A Cowboy For Christmas (7 page)

* * * *

She’d show him! That was
her first thought when her eyes opened in the morning. Before the
sun rose, she showered, ate breakfast, and bundled up in a sweater
and raincoat.

Outside, a soft, soaking
rain fell. Brent would classify it as a drizzle, but nothing would
stop her from taking care of things today and the next few days
while he recovered.

She hurried to meet Dale
and Ivan by the stables. “So what’s on for today?” She didn’t react
to their unbelieving looks.

Dale shrugged. “Ready to
saddle up?”

In the tact room, she
gathered up everything Brent had, but it took her a couple of trips
to carry it all . Speckle bent an ear at her.

“
I know what I’m doing,”
she told Speckle. She did, but she had Dale check it before she
mounted. It’d be rather embarrassing, and dangerous, if it weren’t
done right. She also didn’t want to hurt the horse.

She worked with Speckle
until noon, when she wanted to take lunch to Brent. On the walk
back to her house, her body let her know she’d need some time to
get used to the saddle. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? The gait of
the horse, the breeze blowing in her hair, and the sense of freedom
pulled her in.

She’d stolen Brent’s
crock-pot the day before, laughing all the way home that he had
one. Now it sat with a hot lunch simmering in it.

It didn’t smell too bad,
she decided on the walk to his house. No one would call her a great
cook, but she could make something edible.

She raised her hand to
knock when she saw him through the window in his recliner. He was
kicked back in front of the TV, a blanket lying on his legs. His
ribs were wrapped, she guessed for support.

No matter how hard she
tried, she couldn’t get her eyes off his chest, covered in light
hair. Nice pecs. Well toned arms, too.

She glanced at his face and
noted, happily, he was eyeing the crock-pot and not her. Maybe he
hadn’t noticed her appreciating his body.

Once inside, she said,
“Yeah, I took it so I could cook you lunch.”

“
Smells great, is it
poisoned?” He was joking this time, and she was glad to see the
twinkle back in his eye. Then there was another type of gleam as he
took her in. His eyes met hers and she couldn’t ignore the change
in them.

She turned away from his
gaze and went in the kitchen to get a bowl. “Do you like chicken?
It’s not five-star restaurant quality, but it works.” She spoke
just to fill the silence and break the mood.

“
I don’t know a man who
turns down food.” His words weren’t laced with double meaning, but
his tone sounded too heavy for the conversation.

Medication. Of course, he
was taking something for the pain. Or maybe he’d gotten the idea he
could scare her off this way. No matter what he was thinking, he’d
changed from dislike to flirtatious so quickly that it couldn’t be
anything but show.

“
Here you go.” She brought
him a tray, but managed to avoid eye contact as she placed
everything for him. When she stood, she glanced at him, and he
didn’t look happy about the emotions he saw on her face.

“
You won’t join me?” he
asked, but he sounded like he already knew the answer.

“
There’s still a lot of
work to do.” The excuse slipped right out. “I mean, there always
is, even if you can help. You know that.”

He watched her go, his eyes
labeling her a wimp. She had work to do, she told herself
again.

Chapter Four

Two days later, Missy stood
on Brent’s porch, a bag full of sandwiches in hand, preparing
herself to see him. They’d all listened to him grumble about his
restrictions. Today wouldn’t be any different.

The door opened, ending any
buffer she’d hoped for. “Hey there.” He’d pulled on a light blue
shirt, but it wasn’t buttoned.

She finally understood the
pull of a man in an open shirt. He leaned into the doorframe while
she stood there, trying to remember why she’d come. When she looked
back at his face, he was grinning at her.

“
I brought you sandwiches.”
She held up the bag.

“
I can make my own food
now, you know. I think you just like to see me . . . half
naked.”

“
No.” She shrugged. “Just
being neighborly.” Since coming to the ranch, she hadn’t been able
to resist all the little phrases they used. Nodding toward the
inside, he swung open the door and led the way into the
kitchen.

“
So stay and eat with me.
To be neighborly.” He pulled out two chairs instead of waiting for
an answer.

She pulled sandwiches out
and said, “I took back the rental this morning.”

“
About time.”

“
I would have kept it, but
you keep thinking I’m going to run off.”

“
Women tend to.” He took a
hefty bite of his lunch and raised an eyebrow at her.

Women tend to?
Not all women, she wanted to argue, but apparently
some woman had run off on him.

She didn’t want to fight
with him today, plus she had a mouth full of food. A radio on the
counter played music from a country station. He tapped his foot
while staring out the window, lost in the music.

She wanted his shirt
buttoned but could only imagine the teasing she’d endure if she
asked him. Instead she pretended not to notice his well-defined
muscles. Besides, she could stare at his blue eyes or his lips
while he chewed.

“
So, Brent, do you actually
cook in your crock pot?” She tried her best to ask with a straight
face.

“
I don’t have it just to
look at.”

“
You do?” What if he could
cook
, really
cook,
and he’d been choking down her food? Meeting his gaze, she shook
her head at him in amusement. Somehow the man could chew and
grin,
and
look
sexy all at the same time. He let the opportunity to tease her
pass, except for the cocky grin.

“
I talked to Dale about
doing some light work.” He changed the subject. “Seems the three of
you are pretty determined to keep me out of things.”

“
For your own good,” she
reminded. He had a different set to his face than she was used to
seeing. Anger? An unpleasant flutter churned her stomach. Why would
she care if he were mad at her?

“
I see how it is,” Brent
said.

