A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Oh!” Phil’s eyes widened and she flushed. “Whitney, I didn’t—”

  “It’s okay.” She sat up. “Nobody in Sheridan knows, but it’s not a touchy subject at all.”

  “Oh, honey.” Rosie gazed at her. “That must have been so tough, though.”

  “Maybe it’s still tough,” Phil said. “I’m really sorry, Whitney. Your twin sister. Yikes.”

  “It’s not as bad as it could be. My folks did the right thing and got us all counseling. When I’m with my family in Cheyenne, Selena’s not a forbidden subject. We reminisce about the good times. It’s a huge help.”

  Rosie nodded. “That would be very healing. When I worked in social services, we encouraged people to do that.”

  “It’s great, and I’m in pretty good shape emotionally. But I haven’t said anything since I moved here because I want people to get to know me first. I don’t want it to be my defining characteristic. In Cheyenne, everyone who was around back then remembers but it’s faded in everyone’s mind, so it’s not the first thing they think of when they see me.”

  “I so get that,” Phil said. “Just like when I moved here I didn’t go around telling everyone that my mom died when I was a little kid. It’s part of who I am, but not the most important part.”

  Whitney smiled at her. “Exactly.”

  “So I’m guessing Ty doesn’t know this, either,” Rosie said.

  “I haven’t told him yet. It’s not the sort of thing you bring up right away in a new relationship.”

  “Of course not,” Phil said. “That reference to your sister probably slipped out by accident because we were reliving our slumber party days.”

  “Yep. Although maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe I’ve been in town long enough that I can tell a few people.”

  “But we won’t,” Rosie said. “Who you tell and when is your choice to make.”

  “I appreciate that. And I don’t mind at all that you both know. But with Ty, it’s more complicated. I could be wrong, but I get the sense he hasn’t completely dealt with what happened to him.”

  “He hasn’t.” Rosie sighed. “It’s difficult because he doesn’t have anybody to mourn with or reminisce with. His parents were older when they had him so the grandparents were gone on both sides. He has one uncle who dealt with his brother’s death by climbing into a bottle so he’s no help.”

  “See, that’s another reason I have to tread lightly. Judging from what you’re saying, the way my parents and I have handled Selena’s death wouldn’t work for him. In fact, hearing about it might actually make him feel worse because he can’t go that route.”

  “Are you sure he couldn’t?” Phil hopped down from the bunk. “His parents must have had close friends. What about them? They could reminisce with him, couldn’t they?”

  Rosie shook her head. “The couple closest to them had hoped to adopt Ty. He turned into such a holy terror that they gave up and brought him to us. He was making their family miserable.”

  “Wow.” Whitney couldn’t picture Ty as a holy terror.

  “To his credit, he tried to find them a few years ago so he could make amends, but they’d moved and their last name is Brown, so they’d be hard to trace.”

  “Like Jones,” Whitney said. “That’s why I have an unusual first name. Anyway, props to you and Herb for taking him in and calming him down.”

  “Herb and I can’t claim all the credit. Listening to the other guys’ horror stories did the most good. Putting all those boys together was like tossing them in a rock tumbler. The rough edges came off.”

  Phil nodded. “You can see that when they interact. They still tumble against each other sometimes. I thought Damon and Cade were going to come to blows at the Fourth of July party, but then they just went off and drank beer together.”

  “Typical.” Rosie smiled. “Ty and Brant are like that with each other. I don’t know that Ty would have come around without Brant Ellison.”

  “He’s mentioned Brant,” Whitney said. “I was hoping to meet him but I’ll be in Cheyenne when he’s here for Christmas.”

  “You’ll meet everyone for sure at the wedding,” Phil said. “Right, Rosie? We’re inviting the world to this ceremony.”

  “Everyone in Damon’s world, that’s for sure. I’m counting on you to add the names of everyone in your world. That’s the beauty of having it at the ranch. We don’t have to limit the guest list.”

  “And I’m thrilled to be included considering I’m so new in town,” Whitney said.

