A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe

Her mom answered immediately. “Finally! I was so afraid you’d be too busy to call. We all miss you so much!”

Whitney swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “I miss you, too, but it was either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I couldn’t justify leaving on both holidays.”

“I understand. We all do. But I wish you could have heard your young cousins rave about your legendary skill at touch football. You would have felt like a first-draft pick in the NFL.”

“Maybe by next year I’ll have an assistant I can trust to handle Thanksgiving here.”

“Maybe.” Her mother paused. “But honey, if Sheridan is where you’re supposed to end up, that’s not so bad. It’s not like the far side of the moon.”

“It feels a little bit that way right now.”

“I know, but this is your first Thanksgiving away from home. It’ll get easier.”

Whitney chuckled softly. “Are you trying to convince me or you?”

“Probably me. I knew you’d leave a big hole, but it’s a little bigger than I anticipated.”

It was a rare admission of vulnerability and Whitney sucked in a breath. “Aw, Mom, I’m sorry. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe—”

“Don’t you dare consider giving it up, Whitney Lenore! It’s a terrific opportunity, and I’ll adjust. You’ll adjust. We’ll be fine, and stronger for the experience. Buck up, sweetheart. And so will I. Christmas is less than a month away.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s not long.”

“Not long at all. Do you have a tree for your apartment? That’s very important. Yes, you’ll be here for the actual day, but you need your own tree.”

“I do. In fact...” She hesitated. She hadn’t had the best of luck with guys and her mom worried. “Do you remember the lawyer I mentioned, the one who’s on the calendar you saw when you came up here in October?”

“I certainly do! That was a memorable picture.”

“He came into Rangeland Roasters yesterday and asked me out.”

“Oh, my. Are you going?”

“Sort of. I invited him to help me decorate my tree tomorrow night. He’s bringing Chinese.”

“Oh.” The silence on the other end was filled with her mother’s unspoken thoughts. “That calendar picture makes him look...”

“I know, but he’s not really like that. He’s actually very sweet.”

“He doesn’t look sweet.”

In her heart of hearts, Whitney hoped he wasn’t, either. She was ready for the sexual adventure promised by Ty’s rakish expression in the photo. But that wasn’t something she was about to admit to her mother. “Take my word for it. He is. He’s embarrassed by that picture.”

“If you say so. At least you know something of his background. I admire anyone who’s pulled himself up by his bootstraps.”

“And it’s not as if he’s a stranger. He patronized the Cheyenne location for months while I was still there. We talked a lot.”

“But he didn’t ask you out?”

“He was dating someone else.”

More silence. “I’m sure he’s a very nice young man.”

“He is.” Whitney could almost hear her mother’s questions. She wanted to know if Ty changed girlfriends as easily as he changed razor blades. She wanted to know if Ty understood that her daughter was an amazing woman not to be trifled with.

Whitney had no definitive answers for those questions. Her instincts told her that she could trust Ty, but she had no hard evidence to support her belief. And she’d been wrong before. Her mother had been there to pick up the pieces, so she could be forgiven for being suspicious, especially when her precious child was five hours away.

“He’d better treat you well,” her mother said at last, “or he’ll answer to me.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Even at twenty-six, she treasured the protective tone in her mother’s voice. “If he gets out of line, I’ll tell him that.”

“Be sure that you do. And now your cousins are dying to tell you about the disastrous football game. Do you have a few more minutes?”

“You bet.”

“Then I’ll walk into the living room and put you on speaker so everyone can talk. Is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay. And Mom?”

“What, honey?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” There was a telltale catch in her mother’s voice. “So here’s the group.”

* * *

WITH NINE PEOPLE sitting down for Thanksgiving, Ty’s foster mother, Rosie, had moved the festivities to the rec room. A wooden cover turned the pool table into a dining table. Although the original tablecloth had worn out, she’d used the same red-and-white-checked material for the new one. Tradition was important to Rosie.

She was in her element on a day like this, surrounded by friends and family. She’d had her hair freshly cut and colored its usual blond, although she’d added some sassy red streaks. Herb looked fit and his gaze was clear and untroubled. Ty loved seeing his foster parents happy and relaxed after the drama of almost losing the ranch.

