The gun-shy cowboy...

A cowboy’s scars can last a lifetime. Ty Slater’s cheerfulness is a carefully constructed armor. After losing his parents in a tragic accident, he was fostered at Thunder Mountain Ranch. Although Ty has learned how to survive, he hides a broken heart. He knows love leads to loss, so has vowed never to fall in love...

Unfortunately, Ty’s attraction to Whitney Jones is nothing short of a maelstrom, a desire that threatens his resolve. When she’s stranded in Sheridan for the holidays, Ty realizes he’d better find Whitney’s flaw, and fast—because his lust is too damn close to love. This red-hot cowboy is ready to bolt...unless Whitney shows him that some rides are definitely worth the risk.

Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Thompson continues to do what she does best, tying together strong family values bound by blood and choice, interspersed with the more sizzling aspects of the relationship.”

—RT Book Reviews on Thunderstruck

“Intensely romantic and hot enough to singe...her Sons of Chance series never fails to leave me worked up from all the heat, and then sighing with pleasure at the happy endings!”

—We Read Romance on Riding High

“Vicki Lewis Thompson has compiled a tale of this terrific family, along with their friends and employees, to keep you glued to the page and ending with that warm and loving feeling.”

—Fresh Fiction on Cowboys and Angels

“If I had to use one word to describe Ambushed! it would be charming... Where the story shines and how it is elevated above others is the humor that is woven throughout.”

—Dear Author

“The chemistry between Molly and Ben is off the charts: their first kiss is one of the best I’ve ever read, and the sex is blistering and yet respectful, tender and loving.”

—Fresh Fiction on A Last Chance Christmas

“Cowboy Up is a sexy joy ride, balanced with good-natured humor and Thompson’s keen eye for detail. Another sizzling romance from the RT Reviewers’ Choice award winner for best Blaze.”

—RT Book Reviews

Dear Reader,

Can you think of a better time to fall in love than Christmas? What could be more romantic than sparkling lights and glowing candles? Plus, if you’re lucky enough to live in cowboy country, winter prompts the guys to break out those sheepskin coats that make their shoulders look a mile wide. When they turn the collar up and tug the Stetson down against a cold wind, what’s not to love?

My Christmas present to you this year is Ty Slater, who happens to own both a sheepskin coat and a Stetson. You’re welcome. Ty can’t wait for Christmas to arrive. After the holidays the promotional calendar for his foster parents’ new project at Thunder Mountain Ranch flips over to January, and he will no longer be the shirtless cowboy who’s decorated walls all over Wyoming since September. But Whitney Jones, who’s been crushing on Ty’s calendar shot for weeks, isn’t nearly so eager to turn the page. Maybe she’ll have to make do with Ty himself!

I’m thrilled to welcome you back to Thunder Mountain for the holidays. Everyone’s missed you! Rosie and Herb are looking forward to a festive season now that the financial crisis that threatened their ranch this summer is over. Even better, Cade and Damon are back to stay, and Ty’s come home for a visit. Thanks to Damon’s skill with a staple gun, multicolored lights are strung along the roofline. Cade just finished plowing the road so you won’t need four-wheel drive to make it up to the house. Come spend Christmas with the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood!

Festively yours,

A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

Vicki Lewis Thompson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A passion for travel has taken New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON to Europe, Great Britain, the Greek isles, Australia and New Zealand. She’s visited most of North America and has her eye on South America’s rain forests. Africa, India and China beckon. But her first love is her home state of Arizona, with its deserts, mountains, sunsets and—last but not least—cowboys! The wide-open spaces and heroes on horseback influence everything she writes. Connect with her at vickilewisthompson.com, facebook.com/vickilewisthompson and twitter.com/vickilthompson.

For my mom, Randy Shutt, who taught me everything I know about making Christmas special.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise for Vicki Lewis Thompson

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

1

TY SLATER WAS BEAT, but the decorated streetlamps in Sheridan’s historic business district perked him up considerably. A large dose of caffeine would help even more. He parked in front of Rangeland Roasters, a family-owned coffee shop that had originated in Cheyenne but had recently expanded to a second location in Sheridan.

They brewed great coffee, and he’d meant to check out the new shop when he’d visited his foster parents back in August. So he’d try it out now, instead. He didn’t want to arrive at Thunder Mountain Ranch for Thanksgiving weekend dragging ass. If he did, Rosie and Herb would fuss over him.

Years ago he wouldn’t have minded a little fussing. But he was twenty-seven for God’s sake, with a grown-up job as a contract lawyer at a well-respected Cheyenne firm.

He’d burned the midnight oil to get his work done before the holiday, and a cup of coffee would keep him from falling asleep during the pre-Thanksgiving Day supper, which was guaranteed to feature tuna casserole. He loved that casserole almost more than he loved the turkey dinner they’d enjoy tomorrow.

He climbed out of his truck into slushy snow that had gathered near the curb. Gray clouds promised more of the same before nightfall, which made the cozy coffee shop even more inviting. Candy canes and delicate snowflake decorations covered the windows, and an evergreen wreath topped with a red bow hung on the door.

Stomping the slush from his boots, he stepped inside where warmth and the fragrance of roasted coffee beans and peppermint greeted him. Manly cowboy types weren’t supposed to like flavored coffee, but he might break ranks and order the one they called Peppermint Pleasure.

He unbuttoned his shearling coat and glanced around. The place had drawn a crowd on this cold November afternoon, so most of the tables were taken. A Christmas tree in the corner decorated with coffee-related ornaments looked similar to the tree he’d seen in the Cheyenne location. The tree topper featured the Rangeland Roasters logo, a double R positioned back-to-back on a tan coffee mug.

Branding was always a good thing, and this shop felt very much like the one in Cheyenne. A cheerful buzz of conversation overlaid the carols playing in the background. Fortunately for the owners, the expansion gamble appeared to have paid off.

As he stood in line waiting to order, he recognized one of the baristas who used to work in the Cheyenne location. She’d made an impression on him last summer with her jaunty blond ponytail and ready smile. She was at least five-ten and looked athletic, as if she might be a runner and possibly a skier.

He pictured the nametag she’d worn in Cheyenne. Whitney. An unusual name, but he would have remembered it anyway. When something was important to him, he took a mental snapshot and stored it away.

He’d felt the tug of mutual attraction whenever she’d taken his order but he’d been dating someone during the time she’d worked in Cheyenne. She might have been involved with somebody, too. He hadn’t bothered to find out because there’d been no point.

Then one day she wasn’t there anymore and he hadn’t asked about that, either. Now she’d popped back into his life and he was ridiculously happy to see her. He should ignore that sudden burst of pleasure.

He wasn’t dating anyone these days, but getting involved with a woman who lived in Sheridan made no sense. As many hours as he put in at the firm, being separated by a five-hour drive wasn’t an optimal situation. And that was assuming she was free and he’d been right about her interest.

All that aside, he looked forward to saying hello and finding out how things were going. The dynamic with the other two employees suggested she was in charge, so maybe she’d been given the manager’s job. He wouldn’t be surprised considering her brisk efficiency and easy rapport with customers.

Then he saw the calendar on the wall behind her. Aw, hell, he’d forgotten. He’d probably find it plastered all over town. He pulled his Stetson a little lower over his eyes. Like that would help.

There he was in all his glory—shirtless, arms folded on the rail of a corral, hat at a rakish angle and a cocky grin on his unshaven mug. The photographer had insisted on the scruff. The other guys had been clean-shaven and she’d wanted him to look as if he’d just crawled out of bed with a lover.

Apparently he did look like that. He’d had several women hit on him as a result of the calendar and he’d had a brief affair with one of them. She’d expected him to live up to that manufactured image and hadn’t been the least bit interested in getting to know who he really was. After that he’d turned down any similar invitations.

He had no one to blame but himself. He’d been the genius who’d suggested a beefcake calendar to promote Thunder Mountain Academy, a new project based at the ranch where he’d lived as a foster kid for three years. The residential school for older teens was designed to teach them everything about horses, plus bring in some much-needed revenue. Turned out his foster parents had been the victims of a Ponzi scheme that had sucked up their life savings.

Ty had been willing to help the cause, and his legal training had come in handy for the Kickstarter campaign that had raised the startup funds for the academy. Because the calendar had been his idea, he’d been talked into being the first pinup guy. He hadn’t factored in that a sixteen-month calendar meant he’d be decorating walls everywhere from September through December. He couldn’t wait for January first.

