Home For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) (4 page)

"Twenty-six isn't old."

"I hope not, for our sake." Ty was thirty-four. Nate thirty-three. "I had a taste of her gingerbread. Addictive."

"She's got the touch. Just like my mom had. Though Rachel can cook too. Wait until you taste the stew she's making us for lunch."

"Lunch?"

"I never cook when she's around. "

"Your choice or hers?"

"Laugh it up, funny guy, but you'll see. The entire crew will be throwing bribes her way so she'll take over the kitchen for good."

"Sounds great."

Ty nodded. "Times like these that make my investment in culinary school worthwhile."

"High outlay for the limited benefit you receive."

He shrugged. "Worth every penny. You'll agree after you eat lunch. And I'm not kidding about the bribes. I hate having her so far away. But every time I bring up the idea of her moving north, she reminds me I'm the one who left. Says I should come back to Arizona."

Nate's ribcage tightened like a belt. "You can't be considering leaving."

"I never thought I would, but after what happened last month…" Ty stared at the dirt floor and shook his head. "Rachel needs me. It's damn selfish for me to stay away."

"Hold on." Nate had no idea what had happened, but nothing warranted Ty moving away. "Think about what you'd be giving up. Vaughn might be the name on the ranch's deed, but you're as much an owner of this place as me. Hell, the livestock belongs to you."

"I know, and we would work something out. But I'm the only family Rachel's got." Ty's ready smile was nowhere in sight. Unfamiliar emotion sounded in his voice. "I raised her after our parents died. I was pretty much all she had before that because of the crazy hours my mom and dad worked. I need to live closer to her. If not the same town, the same state. There are ranches in Arizona. Hot ones, but still…" He tipped his hat.

Ty was the heart and soul of the Bar V5. His dad knew it. So did Nate. "Rachel's here for a few weeks. Show her all Montana has to offer. Maybe she'll fall in love with the place."

"I sure hope so." Ty stretched his shoulders. "I keep thinking if her gingerbread business takes off here…"

"She'd want to stay."

Nate needed to change Rachel's mind about accepting his help. If not, he would help without her knowing. "I'll do what I can to make sure her gingerbread business is a big success. Give her confidence, contacts, a good foundation to go off on her own."

"You'd do that?"

"Damn straight. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you at the Bar V5." Ideas exploded like popcorn in Nate's head. "I'm happy to give you a stake in the—"

"You know how I feel about that," Ty interrupted. "This ranch is your family legacy. The land needs to stay with a Vaughn. I'm fine with our arrangement."

"Except for your sister."

He nodded. "My thinking about leaving has nothing to do with you or the Bar V5. It's all about what's best for Rachel."

Fine. Nate understood doing what was best for someone he cared about. He would do what was best for Ty—convince Rachel staying in Montana was the best thing for her and her brother.

The morning flew. Rachel held the tip of the decorator bag over a stacked gingerbread tree. Each layer, made of a star-shaped cookie, needed frosting.

"I hoped you saved me some."

A glob of green icing spurted from the tip and landed, not on one of the points that needed frosting, but all over.

Darn it. Darn…Nate. She blew out a puff of air.

"Sorry if I distracted you," he said, his voice contrite.

She was a guest in his kitchen and her brother's boss. Ignoring him would be rude. She wiped her face with her forearm. "No biggie. It's fixable."

"Looks like you've been busy."

"I have." She glanced his way, felt the tube of icing slip from her fingers.

Howdy, Cowboy.

Nate leaned against the doorway to the mudroom, one booted foot crossed over the other.
The cold reddened his cheeks. His nose, too. The scruff of whiskers had been shaven off. He looked younger. More approachable. Cute. Ways she never would have imagined him looking this morning.

Her tummy tingled.

His hair was shorter than she expected considering her brother's length, but strands stuck up. His casual stance told her he didn't care about his hair or what anybody thought of him.

Rachel didn't know why she found that so appealing.

"Let me fix the tree for you," he offered.

He removed his jacket. His long sleeved Henley shirt accentuated his V-shaped physique and flat abs. He shouldn't look so tasty.

"No worries." She had enough of to think about with her temperature rising and heart racing. "I've got it under control."

Or would, when she dragged her attention from the faded spots on the front of his jeans.

She gulped. Looked away.

Rachel reached for a spatula. She ran the edge across the gingerbread to remove the icing. She missed some so pressed harder this time. A section fell to the island.

"Looks like I arrived just in time," Nate said.

Her lips tasted dry, tingled. "For what?

"To eat the broken pieces. I'm starving."

He sauntered across the kitchen, six feet of male hotness and charm, heading in her direction like a drone missile locked on a target.

She stepped back, away from the island, unsure if his wolfish grin was coming for the gingerbread—or her. Heaven help her, but she hoped it wasn't her cookies.

Her heart pounded in her throat.

Rachel was used to dealing with her brother's testosterone-fueled swagger, but Nate Vaughn was different. Oh, he and Ty were both male and cowboys and around the same age. But the similarities stopped there.

Nate might look cute with his red cheeks and mussed hair, but the man was as dangerous as a Wild West outlaw. Forget needing a six-shooter. His weapons were his smoldering eyes and killer smile.

