A Snow Country Christmas

by Linda Lael Miller

  “Do you say that to all—”

  He stopped her with gentle fingers on her lips. “Raine, you have it all wrong. There are really no ‘all.’ I’m not wired that way. I’m selective. I always have been. Sex should mean something intimate and special between two people. If you think differently then you’re not the person I thought you are, and I’m usually a pretty good judge of character.”

  “You know the right things to say, don’t you?”

  “I’m just speaking from the heart. Really.”

  She bit his shoulder lightly. “Then seduce me right now or I’ll haul off and slug you. I don’t know what I want long-term, but I do want you right this red-hot second, so you’d better make a note of it.”

  “Slugging is legal in Wyoming?”

  “Probably not, but we like to make our own rules out here.”

  “I believe I just watched a film about the Wild West, so I’m going to take your word for it, ma’am.”

  “Hold on a second.” Her eyes were luminous. “I have something I want to do first.”

  Her fingers ran through his hair again. How that could push him toward the edge, he wasn’t sure, but it certainly did, even though he knew she was just teasing him.

  Two could play that game.

  He started with her breasts, firm and luscious, her nipples already taut, and when he drew one rigid tip into his mouth she shivered and let out a small moan of pleasure. He explored the valley between them with his tongue, gave due attention to the other nipple, and kissed his way downward.

  She liked that too and wasn’t shy about expressing it.

  He discovered she wasn’t really shy about anything and that just tipped fuel right on the fire to create a skylight blast. The dance between them was natural and beautiful; when he moved, Raine did too, and the heat level started to scorch the roof.

  Her climax involved a small scream and then it was his turn. He managed to remember the condoms he’d brought so carefully at zero hour, slipped one on, and then there was nothing but pleasure and deep satisfaction as he joined their bodies and sank deep inside her.

  Mick had been waiting for her his entire adult life. There was no question. He knew it all the way down to his heart.

  8

  SHE WAS IN his arms, he was in her bed. Jangles had decided to join them at some point and was sleeping peacefully in a large furry ball at the foot, taking up a good deal of space. Outside the wind had begun to pick up; she could hear the whisper under the eaves.

  Raine was physically content, no doubt about that, but emotionally she wasn’t yet she’d made the right decision. Mick had lapsed into a deep sleep, and was breathing peacefully, his tanned chest quite the contrast to the stark-white sheets she preferred.

  There was no way she considered her relationship with Slater a mistake because it had given her Daisy, but it had made her cautious about choosing future partners. This man was far more dangerous because he didn’t live nearby, and she liked him too much. Maybe gifting the property to him hadn’t been an act of altruism but a selfish move to get him to spend time in Wyoming.

  This relationship was evolving too quickly for her comfort. Mick Branson was a wild card she hadn’t seen in her hand. How to play that hand was the real question. Discard him? No, he didn’t deserve that. Up the ante? That was a definite possibility.

  He was intimidating in many ways, but she was used to men like that. All the Carson men were confident, forthright and driven, and she was around them often. Mick was more understated, but he got his way just as effectively, even if he used a memo and not a lasso.

  There was more than one kind of cowboy in this world.

  She looked at Jangles, who sensed her uncertainty and lifted his head. “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered.

  He answered with a very obvious reply by lowering his head and closing his eyes: Just go to sleep.

  Sage advice. She took it by relaxing next to Mick and nestling in closer.

  * * *

  Snow. Overnight? Nearly two feet of it. Mick had obviously rented the wrong type of car. He had to admit he wasn’t used to shoveling snow in L.A., so the waist-high drift by his luxury car wasn’t a very welcome surprise. He wasn’t positive a big truck could handle it, either.

  He accepted a cup of coffee—Raine informed him it was something called Snake River Chocolate Peppermint blend, but it tasted just like coffee to him so he was fine with it—and he settled into a chair in her homey kitchen and took a sip. “I could be snowed in for a bit.”

  “No way.” She looked cozy in a long soft pink sweater and worn jeans, her eyes sparkling. “I have backup. I want you to see the cabin in the deep snow like this. We aren’t staying put because of a little snow.”

  “A little snow?”

  “Hey, it happens here now and then.”

  It definitely qualified as the classic winter wonderland outside. The tree in her backyard was like a giant white sculpture. “You’re serious?”

  “I am. If it doesn’t move you to see the place after a fresh snowfall, you aren’t the man I think you are.”

  “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  She put both elbows solidly on the table. “I’ve already pointed out I trust you. If I didn’t, last night wouldn’t have happened.”

  It was easy to say softly, “Then I’m glad you do.”

  “Me, too.”

  That was the response he was hoping for, and damn if this Snake River Chocolate stuff wasn’t pretty good. He’d woken first and Raine had been half draped across him, deliciously nude and disheveled. The lion had been curled up at the foot of the bed and gave him the old stink-eye, but he interpreted approval there, so there had been a telling sense of contentment. Mick smiled lazily. “So, how do you propose we get out to a place that has no real driveway?”

  “I have Alice for a reason.”

