Mistletoe Cowboy (6 page)

***

Creed wanted to taste those luscious lips more than he'd wanted to kiss any other woman in his life. When she moistened her full lips he could hardly wait for the sizzle that they promised. She had shut her eyes and was leaning in toward him when Noel jumped between them and her paws landed on Sage's hip bones.

Sage's eyes popped open.

Creed took a step back so she could see that he didn't have his hands in that place.

Sage blushed and mumbled something about Noel being hungry.

He set the pan on the floor and turned around to remove his coveralls for the umpteenth time that day.

“Guess she likes her milk,” Sage said.

“Looks like it.”

“How am I going to get Angel fed without Noel drinking her supper too?”

Creed chuckled. “I figured you'd name her Mary since she had babies in the manger because there was no room in the inn.”

“I thought about it, but a cat shouldn't be named after Jesus's momma. I'm not one for making God mad in the middle of a blizzard. Besides, all that fluffy hair reminds me of angel wings.”

He pointed. “Look.”

The cat and dog were sharing the pan of milk.

“I told you they were friends,” Creed said.

***

Sage was afraid the “almost-kiss” would be an elephant in the room all evening, but it wasn't. They had soup again for supper and she actually felt like she'd known Creed forever. He could be an outlaw or a serial killer. Just because he'd charmed his way past Grand didn't mean that he was the greatest thing since ice cream on a stick. She shouldn't trust him and it riled her that she did.

Before Sage trusted anyone she had to know them a long time, but there she was laughing and talking to him as if they'd both grown up on the Rockin' C. She was supposed to be making him miserable, not befriending him.

At the supper table, Noel begged and whined. When they set a pie pan of soup and corn bread on the floor Angel joined her again.

“She's even eating carrots, Creed.”

He leaned over so he could see the animals. “Which one?”

“Angel is eating carrots and peas.”

“She's hungry,” Creed said. “Poor little thing probably thinks she's died and gone to heaven.”

Grand's voice whispered into her ear,
He's a good man.

She wanted to argue with her grandmother, but her heart said that Grand was right. Creed was a good man. He could be trusted. He just wasn't the right man for the Rockin' C.

When she slipped into her bed that night she laced her hands behind her head and stared at the dark ceiling. It had been the strangest day of her entire life. Maybe it was because she didn't have a telephone or a laptop, and the only person she could talk to was Creed. Maybe those three pieces of mistletoe really were an omen.

Whatever it was, she sure hoped the next day wasn't a repeat, because it was confusing the hell out of her. She touched her lips and felt cheated. She'd wanted that kiss to see if she really was attracted to the cowboy or if it was just a simple proximity issue. Close by. Nothing to do but think about those sexy eyes and dark hair. Cooking together. Working side by side. Cats with babies. Pregnant dogs. All combined, it would knock a hole in any woman's hormones.

Going to bed before nine o'clock made for an early morning. Creed looked at the clock beside his bed at four o'clock. He rolled over and pulled the window curtain back. The snow was still falling just as hard and fast as it had been when he went to bed. The wind whirled down the canyon walls turning the naked mesquite and scrub oak limbs into musical instruments that hummed something like Christmas carols.

There was no going back to sleep no matter how tightly he closed his eyes or beat on his pillow, so finally he crawled out, padded into the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee. While it perked, he dressed for chores. He turned the gas off from under it just before he and Noel went out the back door. If Sage got up early, it would be ready. If she didn't, it would still be hot when he brought the milk inside.

The hay was half gone, but there was enough to keep the cattle happy until nightfall. He shoved the rest of the bale out into the lean-to and shut the doors tightly behind it. He fed the hogs, gathered the eggs, and then milked the cow.

Sage still wasn't awake when he took the milk inside, so he strained it and put it away. And that's when the cranky mood hit him. If he was home in Ringgold during a snowstorm, he'd spend time in the tack room or in the barn working on equipment. Or he'd go up to the Chicken Fried Café and talk to the other ranchers in the area. One day was his limit when it came to sitting still all day and he damn sure didn't look forward to day two of it.

He poured a cup of coffee but didn't strip out of his outdoor clothing. Instead he carried the cup with him to the back door and turned to look at Noel. She'd huddled down into her blanket with a paw over her nose. It didn't look like she had any intentions of going back out into the storm, so he went without her.

He eased into the barn and shut the door behind him, lit two Coleman lanterns, and grabbed a wide push broom. Part of the barn floor was dirt, but the majority of it was concrete and it was strewn with hay. He leaned on the broom and noticed that the small hay bales needed straightening. He set the broom to one side and went to work on them. Anything to work the crabbiness out; and it had nothing to do with the fact that he'd missed getting a kiss he wanted or that he'd dreamed of Sage all night.

He'd come to the Panhandle to get away from all women, not to be mesmerized by one female.