  Phil glanced up at her. “Funny, but you don’t feel new. It seems as if I’ve known you longer than five months.”

  “Same here.” Rosie gave Whitney a fond glance. “You’ve made a big impression already. Everybody I know loves Rangeland Roasters.”

  Whitney laughed. “Because everybody loves you and you talk me up.”

  “No.” Rosie’s cheeks turned pink. “It’s because you’re nice and you serve great coffee in a cheerful shop.”

  “Which she tells people all the time,” Phil said. “So you’re right, she’s your best advertisement, but she wouldn’t do it unless she believed in you.”

  “Aw.” Whitney’s throat felt tight. “Thank you both.”

  “You’re welcome.” Rosie smiled at her. “And on that lovely note, I suggest we head back to the house and warm up with a cup of coffee. It won’t be as fancy as yours, Whitney, but I can offer you a touch of Baileys.”

  * * *

  WHITNEY ACCEPTED THE coffee and Baileys although Phil had told her privately she didn’t have to drink it if that wasn’t her thing. But Whitney liked it well enough, and Rosie seemed happy to serve it to her.

  She ended up staying for dinner, and by the time she left around eight, big flakes of snow were falling. She switched on the radio and the forecast hadn’t changed—a few flurries tonight and tomorrow but mostly clear. She wished she believed it.

  The snowflakes grew thicker and more numerous as she drove. By the time she’d parked and made it into her apartment, it was officially snowing hard, no matter what the weather folks claimed on TV. She wasn’t surprised when Ty called her cell.

  “Don’t worry. This’ll clear up,” he said in a confident tone.

  “I’m sure it will.” She refused to be Debby Downer when he seemed so positive. “I toured the rec hall and the cabins today.”

  “Yeah? Pretty cool, huh?”

  “It’ll be a fabulous experience for the kids. Rosie said there might be scholarships, so I’m hoping my cousin Dee Ann can go.”

  “That’d be great. How many cousins did you say you have?”

  “Fourteen. Six on my dad’s side and eight on my mom’s side.”

  “Fertile family.”

  “Thus the plethora of condoms I keep on hand.”

  He laughed. “Okay, let the record show that tonight it’s your fault that the conversation veered toward sex.”

  “You brought up fertility.”

  “You could have let that comment go, but instead you linked it to the condoms in your bedside table drawer.”

  “You’re right, counselor.” She smiled. “I miss you so much. I hope this snow doesn’t—”

  “It won’t. Even if it does, the heat I’m feeling right now will melt whatever stands in my way. I’m coming for you, lady.”

  Moisture sluiced between her thighs. “I suspect I’ll be coming for you, too, cowboy.”

  “I guaran-damn-tee you will if I have anything to say about it. Which I plan to.”

  “You realize we’re this close to having phone sex.”

  “I’m holding out for the real thing, myself.”

  “Me, too, but you’re supposed to stay at the ranch tomorrow night after dinner as I recall, while I drive home to my lonely apartment.”

  He groaned. “Who dreamed up that stupid idea?”

  “Me, because then you aren’t sneaking into town, and I’m totally on board with the plan.”

  “Party pooper.”

  “
I really am in favor of you spending the night there, Ty. Rosie’s looking forward to it and she deserves to have time with you. We’ll have Saturday night to ourselves.”

  “What color underwear are you wearing Saturday night?”

  “What color do you want?”

  “Black.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “What color do you have on now?”

  “I’m not going there, cowboy. We really are in the phone sex danger zone. See you tomorrow night at the ranch!” And she disconnected.

  He texted her immediately. I’m guessing pale blue.

  Wrong. Good night, Ty.

  Purple?

  Nope. Sweet dreams.

  I’d tell you what I’ll be dreaming except it’ll melt the phone.

  Good night, Ty. She switched off her phone because if she didn’t, they would keep this up until they were both frustrated as hell. Walking to the window, she cupped her hands around her face so she could see outside. Damn, it was snowing even harder.

