A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe (20 page)

But they’d stop at the jewelry store, too, because his dad loved getting something pretty, and then they’d browse the toy store looking for silly things to make her laugh. The light-up Slinky had been a real hit. She’d set up time trials for the Slinky’s progress down the stairs. He couldn’t remember her smiling face but he could picture the Slinky undulating down from the second floor.

His throat ached as he stood and walked away from the tree. For one awful moment he was angry with Whitney because she still had all of that in her life. Taking a deep breath, he let the anger go.

He’d had to learn that trick or he would have been eaten up with anger and jealousy. The waves of anger didn’t come over him so much anymore, but that was partly because he didn’t dwell on what he’d lost. No point, especially if it stirred up emotions he needed to keep in check.

“Good morning.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned toward the hallway where she stood wearing her granny gown and looking pink and rumpled. She’d piled her hair on top of her head and secured it in that mysterious way only women seemed capable of. His heart lifted at the sight of her and he smiled. “Good morning.”

“I didn’t hear you get up.”

“That was on purpose.” He walked toward her and cupped her face gently in both hands. How he loved looking into those warm brown eyes. “I desperately want to kiss you, but I’m not going to until I’ve shaved this porcupine off my chin. I gave you whisker burn and I’m deeply sorry.”

She grinned at him. “Well, I’m not sorry for a single thing, so there.” She stroked his cheek. “If you let your beard grow, it would get softer. Beards are making a comeback, you know.”

“Not at my firm. The senior partners have made that very clear.”

“Okay, then.” She sighed. “But it was fun to think about.” She rubbed her knuckles over his prickly chin. “What have you been doing while I slept the morning away?”

Letting old memories swamp him, never a good thing. “Ate the rest of that loaf of bread and turned on the Christmas lights. I think a blizzard demands Christmas lights all day, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to make coffee, but maybe you still don’t want—”

“Oh, I want, especially if it’s prepped by a professional.”

That made her laugh. “My equipment’s not as good as what I have at the shop, but I can whip up a mean latte if that interests you.”

“Very much. I’ll shave while you’re doing that. Do I have time to shower?”

“I suppose.” She gazed up at him. “But I don’t have a huge hot water tank.”

“Oh, then I’ll wait until after you shower. No problem.”

Her seductive smile was back. “Or...we could have some coffee, and maybe some eggs, and then...we could shower together.”

A potent image of water sluicing over her breasts and running in rivulets down her thighs was all he needed to rev his engines. He tilted her face up to his. “Or we could forget the coffee.”

“It’ll be more fun after we’ve had coffee. We’ll be more awake.”

“I’m awake. Parts of me are
really
awake, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, man, do I ever.” Her voice was husky as she met his gaze. Then she grasped his hand and turned her head to lick his palm.

He sucked in a breath.

With another smile that fried his brain, she slipped away from him. “Go shave before we end up rolling around on the floor. You wouldn’t want to give me rug burn, too.” Turning, she walked into the kitchen with a sway to her hips.

“There’s no rug in the kitchen,” he called after her. “Just sayin’.”

“No, but the floor is very hard.”

“That’s not the only thing.”

“Go shave, cowboy!”

Laughing, he walked down the hall to fetch his shaving kit. Less than ten minutes later, he was back in the kitchen in time for her to hand him a mug with froth decorating the top.

“Your latte, but I’m afraid it’s not peppermint.”

“No worries. The personal service makes it special.” He took the mug and raised it in her direction. “Here’s to your continued success at Rangeland Roasters.”

“I admit the future looks bright for the Sheridan location.” She took a sip. “Ah. Nothing like a little jolt of caffeine to start the day.”

He could think of another way that would be sweeter, but the opportunity had been lost for this particular day. He drank some. “This is really good. You obviously love coffee.”

“I adore it. I have ever since I was about five and my mom let me have some laced with a lot of milk and some sugar. I’ve told her this career is all her doing. Hey, do you want some eggs? I have another frying pan so we don’t even have to sandblast the remains from the other one.”