He’d taken his share of ribbing from the other lawyers in the firm. The guys thought he should be thrilled that he’d attracted so much female attention. Most of the women in the office now looked at him with a gleam in their eye, even the married ladies. It was embarrassing.

He should be over it by now. He should be used to walking into a public place and seeing himself hanging on the wall. He wasn’t.

He looked away from the calendar and met Whitney’s brown gaze. “Hi, there, Whitney! Great to see you again. How’s it going?” Maybe she’d just ignore the calendar issue.

“Good, real good.” She grinned and tilted her head toward the calendar. “And here I thought you were a straightlaced lawyer type.”

So she wasn’t going to ignore it. Well, he couldn’t blame her. He was on a beefcake calendar and most people found that intriguing, especially if they’d only known him as a white-collar professional. “I’m extremely straightlaced. And anal. You should see my sock drawer.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Trust me, it’s not.” Damn it all, each and every time this happened he felt vulnerable, and not only because he was half naked in the picture. Anyone who read the accompanying text would learn he’d been a foster boy at Thunder Mountain Ranch. He wasn’t ashamed of it, not at all, but still...the information was personal.

He hadn’t figured on that kind of exposure when he’d agreed to be the first poster boy for the academy. He’d been swept up in the emotional campaign to save Thunder Mountain Ranch so Rosie and Herb could live out their golden years there. They deserved that.

They’d been put in dire straits through no fault of their own, sort of like he’d been when his parents had died. He’d wanted to help make things right for them. He still did, but man, the calendar stint had been more than he’d bargained for.

Whitney’s expression softened. “Sorry to tease you about it. You’re probably sick of people doing that.”

“It’s okay. It’s for a good cause.”

“Absolutely. So what can I get for you? As I recall, you like black coffee, no embellishments.”

“Usually that’s true.” So she’d remembered his coffee order. Flattering. And he hadn’t imagined that tug of mutual attraction last summer, either. They liked each other. Even better, she’d liked him before the calendar had appeared.

He glanced behind him to see if he was holding up the line. Apparently he was at the end of it. “But today I want one of those Peppermint Pleasure lattes, instead.”

“Festive choice. Whipped cream?”

“No thanks. Don’t want to get too wild and crazy.”

“Your choice, but the whipped cream really makes it sing. We sprinkle candy cane chips on top to give the whipped cream some crunch.”

“Do you like it like that?”

She held his gaze. “Love it.”

Well, now. He suspected they’d moved beyond the subject of peppermint lattes. The room suddenly grew warmer. “Then I guess you’d better lather on the whipped cream and candy cane chips.”

“Good decision. For here or to go?”

“I’ll drink it here.”

The dark-haired girl standing beside Whitney picked up a cup. “So that’s a large Peppermint—”

“That’s okay, Meryl. I’ve got this.” Whitney neatly plucked the cup out of her hand. “Have a seat wherever you can find a space, Ty. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thanks, but I haven’t paid yet.”

“Oh, right.” Her laugh was slightly breathless. “Meryl, can you please handle that for me?”

“Absolutely.” Meryl stepped to the cash register and took the bill he handed her. “So you’re really the guy on that calendar?”

“’Fraid so.”

“You should be proud of it. That’s an awesome picture, and the calendar’s for a great cause. I’d love to attend that academy, but I’m too old. I just turned twenty.”

“Maybe eventually they’ll open it up to adults.” He pocketed his change and added money to the tip jar. “You’re not the only one who’s expressed an interest. Maybe I should mention it while I’m at the ranch this weekend.”

“I wish you would. Sounds great for kids trying to figure out what they want to do with their lives. But if you could add a special session for those of us who are still trying to figure that out but don’t qualify, agewise, I’ll bet you’d get some takers.”

“Okay, I’ll ask.”

“Thanks. And you’re even cuter in person.” Then she blushed. “Did I just say that out loud?”

He smiled. What a sweetheart. “It’s okay.”

“At least you’re not all stuck-up about being on the calendar. Some guys would be.”

“Yeah, definitely,” said the other girl, who’d been filling the napkin dispenser and the cream pitcher. She looked to be about the same age as Meryl. She stared at him with an adoring expression. “They’d be all I’m so hot.”

“Not my style.” Another customer came up behind him and he moved out of the way. “Guess I’d better find a seat.” He quickly located an unoccupied table.

So this was the effect of media on a guy’s rep. Multiply this by a hundred different sexy impressions, and no wonder movie stars were mobbed. The photographer had created an image of him that didn’t exist, and yet women bought into it.

He didn’t roll out of bed and pull on jeans, boots and a hat before going out to take care of the horses. He hadn’t even done that when he’d lived at Thunder Mountain. Guys might have tackled the morning chores before shaving, assuming they’d had enough of a beard to worry about, but they’d always put on a shirt.

Okay, maybe a few times he’d repaired a fence or shoveled manure without a shirt on. When the job was especially hot and dirty, a cowboy might go bare-chested. But it was the exception to the rule.

Whitney brought over his latte topped with an expert swirl of whipped cream and lightly sprinkled with candy cane bits. “Now isn’t that pretty?”

“Sure is.” He lifted the cup. Cool, soft whipped cream tickled his upper lip as he got a mouthful of...paradise. Coffee, steamed milk and peppermint was a drink fit for the gods.

Licking away the whipped cream, he swept up a few crunchy pieces of candy cane. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh, yeah.”

“See what you’ve been missing?”

“Yep.” And he wasn’t talking about the latte. He looked up at her standing beside his table in her tan Rangeland Roasters shirt and a matching skirt that swished around her knees when she walked. In Cheyenne she’d worn slacks like everyone else. Maybe the skirt was another indication that she was the boss around here.

He decided to seize the day and worry about complications later. “Listen, I’m here until Sunday. Is there any time we might get together for...” He paused in confusion. His first move was always a coffee date but Whitney worked in a coffee shop.

She laughed softly. “Coffee?”

“No, I guess not. A different kind of drink, something involving alcohol.” He hesitated. “Unless you’re seeing someone?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Good.” Adrenaline rushed through his system, or maybe it was the caffeine. Either way, his heart beat faster.

“I take it you’re not with Theresa anymore?”

He blinked in surprise. “You know her?”

“Only by the name I wrote on her coffee cup whenever you’d come in together.”

“Good memory. And no, I’m not with Theresa.” He met her gaze. “If I had been, I wouldn’t have asked you out.”

“I figured, but it never hurts to be sure.”

“Absolutely.” He liked her direct approach. “So what’s your schedule? I’m tied up tomorrow, but after that I’m flexible.”

“Tomorrow wouldn’t work for me, either. I’m covering for several of my employees so they can spend Thanksgiving with their families.”

“Then you are the manager.”

“Yeah, it was a terrific opportunity and I grabbed it.”

“Good for you. But I guess you might not be able to take much time off, considering it’s a holiday weekend.” He couldn’t believe how disappointed he was.

“I will be pretty busy, but I scheduled some free time Friday night to decorate my tree. Want to help me?”

“Sure!” His world brightened. “Can I bring takeout for dinner?”

“That would be wonderful. I don’t know if you like Chinese, but—”

“I do. Any special requests?”

“I like almost anything, so you can surprise me.”

“All right.” He couldn’t remember ever making a date so effortlessly.

“I get off at six, so give me a half hour to change clothes and haul out the decorations. Got your phone?”

He pulled it out of his coat pocket and keyed in her number and her address as she gave it to him. “And your last name is?”

“Jones. You can text me your number so I have it in case there’s a problem with staffing Friday night, but I don’t expect one.”

“Doing that right now. And by the way, my last name’s Slater.”

“I know. It’s on the calendar.”

“Oh.” He glanced up from his phone. “Right.”

“I’ve only known you as Ty, but would you rather be called Tyrone?”

“Tyrone’s for my clients. Ty’s for my friends.”

“I doubt I’ll ever be your client.” She smiled. “So I’ll see you Friday night.”

“You will, and I’ll be armed with Chinese food.” He hesitated, almost afraid to say anything more in case he was reading too much into this invitation to help with her tree. “It’ll be nice to get to know each other better.”

Awareness flashed in her brown eyes. “I think so, too.”

2

THE UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE of Ty Slater helped Whitney get through the next day without feeling too sorry for herself. She’d never spent Thanksgiving away from her family and she missed that rowdy, irreverent bunch. Nearly everyone on both her mom’s and her dad’s side lived in Cheyenne, including all four grandparents and the majority of her aunts, uncles and cousins.