  Her alarm went off before dawn the next morning, and when she turned on her TV, the weather report finally admitted they were in for a blizzard. She left messages for all her employees to stay home. Then she threw on some clothes, drove to the shop amid buffeting winds and put a sign on the inside of the door.

  Surely no one would come looking for coffee in this weather, but if they did, they’d learn that the shop would be open when the blizzard had passed, whenever that happened to be. The way the wind was howling, she didn’t expect it to be anytime soon. She didn’t expect Ty to drive up from Cheyenne, either, and disappointment curdled in her stomach.

  Once she was back home, she texted him. Don’t try it.

  His reply was instantaneous. I won’t until it’s safe.

  Her shoulders sagged with relief. No matter how much she longed to have him here, she didn’t want him taking foolish chances. Thank goodness he wasn’t the type who would.

  The blizzard raged all day and into the night. She exchanged texts with Rosie, who had resigned herself to a change of plans. So had Whitney. Even if the storm petered out, having Ty drive up for one night was insane. She played Christmas carols and wrapped packages, something she’d need to do anyway before she drove to Cheyenne on Christmas Eve in a couple of weeks.

  When the weather didn’t improve at all on Saturday, she felt fortunate to have food in the apartment and power to her appliances. Mother Nature had shut down all activity with a breathtaking show of power. So she wrote Christmas cards, a job she’d been putting off for days.

  She hadn’t heard from Ty, which meant either he was having trouble getting cell phone service or he was royally pissed that they wouldn’t see each other this weekend. She was willing to believe either or both possibilities. Her one text to him—There’s always next weekend!—wasn’t answered.

  Saturday night, when she should have been rolling around in bed with Ty, she watched a movie on TV that didn’t hold her interest. Eventually she climbed under the covers and turned out the light. Her usual optimistic outlook was a little tarnished because she really missed Ty. Too bad they hadn’t started this affair in the summer.

  A persistent buzzing noise woke her up. At first she panicked, thinking it was the fire alarm because she’d left something on the stove without realizing it. No, it wasn’t the fire alarm. It was her intercom. She glanced at her bedside clock. Two in the morning.

  It had to be Ty. No one else would show up at two without calling. And she was wearing her flannel nightgown with rosebuds on it. Racing to the living room, she flipped the switch. “Ty?”

  He sounded exhausted. “It’s me. I need you.”

  Heart pounding, she activated the front door lock. Then she ran barefoot into the hall. She’d started down the stairs when he met her halfway, his face haggard and his coat and hat dusted with snow. He clutched a duffel bag in his right hand.

  Diving into his arms, she hugged him and felt him stagger. She hugged him tighter and absorbed the chill of his sheepskin coat. “You idiot! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “That I had to see you.” His arms came around her and the duffel bumped her hip. They stayed like that, holding each other, until he finally sighed and loosened his grip. “It’s okay, now. I made it. Let’s go upstairs.”

  They walked up the steps in tandem, their arms around each other. “You’re crazy,” she said. “I hope you know that.”

  “No, I’m not. I followed a snowplow. You can’t go off the road when you follow a snowplow.”

  “I should be really mad at you for this stunt.”

  “But you’re not. I can tell because you ran out to meet me. Sexy nightgown, by the way.” Even when he was exhausted, he apparently couldn’t resist teasing her.

  “It’s the granny gown I wear when I’m not expecting anyone, and I certainly wasn’t expecting you, cowboy.” She wanted to lecture him about being stupid, but she couldn’t. He’d gone through hell and a blizzard to be with her, and that was heroic, in a dumb sort of way.

  He wasn’t moving very fast, and he leaned against her as they walked. She glanced up at him. “How long have you been on the road?”

  “Not sure. I think I started out around three this afternoon.”

  “Three? But that’s almost twelve hours!”

  His chuckle was ragged. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  She maneuvered him through her open apartment door. He was still holding on to her as if without her support he might collapse. Leaving the door open for now, she walked him into the bedroom and over to the bed. “Lie down.”