***

Sage didn't have to wait for the grumpy mood to hit her. She awoke with it already in full swing. Not even hot coffee waiting on the back of the stove relieved the antsy feeling in her chest. Usually when she got like this she took her paints, and a bologna sandwich, and went to the back side of the canyon to paint from daylight to dark. But that wasn't possible in a snowstorm.

She rubbed Angel's fur and scratched Noel's ears, but that didn't help. She wanted Creed to get up and talk to her. That's when she noticed the milk bucket in the dish drainer and the cheesecloth strainer was draped over it, so Creed had been up long enough to do the chores.

Where was he? If the chores were done, why wasn't he back in the house? Had one day with her been all he could stand? Was he inching his way up out of the canyon in his truck on his way back to greener pastures?

She stepped into her coveralls and put her boots on, picked up an old felt hat of Grand's, and slung the door open. Noel didn't make a move, so evidently she'd already been out that morning.

She found him stacking hay. The barn floor was clean enough to eat off of and smelled fresh instead of like two-day-old cow crap. “You plannin' on eatin' breakfast this morning?”

He didn't look around or slow down. “Is it ready?”

“Hell, no!”

“Then I don't guess I'm ready to eat.”

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?” she asked.

“Same four-legged critter that pissed in yours, I have a suspicion.”

She popped her gloved hands on her hips and asked, “You are mad at the animals? What did they do?”

“Think about it,” he answered without stopping work.

She grabbed him by the arm and swung him around. “I wanted that kiss too, but you damn sure didn't try a second time, so don't be blamin' the dog.”

A smile tickled the corners of his mouth. He swiped his felt hat off with a flourish, tossed it on a hay bale, and drew her close with one arm. “If that pesky dog jumps up on us, ignore it.”

“Yes, sir!” she said breathlessly as he ran the back of his rough hand down her cheek and tangled his hands in her dark hair.

His lips met hers in a fiery clash with enough heat to melt every drop of snow in the canyon. Tongue met tongue in a mating dance that left them both breathless and still wanting more. She'd had passionate kisses before, but Creed wasn't just kissing her, he was making love to her with his lips and tongue. She could actually feel her boots leave the cold concrete floor and float toward the rafters.

He drew back and she thought he mumbled her name, but it could have just been a moan like what came from her throat when he nuzzled inside the collar of the coveralls and strung kisses from her ear all the way back to her lips.

That kiss was even hotter than the first one. She tried to think of a kiss in the past that had turned her knees to jelly and erased every sane thought from her mind. But her mind had shut down and her body had taken over. The fickle thing wanted to sling all its clothing off and feel more than Creed Riley's hands on her neck and his body pressed to hers so tight that even the north wind couldn't find a way to get between them.

She'd had kisses, but she'd never had one that made her completely crazy with want. She'd have to keep her distance from him for sure because if one make-out session in a freezing cold barn could create so much heat, they'd burn the house down if they ever tumbled into a bed.

Or
better
yet, wrapped up in a blanket in front of the fire
, she thought and then blushed at the visual of him naked with the fire reflecting in his green eyes.

When he pulled back the second time she inhaled deeply and laid her head on his chest. Even through all the layers she could hear his heart thumping like he'd run a mile in hundred-degree heat.

She tried to force her feet to take a step backwards, but her feet were glued to the barn floor. She was a grown woman, not a hormonal sixteen-year-old girl who chased down good-looking cowboys in the barn to steal a few kisses. And as such, she had to step back, walk away, and not look back. Falling for Creed Riley would be disaster.

One
day, for God's sake! That's all I've known this man.

The argument began with common sense and her heart taking opposing sides.

You've been waiting for Creed Riley your whole life. How big is that hole right now?
her heart asked.

Hush! He won't stick around here past Christmas
, common sense said.

She never knew a heart could talk until she heard it say loud and clear,
I
want
Creed
Riley
for
my
Christmas
present.

Dammit!
common sense yelled.
Don't listen to that worthless organ in your chest. You can't have Creed and Grand both, and remember who's been there for you your whole life.

Creed hugged her tightly and said, “Well, that made me hungry. Matter-of-fact, I'm starving. Let's go cook breakfast and check on the livestock in the house.”

Sage looked up at him.

Where in the hell had that crazy fool notion of wanting Creed for Christmas come from? It was just a kiss and she'd only known him for a day. The blizzard must have frozen the part of her brain that made adult, sensible decisions.

It wasn't until then that she realized she had unzipped his coveralls and her hands were warming against the warm flannel of his shirt. No wonder she could hear his heart beating so well! She withdrew them and brought a full load of guilt with her. She could not, she would not kiss him again.

“I'm not grumpy anymore.” He grinned.

She removed her hands and he zipped his coveralls. “Me either, but I am hungry.”

