A Cowboy's Christmas Promise (12 page)

“Where are we going?” Hayley's voice was still husky as Daniel led her out of the wedding tent. She shivered as they emerged into the evening air, and he wished he'd thought to grab his tux jacket on the way out. Instead, he put his arm around her, almost before he realized he was doing so.

“Trust me.”

“Said the serial killer to the innocent wedding guest.”

Daniel laughed and squeezed her shoulder. “There's a nice spot down by the river. We can watch the moon come up.”

He saw her gulp at his last word, and fought the urge to do so himself. What was he
doing
? Hayley'd been right. They'd been much safer in that tent, on the dance floor, with two hundred people milling around. Out here, away from everyone else's eyes, chased by the heat they'd just generated with one dance, it could be very, very dangerous.

He'd had every intention of staying on the fringes at the reception, doing his part as a groomsman and keeping track of Bryn and Gracie, but he most certainly hadn't been planning to share a slow, hot dance with a woman he hadn't managed to unglue his eyes from since she'd walked down the aisle in that ridiculous dress earlier.

Oh, who was he kidding?

He hadn't stopped thinking about her since she'd rolled up in Decker's truck a week ago and flashed her mermaid eyes and wide smile his way.

At Kyla and Decker's ceremony he'd fully expected her to be glib and happy, so when he'd seen tears form in her eyes, and a longing expression on her face, it had rocked him.

And then dinner. She'd sat at the other end of the table looking ridiculously gorgeous, even with that strange excuse for a bridesmaid dress on. He'd practically had to tie himself to his chair when he realized he was hardly the only one tracking her whereabouts. There was more than one rodeo-Joe in the crowd with designs on getting her on the dance floor—or elsewhere, and it had really shaken him up when he'd realized how much he didn't want to see that happen.

It must be because she was special to Decker and Cole and Kyla. Definitely. This protective instinct that had appeared out of nowhere had nothing to do with feeling…something for her. And this—this feeling that had nothing to do with protective
anything
as he held her lithe body in his arms? This was something he barely even recognized anymore.

But God knew he liked it.

And that was the scariest part of all.

“So this twilight walk to Whisper Creek. It's the just-platonic-f
riends edition, right? We're all done with the pretend-adoring thing?” Her eyes were mischievous as she looked up.

“Something like that.”

He steered her off the cabin path and downhill through the pines toward where the creek meandered through the property. He hadn't walked the land in a long time, but if memory served, there was a little gazebo built on the bank, down past the guest cabins. It was a perfect place for…air.

Yes, air.

Or talking. Talking might be good at this point.

“I hear water,” Hayley said as they came through the edge of the pines. “You don't have a secret skinny-dipping plan, do you?”

Daniel laughed tightly, trying not to picture what she'd look like naked, droplets of water sliding down her body. She pulled at the waist of her dress, winking. “After all, I've made no secret of how badly I want out of this dress.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Don't do that.”

“What?” She made her eyes go all innocent and wide.

They came to the edge of a slope and spotted the gazebo, painted white and strung with tiny white lights. Hayley sighed and grabbed his hand as they started down toward it, then let go suddenly, as if just realizing she'd done so.

“Wow. It's beautiful.”

They got to the gazebo and stopped, both of them gaping at it. Someone had painted it a crisp white, then strung those little white Christmas lights all over it. It looked like a picture out of some fancy landscaping magazine now, tiny lights reflecting in the water as the dusk settled around them.

Hayley cleared her throat carefully. “It's very…romantic.”

“I had no idea it looked like this now. Really.”

She smiled as she stepped up into the gazebo and leaned over the far railing, looking at the water pouring over the boulders below. “This might possibly be my new favorite spot at Whisper Creek.”

Daniel watched her from behind as she braced herself on the railing and let the breeze caress her face and ruffle her hair. The moon had just risen across the creek, and through the silky layers of her dress, he could see the outline of her body, making his ache in response.

“This is definitely good air.” Hayley nodded and smiled back at him. “Want some?” She wafted her hands his way.

Daniel stepped toward her, knowing he shouldn't. He leaned against the railing beside her, trying to look at the moon instead of her profile. Trying to keep his hands locked on the wood so he wouldn't bury them in her long curls. He was too close. He knew it. But he couldn't seem to back away. He was playing with fire, and damn, he was about to get burned.

“So.” Her voice was shaky. “I don't think I've ever seen a moonrise. It's beautiful. Truly.”

“Just part of my gallant-groomsman repertoire.”

He was close enough to hear her breath catch, could almost swear he could feel her pulse race, though he wasn't actually touching her. He had to back off. Now. Before he acted on impulse and did something they'd both regret.

