A Cowboy for Christmas (19 page)

“No. It just seems to me, from what you've told me about yourself, that you sort of slept through the first part of your life, hence the appeal of Sleeping Beauty. The kiss of a handsome prince wakes you up.”

“I'm nothing without a man, in other words.”

“I think that on some level you've believed that about yourself, but I know you can do anything you set your mind to, Lissette Moncrief. Look what you've done with this whole cowboy-themed bakery idea.”

“Damn right.”

“See, no reason to keep scowling at me.”

“So, of the
True Confessions
stories your mother read, which were your favorites?”

“The second chance stories.”

“Made a lot of mistakes, have you?”

“I just made one tonight.”

“Comparing me to Sleeping Beauty.”

“I never compared you. I simply guessed your favorite princess.”

He was right about everything. She'd spent her life in a dream. Until now. “How do you know so much about princesses?”

“Who do you think read to my little sister?”

“You didn't have a childhood.”

He held out both hands. “It is what it is.”

“You've got a savior complex.”

“That's a bit definitive.”

“But accurate.”

“You trying to make me squirm?”

“You were pretty unflinching with me.”

“I'm powerfully attracted to you, Lissette.”

“Because I'm an emotional wreck?”

“You're not a wreck. You're holding it together pretty damn good if you ask me.”

“Because I have no choice. I have a son.”

“You're a good mother.”

The earnestness in his voice touched her to the core. “I do the best I can.”

“Kyle is lucky to have you. Jake was lucky to have you. I don't know why he left you in favor of war.” He came across the floor toward her.

Lissette did not back up. “Rafferty . . .”

“Lissy.” His arms went around her waist. He leaned down.

“Don't.”

“What?”

“Just don't.”

“Kiss you?”

“I'm not Sleeping Beauty.”

“I know.”

She leaned against him, tossed back her head. “Please.”

“Lissy,” he whispered.

“Rafferty.”

“I want you.”

Their gazes hooked and they both moved forward at once. Rafferty's hands went up to cup her head and at the same time she made the same move. There wasn't any thought involved. Just action. Feelings. Chemistry. Need. All the things that made for bad mistakes. Impulse. Rashness. She was no better than Jake running headlong into battle, tempting fate.

Rafferty's mouth was on hers and his hands were in her hair and she was drinking him up like he was lemonade on a hot summer day, drinking and drinking and drinking.

Oh God! He tasted delicious and Rafferty was kissing her like she was the only woman on the face of the earth. It was heady stuff.

He was guiding her down to the rug.

Her knees touched the ground and she was frantically snatching at the snaps on his shirt and he was kissing her like it was the end of the world. She was sinking. Sinking.

She arched her back, felt his hand skim the backs of her thighs as he peeled off her panties. Her feminine smell scented the air. She saw his nose quiver. He groaned again.

Her fingers went to the zipper of his pants. “Hurry, hurry.”

She pulled down his zipper, slipped her hand inside, felt his hard erection. “Rafferty.”

“Lissy.”

He turned her around, pulled her up on all fours. He was behind her, knees apart. She felt a rush of moistness. She was slick and ready for him. Her breathing was coming in quick, desperate pants.

“Take me,” she begged. “Just take me.”

He took her legs and wrapped them around his waist. She could feel the roughness of his blue jeans against her calves. He leaned forward, pushed against her.

It was a mad coupling.

“Give me all you've got, cowboy,” she challenged.

He didn't need any more encouragement than that. His body took complete possession of hers. She writhed and twisted and called his name. He filled her up, until she feared she could not take one more inch and then she took more.

Lissette felt her own body respond to the cascade of hormones shooting through her. The friction. The fusion. Beauty. Nothing like it. Heat and pressure and hard, thick thrusts. He pulled out, pushed in. Back and forth. Rhythmic and mesmerizing. Lust tasted like forbidden fruit on the back of her tongue. She smelled everything, the hardwood floor, the scent of cookies wafting in from the kitchen, their combined aromas. It aroused her even more. The way they smelled together.

“Rafferty,” she gasped.

He gave one last hard desperate thrust and buried himself inside her.

They collapsed at the top, falling together in the bliss of each other's arms.

T
he futurity started the Monday before Thanksgiving. The competition comprised a series of elimination events in various divisions. It stretched out over three weeks from the end of November into the first week of December, culminating in the Triple Crown of cutting.

For Jubilee, it was the Super Bowl of the cutting horse world. In most places people were gearing up for the holidays, but here, they geared up for the Fort Worth futurity.