Hosting Thanksgiving rotated among those who had the space and extra chairs, and the routine hadn’t varied for as long as she could remember. The midday meal was followed by touch football for those who enjoyed it and bowl games on TV for everyone else. She looked forward to that touch football game all year, but today someone else would have to take her position as wide receiver.

Sometimes her shift at Rangeland Roasters had kept her from participating in everything, but she’d made do with leftovers, the annual Ping-Pong tournament and endless games of Yahtzee. Even when she’d had to work on Thanksgiving, she’d never lost out entirely on the fun and the food. Until today.

To cheer herself up, she focused on her Friday night tree-trimming date with Ty. Looking at his picture on the calendar had been giving her a thrill for weeks, but now it provided an extra shot of adrenaline. They were going to hang out for the evening. She could barely believe her good luck.

She’d had a crush ever since he’d shown up at the coffee shop about a year ago. No surprise that he’d had a girlfriend, considering those knowing gray eyes and easy smile. He’d made her heart flutter again today, especially when he’d told her the girlfriend was history.

After reading his short bio on the calendar, she’d wondered if he might walk into this shop eventually. And so he had, looking more like a cowboy than the lawyer she’d known in Cheyenne. Discovering his hidden depths had been a turn-on, but seeing him shirtless had been a total game changer. Tyrone Slater was beautiful.

But he was uncomfortable with the calendar picture, which made him all the more adorable. She’d noticed him pull his hat lower when he’d seen it hanging on the back wall. That one gesture had been enough to make her melt.

The hat ramped up his sexy quotient, even if it covered up his glossy hair. She always noticed hair, and at first glance his had seemed to be French roast brown. But a closer look had revealed some dark red that reminded her of espresso in a glass mug held up to the light.

Back then he’d been out of reach. No longer, though. At least for this weekend, he was quite reachable.

She wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to manage the new location, but if she still lived in Cheyenne... No use dwelling on that inconvenience. He probably drove up to Sheridan often to visit his foster parents at Thunder Mountain Ranch. And maybe none of that would matter because their Friday night date could be a bust.

No, it wouldn’t. She’d seen the light in his eyes. He was looking forward to the evening as much as she was. They’d clicked from their first conversation on opposite sides of the coffee shop counter. But he’d had a girlfriend then.

For whatever reason, though, Theresa was out of the picture and Theresa’s loss was Whitney’s gain. Timing was everything, and meeting Ty yesterday felt like the hand of Fate. Those thoughts sustained her through most of Thanksgiving Day, but around five, when the touch football game was probably over, she gave in to a fresh wave of homesickness. Ducking into her small office, she pulled out her phone.

Her mom answered immediately. “Finally! I was so afraid you’d be too busy to call. We all miss you so much!”

Whitney swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “I miss you, too, but it was either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I couldn’t justify leaving on both holidays.”

“I understand. We all do. But I wish you could have heard your young cousins rave about your legendary skill at touch football. You would have felt like a first-draft pick in the NFL.”

“Maybe by next year I’ll have an assistant I can trust to handle Thanksgiving here.”

“Maybe.” Her mother paused. “But honey, if Sheridan is where you’re supposed to end up, that’s not so bad. It’s not like the far side of the moon.”

“It feels a little bit that way right now.”

“I know, but this is your first Thanksgiving away from home. It’ll get easier.”

Whitney chuckled softly. “Are you trying to convince me or you?”

“Probably me. I knew you’d leave a big hole, but it’s a little bigger than I anticipated.”

It was a rare admission of vulnerability and Whitney sucked in a breath. “Aw, Mom, I’m sorry. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but maybe—”

“Don’t you dare consider giving it up, Whitney Lenore! It’s a terrific opportunity, and I’ll adjust. You’ll adjust. We’ll be fine, and stronger for the experience. Buck up, sweetheart. And so will I. Christmas is less than a month away.”

“Yeah, it is. That’s not long.”

“Not long at all. Do you have a tree for your apartment? That’s very important. Yes, you’ll be here for the actual day, but you need your own tree.”

“I do. In fact...” She hesitated. She hadn’t had the best of luck with guys and her mom worried. “Do you remember the lawyer I mentioned, the one who’s on the calendar you saw when you came up here in October?”

“I certainly do! That was a memorable picture.”

“He came into Rangeland Roasters yesterday and asked me out.”

“Oh, my. Are you going?”

“Sort of. I invited him to help me decorate my tree tomorrow night. He’s bringing Chinese.”

“Oh.” The silence on the other end was filled with her mother’s unspoken thoughts. “That calendar picture makes him look...”

“I know, but he’s not really like that. He’s actually very sweet.”

“He doesn’t look sweet.”

In her heart of hearts, Whitney hoped he wasn’t, either. She was ready for the sexual adventure promised by Ty’s rakish expression in the photo. But that wasn’t something she was about to admit to her mother. “Take my word for it. He is. He’s embarrassed by that picture.”

“If you say so. At least you know something of his background. I admire anyone who’s pulled himself up by his bootstraps.”

“And it’s not as if he’s a stranger. He patronized the Cheyenne location for months while I was still there. We talked a lot.”

“But he didn’t ask you out?”

“He was dating someone else.”

More silence. “I’m sure he’s a very nice young man.”

“He is.” Whitney could almost hear her mother’s questions. She wanted to know if Ty changed girlfriends as easily as he changed razor blades. She wanted to know if Ty understood that her daughter was an amazing woman not to be trifled with.

Whitney had no definitive answers for those questions. Her instincts told her that she could trust Ty, but she had no hard evidence to support her belief. And she’d been wrong before. Her mother had been there to pick up the pieces, so she could be forgiven for being suspicious, especially when her precious child was five hours away.

“He’d better treat you well,” her mother said at last, “or he’ll answer to me.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Even at twenty-six, she treasured the protective tone in her mother’s voice. “If he gets out of line, I’ll tell him that.”

“Be sure that you do. And now your cousins are dying to tell you about the disastrous football game. Do you have a few more minutes?”

“You bet.”

“Then I’ll walk into the living room and put you on speaker so everyone can talk. Is that okay?”

“That’s more than okay. And Mom?”

“What, honey?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” There was a telltale catch in her mother’s voice. “So here’s the group.”

* * *

WITH NINE PEOPLE sitting down for Thanksgiving, Ty’s foster mother, Rosie, had moved the festivities to the rec room. A wooden cover turned the pool table into a dining table. Although the original tablecloth had worn out, she’d used the same red-and-white-checked material for the new one. Tradition was important to Rosie.

She was in her element on a day like this, surrounded by friends and family. She’d had her hair freshly cut and colored its usual blond, although she’d added some sassy red streaks. Herb looked fit and his gaze was clear and untroubled. Ty loved seeing his foster parents happy and relaxed after the drama of almost losing the ranch.

Yet the crisis had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It had brought Cade Gallagher and Damon Harrison, the first two boys Rosie and Herb had fostered, back home. Then Cade had reunited with his high school sweetheart, Lexi Simmons.

Rosie had to be thrilled about that. Lexi was like a daughter to her and Lexi’s parents were dear friends. Judging from the dinner table banter between Cade and the people who could turn out to be his in-laws, Janine and Aaron Simmons had forgiven him for breaking their daughter’s heart five years ago.

Like most of the boys at the ranch, Ty had once had a huge crush on Lexi. Petite and curvy, with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes that sparkled most of the time, she’d been a welcome sight whenever she’d come out to visit, either alone or with her folks. But after she’d hooked up with Cade, all the guys had backed off, especially Damon, who was probably Cade’s best friend in the world.

For years Damon had acted as if he’d never settle down, but now he’d apparently found the perfect partner in Philomena Turner, a feisty redhead. Or rather Rosie had found him the perfect partner. It was obvious to anyone who knew Rosie that she’d deliberately thrown those two together last July. She wanted her boys to find true love and she was always willing to lend a helping hand whether they wanted her to or not.

Ty had been thinking about that. Living in Cheyenne had kept him a safe distance from Rosie’s machinations, but yesterday he’d made a date here in Sheridan right under her nose. He wouldn’t attempt to keep it a secret, either.

Yeah, like he could. Sheridan was a small town and even though Whitney was new here, chances were good that Rosie had met her. Rangeland Roasters must have contributed to the Kickstarter campaign or they wouldn’t have the calendar hanging on the wall.

