Santa in a Stetson

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Hold it, kiddo.” Dave blocked her exit with his wheelchair. “Give Mommy a chance to get in the door before you pounce on her. Marcy might be asleep.”

  “Oh, Daddy. I just—”

  “Here we are,” Fran said, walking in, holding a sleepy little towhead with a big cast on her forearm.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Marcy said. “I got a cast.”

  “Lucky ducky,” Kathy muttered.

  Dave held out his arms. “Come over here and let me see, Marcy-darcy.”

  “Did it hurt, Marcy?” Kathy asked.

  “Yup,” the little girl said. “They gived me a shot.”

  “Yuck.” Kathy shuddered.

  As Fran lowered Marcy into his arms and Kathy hovered nearby, Jo felt like an intruder on the intimate family scene.

  She looked around for Russ, but he hadn’t come in with Fran.

  Getting up from the couch, she hobbled over to the window and peered out.

  Russ stood on the curb, rubbing Blackie’s muzzle.

  Jo felt a rush of tenderness so strong she nearly walked right out the front door so she could be with him. She wanted to hold him and tell him what a wonderful thing he’d done, handling this crisis, and how much she... Jo paused. How much she what? Could the word that had come so quickly to her be the right one? It was a powerful word, and she wasn’t in the habit of tossing it around.

  She gazed at the cowboy outside talking to his horse, and the sweet ache in her heart was nearly unbearable. Lust had brought them together, no doubt about it, but lust was like the rhinestone earrings she liked to wear for fun—glittery and exciting, but not for every day. The emotion she was feeling now was more like the diamond earrings she’d coveted for years and never owned.

  Maybe she was getting carried away by Christmas spirit, and didn’t know her own mind tonight. But she’d felt the Christmas spirit many times before, and this was a heck of a lot more potent.

  “He said he’d be in for coffee after he checked on the horse,” Fran said, coming over beside her. “But you two don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  “Oh, well, I—” Jo looked into Fran’s eyes and saw understanding there. “It’s up to Russ, really.”

  “I have a hunch he doesn’t always know what’s good for him, but I think he’s beginning to find out.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Me, too.” Fran followed Jo’s gaze. “Look at him with that horse. He wants everybody to think he’s just a no-good hell-raiser, but there’s a lot more depth to him than that.” She glanced at Jo. “Maybe he’s finally found a woman who understands what’s going on under the cocky tilt of that Stetson.”

  “Let’s say I’m willing to try.”

  AN HOUR LATER, as she was tucked in the back of the sleigh and Russ was driving her home, Jo wondered how much effort it was going to take to pry information out of him. There hadn’t been much time to talk while they drank coffee and watched the girls open the gift of wild-strawberry jam and homemade muffins.

  But even now, when they were alone, Russ remained silent and apparently deep in thought. He’d carried her out to the sleigh and settled her in without a word, and definitely without a kiss.

  “How was it, driving again?” she asked.

  “Okay,” he said without turning around.

  “I’m glad you were able to do that.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  So much for finding out what was going on under his Stetson, Jo thought. Wrapping the blankets tighter around her, she gave up trying to have a conversation with him. Once they got to her house, they’d either talk or...they wouldn’t. If Russ pulled the silent treatment and left, she’d have the rest of Christmas vacation to try to pull herself together before classes started again. She hoped it would be long enough.

  When they stopped in front of her duplex, hers was the only window in the neighborhood with a light on. That wasn’t surprising, she thought, considering it was nearly five in the morning.

  As Russ climbed down and walked to the sleigh bed, she decided to give it the old college try. “If you unhitch Blackie, we can put him in the garage where he’ll be warmer. My truck can sit out for a while.”

  Russ rested his folded arms on the sleigh as he gazed at her without smiling.

  “We need to talk, Russ.”

  “I know.”

  She let out a breath. At least this time he wouldn’t leave without a word.