Downright smokin'.

She'd faced her brother's wrath after dating a cowboy from the guest ranch where he worked in Wickenburg and having her heart broken when she was seventeen. Granted Nate was also a rancher, innkeeper and venture capitalist, but cowboys chose their independence over
love and family. Look at Ty.

She swallowed. "Any gingerbread on a plate or paper towel is up for grabs."

Nate snagged a piece before she could blink. Took a bite. "Good stuff."

She could say the same about him. He reminded her of a piece of chocolate decadent cake, rich and indulgent and mouthwateringly delicious. Good thing she preferred cupcakes.

"Too bad you weren't in Bozeman on Saturday for the annual Christmas Stroll," he continued. "There's a gingerbread contest. Yours would do well. Likely win. Maybe next year."

"Ty will be spending Christmas in Phoenix with me. That's what we usually do."

Nate picked up another piece of gingerbread. "Not this year though."

"Extenuating circumstances."

He raised a brow.

His questioning look meant he would either ask a question, one she might not want to answer, or make up his own mind. Neither appealed to her. "I'm between jobs."

"Hard to believe, given the happy dance in my mouth."

"My job situation has nothing to do with my cooking." Except for her being too good at what she did. She wasn't about to brag or open herself up to more questions. But she didn't want to leave him with a bad impression. For Ty's sake, Rachel told herself. Yeah, right. And crème brûlée had zero calories. "I'd hoped to open my own shop after Thanksgiving, but things… fell through. I'd like to give starting a bakery another go when I get home."

If she made enough money here and the stars aligned and the Arizona Cardinals made the Super Bowl. Otherwise, she would end up working for someone else her entire life, just like her parents. God rest their souls.

She pushed the bleak thoughts aside. Thinking negatively would never help her succeed.

"If you change your mind about wanting help or if you need a business partner, I'm in."

"Business partner?" She sounded as incredulous as she felt. Pamela and Grayson Darby had wanted to be Rachel's business partners, too. Or so they said. All they'd wanted was to stay close so they wouldn't have that far to throw the knife into her back. "You don't even know me."

"I know your brother. Family, remember?"

She focused on the tree, taking apart the layers of cookies so she could start over. "Family doesn't always get along."

"We're getting along."

He couldn't be serious. She looked up at him, trying to see if he was joking. "We've been in the same space for what? Five or ten minutes?"

"Sometimes when you see a golden opportunity, you have to leap."

Gingerbread was not golden. Her hinky-meter buzzed big time. The guy was up to something. "I've leaped before. Felt a lot like base jumping without a wingsuit."

He cringed. "Hard landing?"

"Brutal. Never again."

Nate raised a confident brow. "It'll be different this time."

She knew better than to ask, knew she should change the subject, but curiosity got the better of her. "Why?"

"Because I'm involved."

"Humble."

His you-can-trust-me smile slanted. "That's the last adjective anyone would use for me."

"At least you're honest." Her voice rose on the last word, as if she were asking a question.

"I am. Ask your brother." Nate rested palms on the island. Big hands, rough hands scarred from hard work and manual labor. She couldn't imagine him in a suit sitting behind a desk. "I always carry an extra parachute. If you forget your wingsuit, I've got you covered."

He was saying the right words. Someone else might be swayed. Charmed. Not her. She no longer made emotional decisions. They were too unreliable. Just like people. Well, except for her brother. "Thanks, but my feet are firmly planted on the ground. No more leaping."

"You look more adventurous than that."

"Looks can be deceiving."

He ate another piece. "You have to admit The Montana Gingerbread Factory has a nice ring to it."

Her mouth dropped open. "We just met and you're naming a company?"

"Not
a
company.
Our
company."

Unbelievable. Though she had to give him props for not giving up. "I live in Phoenix. That name wouldn't work."

"Arizona Gingerbread Factory," he said, without missing a beat.

"I bake more than gingerbread."

"Saguaro Sweets. Desert Desserts. I could do this all day."

Maybe she could bore him so he would go away. Most men weren't into baked goods, unless the sweets were going into their stomachs. "Those names are closer to the business model I have in mind."

He straightened. "Business model?"

"I want to do more than sell baked goods. I want a space big enough to hold events and parties."

He leaned toward her, one hip against the island, an elbow on top. "Tell me more."

Not the blank stare she was hoping for, but that would come shortly. "Groups often put on events to raise money or earn service hours. Lots of possibilities to explore. I also want to hold private parties, making and decorating cookies, cupcakes, or gingerbread houses. Baking is fun no matter your age. It's perfect for birthday parties and showers. An activity and take-home gift in one."

Lines creased his forehead. Almost there. Any moment his eyes would dull, and he'd space out.

"Bridal and baby showers," she added.

That should do it.

He grabbed another piece of gingerbread. "You've put thought into this."

Wait a minute. Nate didn't look or sound bored. He should have tuned out, turned off, not be attentive and interested.

"Um, yes." She had an entire business plan that was useless. "I'm a baker who wants to do more than work for someone else her entire life."