“Who’s up for some boot scootin’ tomorrow night?” Cade glanced around the table laden with the remains of their feast. “Lexi and I thought we’d check out the new band.”

“I’m game.” Damon pushed back his chair. “That’ll give me twenty-four hours to recover. At the moment I can barely move, let alone do the two-step.” He turned to Phil. “Are you willing to have me steer you around the floor tomorrow night?”

“I’m willing, but you’d better wear your steel-toed boots. I haven’t danced since August and I doubt I’ve improved since then.”

“I can’t remember the last time Rosie and I danced,” Herb said. “How about it, Rosie? Think we can keep up with these kids?”

“Ha.” Rosie grinned. “They’ll have to keep up with us. Janine, you and Aaron should go, too. We’ll show them how it’s done.”

“I claim a dance with Ty.” Lexi smiled at him and ignored Cade’s eye-roll. “I remember how you cleared the floor at prom doing all that fancy stuff with Nancy Bennett.”

“Nancy’s married with a baby on the way.” Rosie looked at Ty and shrugged. “But that’s okay. She was a good dancer but she wasn’t right for you.”

“Then I guess we have a plan.” Cade pushed back his chair, too. “Let’s take care of the dishes and then rack up the balls. I feel a pool tournament coming on.”

“I won’t be able to make it tomorrow night.” Ty figured that would be a conversation stopper, and sure enough, everyone sat back down and turned to stare at him.

Rosie frowned. “Please tell me you’re not driving back to Cheyenne so you can work the rest of the weekend”

“No, I’m not. I... I have a date.”

“Oh.” Rosie’s frown transformed into a smile. “How nice.”

“So bring her,” Cade said.

“Yeah, you should.” Lexi studied him with obvious interest. “Anybody we know?”

“Probably. She’s the manager at Rangeland Roasters.”

“Oh, Whitney.” Rosie said her name as if announcing the new Miss America. “What a sweetheart. She’s the one who talked her boss into contributing to our Kickstarter campaign. Now I get it. You probably know her from the Cheyenne location.”

“Yep.”

“Did you date when she was down there?”

“No, but—”

“Doesn’t matter.” Rosie waved a hand in the air. “You’ve reconnected with her, and that’s the important thing. I can see you and Whitney together. Hadn’t thought about it before, but I’ll bet you two will get along like a house afire.”

“I can see that,” Lexi said. “I like Whitney a lot. Very personable.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” Phil added. “Damon and I go in for coffee all the time and she’s always friendly.”

Ty shifted in his chair. “Look, it’s just a date. No big expectations.”

“Does she like to dance?” Damon had been watching the proceedings with a little smile, as if he enjoyed having someone else take the heat for a change.

“I don’t know, but she’s set aside tomorrow night to decorate her tree and she asked if I’d help. I’m bringing Chinese.” He probably shouldn’t have added the last part. Better not to offer extra details.

“Cozy.” Rosie’s blue eyes lit with excitement.

“Casual.” Ty should have lied and said they were going to the movies, except he had no idea what was showing. Besides, no one ever got away with lying to Rosie. She could spot a fib at twenty paces.

“Well, you know where we’ll be,” Lexi said. “If you finish up and want to head over and join us, tell her we’d love that. I think she’d fit right in.”

“She definitely would.” Rosie was beaming. “You should have seen her face light up when I brought in the calendar.”

“Oh, yeah.” Cade leaned forward and gave Ty a wicked-ass grin. “I forgot all about that. She’s been staring at your manly chest for months, hasn’t she? Nice job. Way to work it.”

“That—” He caught himself before he said damn calendar. “It had nothing to do with anything.” Which wasn’t quite true. Whitney had looked at him differently yesterday. She’d toned down her reaction after she’d realized he wanted her to let it go, but the calendar had been a factor.

“Leave the poor guy alone,” Lexi said. “He’s been a good sport about his extended run.”

“Good point, Lex.” Cade attempted to look apologetic but it didn’t quite work. “You took one for the team, bro, and we all appreciate it.” Then his grin reappeared. “But you have to admit it’s turning out quite nicely.”

3

WHITNEY HAD GIVEN herself very little time to get ready, which was just as well. All day she’d been telling herself this date was no big deal. But as she quickly changed out of her uniform into jeans and a white cable-knit sweater, she admitted to being nervous. Her heart raced every time she thought about Ty appearing outside her door.

She’d straightened her small apartment before leaving for work and she’d pulled out the box of tree ornaments. The fragrant Scotch pine she’d bought early this morning was medium-sized, a little over six feet, but that was plenty big enough for her living room. It looked great tucked in the corner.

A futon doubled as a couch because she’d wanted extra sleeping space when her friends or her folks visited. Besides the futon, the living room furniture included two end tables, two lamps and a bookcase that held her TV. Oh, and the rocker from her mother, who believed every home should have one.

Other than that, she owned a small kitchen table and matching chairs, a queen-sized bed and a dresser. Decorating wasn’t her thing and she was grateful that Rangeland Roasters had a template for each holiday. Her boss Ginny shipped the materials and Whitney let her staff go crazy.

The one exception to her lack of interest in decorating was her Christmas tree. Her mom had faithfully bought dated ornaments every year since Whitney and Selena had been born. Selena’s sixteen ornaments were packed away in her parents’ basement, but Whitney had all twenty-seven of hers, including the newest one her mother had mailed last week.

Whitney’s box of decorations included two strands of lights plus the glass icicles and snowflakes she’d added a couple of years ago. She used wired red-and-gold ribbon instead of a garland and was still debating her options for a tree topper. Her parents had a lovely star, but she favored angels. She hadn’t found one she liked, so for now she used a small teddy bear she’d had since she was four.

Five minutes before Ty was due to arrive, she thought about what they’d drink with their Chinese food. A good hostess would have a couple of bottles of wine available, or a six-pack of beer. What if he liked soda? She didn’t have any of that, either. Mostly she had...coffee.

Apparently she’d stumbled into the right profession because she loved coffee—caffeinated, decaffeinated and flavored. She had an espresso machine and a professional-grade blender that could mix up an iced coffee drink that would melt in your mouth.

She knew Ty liked coffee, but it didn’t seem like the right choice for Chinese food. What, then? Well, she sometimes drank tea when she ate at a Chinese restaurant, but mostly she considered it a weak version of coffee and not worth the bother. Consequently she didn’t stock it at home.

About the time she’d decided water was her only option, her intercom buzzed. Showtime. Anticipation jacked up her pulse rate as she walked to the intercom and opened the connection. “Ty?”

“Yep.”

The sound of his deep baritone made her quiver. “Come on up. Second floor, number two-oh-four.”

“Got it.”

A manly voice for a manly man. She buzzed him in before opening her apartment door and stepping into the hall. His boots sounded on the stairs and then he came down the hallway toward her. He held a bulging plastic bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

But she was more interested in the man than what he’d brought for dinner. He wore his shearling coat, snug jeans and a brown Stetson dampened by melting snow. She couldn’t remember opening her door to a more appealing sight.

His gray gaze warmed as it met hers. “I’ve never seen you dressed in anything but a Rangeland Roasters uniform. You look different.”

“That uniform isn’t exactly the height of fashion.”

“No, but...you do it justice.”

“Thanks.” She tingled with awareness. If she’d imagined this might be a platonic evening spent in casual conversation, he’d just changed the game. Then again, she’d never believed their date would be casual and platonic.

She stepped back from the door. “Come in. And thanks for bringing wine. I had no idea what we’d drink with dinner.”

“Tea is traditional, but I wasn’t in the mood for tea.” He brought the chill of a cold Wyoming night with him as he walked in, along with the exotic scents of Asian spices, a whiff of pine-scented aftershave and a crackle of electricity.

She hadn’t realized how he filled a space until he stood in her living room. She’d hosted a couple of her girlfriends since she’d moved here, and her folks had visited twice, but the apartment hadn’t felt truly small until Ty Slater stepped inside. She wasn’t complaining. He was the most exciting guest she’d ever had.

“Nice tree. Smells great.”

“Doesn’t it? That’s Christmas to me.”

“Agreed.” His smile flashed. “It isn’t Christmas until there’s a tree in the living room. How do you want to do this? We could eat while decorating, or eat first and then decorate, or vice versa. Your call.”

“I’m starving and we don’t want the food to get cold, so let’s eat first.”