“That sounds great. But I’m going to help you.”

“Then I’ll give you the bowl and the whisk. I’ll melt butter in the pan and drink coffee.”

“Deal.” Spending time with her was so relaxing, probably because she had a gift for easy companionship. In minutes they had plates full of scrambled eggs to go with their coffee. They decided to let the bread thaw some more before trying to toast it.

He sat across from her at the little kitchen table. Their Chinese meal when he’d introduced her to the use of chopsticks seemed like years ago. He’d made a half-assed attempt to control his rapid slide into total commitment. He hadn’t succeeded and now he was in up to his neck.

“What about you?” She scooped up a forkful of eggs. “What inspired you to go into contract law?”

“My mom.” And there they were, back in the danger zone that could blast this cozy setup into a million pieces. But maybe not. He’d give this discussion a try.

“How so?”

“That was her specialty.” If he had a nickel for every time he’d wished she could be here to see how well he was doing with it, he’d be a very wealthy man.

“What a nice thing, to follow in her footsteps.”

He looked into her eyes, drawing strength from her calm expression. “Like I said, I inherited her photographic memory, so it seemed like a logical choice.”

“And maybe an emotional one, too?” Her voice was soft and nonthreatening.

Yet the question poked at a sore spot and he tensed. “I suppose it was.” He soldiered on. “I spent all those years hearing about what she did, and it sounded cool to me. In some ways, contracts are the backbone of our society. A handshake used to be enough, but today we require a contract for almost anything we consider significant.” It was something she’d told him long ago and he’d always remembered it. But he’d never repeated it before.

“That’s absolutely true.” She continued to eat as if they were having a casual conversation. “How about your dad? What did he do?”

“He sold appliances. Refrigerators, stoves, stuff like that.” And he had stories about his customers that would have Ty and his mom rolling on the floor. God, he missed those stories. The hollow place in the pit of his stomach grew larger.

This was why he didn’t talk about his parents. Rosie had tried to get him to do that and he’d refused. The foster boys at Thunder Mountain had asked a few questions but hadn’t pressed him for answers. In contrast to their stories, his life had probably sounded pretty good to them, at least up to the point where it had all ended.

“I’ll bet you had top-of-the-line equipment in your house.”

“Yep.” According to the lawyer who’d handled the estate, the primo stove, refrigerator, washer and dryer had made the house easier to sell. He’d mentioned it to Ty as if he’d thought that would be comforting.

“I have an uncle who sells appliances. His sales technique cracks me up. He shows customers an appliance and then says
do you want it or not
? No subtlety whatsoever. He’s the top salesperson in his region.”

“Whitney...” He tried to think how to say something that wouldn’t sound offensive and ruin what he hoped would be a nice day together. A nice life together, in fact. “I don’t talk about them very much, so if you don’t mind, I’d—”

“I’ve noticed.” Her gaze was direct. “But I really like you. I’d love to know more about what made you the amazing man you are today.”

He pushed his plate away. “I wish I could just talk about them, but it’s hard for me. I can see why you wouldn’t get that, though.”

“Try me.”

“It’s like I’ve had two lives, one before the plane crash and one after. The one that came after is an open book. Ask me anything. We can talk about Rosie and Herb, my best friend, Brant, life on the ranch, whatever. That’s a big part of who I am.”

She shoved her plate aside, too. “Of course it is. I’ve spent time with Rosie and she’s a force to be reckoned with. I’m willing to bet that without her, you would be in a whole other place.”

He sighed in relief. This he could talk about. “I would have ended up in a juvenile detention center. I was a violent kid prone to rages. I broke things, including noses if somebody got in my face.”

“That’s so hard for me to imagine. You’re one of the gentlest guys I’ve ever met.”

“Not when I’m angry, and I was very angry. The world had dealt me a bad hand and it wasn’t fair. I wanted to get even.”

“I can understand that.”