Yet the crisis had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It had brought Cade Gallagher and Damon Harrison, the first two boys Rosie and Herb had fostered, back home. Then Cade had reunited with his high school sweetheart, Lexi Simmons.

Rosie had to be thrilled about that. Lexi was like a daughter to her and Lexi’s parents were dear friends. Judging from the dinner table banter between Cade and the people who could turn out to be his in-laws, Janine and Aaron Simmons had forgiven him for breaking their daughter’s heart five years ago.

Like most of the boys at the ranch, Ty had once had a huge crush on Lexi. Petite and curvy, with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes that sparkled most of the time, she’d been a welcome sight whenever she’d come out to visit, either alone or with her folks. But after she’d hooked up with Cade, all the guys had backed off, especially Damon, who was probably Cade’s best friend in the world.

For years Damon had acted as if he’d never settle down, but now he’d apparently found the perfect partner in Philomena Turner, a feisty redhead. Or rather Rosie had found him the perfect partner. It was obvious to anyone who knew Rosie that she’d deliberately thrown those two together last July. She wanted her boys to find true love and she was always willing to lend a helping hand whether they wanted her to or not.

Ty had been thinking about that. Living in Cheyenne had kept him a safe distance from Rosie’s machinations, but yesterday he’d made a date here in Sheridan right under her nose. He wouldn’t attempt to keep it a secret, either.

Yeah, like he could. Sheridan was a small town and even though Whitney was new here, chances were good that Rosie had met her. Rangeland Roasters must have contributed to the Kickstarter campaign or they wouldn’t have the calendar hanging on the wall.

“Who’s up for some boot scootin’ tomorrow night?” Cade glanced around the table laden with the remains of their feast. “Lexi and I thought we’d check out the new band.”

“I’m game.” Damon pushed back his chair. “That’ll give me twenty-four hours to recover. At the moment I can barely move, let alone do the two-step.” He turned to Phil. “Are you willing to have me steer you around the floor tomorrow night?”

“I’m willing, but you’d better wear your steel-toed boots. I haven’t danced since August and I doubt I’ve improved since then.”

“I can’t remember the last time Rosie and I danced,” Herb said. “How about it, Rosie? Think we can keep up with these kids?”

“Ha.” Rosie grinned. “They’ll have to keep up with us. Janine, you and Aaron should go, too. We’ll show them how it’s done.”

“I claim a dance with Ty.” Lexi smiled at him and ignored Cade’s eye-roll. “I remember how you cleared the floor at prom doing all that fancy stuff with Nancy Bennett.”

“Nancy’s married with a baby on the way.” Rosie looked at Ty and shrugged. “But that’s okay. She was a good dancer but she wasn’t right for you.”

“Then I guess we have a plan.” Cade pushed back his chair, too. “Let’s take care of the dishes and then rack up the balls. I feel a pool tournament coming on.”

“I won’t be able to make it tomorrow night.” Ty figured that would be a conversation stopper, and sure enough, everyone sat back down and turned to stare at him.

Rosie frowned. “Please tell me you’re not driving back to Cheyenne so you can work the rest of the weekend”

“No, I’m not. I... I have a date.”

“Oh.” Rosie’s frown transformed into a smile. “How nice.”

“So bring her,” Cade said.

“Yeah, you should.” Lexi studied him with obvious interest. “Anybody we know?”

“Probably. She’s the manager at Rangeland Roasters.”

“Oh, Whitney.” Rosie said her name as if announcing the new Miss America. “What a sweetheart. She’s the one who talked her boss into contributing to our Kickstarter campaign. Now I get it. You probably know her from the Cheyenne location.”

“Yep.”

“Did you date when she was down there?”

“No, but—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Rosie waved a hand in the air. “You’ve reconnected with her, and that’s the important thing. I can see you and Whitney together. Hadn’t thought about it before, but I’ll bet you two will get along like a house afire.”

“I can see that,” Lexi said. “I like Whitney a lot. Very personable.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” Phil added. “Damon and I go in for coffee all the time and she’s always friendly.”

Ty shifted in his chair. “Look, it’s just a date. No big expectations.”

“Does she like to dance?” Damon had been watching the proceedings with a little smile, as if he enjoyed having someone else take the heat for a change.