“Works for me.” He lifted the plastic bag and the wine bottle. “Where to?”

“All I have is the kitchen table.”

“Hey, that’s all I have, too. My apartment is about the size of yours. In fact, I have that same futon. Did you get yours in Cheyenne?”

“Uh-huh.” She led the way into her tiny kitchen. “From that furniture store that’s always running sales.”

“That’s the one.” He set the bag and wine on her small round table.

“Did your salesman have a Santa Claus beard?”

“Yep, same guy.” He took off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the chairs. The movement stirred up the scent of whatever soap he’d used, something lemony.

Whitney took a deep breath. Having this man around was aromatherapy for a condition she hadn’t realized she had. She hadn’t intentionally cut dating out of her life. It had come with the new job.

“I found out he plays Santa for the kids who are in the hospital over Christmas,” Ty said.

Looking at him standing in her kitchen, his broad shoulders emphasized by the yoked style of his cream-colored Western shirt, she felt as if Santa had brought her an early present. “That’s awesome!”

“I thought so. Made me feel good about buying the futon from him.” He removed his hat. “Can I just put this on the counter? It needs to dry off a little.”

“Sure. Anywhere.” She would love to mess with his hair and get rid of the hat-brim crease.

“You don’t have a lot of stuff sitting around.” He laid his hat on the counter brim side up, cowboy-style. Then he finger-combed his damp hair, leaving it tousled and sexy looking.

“Just the espresso machine.”

“I’d expect that. I meant you don’t have a lot of doodads and whatchamacallits. Very streamlined. I like it.”

“Thanks.” Her list of things she liked about him was growing longer by the minute. “My mother thinks my apartment’s stark, but I call it uncluttered.”

“Less to move when you’re cleaning.”

“Exactly! And it’s not like I spend a lot of time here, so I don’t want to waste money buying a bunch of things I’ll never use. My mom brought wineglasses when she and my dad came to visit in October, only to discover I didn’t have a wine opener. I just buy screw-top.”

Ty laughed, picked up the wine and opened it with a twist of his wrist. “I’m beginning to think we’re twins.”

“Sort of, yeah.” Except that twins didn’t always think alike. For instance, Selena would have decorated this apartment within an inch of its life. But now wasn’t the time to think about that. She opened a cupboard, pulled out two of the pricey goblets from her mom and set them on the table.

“I took a chance on the wine. I didn’t know if you were into it, and if so, what you liked.” He held up the bottle. “This is a Sauvignon Blanc. Is that okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Well, taste it and make sure you like it.” He poured some in a glass and held it out to her.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to swirl it around and stick my nose in the glass?”

He grinned. “Whitney, I do believe we’re going to get along.”

She met his gaze. “So do I.” She drained the glass and returned it to him. “Fill ’er up while I get us plates, napkins and silverware.” She turned back to the cupboard.

“Yes, ma’am. I asked them to include chopsticks, though, if you want to skip the silverware.”

“I’ve never learned to eat with those, so I’ll require a fork.” She put cloth napkins, one of her few touches of elegance, on the plates. Then she opened another drawer and added utensils, including serving spoons for each carton.

“Want to learn how?”

She considered the prospect as she walked back to the table with the plates. Might be fun, considering who’d be teaching her. “Okay, why not?”

He’d unpacked the cartons and set them in the middle of the table. “See, I knew you were a woman with adventure in her soul.”

“You did? Why?”

Opening each carton, he shoved a serving spoon in. “We could be meeting for a drink tonight, which would be the typical first step since we’ve never gone out. But you discarded that conservative move in favor of inviting me over to help with your tree.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. “Too bold?”

“Nope. I loved it.” He picked up both goblets and handed one to her before touching the rim of his glass to hers. “Thanks for asking me.”

As she looked into his gray eyes and saw heat simmering there, her breath caught. Only minutes into this date she was already imagining what it would be like to kiss him. If the warmth in his gaze was any indication, he had kissing on his mind, too.

Instead he took a sip of his wine, and she followed his lead. The Sauvignon Blanc had a velvety taste that she liked very much. If she kissed Ty now, his lips would be flavored with wine. When he set his glass on the table, she wondered if she was about to have that experience.

Instead, he pulled out the chair across from him, the one that wasn’t holding his coat. “Have a seat and I’ll show you how to use chopsticks.”

Good call. One kiss would likely turn into two, or ten. In the privacy of her apartment they had nothing and no one to interrupt them. She actually was hungry and she really did want to decorate her tree tonight.

Yet as he tore the wrapping from his chopsticks with his blunt-tipped fingers, excitement curled in her belly. Until now she hadn’t realized how much she’d fantasized about this man. Having him all to herself for several hours didn’t seem quite real. Maybe she could postpone the tree project.

He glanced up. “Ready?”

Now there was a loaded question. “You bet.” Grabbing the wrapped chopsticks, she ripped off the paper and clutched one in each fist on purpose to make him laugh.

He did, which drew her attention to his mouth. He’d been blessed with lips that should be lovely to kiss, although shape meant nothing if he had no technique. That would be a crying shame. Until he proved her wrong, she’d assume he had excellent technique.

“Let’s start with a piece of broccoli.”

Oh, yeah. The chopstick lesson. “Broccoli’s a good place to start.” Using the chopsticks like pincers, she snatched a dark green clump from one of the cartons and deposited it on her plate.

His smile widened. “I thought you didn’t know how to do this?”

“I don’t, but obviously it’s easier to grab ahold of something firm than something limp.” In the dead silence that followed her cheeks grew warm. “I mean...when you’re talking about...chopsticks.” But there was no fixing this.

Lips pressed together, he glanced up at the ceiling. Then he dropped his head to his chest and a small snort escaped. His shoulders shook. Finally he gave up the fight and laughed until the tears came.

She couldn’t blame him. Besides, his laughter was catching. Once she started in, it was hard to stop, especially whenever they looked at each other.

At last he wiped his eyes and drew a ragged breath. “I’ll never look at broccoli and chopsticks the same way again.”

“Me, either.” She stifled a giggle. “Talk about an icebreaker.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I’d say the ice is permanently smashed, and there wasn’t much there to begin with. So.” He smiled at her. “Still want to learn to use chopsticks?”

“If you don’t teach me now, I’ll never learn. If anybody else tried, they wouldn’t understand why I keep cracking up.”

“All righty. Let me take a restorative sip of wine and we’ll begin again.”

“I like your selections, by the way. I’m a fan of beef and broccoli and orange chicken.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised.” He gazed at her for a long moment.

Another few seconds of that intensity and she was liable to abandon dinner and suggest dessert, the most delicious kind she could imagine. Still, she thought they should hold off. This getting acquainted time was sweet and she didn’t want a physical relationship to overpower it. “But if I’m going to eat anything besides broccoli, I need more instruction.”

“Right.” He balanced his set of chopsticks between his fingers. “Hold them like this. Use your thumb and forefinger to control the action.” He plucked a piece of chicken out of the carton.

She was reasonably well coordinated, so after a few practice tries, she was able to pick up both the beef and the chicken and put them on her plate.

“Excellent.”

“Yes, I did it, but at this rate I’ll starve to death. I think I’ll use a fork for the meal and practice later. I have the general idea.” She peered at him. “Unless you’re some kind of stickler who’ll be offended.”

“I’m a stickler when it comes to contract law and not much else. By all means, use a fork.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

He shrugged. “I’m used to eating with chopsticks. It’s fun for me.”

“Then by all means, go for it.” She served herself a generous portion of each dish, plus a spoonful of brown rice. “Who taught you how to use them?”

“My mom.”

The abbreviated response told her not to ask any more questions. The short bio on the calendar had mentioned that he’d lost both parents at fourteen, so it had likely been an accident of some kind. She understood how one tragic moment could change someone’s life.

She and Ty didn’t know each other well enough to delve into those dark recesses. But his mother had taught him well. He could manipulate those chopsticks as if he’d been born with them in his hand.

He picked up a clump of rice and held it effortlessly in midair. “The new location seems to be doing great.”

Change of topic. That was fine with her. She nodded as she finished a bite of the excellent orange chicken. “It is. Ginny had high hopes that the town would be a good market, and it’s turned out that way.”

“I’m sure you had something to do with that.” He popped the rice into his mouth.

“I hope so. I’ve always loved coffee shops. They’ve been gathering places for centuries. I feel as if I’m carrying on an important tradition.”