  “Do I even want to know who Alice is?”

  “More like a what than a who. My snowmobile. It’s very handy around these parts.” She daintily sipped her peppermint coffee.

  “You named it?” He was amused but not surprised. Raine would do something like that.

  “Of course. We’ll go look at the property in the daylight and then we can go pick up Daisy.”

  It wasn’t his usual mode of travel but he wasn’t without a sense of adventure. “I assume you know how to drive one, since I don’t.”

  “I was practically born on one. I’m a December baby. My father took my mother to the hospital on a snowmobile. I can drive it in my sleep.”

  At least he was in good hands. “I bet she enjoyed that.”

  “I’m sure she enjoyed getting to the hospital, either way.”

  “There’s a valid point.”

  “How would you know? You’re male.”

  No way was he going to let her get away with that. “I have feelings, too. Male and childbirth translates to helpless in most cases to control the situation. We’d love to fix it, but we can’t always, and it makes us crazy.”

  “You all are crazy anyway, and what would you know about childbirth?”

  “I lost a child once.” It was the truth, but he kept it as low key as possible. “That was tough. Like you and Slater, apparently we weren’t meant to be together forever. She got pregnant then miscarried. Our relationship didn’t weather the storm. The child certainly wasn’t planned, but I’d gotten used to the idea of fatherhood, gone to a few appointments, even heard the heartbeat. The sense of loss was acute.”

  Her eyes were full of sympathy and she reached over to touch his hand. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t tell anyone. But you aren’t just anyone. I thought maybe you should know.”

  Raine was predictably direct. “Is that why you asked me if I’d ever consid
ered having more children?”

  Was it?

  He still wasn’t sure why he’d asked that personal question out of the blue. He did what he did best and equivocated. “I asked because you and Daisy seem to have a wonderful relationship. I wouldn’t mind a second cup of coffee, but I can get it for myself.” He stood, cup in hand. “When’s your birthday?”

  She clearly knew he was deflecting, but went along with it. “The thirtieth.”

  He hadn’t planned on staying that long, but maybe he should change his mind. “We need to do something special then.”

  “Like?” Her brows went up.

  “Paris? Rome? How about Key West? We could watch the famous sunset over the ocean, and escape the snow. You choose.”

  * * *

  No one should look so gorgeous in the morning, bedhead and all.

  Mick could be stuck on the cover of a magazine in just his boxers and it would sell a million copies. She’d be the first one in line to buy an issue.

  Raine waited until he returned with his coffee before she’d formulated her response. “Those are all nice options, but I can’t just pick up and jet off with you, so right here would be better if you have the time.”

  She was touched.

  In the head.

  Don’t fall in love with this man.

  Too late.

  “I can make the time.” He leaned back and his smile was boyish. “I certainly have it coming to me. And it doesn’t hurt being my own boss, I suppose.”

  “I work harder than most people I know and I’m my own boss, too. I don’t think I could make the time.”

  “Sweetheart, if you don’t think I work hard, think again.”

  It wasn’t like she didn’t know he did. This was a pointless argument, and probably one she was instigating in order to distract herself from worrying thoughts of love and forever after. She smoothed her fingers across the fringe of the placemat. “I know for a fact you do. What I don’t know is what you want from our...er...friendship.” She’d searched for a word and settled on that one, though as soon as she said it she was fairly sure a kindergartener would have chosen something more sophisticated.

  Apparently he agreed, his mouth curving in amusement. “I think after last night we’re a bit more than friends, don’t you? I’m not positive what you want either, so we’ll have to figure it out together.”

  He’d done a lot better than she had in the words department.

  Jangles strolled into the kitchen and made a familiar sound. It was something between a growl and a screech. Mick looked startled and slightly afraid for his life. “What was that? Is he sick?”

  “He wants to be fed. He’s very vocal about it and emits that special noise so there’s no misunderstanding. If it’s any consolation, I wondered the same thing the first time I heard it. I assume, Mr. Boardroom, you can use a can opener? While you do the honors, I’ll go get Alice. The food is in the pantry and the opener in that drawer right there.” She pointed and got up. “I’d move fast if I were you. He can get cranky if it takes too long. I’m going to go put on my coat. When you’re done, put on something warm and meet me out front.”

  “Cranky?”

  “Very.”

  The smooth, urbane Mick Branson could get out of a chair and scramble across a room with impressive speed when faced with a large demanding cat. Jangles had his solid behind already on the floor by his bowl and his body language said he meant business. Raine was still laughing when she slipped into her favorite parka and went out back, wading through the snow.

  The sleek snowmobile started sweetly. She’d gotten it from a friend of Blythe’s whose husband had unexpectedly passed away, and much like her grandfather’s property, the woman wasn’t going to use it, but didn’t want to sell his beloved possession. When Raine mentioned to Blythe that she was thinking of getting a sled—it was what her father had always called his snowmobile—suddenly she had one. The woman refused money for it, so Raine had done a graphic image of the vehicle and framed it as a gift.