Lissy had managed to get a vendor's permit to sell her Texas-themed pastries at the event. Because of Texas law, she'd have to bake the goods she sold at the event in a commercial oven, but she had a friend with a storefront in Twilight who'd agreed to let her use her bakery for the task and Mariah was helping her run the booth. She'd had business cards, flyers, and pamphlets made to hand out. Her parents had taken Kyle to Dallas. Rafferty and Lissette would pick the boy up when they went for Thanksgiving.

Rafferty was amazed at how quickly Slate had become a first-class cutting horse. Of course, Joe and Cordy had given him specific tips, but ultimately, it was the quality of the horse. Jake had picked a good one.

Maybe, just maybe, his scheme was going to work.

He'd already opened a bank account at the First Horseman's Bank of Jubilee with half of Jake's money and put the other half in a trust fund for Kyle. When the time came, he'd invent a fake buyer for Slate and pay Lissette with the money from the account. She never need know he was behind the purchase and she could accept it with her pride intact.

Damn, he was proud of her. She'd grown so much in just a few short weeks. He considered himself lucky that he'd been there to watch her blossom. Plus he'd grown mighty fond of little Kyle. Leaving them was going to hurt far more than he cared to admit.

Lissy's not the only one who's changed.

If someone had told him six weeks ago that he would be in Texas, longing to leave his old life behind and start a new one with his brother's widow, he would have called him a liar. But here he was. Wanting what he couldn't have.

Never mind. He'd been gone soon. Although Slate was a great horse, he was young and still in training. He might win a small purse, but there was little chance he'd go the distance. It didn't matter. His entry had all been an excuse. At first, it had been an excuse to save Lissette's pride while still keeping his promise to Jake, but it quickly had become an excuse for Rafferty to spend more time with her.

Hell, he needed to get back to California and get his head on straight. He'd been away from his ranch for far too long. Soon enough, he'd be back on the road and Jubilee would be nothing but a sweet memory.

Chapter Seventeen

“S
wanky,” Rafferty said when he saw Lissette's parents' Highland Park home. He had an autumn flower bouquet he'd picked up at Searcy's. “You grew up in a palace.”

“You exaggerate.” She tucked the cake box she carried underneath one arm and leaned over to ring the doorbell. She wore a red skirt, black tights, white fluffy sweater, and looked like a Christmas package he couldn't wait to unwrap.

“You underestimate.”

“Don't be jealous. It's illusion. They're up to their chests in credit card debt.”

“Now I don't feel so intimidated.”

The door opened and they were immediately overwhelmed by Erin's embrace. He awkwardly thrust the bouquet at her. “These are for you.”

“How sweet of you, Rafferty.” She lightly kissed his cheek and ushered them inside.

The house smelled of roasting turkey. Lavish decorations included horns of plenty, flower arrangements, and flickering candles. It was the kind of home you saw in the movies. When he was a kid, he would have given his right arm to be invited to a Thanksgiving dinner like this.

Erin escorted them into a dining room packed with people. Walking into a room full of strangers was never easy but everyone welcomed him with smiles as big as Dallas.

“Gramma Jean,” Lissette exclaimed, delight in her voice. “I didn't know you were going to be here.”

An elegant older woman, dressed in black except for a bright orange scarf around her neck, wrapped her arms around Lissy. “Your aunt and your mom swapped me Thanksgiving for Christmas. Judy and her family are going skiing in Aspen and invited me along and you know how I love to ski.”

Ski? The woman was at least seventy. Rafferty was impressed.

“Gramma Jean was in the 1960 Olympics in Squaw Valley,” Lissy told him.

“I didn't win a medal,” she explained. “I came in sixth.”

“Gramma Jean,” Lissette continued the introductions. “This is Rafferty. Jake's half brother.”

“Ah,” Gramma Jean said in a friendly tone. “The mysterious bastard.”

Everyone in the room gasped at the same time.

But her bluntness didn't bother Rafferty. In fact, he laughed, happy that it was all out in the open. “That'd be me.”

“Another cowboy. Lissy has a thing for cowboys.”

“Gramma!” Lissette's cheeks turned pink.

Gramma Jean winked at him. “Honey, no one is blaming you. There is something compelling about a handsome cowboy. I'm very pleased to meet you, Rafferty.”

“Pleased to meet you as well, ma'am.” He shook her hand.

“Where's Kyle?” Lissette asked her mother. “I've missed him so much.”

“I put him down for a nap an hour ago,” Erin said.

“I'll go wake him up for dinner.” Lissette popped out of the room, leaving Rafferty alone with her family.

Erin introduced Rafferty to Lissette's two sisters, Brittany and Samantha, and their husbands, Tim and Heath. Brittany had two children, Zeke and Ella, who were eight and ten. Samantha had a four-year-old daughter named Spice. He made small talk the best he could with people he didn't know.