“You definitely are. I’ve used Rangeland Roasters for meeting both clients and friends. It’s a no-pressure spot to hang out.”

“I know!” She warmed to her favorite subject. “I brought in some universal games like checkers and chess. My customers love them! And while they play, they drink coffee, so that means more revenue. Good for them and good for the shop.”

“Besides that, you make them feel at home. You remember names and drink orders.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

“For you, maybe. Some people have a really tough time recalling names and personal details. Their brains are busy with stuff like quantum physics.”

“Or contract law?” She knew he was smart, but she didn’t have a grasp on what kind of smart.

“Thinking about a case doesn’t keep me from remembering everyday things, especially if they’re written down somewhere or I have a clear picture in my head.”

“Photographic memory?”

“That’s what the tests say.”

That fascinated her. “Tell me how it works.”

“I can’t speak to how it works with others, but for me, if I need to remember something, I take a mental picture of it. That can be a page of case law or the items on this table.”

“Perfect recall.”

“If I concentrate, pretty much.”

“Amazing. What a talent.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Maybe, but I can’t take credit for it. I was born that way.” He hesitated. “So was my mom.”

She accepted that admission as the gift it was. He trusted her enough to tell her something personal. All things considered, this date was off to a great start. “That’s a nice legacy.”

“That’s what my foster mom said a long time ago. She was right, but then, she usually is. I guess you’ve met her.”

“Rosie? Oh, yeah. She pops in at least once a week. Usually she orders a Mocha Madness, but every once in a while she’ll have a Crazy for Caramel instead. She keeps telling me I need to get a liquor license so I can serve Baileys in her coffee.”

He laughed. “She does love that combo. By the way, she and Herb, plus a couple of my brothers and their girlfriends, are out dancing tonight. We’re invited, but I didn’t make any promises.”

“Oh!” Maybe she wouldn’t have him all to herself, after all. He’d come to Sheridan to visit his foster family and they were off having fun without him. “Of course we can. I’ll decorate my tree another time.”

“But you’d set aside tonight to do it. I’ll take a wild guess that the Friday after Thanksgiving is when you normally put up your tree.”

“It is, but—”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. I want to. I haven’t decorated a tree since I lived at Thunder Mountain.”

“You don’t put up one in your apartment?”

“I have a predecorated tree I haul out of the closet and plug into a timer.”

She gazed at him. “That sounds very...practical.”

“And boring?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But tell the truth and the whole truth. You were thinking it.”

She smiled. “Yes, your honor, I was. Okay, we’ll decorate the tree, but it won’t take long, and we can probably still meet your family afterward.”

He polished off his wine and picked up the bottle to refill their glasses. “Maybe. Let’s see how the evening goes.”

And just like that, her mind went right back to thoughts of kissing him. If they stayed here, she had a much better chance of that happening.

4

TY WOULD LOVE to dance with Whitney, but not tonight. They were still figuring out whether this relationship had possibilities and he wanted to give them time to do that before getting involved with his family.

He could see why Rosie would think Whitney was perfect for him, though. Her openness and sense of humor definitely appealed to him. Whether he was perfect for her was a whole other question. He had a few issues. Near as he could tell, she didn’t have any, or certainly not major ones.

Although he liked to think he’d handled his problems, his relationships never seemed to last very long. He knew he was picky, but still, he was a little surprised that he’d never come even close to proposing. Despite Rosie’s intuition, Whitney could end up being another of his dead-end affairs.

Physically, though, they were like a pile of kindling waiting for a match. He couldn’t speak for her, but he was trying to hold off. Although technically they’d known each other for almost a year, he wasn’t sure those short conversations at Rangeland Roasters counted for much. They’d been more like teasers.

Yeah, that was a good word for those interactions, and maybe that explained why they were both so eager to get on with it. He could see it in her eyes. A couple of times he’d held her gaze a little too long and had felt a really strong urge to kiss her. He had a feeling she’d be fine with that.

But no matter what did or didn’t happen between them, he’d be driving back to Cheyenne on Sunday. At first he’d considered that a negative, but now he could see the positive side of it. The attraction between them had built-in boundaries.

Considering how strong the chemistry was, boundaries might be a good thing. Driving back to Cheyenne would be like taking a recess during an intense trial. Nothing like a cooling-off period to allow those involved to reason more clearly.

He helped her clean up the kitchen, which was another test to see if he could keep his hands to himself. It was a compact kitchen and they weren’t small people. Each accidental—or maybe not so accidental—brush of their bodies jacked up his pulse.

By now he had a clear and detailed mental image of her and he knew they’d fit together like puzzle pieces. More than once he wondered how she saw this evening ending. She’d been the one to suggest spending it in her apartment.

But she was naturally friendly, so coming here might have been a spur-of-the-moment idea because her time was so limited and she’d planned to trim the tree. Just because they had the opportunity for more than a casual evening together didn’t mean they should act on it. They probably shouldn’t, in fact.

He couldn’t totally banish the thought, though. She smelled terrific, a spicy scent mixed with the aroma of the brewed coffee she’d spent her day serving. Whenever she moved past him in the kitchen he could almost taste that Peppermint Pleasure latte. He had a hunch she’d taste even better.

Somehow they made it out of the kitchen and into the living room without ending up in a clinch. Apparently she’d been bold enough to invite him into her apartment but she wasn’t bold enough to make the first move, at least not yet. That was good, because if she so much as dropped a hint, he’d fold. A guy could only be so noble.

But she didn’t hint. Instead she walked straight over to her tree and crouched next to the cardboard box sitting beside it. Rosie and Herb had no set schedule for putting up theirs, but his parents had always designated the Friday after Thanksgiving for buying and trimming the tree.

He’d be on vacation from school and they’d take off work so all three of them could head for the tree lot first thing in the morning for a better selection. Then they waited until after dinner to trim it so they could see if the lights were spaced right. He hadn’t thought about any of that in years.

She pulled out a strand of lights and looked up at him. “I don’t know if you have a favorite method, but—”

“I don’t and besides, this is your tree. You get to be in charge.”

“Then lights go first.” She handed him the strand. “There’s a plug right by the tree. I only have two of these, but that should be enough.”

“Should be.” He leaned down and plugged in the lights. The multicolored glow brought an unexpected tightening in his throat. Damn, now was not the time to get all mushy.

He never had when he’d helped with the Thunder Mountain tree. But that had been a noisy, rowdy process filled with teasing and arguments among the guys about light and ornament placement. This intimate evening with just the two of them was a lot closer to his childhood Christmases.

“Good. They work.” She stood. “If you’ll unplug them for a minute, I’ll be right back. I forgot to start the Christmas music.”

He almost asked her to forget the music, but that wouldn’t be fair. If she was anything like his folks had been, then she loved decorating a tree while listening to carols. He’d loved it, too. He could do this.

She left the room. Moments later, an instrumental version of Silent Night started up, and he sighed in relief. That wasn’t the version his parents had played.

Funny, but he hadn’t thought helping her with this would be any kind of problem after all these years. He held the strand of lights and waited for her to come back, but she was taking a while. Maybe she was checking her teeth for bits of Chinese food.

When she finally reappeared, she gave him a bright smile. “That’s better. You can’t decorate a tree without carols, right?”

“Right.” Unless he was mistaken, her smile was a little too bright, almost as if she’d had to force it. And her mascara was slightly smudged, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “It’s stupid, really. I’m almost twenty-seven years old and I’ve lived on my own ever since I graduated from college. But even after I moved out and had my own tree, I always went over to my folks’ house to help with theirs. Hearing Silent Night got to me a little bit.”

“Do you want to skip the music?”

“No! It’s part of the tradition and I love Christmas carols. I’ll be fine. It’s just that I’ve always been there so I have to get used to being here, instead.”

“If you’re sure, because I don’t have to have it on.”

“Well, I do.” She sounded determined. “I can’t imagine decorating a tree without Christmas music.” Taking a deep breath, she gazed at him. “Ready to plug those lights in again?”

“You bet.” Too bad he couldn’t pull her into his arms for a sympathetic hug, but ironically he didn’t know her well enough for that kind of friendly, nonthreatening embrace. When he took her in his arms for the first time, he didn’t want her to wonder about his motivation.

He arranged the lights across the bottom front of the tree and halfway around the back. Then he placed what was left of the strand in her outstretched hand so she could continue around to the front again. That brief touch of her warm fingers made him long for more contact.