“I don’t know, but she’s set aside tomorrow night to decorate her tree and she asked if I’d help. I’m bringing Chinese.” He probably shouldn’t have added the last part. Better not to offer extra details.

“Cozy.” Rosie’s blue eyes lit with excitement.

“Casual.” Ty should have lied and said they were going to the movies, except he had no idea what was showing. Besides, no one ever got away with lying to Rosie. She could spot a fib at twenty paces.

“Well, you know where we’ll be,” Lexi said. “If you finish up and want to head over and join us, tell her we’d love that. I think she’d fit right in.”

“She definitely would.” Rosie was beaming. “You should have seen her face light up when I brought in the calendar.”

“Oh, yeah.” Cade leaned forward and gave Ty a wicked-ass grin. “I forgot all about that. She’s been staring at your manly chest for months, hasn’t she? Nice job. Way to work it.”

“That—” He caught himself before he said damn calendar. “It had nothing to do with anything.” Which wasn’t quite true. Whitney had looked at him differently yesterday. She’d toned down her reaction after she’d realized he wanted her to let it go, but the calendar had been a factor.

“Leave the poor guy alone,” Lexi said. “He’s been a good sport about his extended run.”

“Good point, Lex.” Cade attempted to look apologetic but it didn’t quite work. “You took one for the team, bro, and we all appreciate it.” Then his grin reappeared. “But you have to admit it’s turning out quite nicely.”

3

WHITNEY HAD GIVEN herself very little time to get ready, which was just as well. All day she’d been telling herself this date was no big deal. But as she quickly changed out of her uniform into jeans and a white cable-knit sweater, she admitted to being nervous. Her heart raced every time she thought about Ty appearing outside her door.

She’d straightened her small apartment before leaving for work and she’d pulled out the box of tree ornaments. The fragrant Scotch pine she’d bought early this morning was medium-sized, a little over six feet, but that was plenty big enough for her living room. It looked great tucked in the corner.

A futon doubled as a couch because she’d wanted extra sleeping space when her friends or her folks visited. Besides the futon, the living room furniture included two end tables, two lamps and a bookcase that held her TV. Oh, and the rocker from her mother, who believed every home should have one.

Other than that, she owned a small kitchen table and matching chairs, a queen-sized bed and a dresser. Decorating wasn’t her thing and she was grateful that Rangeland Roasters had a template for each holiday. Her boss Ginny shipped the materials and Whitney let her staff go crazy.

The one exception to her lack of interest in decorating was her Christmas tree. Her mom had faithfully bought dated ornaments every year since Whitney and Selena had been born. Selena’s sixteen ornaments were packed away in her parents’ basement, but Whitney had all twenty-seven of hers, including the newest one her mother had mailed last week.

Whitney’s box of decorations included two strands of lights plus the glass icicles and snowflakes she’d added a couple of years ago. She used wired red-and-gold ribbon instead of a garland and was still debating her options for a tree topper. Her parents had a lovely star, but she favored angels. She hadn’t found one she liked, so for now she used a small teddy bear she’d had since she was four.

Five minutes before Ty was due to arrive, she thought about what they’d drink with their Chinese food. A good hostess would have a couple of bottles of wine available, or a six-pack of beer. What if he liked soda? She didn’t have any of that, either. Mostly she had...coffee.

Apparently she’d stumbled into the right profession because she loved coffee—caffeinated, decaffeinated and flavored. She had an espresso machine and a professional-grade blender that could mix up an iced coffee drink that would melt in your mouth.

She knew Ty liked coffee, but it didn’t seem like the right choice for Chinese food. What, then? Well, she sometimes drank tea when she ate at a Chinese restaurant, but mostly she considered it a weak version of coffee and not worth the bother. Consequently she didn’t stock it at home.

About the time she’d decided water was her only option, her intercom buzzed. Showtime. Anticipation jacked up her pulse rate as she walked to the intercom and opened the connection. “Ty?”

“Yep.”

The sound of his deep baritone made her quiver. “Come on up. Second floor, number two-oh-four.”

“Got it.”