“Sit beside me.” Gramma Jean sat down at the table and patted the seat beside her. Everyone else was standing, the women bustling around putting food on the table, the men in the corner talking about the Cowboys' chances for making the playoffs. “I want to hear all about you.”

Not knowing what else to do, he took the chair beside her.

“My daughter tells me you're from California,” Gramma Jean commented.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“You seem very polite for someone from California.”

“Must be the cowboy thing,” he said.

“Manners and all that.” She smiled. “I see the appeal. I do have a special fondness for California.”

“From being there in the Olympics?”

“From meeting my husband there.”

“He was Californian?”

“Heavens no. Dust bowl Okie. But I met him while I was competing in the Olympics. He was a ski patrol medic putting himself through medical school.”

“That's something to be proud of.”

“It wasn't conducive for romance. Him going to medical school in California. Me living part-time in Texas, part-time in Colorado. It was a crazy time.”

“You've led an interesting life.”

Gramma Jean looked pleased. “Thank you.”

“I bet you've got a lot of colorful stories to tell.”

“Yes, I do, so don't encourage me or I'll bend your ear all day, when the one you need to be giving all your attention to is my granddaughter. This is her first Thanksgiving without—” She broke off. “Would you like a drink? You don't have a drink. Charles,” she called to Lissette's father. “Bring the man a drink.”

“Scotch okay?” Charles called from across the room.

“Glass of water is fine.”

Gramma Jean arched an eyebrow. “You don't drink?”

“My mother was an alcoholic.”

“Ah,” she said. “Explains some things.”

Where the hell was Lissy? He glanced toward the door, willed her to walk through it. Amid the dinner preparations, no one else was paying any attention to them. It was as if he and Gramma Jean were on their own stage. He wished he were on a movie set waiting for the director to holler, “Cut” so he could get out of this scene.

“That was rude, wasn't it? I apologize.”

“Nothing to apologize for. The truth is the truth.”

“It's good that you don't drink.” She patted his arm. “Jake drank too much. Not an alcoholic, but you know how drink can sometimes make people do stupid things.” Gramma Jean glanced at the cake box on the table. “Ooh, did Lissy bring that?”

“Yes.”

“What kind is it?”

“One of her new cowboy cake recipes.”

“She's a very talented baker.”

“She is.”

“Unfortunately, she also wants to please everyone. You can't do that and be a successful artist. And she is an artist with pastry. You have to have a vision and stick to it.”

“She's got vision.”

“I know. It's the sticking to her guns that's the hard part for Lissy. She's always been afraid to take a stand.”

“I don't see her that way at all.”

“No,” Gramma Jean pulled a surprised face. “Maybe she's changing.” She paused a minute to size Rafferty up. “Maybe you're changing her.”

“Lissy doesn't need any help from me. She does just fine on her own.” He was beginning to see where some of Lissy's self-doubt had come from. If the people you loved kept telling you that you were a certain way, you tended to live up to their expectations.

“Loyalty. It's a good quality in a man.” Gramma Jean took a sip from the tumbler of Scotch that her son-in-law put at her elbow. Charles passed Rafferty a glass of water. “I approve.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I really am glad I got to meet you,” she said. “Lissy is special. As a girl, she was so easy to be around. Not like those other two.” Gramma Jean inclined her head toward the kitchen were Brittany and Samantha were arguing over who had the best haircut. “She might not be as pretty as her sisters, but she's got substance.”

“I think she's beautiful.”

“There's that loyalty again. You, Rafferty Jones, are a keeper. But it's got to be odd. Her having been married to your brother.”

“Nothing odd about it,” he said smoothly, even though the old lady was messing with his head.

“If you say so.” She met his gaze. “Just don't hurt her. She's been through enough.”

“Never,” he said staunchly.

Gramma Jean canted her head. “You're very different.”

“From what?”

“Jake. Oh, the exterior is similar, that cowboy walk and talk, but inside, you're night and day.”

He didn't know what to say to that.

“I've been worried about her for a long time. Even before Jake died.”

“Why?”

“That she's too swayed by influences. That she'll never live up to her potential because others keep her under their thumbs. But when I see her with you, well . . .” Gramma Jean straightened. “I feel encouraged.”

“Like I said before. It's got nothing to do with me. Lissy is coming into her own. She's going to make a huge success out of her bakery. You just wait and see.”

“Loyalty,” she mused. “It's a rare trait.”

Lissy came into the room carrying Kyle. She smiled at him like a rainbow and Rafferty was never so glad to see anyone in his entire life.

