“I see why you enjoy carpentry.” He moved up to her jaw and then over to that sensitive spot behind her ear, relishing having her in his arms at last. Unsaying his New Year’s resolution was the easiest decision he’d made to date, and Cat had unsaid her only friends with that kiss. All in all, unsaying was his new favorite thing to do.
“There’s just something about closet design.” Cat laughed and squirmed. “That tickles.”
Sam laughed. “What? This?” He nuzzled her neck.
“Sam!” she squealed. He loved it. He loved hearing her laugh and being the reason for it. Cat’s laughter warmed his heart. He tickled her side, and she jumped. “Sam!”
Gathering her into his arms where she melded into him, fitting into all the right spots, he let his heart have full rein. “Catrina O’Shae, can I take you to dinner?”
Cat nodded against his shoulder. “I’d like that.”
He kissed her head. “Then we’d better get this done.”
“Wait—tonight?” Her hand flew to her hair.
“Sure.” Sam shrugged.
“Sam, I’m a mess.” She tugged at her hoodie. “I need a shower and some time with a flat iron and—”
Sam took both her hands in his to stop her fidgeting. “You look beautiful, and I’d take you to the fanciest place in Billings right now and have the prettiest girl in the state.”
Flushing, Cat ducked her chin. “The things you say.”
As much as Sam had enjoyed making Cat laugh, he found that there was a part of him, the deep-down part where loyalty and faith and love took root, that thrilled at making her blush. He had a feeling he’d spend the better part of the afternoon planning compliments that would bring color to her cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her temple and reached down for another shelf. Pointing at the number in the corner, he said, “One.”
Cat pointed to the bottom shelf. “The match.”
“I like matching things up.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows.
Cat giggled.
He held the shelf in place while Cat leaned against him and secured it with the nail gun. They worked quickly, and all too soon the closet was finished.
As they were hauling the equipment out to Grandpa’s truck, Sam was thankful he’d thrown out his New Year’s resolution. There was no point in missing out on this much happiness—not when it came in a hoodie and jeans and tasted like sweet peaches.
Chapter 12
Cat kept a watchful eye on the clock as she got ready. Sam said he liked her with messy hair and in an old pair of jeans—well, he was about to find out what he was missing out on. Her long caramel hair hung down her back in soft waves. Since it had been flatter than a nail this afternoon, she added root volume spray and scrunched for a sexy bed head look. Not that she wanted to put ideas in Sam’s head, but taking his breath away—instead of the other way around—would be a bit satisfying.
Her sweater dress hugged all the right spots, and the wide leather belt accentuated her waistline. The matching knee-high leather boots had a small heel. Nothing that would make her unsteady on her feet if he decided to kiss her again, but just enough to bring Sam into easy kissing distance—a thought that sent little thrills through her body.
Loping down the stairs, she stepped through the wood arch and into the living room. Grandpa had his knee propped up in his recliner. Surgery had gone from a “something in the future” to a “let’s talk scheduling” thing today. Grandpa wasn’t happy about it. He liked his freedom. The doc had assured him that, after the surgery and rehab, he could return to his regular activities.
Grandpa was being grumpy about it all.
Chet sat on one end of the couch with his arm across the back cushion, and Mercedes leaned against his chest, her feet tucked up behind her. Chet twirled a piece of Mercedes’ hair between his fingers as they watched an old John Wayne western. He glanced back and saw her standing in the doorway. “You look nice, Cat.”
Mercedes pushed off his chest and took in Cat’s outfit and voluminous hair. “Wowza, girl!”
Cat laughed. That was exactly what she was going for—she only hoped Sam had the same reaction. “Thanks.”
She kissed Grandpa on his bald spot. “You be good.”
He harrumphed his reply, which Cat took for an I love you too. She’d be grumpy too if the doc had put a large needle into her knee that afternoon. Fortunately for her, she’d been on the receiving end of something much more wonderful than medical prodding and poking.