  “If you’ll climb over here, I’ll take you in first,” he said. “Then if you’ll give me your keys, I’ll back out the truck and put Blackie in.”

  She followed his instructions. “I think I have a couple of apples in the house.”

  Russ gathered her into his arms. “That would be nice for him. He’s put in a long night”

  She snuggled against him, breathing in the spice and leather scent that she’d grown to cherish. Through his coat she could just barely feel the steady thump of his heart. “So have you.”

  He carried her up the walk. “I’ve put in longer.”

  “Russ, no matter what happens from here on out, I want you to know I’ve had the best Christmas Eve of my life.”

  “Me, too.” It would have been the perfect time for him to pause, turn his face to hers and kiss her. Instead, he concentrated on navigating the steps up to her front door.

  “You sound overjoyed about it.”

  He glanced at her then, and in the gleam from the porch light his gaze was melancholy. “Everything ends, Jo.”

  His tone of voice didn’t reassure her. “What are you, the Ghost of Christmas Future? Hey, it’s Christmas morning, cowboy. We delivered all the presents and made folks happy. Aren’t you at all pleased about that?”

  “Yeah, I am.” He eased her to her feet. “And thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She didn’t care for his tone of voice. It was way too formal. She dug in her pocket for her keys and unlocked the door. Then she handed them to him. “While you’re backing out the truck and putting the horse in, I’ll find the apples for Blackie and maybe some eggnog for us. How’s that?”

  “That would be nice, Jo.”

  Dammit, she thought. He was already looking at her with regret in those brown eyes of his. He was preparing for the big parting scene. She could smell it, but doggone it, they’d come too far during this amazing night together to let it all end when the sun rose. What she needed was a miracle. Fortunately it was Christmas, and miracles seemed to hang around at this time of year. But just to be on the safe side, she’d try jump-starting the process.

  14

  RUSS HAD BACKED Jo’s truck out and was leading Blackie into the garage when Jo came out the kitchen door with a couple of apples in her hand. She still wore her coat and boots, which was a good thing because the garage was only slightly warmer than outside. Blackie would appreciate even that much warmth, though, and Russ was grateful for the chance to put him inside.

  “Will this spook him, being in here?” Jo asked.

  “We can leave on the light, so he can see what’s around him.” Russ glanced at the walls of the garage and spotted some empty hooks on each side where somebody had once hung rakes and ladders. “I’ll crosstie him to those hooks. He should be fine. No trouble for him to get into.” Russ couldn’t say the same for himself once he stepped inside the house with Jo.

  She handed him the apples and a paring knife so he could cut the fruit into chunks for Blackie. The woman obviously knew her way around horses. He liked the way she stroked the gelding’s nose and talked to him before she started back inside. He liked just about everything about Jo, to be honest, which was what made the next part so tough to think about.

  “I’ll go fix us that eggnog,” she said on her way through the kitchen door.

  “Okay.” He sliced the apples and gave the pieces to Blackie, drawing out the job as long as possible. God, how he dreaded seeing the look on her face when she learned what kind of man she’d let herself care about.
/>
  And she cared about him. That cat was out of the bag. He’d seen the melting expression in her green eyes and heard the softness in her voice. She was dreaming about a home and little kids playing in the yard and pink roses growing by the front door, sure as the world. In a short time she wouldn’t be dreaming about that anymore.

  When he couldn’t put off the moment any longer, he sighed and gave Blackie one last pat before opening the kitchen door. A bottle of rum sat on the counter, so this would be full-fledged eggnog she was offering him. Christmas music drifted in from the living room along with the scent of pine.

  “I’m in here,” she called.

  There was a peg by the back door, and Russ just naturally found himself taking off his hat and hanging it there.

  He unzipped his coat as he walked into the living room.

  The Christmas tree was all lit up and pretty-looking, but it didn’t match the glow Jo was giving off as she sat on the couch, two glasses of eggnog on the coffee table in front of her. She’d sprinkled nutmeg and cinnamon on top, just the way Claire did when she served eggnog at the Double G. The room was toasty warm, but for some reason Jo still had on her wool coat, although her feet were bare.