R
afferty jumped up from the table and hurried toward her. He put a hand to her back and kissed Kyle on the cheek. Immediately, her son put out his arms to him. Rafferty swung the boy up on his shoulder and Kyle's happy laugh rolled around the room.

“So Gramma Jean had you on the grill, huh?” she murmured.

“No, no.”

“C'mon. She's really protective.”

“She told me that you were an easy child but that it trips you up as an adult.”

“Hmm, that's not exactly a newsflash.”

“I don't see it that way.”

“No?”

“I think having the ability to see both sides of an issue is what's going to take you to the top.”

“I didn't know I was interesting enough to be the topic of an entire conversation.”

“Dandelion,” he said in such a masculine tone that it sent a shiver down her spine. “You're interesting enough for a lifetime of conversations.”

Lissy's face flushed at his compliment. She was getting too accustomed to him. Enjoying his company too much.

The family sat down for dinner. Rafferty ended up sitting across from her, Kyle in his high chair at the end of the table between them. The older children were seated at the kids' table. She was very aware that everyone was watching Kyle, but things went smoothly until her mother began serving dessert.

“I've got pecan pie, pumpkin pie, and Lissy's Dr Pepper cake. Who wants what?”

“So, Lissy,” Gramma Jean said. “Have you made up your mind yet how you're going to educate your son? Your mother told me you're seriously considering teaching him sign language. I went online and did some goggling—”

Brittany's son, Zeke, giggled. “Great-Gramma Jean, it's Googled, not goggled.”

“Goggle, Google, same thing.” Gramma Jean waved a hand. “The upshot is that if you want to fully integrate Kyle into society, you have to teach him how to speak and read lips. If you teach him sign language, he'll only be able to communicate with other people who know sign.”

“I'm well aware of the issues, Gramma.” Lissy smiled sweetly. “I'm still trying to figure it all out.”

“Well,” her grandmother said, and tapped the face of her watch. “Time's ticking. The longer you wait the further behind he's going to get. It's bad enough that he's going to be at a disadvantage his entire life, but with your tendency to drag your feet . . .”

“Thanks for your input,” she said as calmly as she could, even though the anxiety she'd felt on that day she'd had a meltdown in Searcy's was back, knotting her up inside. She wanted to keep the peace, please her grandmother, but she couldn't go back to being the placid woman she'd once been. Things had changed. She'd changed.

“Pumpkin, pecan, or cake?” her mother asked Gramma Jean, clearly trying to derail her.

“I'll have dessert later.” Gramma Jean waved her away. “Lissy and I are having a philosophical discussion.”

Underneath the table, she felt pressure on her foot. She looked up. Rafferty caught her eye, held her gaze steady. Just knowing he was on her side made her feel better. The tension in her belly eased.

“Rafferty?” her mother asked, holding the tray of desserts.

“I'll have a piece of Lissy's cake.”

Kyle started bopping up and down in his high chair at the sight of the desserts. He made the sign for cake and then signed pie.

“Is he using sign language?” Gramma Jean asked.

“He is.”

“You've started teaching him sign language? You've already decided to condemn him to isolation in the Deaf community?” Her eyes widened and her mouth pulled tight. “Oh, Lissette, I think that's a mistake.”

“Gramma Jean has a point,” Brittany put in. “I think you should listen to her.”

“I haven't made any decisions,” Lissette said. “Rafferty knows sign language and he was generous enough to teach Kyle a few simple signs to help me communicate better with him. It's not going to hurt anything for him to know some rudimentary sign language.”

“Slippery slope,” Gramma Jean muttered.

Kyle kept signing.
Cake. Pie. Cake. Pie.

“Lissy, what's he saying?” asked her mother.

“That right there. That's what's wrong with letting him sign instead of learning how to speak,” Gramma Jean said.

“He's saying he wants cake and pie,” Lissy told her mother.

The pressure on her foot increased. She caught Rafferty's gaze again. He winked.
Gonna be okay.
His eyes sent the silent message.
Don't let 'em bulldoze you
.

“Which is it, Lissy? Pie or cake?” Her mother squatted to Kyle's left and slowly mouthed, “Pie or cake?”

Kyle moved his hands at a furious pace.

“Which is it?” her mother asked, sounding exasperated.

“I want cake!” hollered Lissy's niece Spice from the kids' table.

“He wants both,” Lissy told her mother.

“We want cake too,” chimed in Ella and Zeke.

“I'll have some cake myself,” her father threw in.

Her mother looked confused. “What do you mean, Lissy?”

“He wants them both. He wants a piece of pie and a piece of cake.”

“Well, honey that's an awful lot of dessert for one little boy.”