Usually, her daydreams included her book boyfriends and their romantic administrations. She’d disappear into her imagination for a few minutes here and there to try out different scenarios. When the right one came together, she’d write furiously. Today, Sam’s kisses continually played through her mind, making her sigh. Creating romance was a lot of fun when Sam was involved.
Leaning over, she gave Grandpa a hug. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For my New Year’s resolution.”
The pain and crankiness ran out of the lines on his face as he brightened. One of the things she loved about watching Grandpa’s face was the way it could change in an instant. When he smiled, his eyebrows went up, wrinkling his forehead but allowing light to fill his eyes. His cheeks lifted, and his ears dropped a quarter of an inch.
“You deserve it, darlin’.”
Cat kissed his cheek. The doorbell rang, and she found herself in a race with Chet to open it. Chet beat her, his hand landing on the knob first. Darn these boots. Cat pulled back and stuck out her tongue.
With a wicked grin, Chet pulled the door open. “Evening, Sam.”
Cat pushed up to her tiptoes to see over Chet’s shoulder. Sam looked gorgeous in his black felt cowboy hat, button-up emerald green shirt, and holding a bouquet of pink daisies and roses.
“Evening, Chet,” Sam replied.
Cat smacked Chet’s shoulder, but he didn’t move. She kept a smile on her face. It was sweet of Chet to take on the role of big brother. But she was a big girl. And, he was blocking her view.
“You here for Cat?”
Like he didn’t know.
“Yep.” Sam winked at her, and Cat relaxed.
“Where are you two headed tonight?”
“Hey, Chet.” Cat tapped him on the shoulder. “If you’re going to interrogate Sam, could you at least do it inside the house? You’re letting all the heat out.”
“Shut the door!” yelled Grandpa and Mercedes from the front room. The January air crept over the distressed barn wood flooring and must have snaked into the living room.
Chet sighed and motioned Sam in, shutting the door behind him. Sam handed the flowers to Cat, his cheeks flushing almost as pink as the daisies. Cat leaned in and smelled the sweet blossoms. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“They reminded me of you. Janet at the flower shop said pink roses are a symbol of grace and elegance.” Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
Cat’s heart did a jig. Sam said the darnedest things—all sweet and sugary—as if they just rolled off his tongue. “I love them. Thank you.”
Chet folded his arms. He really was a dear, and Cat appreciated his obvious concern on her behalf, but it was time for him to go away. She reached for her coat. “Thanks for staying with Grandpa tonight,” she said in a low voice. Grandpa hated the idea of a babysitter.
“Sure.”
Mercedes came into the entryway. “Oh, let me take those for you.” She smelled them too. “Hi, Sam.”
“Hi, Mercedes.”
Cat grinned as she handed over the flowers and darted her eyes towards Chet in a silent plea for Mercedes to haul him away.
Mercedes hooked her elbow through Chet’s. “Come on, I might need your height to reach the vase.”
Sisters are awesome!
Sam took Cat’s coat. “Let me help you with that.” He held it open, and she slipped one arm in and then the other. He settled it onto her shoulders, and his hands lingered. Cat leaned bac
k, feeling his solid chest against her coat. He quickly kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. You look great. I love that color on you.”
Mercedes and Chet were coming out of the kitchen. “Let’s go.” Cat grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him outside before Chet could corner them again. Once in the fresh air, with their breath in puffy clouds and the porch light dusting their hair, Cat gave herself over to the joy of being with Sam.
“So where are we going?”
“I made reservations in Billings, but there’s a storm warning, so I thought Granny’s Kitchen would be better.” Sam opened her door. “Sorry. I wanted our first date to be a little more special than a diner, but we’re limited on options here.”
Cat bit her lip. Sam wasn’t embarrassed to say those sweet little things that made her heart fly out of the park like a Big Poppy home run. She could say them too. “It doesn’t matter where we go—it’s special because I’m with you.”