***

Creed's stomach growled, but food was the last thing on his mind. He could not fall for Sage Presley, not now. Maybe later on down the road it could happen, after he'd bought the ranch and they really got to know each other. And besides, Creed did not believe in that love at first sight shit.

It was the snowstorm causing all the crazy emotions between them. He was excited about finally finding just the right ranch and getting it for such a good price. He would just blame the whole thing on Christmas. For the past two years he'd searched for a ranch that he could afford and that had the right feel. And now he'd found it at the beginning of the season. It stood to reason that after growing up on a ranch with a big family, he'd get a silly notion like that in his head too.

The place had to have some kind of voodoo magic to make him fall prey to Sage's charms. There wasn't a doubt in his mind she had something up her sleeve that had to do with her grandmother changing her mind. He'd have to be very careful or else he'd be right back looking for a place of his own again if Ada Presley came home and listened to her granddaughter.

He'd just let things get to him. He'd been bored with only chores to keep him busy and it had been a long, long time since he'd wrapped his arms around a woman. Pregnant dog, new baby kittens, cooking together, and sharing meals—it all combined to put thoughts of a family into his mind.

Creed had a lot of work to do before he could entertain notions of a family. He'd arrived at the ranch with the idea etched in solid granite that he'd given up on all women. That he'd dance with them, do a little flirting, and enjoy a one-night stand a few times a year. But in the end, he'd be the old bachelor uncle who lived out in Palo Duro Canyon that all the nieces and nephews adored. There were six other Riley sons. The three older ones had families. Ace and Jasmine were already pregnant and it was going to be a girl, so Creed's momma was happy. And Dalton and Blake were out there scanning the mesquite bushes for a woman. It wouldn't be long until they'd have one cornered and wedding bells would be ringing. He didn't need to produce a Riley to keep the name going, and he didn't want another heartbreak.

He stomped what snow he could off his feet and slung open the back door. Noel danced around Sage's feet as she kicked off her boots and unzipped her coveralls. Angel peeked up over the edge of her basket and then curled up again. Sage reached over and picked a piece of mistletoe from off his shoulder.

“This stuff thinks you are an oak tree.” She smiled.

“It must be blowing off the scrub oaks. I swear if they brought an instrument to measure the wind that would be a snow tornado out there. The wind is as bad if not worse than the actual snow.”

She dried the mistletoe and laid it on the shelf with the other pieces. “It does feel like that with the hard wind, don't it? If you keep growing this, we won't have to go looking for any to hang up for the holidays.”

Just moments before she'd unzipped his coveralls to the waist and slipped her hands inside to hug him tighter. His poor heart had about stopped in anticipation of where those hands might be headed, but they'd splayed out on his chest and stayed there. He'd wished she would go a layer deeper and pull his shirt out from his belt and put skin on skin. Frostbite would have been worth it to feel those long slender fingers all stretched out on his abs.

Now she was talking about mistletoe as if the kisses never happened at all.

“At least we'll have plenty to tie up with a bow and put over the doorway,” he said.

If she wanted to ignore the kiss, then he could do the same thing.

***

When Sage painted she concentrated on the underlying message of her picture while she carefully built dimension upon dimension to bring out depth and character.

Anyone
can
color
a
page
in
a
coloring
book.

That's what her art teacher told them the first day she had walked into his class as a sophomore in high school. He'd seen something in her raw ability and had fussed at her for three years, critiquing and pressuring her to do better and better until she'd gotten the fantastic opportunity to study art in college.

Two years later she'd had all she wanted. She wanted to paint, not write creative English papers for the basic classes she had to take. So she quit and came home to the canyon. Grand supported her decision without a single negative remark. Four years later her bank account was substantial and she was doing exactly what she loved to do.

That morning she stood in front of the painting of the kitchen window and studied it. The angel was there, hiding in the snow. The little cardinal was on the window ledge, details in the way his feathers fluffed out against the cold. The next step was his eyes. She looked back at the window and either the original cardinal or one just like him flew out of the white flakes to land there again. Only this time he brought his mate, a female cardinal, with him to take a peek inside the house.

They stared into each other's eyes for several seconds before they took flight. Sage looked back at the picture on the easel. It wouldn't be difficult at all to put the female in the picture. The part of the picture where she would be was as yet unfinished. Sage picked up a tiny outline brush and painted the male cardinal's eyes. The critics might not see the love at first glance. They might only see four panes in each of the upper and lower windows with a snowstorm in the background. Maybe after close scrutiny, they'd see the whole story and it would touch their hearts.

She was tempted to rush, but she forced herself to slow down, to shut her eyes several times and get the female bird's part in the picture just right. Even though her colors weren't as brilliant as her counterpart's, and even though the wood between the panes separated them, she was his choice. And the angel was smiling down on them.