  She understood entirely not wanting to place monetary value on a possession so near and dear to someone you loved, but giving it to someone who would appreciate it was completely different.

  Mick would appreciate the cabin property, especially on a day like this that Mother Nature had handcrafted to show it off. Brilliant blue skies, deep snow, and the mountains looked surreal, like something from a fairy tale. The skiers would be in seventh heaven, that was for sure. This was pure powder, the kind they lived for. Grace would be busy today, with the week between holidays and the resort always jammed full in this sort of weather.

  When she pulled around, Mick was already on the sidewalk—probably to escape Jangles—and when she stopped he came down the steps and jumped on behind her. “Why do I think I’m going to need to hang on for dear life?”

  “I like speed,” she said. “Remember last night?”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and said exactly the right thing. “I’ll never forget it. I trust you, so go for it.”

  She’d said the same thing. Trust was very important to her. Then he swept back her hair and kissed the nape of her neck just as she hit the throttle.

  He had good technique and timing, she’d give him that.

  Excellent technique, she recalled, thinking again of last night. Her burning cheeks appreciated the cold bite of the air as they took off. They were clearing the streets now, but not with big plows, more ranchers with trucks and blades, and they blew past without effort and were hardly the only ones on a snowmobile. The minute they were out of town she hit the back trail. Of course her phone started to vibrate and she fished it out of her pocket and held it over her shoulder. “Mind answering this?”

  Mick objected. “It’s your phone.”

  “I don’t have a lot of secrets and it could be my daughter. So please do it with my complete permission.”

  He did, though she couldn’t really hear the conversation too well, but she had the feeling he’d just met her grandmother.

  Clara was not a Slater Carson fan, which was much more a reflection of her old-fashioned values than the man himself, and Raine had patiently explained time and again that he’d offered marriage. The opinionated woman didn’t like the fact they’d slept together before Raine had stood in a frothy white dress in front of an altar, wearing a lacy veil and flanked by six bridesmaids as a grave minister made her repeat vows.

  The truth was, Raine hadn’t ever really coveted that scenario. An image of Mick in a tux flashed into her mind and she quashed it as quickly as it appeared.

  “Tell Gran I’ll call later,” she said over the sound of the engine.

  A minute later he handed back the phone. “She said she liked the sound of my voice.”

  “She did?”

  “What? I don’t have a nice voice? She asked me to tell you Merry Christmas.”

  This wasn’t the moment when she could go into a long convoluted explanation about how her grandmother formed opinions first and asked questions later. Instead she said, “Look at that view.”

  The soaring vista before them was incomparable, and just one of the many reasons she loved where she lived. The streets of Mustang Creek gave way to a county road as they breezed through, and within fifteen minutes they were gliding along toward her grandfather’s property.

  Trees; leafless now but he should see them in the spring, summer, and fall. Even now their branches were decorated with white, making them graceful and glistening. The background behind it all was beyond imagination. The Grand Tetons were very grand indeed after a snowfall like last night’s.

  His arms tightened briefly. “You’re beautiful. The mountains look wonderful, too.”

  Well, he’d survived feeding Jangles and talking to her grandmother—sometimes a lesson in patience—so she’d skip poi
nting out that that was a tired line. The man was probably just plain frazzled. “Wait until we go around the curve.”

  They crested the hill where she’d put the lane to the property if it was her decision, even if it was a steep incline and there would be a curve. Although the snowmobile was loud, she had the satisfaction of hearing Mick catch his breath.

  So he should. The unobstructed view of mountains, a frozen lake, and the quaint little cabin could have been straight out of one of her grandfather’s books. She was fairly sure the chimney needed to be rebuilt and cleared, since birds considered it a wonderful place to nest and over time part of it had toppled over, but it was definitely picturesque.

  If Mr. Boardroom had ever wanted to be a cowboy, he could fulfill that dream right here.

  “Raine.”

  “I know, right?”

  “You could get a million dollars for this.”

  “I don’t need a million dollars. I need someone who will keep it intact and let my daughter come visit. I need someone who won’t develop it, won’t tear down the old corral and won’t destroy the cabin.” She stopped the sled in a flurry of disrupted snow. “Call me crazy, but I think that person could be you.”

  9

  THE VIEW FROM the Carson ranch was spectacular.

  This view might very well be better, if that was possible.

  Mick had to admit he was wowed. Yes, the cabin was beyond quaint with its sagging porch and drooping, snow-laden roof, like a framed picture of a holiday card you might pick up at a boutique and mail to your friends, but the lake and the mountains took his breath away.

  Stately firs stood in stands sprinkled with the aspens that had no doubt inspired Matthew Brighton’s manuscript, and there was no one around for literally miles.

  And miles.

  Taking in the spectacular scenery, sensing the peace that came from such solitude, Mick knew Raine was right about this place being perfect for him. He’d been thinking for a long time about a change in venue to Wyoming, and certainly Slater’s documentary influenced him, but he’d never quite envisioned anything quite like this. He could build the house of his dreams right here. They got off the snowmobile and stood knee-deep in drifts and he inhaled the quiet.