Sam leaned into her hand, melting as if her words had been a warm blanket and he’d just come in from the cold. He gathered her into his arms and squeezed her tight, lifting her up off her toes. “Yep. You’re real.” He grinned as he put her back on her feet.
Cat laughed.
Thankful she’d watched a YouTube video about getting in and out of a truck without revealing your innermost secrets. She hopped into the cab with ease. Sam shut her door and ran around to the other side.
Cat bit her lip. The anticipation of an evening with her cowboy prince bubbled inside her. There was that nagging worry about the clock striking twelve and her flight for Boston. Things would work out. They had to.
Even though dinner hadn’t been at the posh restaurant he’d planned, it was nevertheless the best dinner of Sam’s life. They hadn’t lacked for topics of conversation. Not once had he found her glancing at her phone or checking the clock on the wall. When he helped her into the truck, her hand on his shoulder and her eyes on his, Sam counted himself the luckiest son of a gun in Montana.
“Where to?” Cat asked as he slammed his door shutting out the evening cold. It was only eight-thirty, but the temperature had dropped below twenty degrees. There was snow in the forecast, and things could get ugly quick. Starting the truck, he let the engine warm up before turning on the heater. Thankfully, they didn’t have long to wait.
“Would you like some dessert?” Sam smiled.
Cat’s hand went to her belly. “After the steak I just pounded down?”
Sam laughed. He’d enjoyed watching Cat enjoy her meal. How many women had he taken out who had, with sour faces, picked at a salad or slurped soup? He once again wanted to touch her, just to see if she was real. Hooking his pinkie finger through hers made his heart jolt.
“It’s chocolate.”
Cat perked up. “In that case …”
For once, Sam was upset at himself for buying a newer truck with bucket seats. In his old clunker, he’d had a bench seat, which made it easy for girls to sit close while he drove. Cat seemed too far away even though she was in the seat next to him.
“How often do you talk to your parents?” he asked for the sake of conversation.
Cat’s hand flinched. Sam turned up the heater.
“A couple times a week. We don’t schedule calls—just pick up the phone when we miss one another.”
“I can’t imagine living that far away from my parents.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve always wanted to work with my dad. He was like Superman to me growing up. He had big, strong hands that could bend branches out of the way if needed. And he taught me things through example that made me love him even more.”
“Like what?” Cat turned her knees towards him.
Sam thought for a moment. It wasn’t that it was hard to come up with something wonderful to share about his dad. The difficulty came in the choosing which anecdote to share. “Like, one time, a wife of a worker … and you have to understand, this guy had been a jerk all week. He’d demanded payment at the end of each day and never worked a minute past quitting time. Anyway, she fell in the cabin and hit her head on the corner of the bed. She needed stitches, but they couldn’t afford to take her to the hospital. Dad took her into Old Doc Taggart and paid for the bill right there. He taught me to care about people and what happens to them—even if they wouldn’t do the same for you.”
Cat smiled softly. “Did you ever see the worker again?”
Sam grinned. “Jorge is our crew manager now. See, Dad saw what I couldn’t. He saw the fear in Jorge’s eyes. He didn’t act that way to be a jerk. He wanted payment so he could feed his kids, and he quit right on time so his wife didn’t have to worry about being alone in the bunkhouse when the single fellas got off work. Not that anything bad has happened before.”
“Sounds like a good person.”
“Dad or Jorge?”
“Both.”
Cat laced her fingers through his and leaned her head back. She looked content just to ride alongside him. Sam was struck with a sense of finding truth in a dating world full of uncertainty.
He pulled past his cabin and parked in front of the garage in the back.
“Are we eating in a barn?” Cat leaned forward to peer into the darkness beyond the headlights.
“Technically, it’s a garage.” Sam pulled the door handle and exited the vehicle. He opened Cat’s door and helped her out. Her sweater dress slid right off the leather seats. He’d never seen a sweater dress before, but he liked the way it was soft on the eyes and to the touch. Not that he’d touched more than Cat’s lower back tonight. And not that he had plans to touch anything else. Wanting to throw a snowball in his own face for his wild thoughts, Sam led her through the small door and into the heated garage.
