Picking Up Cowboys (9 page)

chapter eleven

Catherine couldn’t help but wonder had her mother lived if things would be different.  Gage was describing the type of family she’d wished she was in as a child.  But dreams and reality were often two very separate things.

The way that a normal family functioned was as alien to Catherine as a foreign language she’d never heard before.  Gage’s stories warmed her in places she hadn’t realized were frozen.  “Tell me more.  What other things did you do?”

“We baked cookies for Santa and he always took one big bite and drank all the milk.”

Catherine smiled.  How wonderful to have parents who put so much effort into making the myth of Santa magical for a child.

“We made snow cream.”

“Snow cream?” 

“Tastes sort of like vanilla ice cream.”

“Really?  Would be better as chocolate.”

Gage laughed.  “I think you’d exist on chocolate, if you could get by with it.”

“Probably.”  Catherine smiled, thinking this was as close to a real Christmas as she’d ever been.

“Snow cream should be made with vanilla,” Gage said firmly.

“Why?  Try something new, wild.  Live a little.”  Catherine blushed a little as she realized that the snow cream was a symbol of their relationship in a way.  Vanilla reminded her of home, baking cookies with Grandma.  Chocolate was less rigid, less confined.

“But I like vanilla.  Why change something, if you’re comfortable?”

Catherine bit her response back, remembering their truce.  “Could we make some?”

“Now?”

“Why not?  It sounds like a nice tradition.  I’d like to borrow it, if you don’t mind sharing.”

Gage shook his head as if humoring a small child.  “Let’s get our coats on.”

Catherine rushed to the coat closet and yanked her heavy snow suit jacket off the hanger, stuffed on some gloves and tied a scarf haphazardly around the lower half of her face.

She stood in the entry, shifting from foot to foot as  she waited for Gage to grab a bowl to hold the snow and then bundle up.  “Hurry up.”

“I’m hurrying,” he grumbled, but his smile was carefree and boyish.

Catherine felt the effects of that slow smile slide all the way through her.  She swallowed.  Maybe the snow outside would cool off her too hot thoughts.

The wind had died down and the night was unusually calm.  Dark pines edged the mountains, frosted with freshly fallen snow. 

Gage took in a deep breath, letting it out in a mist.  “The air is so pure, easier to breathe.”

Catherine smiled.  It was one of the things she loved about this ranch.  “It’s almost like a forgotten world sometimes.”

“Yes, my favorite time of year is the fall, when the aspens turn a golden yellow and the air smells crisp and clean with the musky scent of fallen leaves.  That tuft of trees over there,” he nodded his head toward a stand of trees, “make a great place to pile the leaves up and jump in them.”

Catherine stared at him.  He’d described the fall here so vividly, like a person who was truly familiar with it.  “How could you know that?” she whispered.  How could anyone know such an intimate detail of a place unless they’d lived here?

Gage shrugged, avoiding her eyes.  “They’re impressive trees, it was just a commonsense deduction that they would produce magnificent leaves in the fall.”

Catherine narrowed her eyes and tried to study his face to see if he was hiding something.  But he had turned away and was crunching through the snow.  “We need the freshest snow we can find.”

Catherine watched him for another minute, but decided not to press the point.  She was having a real Christmas for the first time she could remember and she refused to let anything spoil it.  The mournful call of a coyote filled the still air.  Catherine shivered, the sound seemed to be an omen for things to come.  She shook her head slightly.  Not if she had any say in it, this was one Christmas she planned to enjoy.

Gage found a mound of snow that met with his satisfaction.  Cupping his bare hands, he bent over and started scooping it into the bowl.  Catherine watched his backside appreciatively for a moment before feeling a wicked grin spread across her lips.  She scooped up a bundle of the white stuff, formed it into a perfectly shaped ball, which promptly fell apart because of the dryness of the snow.

No matter.  A shower of it was surely just as effective as a snowball.  Catherine scooped as much of the fine, white fluff as she could manage in her hands and tiptoed up behind Gage.  Had he been standing, she would never have been able to shower the fine powder down on his head.  But he was squatting and she planned to take full advantage of it.

Raising her arms with all the tactical expertise of a military lieutenant, she poured the snow down on Gage.

“Hey!”  He fell forward in the snow.

Catherine giggled and backed up a few steps.  Gage was sure to retaliate.  She wanted to be out of firing range.  An amused glint paled his eyes to a smoky green.

He pushed to his feet and Catherine took another step back, her mouth suddenly dry.  Why did the man have to be so attractive?  He looked like an ancient god rising from a sea of white.  A traitorous part of her wanted him to catch her and kiss her.  But he was her partner.  An unwanted partner, and she still wasn’t certain why her father had left him half of this ranch.  But she certainly intended to find out.  Just as soon as Christmas was over, she promised herself.  She would enjoy Christmas first.

“Sneaky, Catherine.”  He advanced another step.

She held up her hands as if in surrender.  “Honestly, it was the only way I could have gotten you.”

“Oh, you could have me anytime you wanted me.”  His voice was suggestively husky.

Catherine swallowed, trying to produce some much needed moisture in her still dry mouth.  “I think you needed the snow to cool you off.”

Gage was only a few feet away and Catherine realized she’d stopped moving as they talked and he hadn’t.  She turned to run but his arm shot out and grasped hers, hauling her closer.

“Gage, I’m sorry.”  But she was laughing, so it wasn’t very convincing.  “Please don’t throw snow on me.”

“I didn’t plan on it.”  He smiled.             

Catherine tugged experimentally on her arm, that’s when she felt the sweep of his boot against the back of her knees.  They gave out and Catherine tumbled to the ground, Gage following.

“No fair.”

“I never promised to play fair.”  He pushed her scarf down and framed her face with his hands.

