A Maverick Under The Mistletoe

by Brenda Harlen

  “But it is about you,” he insisted. “Or maybe it’s about us.”

  “There is no us.”

  He didn’t argue with her claim. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he breached the short distance between them and covered her mouth with his own.

  There was nothing tentative in his kiss this time. It was hot and demanding, and Paige was more than willing to meet his demands and counter with a few of her own. He’d always been a fabulous kisser. She’d kissed other men in the past five years, but no one had ever made her feel the way Sutter made her feel. No one else had created flutters in her belly, weakness in her knees or yearning in her heart.

  She lifted her arms to link them behind his neck and pressed her body close to his. His was so hard and strong, and every hormone in her body was jumping and dancing, begging for his attention. It had been a very long time since she’d felt this kind of desire, so sharp and fierce it was almost painful. And when he touched her, when his hands skimmed up her torso, barely brushing the sides of her breasts, she actually whimpered.

  Desire pulsed in her veins, making her feel hot and weak, so hot she practically melted against him, so weak she needed his support to remain standing. His tongue delved between her lips, mated with hers in a slow, sensual seduction. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, making them pebble and ache, then circled around them, teasing and tempting. She arched against him, silently encouraging his exploration, urging him to touch, to take.

  She wanted him. There was no point in denying it. But wanting and having were two very different things, and she knew it could be dangerous to indulge certain desires. Like on the rare occasions that she and her sisters went into Kalispell for brunch on a Saturday morning and she was tempted to order the mile-high chocolate cake instead of her usual spinach-and-cheese omelet. But of course, she never did. Because as much as she might want the decadent dessert, she knew it wasn’t a suitable choice for breakfast. Sutter Traub was a lot more tempting than that luscious chocolate cake—and potentially much more dangerous to her heart. Not a suitable choice at all.

  But still the only man she wanted.

  He eased his mouth from hers. “There is, very definitely, an us,” he told her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Paige wanted to believe that Sutter’s feelings were as strong and deep as her own. But as she’d pointed out to him when he’d kissed her the night of the election, it didn’t matter if he loved her or if she loved him—not so long as he wanted to be in Seattle and she wanted to stay in Rust Creek Falls.

  She knew he couldn’t run his business from Rust Creek Falls for the long-term, and he’d already been in town for more than four months with only brief and infrequent trips to Washington during that time. She was hopeful that his work at the Triple T with his dad and brothers would rekindle his interest in ranching and persuade him to sell his business in Seattle and move home for good. But was that a realistic possibility?

  Whenever he talked about Traub Stables, she heard the pride in his voice, and she knew he was happy there. Maybe he could be happy ranching, too, but was it what he wanted? Or was it only what she wanted for him?

  And even if he did stay, she knew it wouldn’t work so long as there was tension within his family. Which meant that Paige had to talk to Ellie.

  Monday night, after she’d done so, she called Sutter.

  “Do you have any plans for dinner tomorrow?”

  “Nothing specific, aside from eating,” he said. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking you might enjoy a homemade meal at your place.” She kept her tone light, deliberately casual.

  “Am I cooking?”

  She managed a laugh, because it seemed like an appropriate response and she didn’t want him to suspect that her stomach was tied in knots. “No, you just have to show up.”

  “Then it sounds good to me. No, it sounds great to me.”

  Paige ignored the guilt that churned inside her. She didn’t like misleading him, but she’d run out of other options. If Sutter and Ellie were ever going to bridge the gap between them, they needed a little shove toward the chasm. “Will you be at the ranch all day?”

  “Actually, no. I’m going to be at Alistair Warren’s place. He needs a hand to go through the boxes in his basement, to see if there’s anything that can be salvaged.”

  “That sounds like an all-day job.”

  “He said there were only about a dozen boxes.”

  “And he’ll have a story for every item and an anecdote about every scrap of paper,” she warned him.

  “Just tell me what time you want me to be home and I’ll be there,” he promised.

  “Does six-thirty work?”

  “Perfectly.”

  * * *

  Paige had been right.

  Alistair Warren had a story to go with every piece of junk in his basement, but Sutter didn’t mind. The retired schoolteacher had never married, which meant that he had no children or grandchildren with whom to share the countless stories he’d amassed over seventy-four years. It also meant that what should have been a half-day job had taken the better part of a day, and still they weren’t close to being finished.

  Alistair held a bundle of water-stained letters in his gnarled hand. “Did you know I was engaged once?”

  Sutter shook his head.

  “Lizzie Carmichael was her name.” The old man smiled a little at the memory. “We’d even set a wedding date. Then we got into an argument about something—honestly, I don’t even remember what—and neither of us was willing to give in to the other.”

  He shook his head sadly. “She gave me back my ring, and I let her go. And I don’t even remember why.” Alistair tossed the damaged letters into the trash, then looked at Sutter. “Do you have a woman?”

  “I’m working on it,” he said, suddenly conscious of the late hour. “In fact, she’s cooking dinner for me tonight.”

