Chapter Seven

      Betsy felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Still, she didn’t think Ryan noticed her surprise. Because of her mother’s shocking behavior, she’d had years of practice schooling her features.

      “What a good idea,” she said brightly. “I’ll give Adrianna a call right now.”

      Pushing the sheets and comforter aside, Betsy hopped out of bed, not even minding the coolness of the air. All she knew was she had to put some distance between her and Ryan. Give herself a few seconds to compose her thoughts and her emotions.

      This is what you agreed to, she told herself as she scurried from the room to get her phone. You’re supposed to be fixing him up with her. Last night they were two buddies hanging out. When he’d slid into bed with her this morning, her hopes had risen, but he’d only wanted to stay warm. He hadn’t given her a second thought. How could he when his thoughts were so firmly focused on Adrianna?

      Betsy located her phone in its usual spot, next to the coffeepot on the counter. She took several deep breaths while she unplugged it from the charger, then speed-dialed Adrianna.

      Her friend answered on the first ring. They chatted for a few minutes before the conversation ended.

      “Did you reach Adrianna?” Ryan asked from the kitchen doorway, Puffy standing beside him.

      “She can’t come.” Betsy tried not to let her relief show. She wasn’t surprised. Adrianna hated driving on snow-packed roads. If a baby was on the way, she went out. Otherwise, she stayed at home. “She has the day off and wants to relax and enjoy it, not play in the white stuff.”

      A startled look crossed Ryan’s face. “She said that?”

      “Those were her exact words.” Betsy grabbed a sack of coffee from the cupboard and held it up. “Care for a jump start? I have to warn you, I drink the extra-strong cowboy blend.”

      Ryan grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Bring it on, baby.”

      For someone supposedly in love, the attorney didn’t seem all that upset that Adrianna wasn’t joining them. He whistled as he crossed the room with Puffy trotting alongside him. But when he reached the table, he paused. “Should I get dressed first?”

      Betsy dumped some dry dog food into a bowl with tiny bones around the perimeter. Not until she’d placed it on the floor did she realize she’d already fed Puffy. Flustered, she glanced at Ryan. “What do you mean?”

      “My mother. She was very strict with us boys.” Ryan’s lips lifted in a rueful smile. “No food until we were fully dressed.”

      Betsy thought of her own mom. It had been the same in her house, except she and Keenan didn’t get food unless they made it themselves. “Well, I’m not your mother—”

      “Thank God—”

      “And I’ve been known to spend the whole day in my pj’s.

      His eyes lit up. “Watching football?”

      “When the Broncos are playing.” Betsy started the coffee and almost instantly a rich aroma filled the air. “Usually I read.”

      “Do you have any big plans for today?”

      “Not until later.” She held up a mug. “Black or with cream or sugar?”

      “Black, please.”

      She filled the cup, then placed it before him. “With all the sales, I probably should be shopping, but it’s not like I have anyone to buy for. Except Adrianna and I already know what I’m getting her.”

      “What about me?” He took a sip of the steaming brew.

      Betsy added a dollop of cream to her coffee, then took a seat at the table across from him. “Are you asking if you should get Adrianna a gift?”

      “Actually I was asking if you were going to get me a gift.”

      “Dream on, boss man. You make a heck of a lot more money than I do.”

      Ryan grinned and wrapped his hands around the mug. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting something under the tree.”

      Betsy laughed. Ryan had parents, brothers and a boatload of friends. She seriously doubted the guy had to worry about not getting any presents. “Well, if you end up with no gifts, I’ll bring one to put under your tree.”

      “First I have to have one.”

      “You’ve lost me.”

      “A tree.” He straightened in his chair so quickly that coffee spilled over the top of his cup. “That’s what we should do today. Pick out a Christmas tree. One for your place and one for mine.”

      She handed him a napkin. “I don’t put up a tree.”

      “Why not?” He looked up from the spill, his eyes wide, as if she’d said something horrifying like she didn’t eat meat or didn’t know how to ski.

      The truth was, Betsy didn’t feel like telling him the holidays had never been a particularly happy time for her. The last time they’d had a tree, she’d been seven. Her mother had come home drunk and fallen into it. “Who’d see it?”

      Ryan sat back in his chair, an expression of faux shock on his face. “A scrooge. That’s what you are, Betsy McGregor. A modern-day scroogette.”

      Even though he was clearly teasing, something in his tone must have hit Puffy wrong. The Pomeranian lifted her head from the food bowl and growled.

      “It’s okay, Puffball,” Ryan said. “Just keeping it real.”

      After a moment the dog resumed eating.

      “You call me a scrooge simply because I don’t put up a Christmas tree?” Betsy laughed. “That’s reaching, Harcourt.”

      “There was a distinct scroogelike quality to your voice,” Ryan insisted, all serious. It was the twinkle in his eyes that gave him away.

      “Hey, I’m a romantic. A woman who loves doggies and kitties and small children. I even carry around a coin with hearts on it in my purse.”

      Ryan leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his face. “You’re bluffing.”

      “Oh, ye of little faith.” She grabbed her bag from beside the counter and reached inside. Her fingers quickly located the medallion in the small inner pocket where she’d put it for safekeeping. She pulled it out and tossed it to him.

      He caught it easily, flipping it over, then holding it up to the light. “This is a love token.”

      “You’re making that up.”

      “I’m not. My father found one in an antiques store