Warm hands.  Catherine was surprised.  Shouldn’t they feel icy to her? He’d been scooping snow.  Not only did they feel warm on her cheeks, but a curious warmth was spilling through her body as well. 

Gage lowered his face until their vaporish breaths mingled into one small cloud of steam.  “Tell me to stop, Cat.  Before it’s too late.”

Catherine couldn’t.  She knew she should push him away.  Her head told her that.  Her body had other ideas.  She lifted her head just the tiniest fraction until her lips were brushing against his but still Gage didn’t kiss her.

He groaned instead.  “Cat. Cat.  What are you doing to me?”

“I’m trying to kiss you, but you aren’t cooperating.”

Gage chuckled.  “I’m still plotting my revenge.”

Their laughter stilled and they looked into one another’s eyes for a moment.  Catherine’s heart beat so loudly in her ears she was certain Gage must hear it, unless his heart was beating at the same tempo.  His head lowered and his lips met hers.

Catherine sighed and gave herself over to the sensations assailing her.  It was like everything she’d ever wanted Christmas to be.  Closeness, and togetherness and the warmth of another human being.  Her fingers tangled through the short, dark hair on the back of his head. 

Gage deepened the kiss.  If Catherine had skied, she imagined that would be much what this kiss felt like.  A graceful gliding down the slope, like a downward arcing shooting star.  She lifted her body slightly, pressing herself closer.             

Gage lifted his head and stared at her with eyes darkened several shades.  He drew a shaky breath.  “I think we need to cool off.”

“We should be cool. We’re laying in snow,” Catherine pointed out.

“It’s melting.”  Gage lifted himself and held out a hand to help Catherine to her feet. 

“Then we’d better get some before it’s all gone.”  Catherine stomped through the snow to where Gage had dropped the plastic bowl earlier.  “I want that chocolate snow cream.”

“Vanilla.”  Gage followed her and helped her quickly scoop the snow into the bowl.

“Sometimes it pays to try something unexpected.”  Catherine met Gage’s gaze, warm shivers of anticipation danced over her nerve endings at his long look.

Gage snatched the major ingredient for the snow cream out of Cat’s hands and turned for the house.  He had to get himself under control.  He’d been swindled once before by a Claiborne.  No matter how innocent of an expression shone out of her eyes, no matter how quickly his body reacted when she was close, no matter he’d been half dreaming of sharing more Christmases with her...she was the enemy.  He must never forget that. 

Her father had been a not-so-talented con artist.  Youth had worked against Gage.  If he’d been more experienced, Mustang would not have cheated him out of his land.  In contrast, the daughter was a skilled siren.  One glance from those shimmering blue eyes and he wanted to forget everything but whatever time he might be allowed to spend in her arms.

He’d vowed to give her a Christmas to remember and that was just what he intended to do.  They’d make snow cream, build a fire and he’d try to remember ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas to recite to her.  Tomorrow they’d celebrate with dinner.  But that was as far as this truce went.  He just couldn’t trust a Claiborne enough to get involved.  It was a ridiculous thought to even allow to cross his mind.  He would think of something else from now on.  But even as Gage told himself that, he knew he was lying.  And when he started lying to himself, he was in real trouble.

“I’ll get the chocolate.”  Cat reached into the fridge and wrestled free a family size bottle of chocolate syrup.

“You mean vanilla.”  Gage pulled the sugar canister closer to the bowl and scooped out a cup, stirring it in.

Cat crossed her arms.  “Chocolate.”

Gage frowned.  This was a tradition.  His mother always made it with vanilla.  He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with such a drastic change to such a simple recipe. 

“Sometimes,”  Cat spoke so low he had to lean closer to hear her.  “Sometimes, change can be good.”

“And sometimes it destroys lives.”  Gage heard the bitter edge to his own words but was powerless to camouflage it.

Cat looked startled.  She swallowed several times as if trying to free a lump from her throat.  “Okay, vanilla it is.”

She turned and reached over her head to retrieve the vanilla extract from a cabinet above the stove.  Her shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit and her movements were sluggish.  Gage frowned.  Now he’d upset her and over something as unimportant as what flavor the snow cream would be.

She placed the small jar in his palm.  “Vanilla.”

Gage stared at it blankly.  Guilt ripping at him. The entire reason he’d started this was to give her a Christmas she’d never had.  He had spoiled her fun.  First by forcing his kisses on her and then by insisting on vanilla.  How childish.  Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders.  She’d been so excited about the snow cream and now her full lips pulled down just the tiniest bit at the corners.

“What if we did both?” he suggested.

“Both?”  Catherine licked her lips with her tongue.

“We’ll put the mixture into two bowls and you can add chocolate, I’ll add vanilla.”

Cat clapped her hands with the excitement of a small child, her face animated again.  “That’s a wonderful idea.  I’ll get another bowl.”

Gage spooned a third of the snow and sugar mix into her bowl, Catherine glared at him.  He raised his hands innocently.  “What?”

“Fifty-fifty, buster.  This is an equal partnership.”

Gage wondered if she meant the snow or the ranch, but didn’t dare ask.  They’d agreed to a truce, he’d avoid controversial topics.  He spooned more snow into her bowl until the two were approximately even.

Cat attacked the bottle of chocolate syrup like it was a mountain to be climbed and conquered.  Gage grinned and measured out a couple of tablespoons of vanilla.

“Now stir,”  he commanded.

“You stir me?”  Cat gave a poor imitation of his earlier comment.

Gage felt a bubbly, long unused emotion rise to the surface and he chuckled.  He felt light and comfortable.  Happy.  Startled, he glanced at Cat again.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt happy.  No worries.  No plans for revenge or reclaiming what was rightfully his.  Just happy.  And he wasn’t certain he cared for the feeling.