  “A local girl, then,” Alistair noted. “Does that mean you plan on moving back to Rust Creek Falls?”

  “I haven’t made any firm plans.”

  “Women like a man to have a plan,” the old bachelor told him. “So you’d better make one, otherwise you’ll end up old and alone like me.”

  “Right now, my plan is not to be late,” Sutter told him.

  “What time is she expecting you?”

  “Six-thirty.”

  “Then you’d better be on your way,” Alistair advised.

  Sutter nodded. “Do you want me to come back tomorrow to help finish this up?”

  The old man seemed surprised by his offer. “If you don’t have anything better to do, that would be appreciated.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised.

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of Clayton’s house. He felt a quick pang of disappointment when he didn’t see Paige’s car, but when he walked in the back door, he immediately recognized the scent of his favorite buttermilk-fried chicken.

  He smiled at the thought that Paige had cajoled the recipe from his mother for the occasion. The smile faded when he realized that it wasn’t Paige standing by the stove—but his mother.

  “She set me up.”

  He hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud—and didn’t realize he had until he saw Ellie’s tentative smile wobble.

  “It was my idea,” she said quickly.

  “I doubt that.” If Ellie had wanted to ambush him, she would have done so weeks earlier. The fact that she’d done so only now, after Paige had insisted he needed to talk to his mother and work things out, proved that her meddling fingerprints were all over this plan. And he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

  The flush that colored his mother’s cheeks further confirmed his suspicions. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you, to say…”

  “What did you want to say?”

  His mother’s eyes filled with tears. “That I’m sorry.”

  And that quickly, he felt the shell arou
nd his heart begin to crack, just a little.

  “While I was waiting for you, I was trying to figure out what I would say,” she admitted. “How to tell you everything I’ve been thinking and feeling, how much the regrets have weighed heavy in my heart for the past five years. I had a speech prepared, but I can’t remember any of it now. All I can tell you is that I’m so sorry.” Despite the tears that spilled onto her cheeks, her gaze didn’t waver. “I know I was responsible for your decision to leave, but I never wanted you to go.”

  Leaving hadn’t been his choice so much as a necessity at the time, and he’d been an outcast from his family for five years because harsh words had been spoken and difficult decisions had been made. But over the years, he’d realized that he bore as much responsibility as anyone else for those words and decisions, and if his mother was brave enough to take the first step toward bridging the gap between them, then he could at least meet her halfway.

  He took three steps toward her and opened his arms. Though her eyes were still swimming with tears, he saw the quick flare of hope and then she was in his arms, holding on to him and sobbing against his shirt.

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said, when her sobs had finally subsided.

  She pulled herself from his embrace and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but they wouldn’t stop falling. “Why are you sorry?”

  “Because I was too proud and stubborn to come home when I wanted to.”

  She cupped his face in her hands. “Those are traits you come by honestly enough. Just like loyalty, which brought you home when we needed you.”

  “When I heard about the flood—I was so worried about the ranch, about all of you.”

  “I can’t tell you what it meant to me to see your truck in the driveway that first day you came back—to know that you’d finally come home.”

  He remembered the smile that had spread across her face—and how quickly it had disappeared when he’d pointedly reminded her that his home was in Seattle now, and that he would stay at Clayton’s house while he was in town to help out, so long as they needed help.

  “I understand why you chose to stay here,” she told him now. “I didn’t like it, but I understood. And knowing that you were just a few minutes up the road was so much better than you being in a different state.

  “But if you want to move your things back to the main house, you’re welcome to do so. Your room is just the way you left it— Well, I picked up some things you left lying around, and I’ve cleaned and vacuumed a few times since you’ve been gone, but it’s mostly the same.”

  He smiled at that. “Thanks, but I’m not sure how I’d feel about living with Mom and Dad again—even temporarily—after being on my own for five years.”

  She nodded. “I guess I can understand why you’d want the privacy here, especially now that you and Paige are back together.”

  Was she only repeating what she’d heard around town, or had Paige given some indication that they were heading in that direction? “What makes you say that?” he asked cautiously.

  “I guess I just assumed… You’ve been seeing a lot of her, and…”

  “And she set this up,” he said again.

  “She thought it was important for us to talk,” Ellie said.

  “She was right.”

  “She obviously still cares about you.”

  He didn’t know if it was obvious, but he hoped it was true. And as grateful as he was that Paige had helped him bridge the gap with his mother, that didn’t mean he was going to confess his deepest feelings to her. Instead, he gestured to the oven. “Is that fried chicken in there?”

  She nodded. “And roasted potatoes, buttered carrots and corn bread.”

  All of his favorites.

  “Are you hungry?” Ellie asked hopefully.

  “Famished,” he told her.

  She smiled. “Let’s eat.”