He gazed at her and thought of all the Christmas gifts grouped around the tree. He pictured Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her extended family. Joy and love would surround her, had surrounded her, for her entire life.

“It’s natural to say you understand.” He said it kindly because he didn’t want to be mean or cruel. She’d had a blessed life that had made her into a wonderful person who wished only the best things for everyone. He cherished that. “But I don’t think you do. I don’t know how you could.”

“You might be surprised.”

The slight edge to her voice put him on alert. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been trying to decide when I should tell you this. We potentially could spend the whole day together, so saying it before high noon is probably stupid. It could backfire.”

His heart thumped crazily in his chest. “But you’ve launched into it, so you have to tell me.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I didn’t mean to bring it up now. Or maybe I did. I was the one who started asking questions about your folks.”

“Go on.” He braced himself. Unfortunately life had taught him to be prepared for the worst.

“Okay, before I say anything more, this is not at all like your situation. It’s totally different and comparisons should never be made. However.” She took a shaky breath. “I have firsthand experience with a single incident splitting a life in half.”

His palms were sweating and he barely managed to get the question out. “What happened?”

“A month after my twin sister, Selena, and I turned sixteen, she was killed in a car accident.”

He stared at her and tried to wrap his mind around what she’d said. “Your twin sister?” Pressure built in his chest.

“Yes.”

“Why...why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Because... I didn’t want...” She looked away. “You’ve been through so much. Telling you about Selena seemed like a cheap way to bond with you, like I was using her death to get closer.”

“Dear God.” He was out of his chair and pulling her out of hers. “I would never think that.” His heart ached for her. He’d never had a sibling, but he had foster brothers. To lose one was unthinkable. He gathered her into his arms and cradled her head against his chest. A sister. And a twin, which seemed even worse. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you need to understand.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I’ve accepted what happened. I’ve come out the other side. It’s okay.”

“It’s never okay.” But he knew what would make it better, at least for a little while. “Come with me.” Taking her hand, he led her into the bedroom.

17

W
HITNEY
UNDERSTOOD
T
Y
’
S
impulse to make love. He didn’t believe that she’d truly accepted Selena’s death and he wanted to comfort her in the best way he knew. Maybe it didn’t matter whether he believed her or not. Her confession had probably stirred up his own feelings of grief and he might be the one in need of comfort.

But if he thought he was doing this for her, she’d take that as a gift of love. His reaction to hearing about Selena told her more clearly than words that he’d come to love her. As she had come to love him.

If she hadn’t admitted it before, she knew it now. Instead of squirming with impatience as she watched him undress, she waited for him with a warm glow of anticipation. She wanted to hold him and feel his skin against hers as they communicated with sweet touches and soft murmurs. She cherished the privilege of being in his arms just as she knew he cherished the privilege of being in hers.

Looking into his warm gray eyes as he climbed into bed and moved over her, she glimpsed a depth of emotion that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t have to say it. His tender kiss and his gentleness as he entered her demonstrated how much she meant to him.

He loved her with sure, steady strokes. Gradually the sadness that had lingered in his eyes gave way to the joy of giving.

She hugged him close and poured all the love she felt into her gaze. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled. “Although it’s your pleasure I’m after.”

“I know.” She lifted her hips to meet the thrusts that wound her body tighter each time he pumped. “And you’re...achieving it.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you feel it?”

“Yeah.” His voice roughened. “And I can see it in your eyes.”

And do you see the love there
,
too?
“Come with me.”

He shook his head. “As someone else said...” He took a ragged breath. “This is all about you.”

“Then come with me.” She gripped his flexing buttocks and pushed up against him with a soft moan. “Because that’s my favorite.”

Awareness flashed in his eyes. “Mine, too.” He held her gaze as he rocked his hips faster. “Mine, too, sweet Whitney.”

She gulped for air as her climax hovered nearer. “Deal?”

“Deal.” And he bore down, his gray eyes darkening to the color of storm clouds. Then he paused, gasping. “Ready?”

“Oh, yeah.” She pressed her fingertips into his bunching muscles.