A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe. Vicki Thompson Lewis
Читать онлайн книгу.
She blinked in obvious bewilderment. “You’re kidding.”
“No. We’ll go to that little diner. It’s close.”
“For both meals?”
“You don’t like the food?”
“I like it fine, but I’m confused. What’s going on?”
“I...want to spend more time with you before we’re in a kissing situation again.”
A slow smile curved her kiss-reddened mouth. “Speaking of that, I’ll leave the coffee shop at nine tomorrow night. Is there a chance you might want to drop by here after I’m off work?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Now there’s a loaded statement. How should I answer that?”
He groaned. “Don’t try. You’ll get us both in trouble. I’ll be at the shop at one.” He walked toward the kitchen and got his coat.
“You’re leaving?”
He grabbed his hat from the counter before turning to face her. “If I stay, I guarantee things will get out of hand.”
“Not necessarily.”
He gazed at her without speaking.
“Okay, you’re right. That kiss was a barn burner. Dampened my panties.”
He sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Why not? You might as well know how you affect me since I’m well aware how I affect you. I was there, remember? I could tell what was going on with you.”
“I’m sure you could.”
Her gaze swept down to his crotch. “Still going on, I believe. When we have these pre-sex meals you’re determined to share, you’d better keep your hands and knees to yourself or no telling what might happen in the privacy of our booth.”
“Nothing will happen because we’ll sit at the counter.”
“Spoilsport.”
“I’m just trying to—”
“I know.” She sighed. “And I get it, actually. I need to stop giving you grief. Tonight’s been emotional for me, and you don’t want to take advantage when I’m feeling needy. But you won’t say so because you’re a true gentleman.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are, Ty. You came over for a night of fun and games and instead you ended up with a woman getting teary and homesick over Christmas carols. Another guy might have seen that as an opportunity, but not you. You’d rather get together when I’m feeling strong and happy. Am I right?”
“Sort of.” His conscience was giving him hell. “For the record, I had a reaction to those carols, too.”
“You did?”
“My folks and I always put up our tree on the Friday after Thanksgiving and played Christmas music while we did it.”
She drew in a breath. “Oh, Ty. I’m so sorry. I should have realized that the holidays might be a tough time for you.”
“They’re not. It’s been fourteen years since they died, and the plane went down in July. It wasn’t a tragic accident during Christmas.”
“Fourteen years might sound like a long time to some people, but it doesn’t to me. And holidays can be difficult no matter when the tragedy happened.”
“Thanks for that, but I’m pretty much at peace with losing them.” He’d discovered that saying he was at peace usually kept people from feeling sorry for him.
“I’m glad.”
“Besides, I enjoy Christmas. I hadn’t put any importance on the Friday night tree decorating tradition, and I’m surprised it bothered me.” He put on his hat and shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat.
“Still, I wish I’d known.”
“What if you had? I wouldn’t have wanted you to change your plans because I might get upset.” He gestured to the tree. “But I apologize for not finishing the job.”
“The lights are the hardest part. I’ll take care of the rest. It’ll be all decorated when you come over tomorrow night.”
“That sounds great.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and headed for the door. “See you at one.”
“You don’t have to take me out for two meals. That seems silly.”
He turned back and smiled at her. “Just go with it, okay? I want chaperones to make sure we sit and talk.”
“Does that mean we won’t be talking tomorrow night?” She stood in the glow of the colored lights, her skin flushed and her breathing shallow. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.
He gripped the door handle to remind himself that he was leaving, by God. “Probably not much.” And he walked out before he changed his mind.
SOMETIME AFTER ELEVEN the next morning, Rosie Padgett came through the door of Rangeland Roasters. Whitney wasn’t terribly surprised to see Ty’s foster mother. In Rosie’s shoes, she would have done the same.
Rosie pushed back the hood of her down jacket and fluffed her blond hair as she walked toward the counter. Then she unzipped the jacket to reveal a red sweatshirt with “Dear Santa, I can explain...” lettered on the front.
Whitney laughed. “Nice sweatshirt.”
“Couldn’t resist it. Herb says it’s so me.”
“He should know. Mocha Madness today?”
“You know it, girlfriend.”
“Anything else?”
“No, thanks. Ate too much apple pie yesterday.” She took money out of her purse and handed it to Whitney. “But I really need the caffeine. Christmas shopping after this.”
“Good for you. I haven’t even started.” Whitney rang up the coffee and turned to Meryl, who’d just finished making a Peppermint Passion order. “Are you caught up, or do you need me to make it?”
“I’m caught up.” Meryl smiled. “Hi, there, Rosie.”
“Hey, Meryl. Whitney’s keeping you busy, I see.”
“That’s how I like it.” She started putting together Rosie’s drink.
“Busy is definitely good.” Whitney was glad nobody had come in after Rosie, though. It gave her a chance to mention last night’s invitation. “Sorry I didn’t make it out dancing with everyone, but thanks for asking me.”
“I was sorry, too. Ty said you were bushed after working all day.”
“Um, yeah, sure was.” That was as good an excuse as any and she appreciated Ty making one for her.
“Maybe another time. He’s an excellent dancer. It’s like being on Dancing with the Stars.” She glanced behind her as more customers came in. “You may get too busy, but if you could come over and sit for a minute, that would be great.”
“I will if I can.” She’d love a woman-to-woman chat and she figured Rosie felt the same now that they had Ty Slater in common.
Rosie thanked Meryl for the coffee and carried it to a vacant table next to the window. In no time, Rosie’s friend Harriet came through the door. Once Harriet had her coffee she joined Rosie and they began an animated conversation.
So much for a private discussion about Ty. Whitney should have realized that was unlikely.