A few kisses would be okay, but he’d stop before things went too far. They were both feeling vulnerable, which wasn’t a good way to begin a sexual relationship. Judging from the mood developing between them, he was fairly sure they would end up having one, even if they did live five hours apart.

“This would have been tougher working alone.” She handed the lights off to him. “Come to think of it, when I trimmed my apartment tree in Cheyenne, I always roped somebody into helping me.” She laughed. “So I’m continuing my pattern. Consider yourself roped in.”

“Glad to do it.” And he was, even if he’d had a bad moment at first. “I’m ready for the next set of lights.”

He admired the ripple of her golden hair as she leaned over to pull out the second strand. He imagined running his fingers through it and gazing into her eyes. He wanted to taste those full lips. He closed his eyes briefly as he imagined how amazing that would feel.

“Ty?”

“Sorry.” Caught. He took the lights she held out to him. “Got distracted.” He joined the first set to the second and thought of the terminology for the connecting ends—male and female plugs. He and his foster brothers used to joke about that when they were raunchy teenagers who thought about sex constantly.

“You must have been thinking of something nice.”

“I was.”

She didn’t pursue it, which probably meant she knew the sort of thing he’d been thinking about.

They traded the bunched cord back and forth, winding the lights around the branches until Ty looped the end at the top. Then they both stepped back and squinted at the lit tree to check placement.

“It’s almost perfect,” she said. “But there’s a blank space in the middle.”

“I see it.” He stepped forward and adjusted one strand lower. Then he backed up. “I think that does it.”

“I think so, too.”

He heard something in her voice, something soft and yielding that made his heart beat faster. He glanced over at her. She was staring right back at him, her eyes dark and her breathing shallow. If any woman had ever looked more ready to be kissed, he’d eat his hat.

And damned if he could resist her. His gaze locked with hers and his body tightened as he stepped closer. Slowly he combed his fingers through hair that felt as silky as he’d imagined. “We haven’t finished with the tree.”

“I know.” Her voice was husky. “And there’s the dancing afterward...”

“We were never going to do that.” He pressed his fingertips into her scalp and tilted her head back. “But I think we were always going to do this.” And he lowered his head.

She awaited him with lips parted. After the first gentle pressure against her velvet mouth, he sank deeper with a groan of pleasure. So sweet, so damned perfect. She tasted like wine, better than wine, better than anything he could name.

The slide of her arms around his waist sent heat shooting through his veins. As she nestled against him, he took full command of the kiss, swallowing her moan as he thrust his tongue into her mouth.

She welcomed him, slackening her jaw and inviting him to explore. He caught fire, shifting his angle and making love to her mouth until they were both breathing hard and molded together. As he’d known, they fit exactly.

He registered the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the press of her thighs. His cock hardened. The red haze of lust threatened to wipe out his good intentions, but he caught himself before he slid his hands under her sweater. Gulping for air, he released her and stepped back.

Looking into eyes filled with the same need pounding through him nearly had him reaching for her again. He fisted his hands at his sides. “Let’s...maybe we should...back off for a bit.”

She swallowed. “Okay. Care to say why?”

“I had a really valid reason a second ago.”

She laughed. “It’s a good thing you’re so damned cute. I’ll give you a minute to collect your thoughts.”

“Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck and struggled for clarity.

“You did say there’s no girlfriend.”

“Right. No girlfriend.” Then he remembered why they needed to put the brakes on. Boy, she’d really fried his circuits. But the tree trimming had stirred up neediness in both of them. She might not be overly affected by it, but he was.

Saying all that out loud, though, would mean bringing up a touchy subject, one he wasn’t prepared to discuss at the moment. Maybe a distraction was in order. “What’s your schedule tomorrow?”

“My schedule? Why?”

“Humor me. What shifts are you working?”

“Most of them. Pretty much all day and for a couple of hours in the evening, too.”

“Any breaks?”

“Yeah, for an hour between one and two and again from six to seven. Usually I eat something at my desk.”

“Let me take you to lunch at one and dinner at six.”

She blinked in obvious bewilderment. “You’re kidding.”

“No. We’ll go to that little diner. It’s close.”

“For both meals?”

“You don’t like the food?”

“I like it fine, but I’m confused. What’s going on?”

“I...want to spend more time with you before we’re in a kissing situation again.”

A slow smile curved her kiss-reddened mouth. “Speaking of that, I’ll leave the coffee shop at nine tomorrow night. Is there a chance you might want to drop by here after I’m off work?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Now there’s a loaded statement. How should I answer that?”

He groaned. “Don’t try. You’ll get us both in trouble. I’ll be at the shop at one.” He walked toward the kitchen and got his coat.

“You’re leaving?”

He grabbed his hat from the counter before turning to face her. “If I stay, I guarantee things will get out of hand.”

“Not necessarily.”

He gazed at her without speaking.

“Okay, you’re right. That kiss was a barn burner. Dampened my panties.”

He sucked in a breath. “Don’t tell me that.”

“Why not? You might as well know how you affect me since I’m well aware how I affect you. I was there, remember? I could tell what was going on with you.”

“I’m sure you could.”

Her gaze swept down to his crotch. “Still going on, I believe. When we have these pre-sex meals you’re determined to share, you’d better keep your hands and knees to yourself or no telling what might happen in the privacy of our booth.”

“Nothing will happen because we’ll sit at the counter.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I’m just trying to—”

“I know.” She sighed. “And I get it, actually. I need to stop giving you grief. Tonight’s been emotional for me, and you don’t want to take advantage when I’m feeling needy. But you won’t say so because you’re a true gentleman.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are, Ty. You came over for a night of fun and games and instead you ended up with a woman getting teary and homesick over Christmas carols. Another guy might have seen that as an opportunity, but not you. You’d rather get together when I’m feeling strong and happy. Am I right?”

“Sort of.” His conscience was giving him hell. “For the record, I had a reaction to those carols, too.”

“You did?”

“My folks and I always put up our tree on the Friday after Thanksgiving and played Christmas music while we did it.”

She drew in a breath. “Oh, Ty. I’m so sorry. I should have realized that the holidays might be a tough time for you.”

“They’re not. It’s been fourteen years since they died, and the plane went down in July. It wasn’t a tragic accident during Christmas.”

“Fourteen years might sound like a long time to some people, but it doesn’t to me. And holidays can be difficult no matter when the tragedy happened.”

“Thanks for that, but I’m pretty much at peace with losing them.” He’d discovered that saying he was at peace usually kept people from feeling sorry for him.

“I’m glad.”

“Besides, I enjoy Christmas. I hadn’t put any importance on the Friday night tree decorating tradition, and I’m surprised it bothered me.” He put on his hat and shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat.

“Still, I wish I’d known.”

“What if you had? I wouldn’t have wanted you to change your plans because I might get upset.” He gestured to the tree. “But I apologize for not finishing the job.”

“The lights are the hardest part. I’ll take care of the rest. It’ll be all decorated when you come over tomorrow night.”

“That sounds great.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and headed for the door. “See you at one.”

“You don’t have to take me out for two meals. That seems silly.”

He turned back and smiled at her. “Just go with it, okay? I want chaperones to make sure we sit and talk.”

“Does that mean we won’t be talking tomorrow night?” She stood in the glow of the colored lights, her skin flushed and her breathing shallow. He’d never seen a sexier, more beautiful woman in his life.

He gripped the door handle to remind himself that he was leaving, by God. “Probably not much.” And he walked out before he changed his mind.

5

SOMETIME AFTER ELEVEN the next morning, Rosie Padgett came through the door of Rangeland Roasters. Whitney wasn’t terribly surprised to see Ty’s foster mother. In Rosie’s shoes, she would have done the same.

Rosie pushed back the hood of her down jacket and fluffed her blond hair as she walked toward the counter. Then she unzipped the jacket to reveal a red sweatshirt with “Dear Santa, I can explain...” lettered on the front.

Whitney laughed. “Nice sweatshirt.”

“Couldn’t resist it. Herb says it’s so me.”

“He should know. Mocha Madness today?”

“You know it, girlfriend.”

“Anything else?”

“No, thanks. Ate too much apple pie yesterday.” She took money out of her purse and handed it to Whitney. “But I really need the caffeine. Christmas shopping after this.”

“Good for you. I haven’t even started.” Whitney rang up the coffee and turned to Meryl, who’d just finished making a Peppermint Passion order. “Are you caught up, or do you need me to make it?”

