A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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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.
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