  “Okay.” He dropped the duffel and collapsed onto the bed, clothes, boots and all. Somewhere along the way he’d lost his hat. He gazed up at her, his gray eyes dull with fatigue. “Are you getting in with me?”

  “In a minute.” She hurried back to the living room so she could lock up. Then she scooped up his hat from where it had fallen on the floor. By the time she returned, he was asleep.

  Although he was deadweight, she managed to work him out of his boots and socks plus both sleeves of his coat. Pulling the coat out from under him proved to be impossible. Sleeping with a belt on wouldn’t feel very good, so she unbuckled it, but she couldn’t tug it loose, either.

  In his place, she’d want her jeans unbuttoned, too. How strange to be performing that intimate task when he was asleep instead of aroused and desperate to have her. He looked so vulnerable lying there.

  Then again, she’d never seen him sleeping. Every time they’d been together he’d been awake, loaded with testosterone and ready to make love. This quiet moment allowed her a glimpse of the young boy who’d had both parents yanked from his life in an instant. With no siblings, no close relatives to cling to, he’d lost everything.

  Judging from Rosie’s description, he’d responded with anger. He’d gotten past that with the help of Rosie, Herb and his foster brothers. On the surface, at least, he seemed at peace, as he’d proudly announced to her.

  But he was a man who needed a deep emotional connection, whether he could admit it or not. She might never have known that if they hadn’t made love. She’d seen wonder in his eyes, the same wonder she’d felt, but she’d also seen fear. A man with his past could be terrified that making that connection meant risking the loss of it. She couldn’t blame him.

  If he wanted to believe their relationship was mostly sexual, she’d go along for now. But she didn’t know how he could keep fooling himself when he’d driven twelve hours through a blizzard to see her. Once he realized she was becoming critical to his happiness, he might run like the wind. Then they’d both lose.

  14

  TY WOKE WITH a start and stared into the darkness. Was he still driving? Had he fallen asleep at the wheel and run into a snowbank? No, he was in a bed. Whitney’s bed. Gradually he remembered getting to her apartment complex and stumbling up the stairs with her. God, how pathetic.

  She’d been wearing a granny gown and he’d joked about it. But he had
n’t made love to her. He would have remembered that. In any case, she must have led him in here although he couldn’t recall the exact sequence of events.

  He could hear her slow, even breathing next to him. Turning his head, he saw her lying on her side facing him, but her eyes were closed and she’d pulled the covers up to her chin. He, on the other hand, was on top of the covers. Apparently she’d put a blanket over him so he wouldn’t get cold. Once he’d conked out, he must have been too heavy for her to move.

  He pictured himself collapsing, fully dressed, onto her bed. Lovely. And wearing his boots, too? He hoped to hell not. Wiggling his toes, he ascertained that he wasn’t wearing socks, let alone boots, but he might have been when he’d flopped down on her green comforter.

  Bad form, Slater. Bad form. Moving carefully so he wouldn’t wake her, he eased out from under the blanket. He’d swallowed gallons of coffee on the way up here and he needed to make a quick trip across the hall. When he stood, his belt jangled and he realized it was unbuckled. The button on his jeans was undone, too. He doubted she’d done that in hopes of some action. Probably she’d tried to make him as comfortable as possible considering he’d been unconscious and impossible to budge.

  Holding his belt so it wouldn’t rattle, he managed one step before he tripped over something soft and went down with a thud. Damn. He’d likely woken her and anyone sleeping in the room below. He was one smooth operator this weekend.

  “Ty?” She switched on a lamp. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” He got to his feet and turned back to her. “Sorry. Tripped over my duffel.” A glance at the bedside clock told him it was a little past four. He’d sailed in at two, interrupted her sleep, and now, two hours later, he’d interrupted it again.

  She sat up, rubbed her eyes and yawned, exactly like a little girl might. “I should have moved it. Forgot.”

  “I should have remembered it was there.” He was transfixed by the sight of her in that granny gown. The combination of the sweet little rosebuds and no makeup made her look about ten years old. Then she straightened her shoulders and her breasts moved under the flannel. Nope, not ten. His cock twitched.