That afternoon, he’d swept the cement floor and moved the snowmobile and four-wheelers to the back. Then, he’d set up a small card table and covered it with one of his mom’s lace tablecloths. Two black folding chairs sat on opposite sides, and three candles waited to be lit in the center. He stepped around Cat and lit the wicks. Then he lit the lanterns hanging along the walls and turned off the overhead lights, bathing the room in a soft glow.
Cat gasped. “Sam Miller, you’re quite the romantic.”
Sam hoped the lights were low enough that she couldn’t see the heat rush up his cheeks. “Don’t tell Chet.”
Cat pressed her lips together and pretended to lock them with a key.
Sam put his arm around her waist. “Now don’t go locking those away just yet. I’m hoping to make good use of them later on.”
Cat smiled, ducking her head. “How much later on?”
Sam tipped her chin up. “Not that much later.”
“How ’bout no later?”
“No later is good.” He leaned down and sampled her lips. They were warm and inviting. He kissed her slow, with the intent of showing her how much he enjoyed her company, how much he was beginning to care about her. Cat’s lips moved with his and her arms found their way around his neck. She tipped his hat back, and he felt her smile against his lips. Eventually, he had to force himself to pull away or he’d stand in his garage and kiss Cat all night long.
“Question.” Cat’s eyes sparkled.
“Go ahead.” He ushered her into a seat.
“How many cowboy hats do you own?”
“Hmm.” Sam reached behind him and pulled a sealed plastic container out of the small beverage fridge. “This felt hat and a working felt hat.”
“The tan one?”
“Yep.” He took off the lid and dished them both a serving of chocolate pudding cake with whipped cream. “Then I have a dress straw hat and a work straw hat as well.”
“Why do you have two dress hats and two work hats?”
“The felt hats are warmer, so I use them in the winter. Straw hats are lighter and have ventilation for working in the sun. Why?”
“Research,” Cat replied. She tasted her pudding cake, closed her eyes, and sighed. “T
his is good.”
“Thanks. I bought them at the bakery.”
Cat laughed. “I was going to ask for the recipe.”
“It’s a few dollars and a few minutes in line.”
“I think I can handle that one.”
“Research for what?”
Cat licked her lips. “A book.”
“Uh-oh. Am I in one of your books?”
Cat’s eyes could have bored a hole in the tabletop. “Not you specifically. But I do write a few cowboys.”
“I’ll have to read one sometime.”
Cat shook her head quickly, sending her curls to bouncing. “They’re really more for women.”
Sam got the impression she had something to hide, but since she sold her books on Amazon, he couldn’t imagine that she’d think it would stay a secret—whatever it was. He wasn’t too worried. Cat was too honest to do anything to cause him grief.
“Have you ever two-stepped?” Sam asked as they finished off their dessert.
“Nope.” Cat dabbed her lips with the napkin.
“Well then, you’ve never really danced.” He held out his hand.
Cat shrugged. Smiling, she took his hand. He set his phone on the table and started his playlist. George Straight began to sing, and Cat tapped her foot to the beat. “Are you going to throw me over your shoulder or anything?”
Sam put his right hand on her hip and lifted her hand with his other. She automatically placed her fingers at the top of his bicep. In traditional two-step, her hand would be closer to his shoulder with his elbow held high, but he wasn’t too worried about form. He was more interested in holding Cat close. Moving slowly, he showed her the basic steps, and pretty soon they were making the circle around the room. Sam counted, just loud enough for the two of them to hear.
“Stop looking down.” Sam lifted her chin.
“If I don’t watch them, my feet will misbehave,” said Cat. At that very moment, she missed a step.
Sam pulled her closer to him. “Try not thinking so hard and feeling more.” This close, he could sense the movements of her body and anticipate them. He could also use his body to lead.
Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set Page 39