A manly voice for a manly man. She buzzed him in before opening her apartment door and stepping into the hall. His boots sounded on the stairs and then he came down the hallway toward her. He held a bulging plastic bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

But she was more interested in the man than what he’d brought for dinner. He wore his shearling coat, snug jeans and a brown Stetson dampened by melting snow. She couldn’t remember opening her door to a more appealing sight.

His gray gaze warmed as it met hers. “I’ve never seen you dressed in anything but a Rangeland Roasters uniform. You look different.”

“That uniform isn’t exactly the height of fashion.”

“No, but...you do it justice.”

“Thanks.” She tingled with awareness. If she’d imagined this might be a platonic evening spent in casual conversation, he’d just changed the game. Then again, she’d never believed their date would be casual and platonic.

She stepped back from the door. “Come in. And thanks for bringing wine. I had no idea what we’d drink with dinner.”

“Tea is traditional, but I wasn’t in the mood for tea.” He brought the chill of a cold Wyoming night with him as he walked in, along with the exotic scents of Asian spices, a whiff of pine-scented aftershave and a crackle of electricity.

She hadn’t realized how he filled a space until he stood in her living room. She’d hosted a couple of her girlfriends since she’d moved here, and her folks had visited twice, but the apartment hadn’t felt truly small until Ty Slater stepped inside. She wasn’t complaining. He was the most exciting guest she’d ever had.

“Nice tree. Smells great.”

“Doesn’t it? That’s Christmas to me.”

“Agreed.” His smile flashed. “It isn’t Christmas until there’s a tree in the living room. How do you want to do this? We could eat while decorating, or eat first and then decorate, or vice versa. Your call.”

“I’m starving and we don’t want the food to get cold, so let’s eat first.”

“Works for me.” He lifted the plastic bag and the wine bottle. “Where to?”

“All I have is the kitchen table.”

“Hey, that’s all I have, too. My apartment is about the size of yours. In fact, I have that same futon. Did you get yours in Cheyenne?”

“Uh-huh.” She led the way into her tiny kitchen. “From that furniture store that’s always running sales.”

“That’s the one.” He set the bag and wine on her small round table.

“Did your salesman have a Santa Claus beard?”

“Yep, same guy.” He took off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. The movement stirred up the scent of whatever soap he’d used, something lemony.

Whitney took a deep breath. Having this man around was aromatherapy for a condition she hadn’t realized she had. She hadn’t intentionally cut dating out of her life. It had come with the new job.

“I found out he plays Santa for the kids who are in the hospital over Christmas,” Ty said.

Looking at him standing in her kitchen, his broad shoulders emphasized by the yoked style of his cream-colored Western shirt, she felt as if Santa had brought her an early present. “That’s awesome!”

“I thought so. Made me feel good about buying the futon from him.” He removed his hat. “Can I just put this on the counter? It needs to dry off a little.”

“Sure. Anywhere.” She would love to mess with his hair and get rid of the hat-brim crease.

“You don’t have a lot of stuff sitting around.” He laid his hat on the counter brim side up, cowboy-style. Then he finger-combed his damp hair, leaving it tousled and sexy looking.

“Just the espresso machine.”

“I’d expect that. I meant you don’t have a lot of doodads and whatchamacallits. Very streamlined. I like it.”

“Thanks.” Her list of things she liked about him was growing longer by the minute. “My mother thinks my apartment’s stark, but I call it uncluttered.”

“Less to move when you’re cleaning.”

“Exactly! And it’s not like I spend a lot of time here, so I don’t want to waste money buying a bunch of things I’ll never use. My mom brought wineglasses when she and my dad came to visit in October, only to discover I didn’t have a wine opener. I just buy screw-top.”

Ty laughed, picked up the wine and opened it with a twist of his wrist. “I’m beginning to think we’re twins.”

“Sort of, yeah.” Except that twins didn’t always think alike. For instance, Selena would have decorated this apartment within an inch of its life. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. She opened a cupboard, pulled out two of the pricey goblets from her mom and set them on the table.

“I took a chance on the wine. I didn’t know if you were into it, and if so, what you liked.” He held up the bottle. “This is a Sauvignon Blanc. Is that okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Well, taste it and make sure you like it.” He poured some in a glass and held it out to her.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to swirl it around and stick my nose in the glass?”

He grinned. “Whitney, I do believe we’re going to get along.”