Instead he pushed away from the railing and found his hand sliding its way into her hair before he could stop himself. It was so silky, so soft. He raised his other hand, ran it along her jawline, buried it into her hair, watched as her eyes closed at the touch of his fingertips.

Her hands came up between them, fisted, but as he leaned down and kissed each of her eyelids, he felt her fingers loosen, felt her palms spread and trace his chest exquisitely, painfully slowly. His thumbs caressed her jaw, edging closer and closer to her lips, and he could feel her pulse flipping as her breaths came shorter and shorter.

“Daniel?” Her voice was barely audible, a whisper through swollen lips.

He leaned closer, kissing the spot on her earlobe that he knew had nearly turned her into jelly on the dance floor, teasing this time with his tongue. “Yes?”

“I think you are killing me.”

His tongue made tiny circles along the edge of her ear, making her gasp and fist his shirt in her hands. “Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no.” She arched her back as he pulled her earlobe into his mouth and nibbled gently with his teeth.

“Because I will. Say the word, and I will stop.” He slid his hands down her back and cupped her, caressing downward, downward as he kissed her neck. God, she felt good, smelled good.

She squirmed in his arms, sliding her hands around his body to pull him closer. Through her dress he could feel her body warming deliciously, and the heat in his own was building to a peak he hadn't felt in a very long time.
Maybe ever.

He smiled against her lips. “Hayley?”

“What?”

“Told ya you'd melt.”

Then he finally touched his lips to hers, and he heard her sigh as he tasted the sweet raspberry of her lip gloss, felt her sag in his arms as he angled to deepen the kiss. His hands longed to explore her entire body, starting with the jawline that led to the cascade of curly hair falling loosely down her back.

He stifled a gasp as he felt her hands slide up his sides and over his chest. He'd expected confidence, surety—but instead her touch was tentative, slow, enticing. And hot. Her hands were so damn hot they left a path of flames. She traced the lines of his pectorals, then ran her hands up over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling him closer.

As they sunk into the kiss, barely breathing, he had the startling sensation that for the first time in forever, he wanted this. Wanted
more
than this. Wanted more than hot kisses in a moonlit gazebo. Wanted less clothes and more touching. Wanted all of her. Wanted it now.

But apparently the feeling wasn't mutual.

Just as he started tracing his fingers along the neckline of Hayley's dress, she pulled back, catching her breath. Even in the moonlight he could see the color in her cheeks, the fever in her eyes, but instead of resuming the kiss, she slowly let her hands slide down his torso. Pulling out of his embrace, her face looked stricken.

“What's wrong?” He was mystified. That kiss had been completely mutual. He had not imagined the heat between them. That he knew.

She crossed her arms, and his heart sunk at the action.
What the hell?

“I'm sorry, Daniel. I—I can't do this.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don't understand.”

She sighed. “I'm not sure I do either.”

“Well, that's not helpful.” He lifted her chin gently with his fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes. “What just happened here?”

She closed her eyes, scrunching them shut as she blew out a breath. “God, Daniel. I just can't do this. I'm…it's not right.”

What?

“It felt pretty right to me.”

“That's the problem.”

He shook his head. “Enlighten me.”

“Dammit.” She turned and walked toward the railing. “You're too good.”

“And that's a problem why?”

“I mean…ugh. I don't know what I mean.” She crossed her arms again. “You're a really nice guy.”

“Ouch.”

“No, I mean it. You're way too nice. Way too good. Not the type to do—this.”

“By
this,
you're referring to—?”

“This kissing thing, this dancing thing, this—this flirty, hot, knock-my-socks-
off-and-drag-me
-to-bed thing.”

“I'm not sure whether to be offended or not here.”

He tried to read her expression, but she'd pulled invisible shades down over her eyes, and he had a feeling it wasn't the first time she'd used the technique.

After a long, silent moment, she turned toward him, straightening her shoulders. “I'm not a long term bet, Daniel. I'm short, not-so-sweet, and outta here before you say
good morning.
That's what I do. That's what I'm good at.” She sighed. “And oh,
God,
do I want to do that with you right now, but I can't. I won't.”

“Because?”

“Because you deserve better—and I can't promise you better.”

“I see.” He crossed his own arms, not sure what to make of the roiling feeling in his gut. “How's that strategy work for you generally?”

“It works just fine most of the time, as long as I keep my head on straight. But this—this kissing? Not helping.”

“Because—”

“Because I like it.” She put her fingertips to her forehead, scrunching her nose. “And I can't. I really, really can't.”

He backed up a step, giving her space. Apparently he wasn't the only one completely rocked by one kiss. Or two. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad at this point, however. “So where does that leave us?”