“I’m caught up.” Meryl smiled. “Hi, there, Rosie.”

“Hey, Meryl. Whitney’s keeping you busy, I see.”

“That’s how I like it.” She started putting together Rosie’s drink.

“Busy is definitely good.” Whitney was glad nobody had come in after Rosie, though. It gave her a chance to mention last night’s invitation. “Sorry I didn’t make it out dancing with everyone, but thanks for asking me.”

“I was sorry, too. Ty said you were bushed after working all day.”

“Um, yeah, sure was.” That was as good an excuse as any and she appreciated Ty making one for her.

“Maybe another time. He’s an excellent dancer. It’s like being on Dancing with the Stars.” She glanced behind her as more customers came in. “You may get too busy, but if you could come over and sit for a minute, that would be great.”

“I will if I can.” She’d love a woman-to-woman chat and she figured Rosie felt the same now that they had Ty Slater in common.

Rosie thanked Meryl for the coffee and carried it to a vacant table next to the window. In no time, Rosie’s friend Harriet came through the door. Once Harriet had her coffee she joined Rosie and they began an animated conversation.

So much for a private discussion about Ty. Whitney should have realized that was unlikely. Rosie might come in alone most of the time, but she never stayed that way for long. She seemed to know everyone in town, and inevitably at least one friend would show up. More often it would be two or three.

But a little while later, Harriet’s husband stopped in and they both left. Whitney put Meryl in charge of the counter and walked over to sit across from Rosie. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Wonderful. I’ll bet you worked most of the day, didn’t you?”

“I did, but no worries. I’m not martyring myself to the cause. I’ll close on Christmas. I just promoted Meryl to assistant manager, so now I have someone to cover for me when I’m gone.”

“Good call. She’s a hard worker.”

“And ambitious and intelligent. I lucked out with her. Anyway, she’s taking Christmas Eve Day and the twenty-sixth for me. I’ll drive down to Cheyenne to see my folks then.”

Rosie nodded in approval. “Excellent. I’m sure they miss you.”

“They do, and I miss them, but opening this new location is a terrific opportunity for me.”

“You’re doing a fine job, too. Incidentally, I’m glad you and Ty rediscovered each other.”

“He’s a great guy.”

“I agree.”

Whitney smiled. “I’m sure you do.”

“I guess you’re aware of his background because it was printed on the calendar. I’m still not sure how I feel about that. It helps the cause, but I think it bothers him for strangers to know those details. He hates the idea of being pitied. All my boys do.”

“Personally, I admire him for getting on with his life the way he has. I’m sure you and Herb were a part of that healing process.”

“We were, of course, but he had a good foundation. His parents were nice people. We knew them slightly, and my boys went to school with Ty, so naturally Herb and I wanted to help.”

“He’s lucky you were there for him.”

“He knows that. At first he was mad at the world, but he’s mellowed out, thank goodness. That doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him.” She reached over and patted Whitney’s arm. “I’m thrilled you’re seeing each other. He told me you have plans to get together today and later this evening, so I assume you’re enjoying each other’s company.”

“We are.” Her face grew warm.

Rosie grinned. “Now that’s cute as all get-out. He turned pink, too, when I mentioned it. Anyway, that’s really what I came in to say, that I’m happy for both of you. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night.”

“Well, thank you.” She took a steadying breath. “But I’m not sure how much we’ll be seeing each other over the long haul, considering we live so far apart. A five-hour drive, especially in the winter, isn’t all that much fun.”

“I know the situation’s not ideal, but these things have a way of working out if they’re supposed to.” Rosie’s gaze shifted to a spot over Whitney’s shoulder. “Hey, Janine! Saw you come in a minute ago. Recovered from all your dancing last night?”

Whitney turned as one of Rosie’s oldest friends walked over to the table, coffee in hand. Whitney gave up her chair despite Janine’s protest.

Meryl was due for her break soon, and Whitney wanted her to take it so she’d be back before one. Ty had shown up right on time last night and probably would again today. Although she’d called his plan silly, she could hardly wait to see him.

Ever since he’d given her that heated gaze before walking out her door, she’d been riding an adrenaline high. She’d finished trimming the tree while sipping wine from the bottle. There’d been at least a third of it left and they’d washed the goblets.

Then she’d put up her only other Christmas decoration, a ball of fake mistletoe. She’d chosen to hang it in the archway leading into her kitchen, but it didn’t really matter where she put it. Kissing Ty was a foregone conclusion whether she had mistletoe or not.

She’d taken a hot bath in the vain hope that it would relax her. But who could be expected to fall asleep in a bed that probably would be occupied by a gorgeous cowboy in less than twenty-four hours? Finally she’d managed to doze off only to wake up superearly.

At least she’d had plenty of time to put fresh sheets on the bed and clean towels in the bathroom. The sheets were plain white. For a moment she’d wished for something less boring, but then she’d remembered how he’d looked at her.

He wouldn’t notice the color of the sheets. All he’d require would be her naked body stretched out on a relatively soft horizontal surface. And all she’d require would be permission to caress his naked body as they made sweet love all night long.

Being at work had presented another challenge. She had trouble not staring at the calendar. Yes, she could see his sculpted chest even with her eyes closed, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to study it some more.

That wasn’t a good idea, though. Every time she glanced at Ty’s picture, a shiver of anticipation ran through her. Sooner or later Meryl was liable to notice. Precisely at one, Ty strode into Rangeland Roasters. Today he wore typical wrangler clothes—jeans faded and softened with time and scuffed boots that had seen plenty of action in the barn and the corral. He had on the same shearling jacket and brown Stetson, but underneath he had on a blue chambray work shirt. The longer he was in Sheridan, the less he resembled an attorney.

He met her gaze and she felt the connection from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She gave a short nod to let him know she’d be right with him. Then she ducked into her small office to grab her parka and her phone.

“It’s all yours, Meryl,” she said to her dark-haired assistant as she pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. “Call me if you have any problems.”

“I won’t.” Meryl’s quiet confidence had earned her the promotion. She was unflappable.

Whitney required that trait in order to feel comfortable putting someone else in charge of the shop. “Well, let me know if you do. I can be here in no time.”

“Go have fun. You deserve it.”

Whitney lowered her voice. “I don’t know how much fun a girl can have in an hour.”

“With a guy who looks like him? Plenty.”

As Whitney walked toward Ty, she had to agree. His welcoming smile was a party all by itself. She gazed up at him. “Hi, you.”

“Hi, yourself.” Warmth flashed in his gray eyes.

“Rosie came in this morning.”

He nodded. “I’m not surprised. I knew she drove in for some secret Christmas shopping. She’s tickled about us.”

“I could tell.”

“I explained to her that dating isn’t going to be a simple thing with you here and me down in Cheyenne, but she seems to think we can work around it.”

She gazed at him and realized the distance between Sheridan and Cheyenne was shrinking in her mind. “We might.”

“We just might. Time will tell. And speaking of time, we’d better get moving. The clock’s ticking.” With a hand against the small of her back, he guided her out the front door of Rangeland Roasters. Then he laced his fingers through hers and started off at a brisk pace toward the diner.

“Is this what they call speed dating?”

He slowed immediately. “Sorry. Guess I wanted to maximize the time I spend sitting next to you.”

“At the counter, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeezed her hand. “Especially after you gave me a vivid picture of what might happen in a booth. Besides, we’ll get seated quicker and served faster. Do you know what you want?”

That gave her the giggles, and her breath frosted in the cold air. No more snow had fallen since Wednesday night, but the temperature still hovered around thirty degrees.

“I can see where your mind is.” Laughter rippled in his voice.

“Do you blame me? You’ve strongly suggested that tonight we’ll—”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about that.”

“Nobody’s paying attention.”

“Nobody except yours truly, and talking about it makes me want to do it, which has predictable anatomical consequences.”

“Predictable anatomical consequences? Is that a legal term?”

“If it’s not, it should be.” He pushed open the door and ushered her into the diner. “And that subject’s officially off-limits.”

“You’re no fun.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I just pick the appropriate time and place. This isn’t it.” He paused inside the door. “Good. The counter has spots available.”

The hostess arrived and seated them immediately as he’d predicted. The stools had backs, which gave them a place for their coats. Ty barely had time to help Whitney off with hers before two water glasses appeared along with napkins and silverware.

He gestured toward the glasses. “See? Counters rock.” He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his stool.

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