  Remorse washed over him. She probably wasn’t glowing. She probably had a fever. “You caught yourself a chill, didn’t you? Now you’re gonna be sick because the ride tonight was too cold for you, and I—”

  “I’m fine, Russ.” She smiled at him and patted the couch next to where she sat. “Take off your coat and join me.”

  Totally confused, he took off his coat and laid it on the rocker before coming over to the couch. “Why don’t you take off yours, then, if you’re so fine? I still say you’re sick and you don’t want to tell me, just like you didn’t want to admit to your ankle bein’ sprained.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take off this coat to prove to you that I’m not sick.”

  “Yep.” He sat down next to her.

  She picked up the glasses and handed one to him. “Well, first, let’s drink a toast to spreading happiness on Christmas Eve. I think we did that, Russ.”

  “You’re stallin’ because you don’t want me to find out you’re sick.”

  “Humor me. A toast to happiness.”

  “Okay. Here’s to happiness. Maybe the rum will do you good, at that.” He touched his glass to hers.

  “To happiness.”

  He looked into her eyes, bright with what was probably a fever well over a hundred degrees. Still and all, as they drank their toast he loved looking into those eyes. The eggnog tasted just right, creamy yet with that special jolt the rum gave it. “It’s good,” he said.

  “Thanks. Christmas doesn’t seem like Christmas without a little eggnog.”

  “And somebody to drink it with.” The eggnog went down so easy he took another swallow. Somebody special to drink it with, he thought.

  “Yes.” She sipped her drink. “And I had no prospects of that until you showed up on my doorstep tonight. By the way, do you want to look around for evidence of a husband?”

  “I don’t need to.” Some of the eggnog dung to her top lip and he wanted so bad to lick it off. He took another swig of his own drink instead. Damn, but the rum tasted good after a long, cold night. Sitting here with Jo was just about the best treat he could imagine while still having his clothes on.

  “I expected you to turn this place inside out looking for a safety razor or a chaw of tobacco.”

  “No point in wastin’ the time. I believe you.”

  “Really?” She raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

  “Just a feelin’ I have.” He didn’t want to explain that it was a feeling of connection to her so strong, that if some other man stood in the way, he’d know. A man didn’t stand between them, unfortunately. That would have been a whole lot easier to deal with.

  He drained his glass. The rum had a very soothing effect, and he was grateful for some Dutch courage to help him confess his sins. But first he had to find out if she was all right. “Okay, enough stallin’. Take off the coat.” He gave her a stern look. “And then when you start shiverin’, I’ll know you’re burning up with a fever, just like I figured.”

  “Well, you’re partly right.” She put down her glass and slowly unbuttoned the coat. “I am burning, and I might start shivering, too. It’s been known to happen.”

  He gulped. He’d been so sure she had on her long underwear and sweats under the coat that the skimpy red teddy she was wearing packed a bigger punch than it might have if he’d been expecting it.

  “I didn’t have time to shop for a present for you,” she murmured, sliding her arms out of the coat. “So I decided to wrap up something I happened to have on hand.”

  “Ah, Jo.” Predictable things began happening to him as he gazed at her dynamite body barely covered by the red satin.

  Her exotic scent reached out to him, teasing him with possibilities. He’d come into this house with such good intentions, too. No more kissing, and definitely no more making love. Just a conversation about the realities of life, and a quick goodbye.

  Now here he was with rum warming his belly, Christmas carols playing and the most desirable, sweetest woman he’d ever known sitting next to him wearing a little scrap of soft material. “You don’t play fair, sweetheart We were supposed to talk.”

  She took his empty glass from his hand before winding her arms around his neck and leaning back to smile at him. “You can start unwrapping your present anytime.”