  * * *

  While Sutter was having dinner with his mother, Paige was pacing her kitchen, unable to choke down a single mouthful of the grilled tilapia and rice that she’d prepared for her own dinner. It was seven o’clock, so she knew that he would have arrived home by now—and found Ellie preparing his meal.

  Paige knew that Sutter’s mother had some reservations about what she considered to be an ambush, but she would be there. She loved her son too much not to do whatever was necessary to bring him fully back into the fold of her family.

  Paige was confident that Ellie could handle it because she knew what was coming. Sutter, on the other hand, had no clue, and she didn’t know how he would respond. It was entirely possible that he would be furious with both her and his mother.

  She picked at her now-cold fish, managed a couple of forkfuls of rice before she dumped the rest of it in the garbage. She tidied up the kitchen, then she dusted and vacuumed her living room/classroom, and when a knock sounded on the front door, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  She peeked through the front window and recognized Sutter’s truck. Her knees were trembling as she made her way to the door, and her heart was lodged in her throat so that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak past it. But it didn’t matter, because Sutter didn’t wait for an invitation, walking right into the house when she opened the door for him.

  Because her living room was still a classroom, he took a seat at the kitchen island.

  Paige leaned back against the counter, facing him.

  “Are you mad?”

  “About what?”

  Neither his tone nor his words gave away anything of what he was thinking or feeling. “About dinner tonight,” she prompted.

  “Why would I be mad?” he said easily. “No one makes fried chicken like my mother.”

  “You’re deliberately misunderstanding me.”

  “So this isn’t one of those times when you want me to misunderstand you?”

  She felt her cheeks flush. “Okay—I should learn to mind my own business.”

  “That was my first thought when I walked into the house and found my mother in the kitchen instead of you,” he admitted.

  “Do you want me to apologize?”

  “No.” He pushed off the stool and rounded the island to stand in front of her. “I want to know why.”

  She wasn’t ready to admit that she’d hoped if he worked things out with his family, he might think about moving back to Rust Creek Falls. “Because I don’t know when to mind my own business?” she suggested instead.

  “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “And I guess the reason doesn’t matter as much as the result.”

  She exhaled slowly, “Does that mean you talked?”

  “Yes, we talked, we hugged, she cried. It was just like a made-for-TV movie.”

  The curve of her lips was probably just a little smug.

  “You’re dying to say ‘I told you so,’ aren’t you?” Sutter noted.

  “No,” she denied. “Actually I’m just marveling over the fact that you’re talking about your feelings—and still breathing.”

  He lowered his head toward her. “If I stop breathing, will you give me mouth-to-mouth?”

  “I don’t think you need to worry.”

  “Maybe we should take some preemptive measures—” he brushed his lips against hers “—just in case.”

  “Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely.” His fingers combed through the ends of her hair, tugging gently to tip her head back so that he could capture her mouth more completely.

  His tongue delved between her lips, tangled with hers. Desire, hot and heavy, flooded her system, pulsed between her thighs. Her body quivered like a racehorse at the starting gate, eager to finally end three seemingly endless years of celibacy.

  Except her mind wasn’t nearly as ready as her body to forgive and forget and get naked. So when his hands skimmed down her back and over her buttocks and she was very close to melting into a puddle at his feet, she forced herself to pull away instead.

  “What are we doin
g here, Sutter?”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was hoping to get to second base,” he teased.

  She managed a smile. “Okay, but beyond the obvious. Why? Why are we going back down a road that’s only going to lead to a dead end?”

  “How do you know that it will?”

  “Because nothing has really changed. Aside from your relationship with your mother, which is great, but somehow I don’t think you’ve suddenly changed your mind about going back to Seattle.”

  “Can’t we just enjoy the journey without worrying about the destination?”

  “Maybe you can,” she said. “But I can’t. Because one trip to Heartbreak Falls was enough for me.”

  “You weren’t the only one who was hurt,” he reminded her.

  “I know. So why would we want to go through that again?”

  “Because we’re not the same people we were five years ago, and I think—I know—things can be different this time.”

  She wanted to believe him, because she didn’t want anything else as much as she wanted to be with him, but she wasn’t quite ready to take that risk.

  “Maybe they can,” she finally allowed. “But one thing that hasn’t changed is that Tuesday is still a school night.”

  “And you have a field trip planned with your class tomorrow,” he remembered.

  She nodded. “We’re going to town hall to sort and organize the boxes and cans that have been collected so far for the community food drive.”

  “Maybe I’ll stop by to help.”

  “We could use it,” she told him. “Nina’s done a great job promoting the food and clothing drives, and donations have been pretty steady.”

  The shopkeeper also planned to put up a “Tree of Hope” in the store after Thanksgiving and decorate it with tags for disadvantaged children. Her hope was that customers would choose tags, buy gifts for the children represented then return to the store with the gifts, which would be distributed to the children for Christmas. This community spirit that inspired even those who had lost so much to dig deep and find something to give to others less fortunate was yet another facet of the town that Paige loved.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and brushed one last kiss on her lips before heading for the door.