She met his gaze. “So do I.” She drained the glass and returned it to him. “Fill ’er up while I get us plates, napkins and silverware.” She turned back to the cupboard.

“Yes, ma’am. I asked them to include chopsticks, though, if you want to skip the silverware.”

“I’ve never learned to eat with those, so I’ll require a fork.” She put cloth napkins, one of her few touches of elegance, on the plates. Then she opened another drawer and added utensils, including serving spoons for each carton.

“Want to learn how?”

She considered the prospect as she walked back to the table with the plates. Might be fun, considering who’d be teaching her. “Okay, why not?”

He’d unpacked the cartons and set them in the middle of the table. “See, I knew you were a woman with adventure in her soul.”

“You did? Why?”

Opening each carton, he shoved a serving spoon in. “We could be meeting for a drink tonight, which would be the typical first step since we’ve never gone out. But you discarded that conservative move in favor of inviting me over to help with your tree.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. “Too bold?”

“Nope. I loved it.” He picked up both goblets and handed one to her before touching the rim of his glass to hers. “Thanks for asking me.”

As she looked into his gray eyes and saw heat simmering there, her breath caught. Only minutes into this date she was already imagining what it would be like to kiss him. If the warmth in his gaze was any indication, he had kissing on his mind, too.

Instead he took a sip of his wine, and she followed his lead. The Sauvignon Blanc had a velvety taste that she liked very much. If she kissed Ty now, his lips would be flavored with wine. When he set his glass on the table, she wondered if she was about to have that experience.

Instead, he pulled out the chair across from him, the one that wasn’t holding his coat. “Have a seat and I’ll show you how to use chopsticks.”

Good call. One kiss would likely turn into two, or ten. In the privacy of her apartment they had nothing and no one to interrupt them. She actually was hungry and she really did want to decorate her tree tonight.

Yet as he tore the wrapping from his chopsticks with his blunt-tipped fingers, excitement curled in her belly. Until now she hadn’t realized how much she’d fantasized about this man. Having him all to herself for several hours didn’t seem quite real. Maybe she could postpone the tree project.

He glanced up. “Ready?”

Now there was a loaded question. “You bet.” Grabbing the wrapped chopsticks, she ripped off the paper and clutched one in each fist on purpose to make him laugh.

He did, which drew her attention to his mouth. He’d been blessed with lips that should be lovely to kiss, although shape meant nothing if he had no technique. That would be a crying shame. Until he proved her wrong, she’d assume he had excellent technique.

“Let’s start with a piece of broccoli.”

Oh, yeah. The chopstick lesson. “Broccoli’s a good place to start.” Using the chopsticks like pincers, she snatched a dark green clump from one of the cartons and deposited it on her plate.

His smile widened. “I thought you didn’t know how to do this?”

“I don’t, but obviously it’s easier to grab ahold of something firm than something limp.” In the dead silence that followed her cheeks grew warm. “I mean...when you’re talking about...chopsticks.” But there was no fixing this.

Lips pressed together, he glanced up at the ceiling. Then he dropped his head to his chest and a small snort escaped. His shoulders shook. Finally he gave up the fight and laughed until the tears came.

She couldn’t blame him. Besides, his laughter was catching. Once she started in, it was hard to stop, especially whenever they looked at each other.

At last he wiped his eyes and drew a ragged breath. “I’ll never look at broccoli and chopsticks the same way again.”

“Me, either.” She stifled a giggle. “Talk about an icebreaker.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I’d say the ice is permanently smashed, and there wasn’t much there to begin with. So.” He smiled at her. “Still want to learn to use chopsticks?”

“If you don’t teach me now, I’ll never learn. If anybody else tried, they wouldn’t understand why I keep cracking up.”

“All righty. Let me take a restorative sip of wine and we’ll begin again.”

“I like your selections, by the way. I’m a fan of beef and broccoli and orange chicken.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.” He gazed at her for a long moment.

Another few seconds of that intensity and she was liable to abandon dinner and suggest dessert, the most delicious kind she could imagine. Still, she thought they should hold off. This getting acquainted time was sweet and she didn’t want a physical relationship to overpower it. “But if I’m going to eat anything besides broccoli, I need more instruction.”