Carson. Ice cream is going to be all you get.”
“That sounds just fine to me.”
“Once you taste Bad Billy’s Lemon Drop Ice Cream, you’ll be hooked for life.” She wasn’t kidding. “There’s a reason I don’t dare keep it on hand all the time. That would be a desire to keep my girlish figure.”
He gave her a slow once-over as he rose, plate in hand. “There’s nothing I’d change, trust me. Let me help with the cleanup.”
She’d argue, but had a feeling Mick Branson didn’t lose verbal battles very often, maybe ever. He was the epitome of cool, calm and collected, with a good dose of masculine confidence thrown in. It was telling that she wasn’t sure how to handle his obvious interest, because she’d decided a long time ago to just live her life as she wished and that her untraditional approach was a healthy outlook on life, at least for her. She’d sat down with her daughter and explained that the reason she’d never married Slater was that they were too fundamentally different for it to work out, and Daisy seemed to accept that, perhaps because she saw how much her parents loved her and respected each other.
But no one was more different from her than Mick Branson, so Raine had to question why, when their fingers brushed as she handed him the ice cream scoop so he could do the honors, there was an electric flicker of awareness between them.
He wasn’t her type.
She was definitely not his type. She wasn’t sure what his type might be, but she imagined a cool, polished blonde who’d feel right at home in pearls and a stylish black dress. Someone who’d fit in at corporate functions and with the Hollywood set.
Mick interrupted her musings as he scooped out the creamy lemon mixture into the two Victorian glasses she’d inherited from her grandmother. “Daisy is a great kid from what I’ve seen. Spunky and self-confident.”
She smiled. “That she is. It’s hard to believe she’s half-grown already. I don’t know where the time goes.”
He concentrated on scooping. “Have you ever thought about having more children?”
Raine’s expression must have reflected her surprise at the unexpected question. He caught her gaze and for a moment she found herself trapped in those dark eyes. “I just meant you’re a wonderful mother, according to Slater. You’re young, so it just occurred to me. Plus I talked to Grace this morning and she told me her news, and also about Luce.” He looked not exactly embarrassed but maybe off balance. “I didn’t mean to get so personal so quickly. I officially recant.”
Raine wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “I don’t mind the question, but turnabout is fair play. So what about you? Kids?” He was, she’d guess, around forty or so. There wasn’t a fleck of gray in that carefully tousled dark hair, but Slater had once remarked that he and Mick were about the same age.
“Do I have any kids? No. Do I want them? Maybe.”
“I feel like I don’t know that much about you. You’ve done a good job of keeping your private life, well...private.”
“Checking up on me?” He didn’t seem to mind—quite the opposite. “I keep it that way as much as possible.”
“I might have checked a little when you first showed up in Mustang Creek, but Slater likes you, so I trust you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be wasting BB’s Lemon Drop on you.”
“In that case, I hope to prove worthy of the ice cream. Sounds like a high bar.”
At least he had a sense of humor. She was discovering she liked that about him.
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