  The seductive pose made the most of her cleavage and a shambles of his willpower, but he tried one last time to be strong. “You probably ought to put that coat back on, Jo. We need to have a serious conversation.”

  “I was very hot under that coat.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me on that. But we really shouldn’t be...doin’ this.” His brain told him to get up from the couch while he still could, but his hands seemed to have a will of their own. They spanned her waist and lifted her onto his lap.

  She was entirely too cooperative. She straddled his knees and slid forward, coming up against another part of him that definitely thought for itself and was quickly rising to the occasion.

  “Is your ankle okay like this?” he asked. How he loved looking into her eyes, touching her face, just being close to her.

  “My ankle is fine.”

  She was so beautiful, so perfect. Knowing that she wanted him was a miracle in itself, and he could tell she did. Her nipples were making the red satin poke out, and he couldn’t stop looking at the impression they made on the shiny material. “Jo, I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

  “It’s a very good idea.” She wiggled against him. “We’re good at this.”

  “That’s the problem.” She smelled so wonderful. He eased the strap off one smooth shoulder, all the while telling himself to stop touching her. “A fellow can’t think straight when he’s...”

  He lost track of the conversation as he slid the other strap down. The top of the teddy, which wasn’t very substantial to begin with, slipped off her breasts. He’d dreamed of this view every blessed night—Jo’s breasts, all pink and plump, beckoning to him in the lamp’s glow. Back in the sleigh the light hadn’t been much good, but now...words from a Christmas poem ran through his mind—visions of sugarplums. The words sure seemed to apply in this case.

  And then she did something that turned him into her willing slave. Sliding her hands up her rib cage, she cradled her breasts and lifted them in the most tantalizing invitation he’d ever seen. “Merry Christmas, cowboy.”

  With a groan he wrapped his arms tight around her, closed his eyes and buried his face against her breasts. Heaven. She was everything he’d ever wanted and more. He feasted like a crazy man, yet the more he had of her, the more he wanted.

  She moaned in response and rocked gently against his straining erection. “I want you inside me,” she whispered.

  He ached to be there, too. But there was a problem, one that he hadn
’t thought of when this episode started. He lifted his mouth from her breast and cupped her face in both hands. “Jo, stop. Stop, sweetheart. I don’t have any—”

  “But I do.” She reached between the cushions of the couch, and like magic, a condom appeared in her hand.

  He was so grateful that he didn’t stop to question how the condom got there. She slid back enough to undo his belt and jeans. She was pretty fast, but he thought she’d never get done, and with every movement of her hands in that delicate area he lost another notch of his control. He was breathing louder than a freight train by the time she’d pulled down his briefs and put the condom on.

  She’d taken the lead and he had to admit he loved it. As she rose to her knees and unsnapped the crotch of her teddy, he felt dizzy from wanting her.

  Placing her hands on his shoulders, she looked into his eyes. “Remember this,” she murmured.

  When she straddled him, he cupped her bottom, but he let her set the pace. She took her time, sliding down over him with maddening slowness. Her gaze burned hotter than a forge, searing him forever. He wondered how he’d live, knowing he’d never have her look at him like that again.

  At last he was in up to the hilt, and he clenched his jaw to keep himself from exploding. He wanted this to go on for a very long time, and he was used to being more in command of himself. Somewhere along the line she’d robbed him of that legendary control, and he was nearly helpless against the raging need inside him.

  Her gaze continued to lock with his as she started her ride. Oh, he’d remember this, all right. He’d go to his grave remembering Jo as she looked right now, loving him with no holds barred.

  She went easy at first, and he managed a small amount of restraint. But she got wilder, building the pressure with faster and faster strokes, until he lost all hope of holding back.

  Yet he knew she hadn’t made it over the edge herself. With a strangled cry of defeat, he clutched her bottom and exploded within her.

  She rocked gently, absorbing his tremors.

  “Jo,” he gasped. “You didn’t—”

  “I will,” she whispered. “Look at me, Russ.”