His words repeated in her
head, but in another man’s voice. Brent’s joking tone changed into
ice-cold rage. She jumped up, surprised at the vivid memory and the
intense fear that came with it. For a terrifying second, she was in
her old office.

“
Missy?” Brent materialized
in front of her, his voice soft and soothing. “What did I
say?”

His eyes held confusion as
he reached out and gently took her arm. She pulled free and stepped
back.

“
Sorry.” She grabbed her
jacket and hurried out. There were reasons why she couldn’t trust a
man, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t hide from every male on the
planet, but that didn’t mean she should let her guard down,
either.

Shaking the memory out of
her head, she picked up her pace and headed toward the stables
though she didn’t have a plan.

When she walked by the
pasture, Dancer trotted up to the fence and whinnied at
her.

“
Well, hey.” She walked
over, holding her hand out and talking to him. His size had scared
her before, but he smelled her hand. “I know I’m not Ben, but I’d
like to be friends.”

As if agreeing, Dancer
bobbed his head before turning and putting on a show for her.
Running and bucking, he whipped around the pasture in circles. Then
he slowed his pace and returned to the fence.

“
I see how you earned your
name.” He was a thing of beauty, she couldn’t deny that, but she
was afraid of trusting him enough to ride him. Sometime, though,
someone needed to. And it didn’t seem like Brent planned on
it.

* * * *

“
Hey, Missy!”

She jumped a foot off the
ground at Brent’s yell. He stood on his porch, waving at
her.

What could he want? Sore
from working so hard, she didn’t think she could go head to head
with him. He yelled again. With a sigh, she started up his walk and
then the porch.

“
Looking tired, city girl.
How about a good home-cooked meal?”

Yeah, he’d make a nice
meal, for the eyes anyway. She’d seen him in shirts and jeans, but
now he wore a green T-shirt, nice and snug to show off those
muscles, and sweats. They hung low on his hips and looked just too
easy to pull off.

“
I meant actual food,
sweetie.” He crossed his arms land leaned against the house. “But I
can change my plans.”

Did he just call her
sweetie? Looking up, she saw his lips lifted more on one side,
completing his come-hither look.

Pour it on, cowboy. “I’m
too hungry to think like that.”

Giving her a sorrowful
shake of his head, he reached over and opened the front door for
her to go inside. Warm air swelled out, carrying the smell of
bread. She had to stop inside and breathe it in. Right behind her,
he shut the door before he laughed at the incredulous look she gave
him.

“
Come sit down, it’s
ready.”

She washed her hands
instead, and could only hope she didn’t look like she’d spent the
day working her butt off. Too bad she had. Maybe the smell of sweat
turned him on.

“
Hope you like steak,” he
said.

“
Sure.” No, she didn’t, and
she hadn’t eaten it in years.

“
I can tell you don’t, but
you haven’t tried mine yet.” He set a plate in front of her. Steak,
mashed potatoes, and a vegetable mix. He brought over a loaf of
quick bread and cut a slice for both of them.

Feeling like a jerk for
teasing him before, she said, “Brent, this is really
nice.”

He poured wine in their
glasses and sat down, his eyes gleaming. “Try the
steak.”

She cut a piece and planned
to lie if it wasn’t the best steak she ever had. But the flavor hit
her and her eyes went wide.

His sexy grin flashed.
“Told you.”

She knew she looked
sheepish, but didn’t care. She savored several bites before trying
the potatoes.

Brent sliced the bread and
buttered a piece for both of them. “Try this, then you’ll know you
owe me.”

The steak blew her away,
but the bread did her in. “There’s no way you made
this.”

“
Why not?” He buttered
another piece for himself. This guy could do anything and look
sexy. While they ate, she tried to keep from staring at his mouth,
his hands. Her only consolation was he looked at her as much as she
eyed him. Course, he’d been doing that since they met.

He finished off his dinner
and asked, “So what do you really think of working
here?”

She paused with her hand
halfway to her mouth with another bite of bread. “Oh, so you’re
doing this to get some info out of me?”

“
Just being neighborly is
all.” He didn’t let his smile fade. Oh, she’d been an idiot. She
drank the last of her wine before she answered.

“
I’m sore all over,” she
said. Instantly she wanted to slap herself for being so honest, and
saying something like that to him.

“
I can help with
that.”

I bet you could.
She looked down at his hands, so nice and big. And
strong. He’d caught her looking again. He stood, making her
nervous, and moved behind her chair, even while she shook her head
in horror. She could count the few times they’d touched so far, and
each time sent her body in agony. Or paradise. She couldn’t
tell.

“
Brent . . .”

“
Relax.” His hands slid
around her arms, holding her the way he had the day he taught her
to ride a horse. She held her breath, held herself
still.

She bit into her lip and
closed her eyes. Don’t moan! His hands moved up to her shoulders,
applying light pressure, kneading. He worked his way in from her
shoulders to the base of her neck and gradually increased the
pressure. Unable to fight, she leaned her head forward.

“
You’re . . . good at
this.”

His thumbs ran up her neck
and down to her back again. She’d been right about his big hands.
They could do magic. It’d been so long since someone had touched
her like this, taking care of her.

His warm hands moved under
the collar of her shirt. Heat spiked up in her, taking away her
willpower. She gave in, surrendered, and whimpered.

Oh, no!

“
That good,
huh?”

His voice flowed over her
like honey. She could cry. Her mind wouldn’t work except to
think,
don’t ever stop.

He rubbed and kneaded until
her head fell back. His hands were affecting other parts of her
body, places where he wasn’t actually touching. What if he could
tell?