A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1)

by Kim Redford

  “Beautiful country,” she murmured, but her mind had fixated on the Comanche. Now that she thought about it, Trey had the high cheekbones, bronzed skin, and unusual eyes that could mean he was part Native American. Plus, his family had been here a long time, maybe from the beginning. Now he was even more exotic, more exciting to her. She wanted to ask him directly about his heritage, but that wouldn’t do. Still, she was learning a lot.

  “We’re situated between the dry West and the wet East, so we get the best of both worlds. And our timber keeps rainwater deep in the soil.”

  “Are there buffalo?”

  “I run a small herd out on the prairie.” He chuckled as he tapped his fingertips on the dashboard. “More for pleasure than anything else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I like having them on the ranch. I like looking at them. And I like knowing they’re safe.”

  She nodded, understanding him more all the time. “You really love this land, don’t you?”

  “Can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  “I feel that way about Dallas. So much to do and so much fun.”

  “City born and bred?”

  “You know it.” She laughed. “And when there’s a fire, a big screaming truck full of hoses and firefighters comes to the rescue, not some stray motorist with towels.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t count us out here. We’ve got rigs and firefighters that fit the bill.”

  She smiled even as she acknowledged that they were worlds apart. Country guy versus city gal. They were too different to ever bridge the gap. Still, she could enjoy the beauty of North Texas. And her cowboy firefighter.

  As she followed the road, golden prairie dotted with black and red cattle spread out around her. Clumps of trees—mostly green live oak—provided shade for animals. A couple of pickups passed them, drivers raising a forefinger in acknowledgment. Soon she saw the bluff up ahead, an imposing chunk that dominated the land below it.

  As she started the drive upward, she passed gnarled trees, dense shrubs, and sandstone outcrops. She felt a sense of danger, as if she were driving back in time. Trey made her feel reckless. She could almost imagine throwing her usual caution to the wind and running wild by the side of a cowboy or Indian.

  As the road continued to wind upward, the land grew increasingly untamed around her. A large bird launched into the air from the side and struggled to gain altitude right in front of her windshield. She stomped on her brakes and swerved to avoid hitting it.

  “What was that?” She started forward again, heart beating fast. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Wild turkey.”

  “Really?” She watched the massive brown-feathered bird settle into a gully and then disappear with a shuffling strut into tall, sheltering grass with the unmistakable gobbling of a turkey.

  “Slow as molasses. Guess I should’ve warned you to look out for them. Deer, too. You don’t want to damage your vehicle.”

  “What about the animals?”

  “Collision doesn’t do them any good either.”

  “I’d think not.” She drove more cautiously as she peered from side to side. “You just introduced me to a whole new issue. And I thought Dallas drivers were dangerous.”

  He chuckled. “Give me a few critters to tussle with any day.”

  Up ahead, the road dead-ended in front of a dense growth of twisted trees and entwined undergrowth. Green, brown, thorny. Surely it was much like the original, impenetrable Cross Timbers.

  She stopped and looked from right to left. “Did I make a wrong turn?”

  “Independent cusses settled Wildcat Bluff. They wanted safety and privacy. They got it.”

  “Do you mean we walk in from here?” She imagined carting her belongings up a narrow trail to a dusty cabin. Despite rave reviews, the spring might be a muddy hole in the ground. Who knew what wild animals shared the water? She sighed. Her day kept getting more complicated the closer she got to Wildcat Bluff.

  “Dogleg right, then back left.”

  She looked at him in exasperation. “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s an impenetrable wall in front of us, and the road ends here.”

  “Trust me.”

  Not much other choice. She turned sharply to the right, looked left, and saw a gap wide enough for trucks or campers, two or three abreast. Nobody would ever guess there was an entrance here.

  “Go on.” He pointed forward. “Plenty of room to drive horses and wagons through there back in the day.”

  She followed the wide road upward. As she reached the summit, the sun bathed Wildcat Bluff in a golden glow. She gasped. Christmas had come to the Bluff, and the town was awash in red and green, gold and silver, white and blue. Multicolored lights blinked on and off where they had been strung from building to building along the town’s rooflines. Country Christmas songs filled the air. She’d really fooled herself into thinking she could get away from all the Christmas folderol. If Dallas had been holiday mad, Wildcat Bluff was outrageous.

  She braked and shut her eyes. First, fire. Now, Christmas. She didn’t know how she was going to survive the emotional onslaught. When tears burned behind her eyelids, she sniffed to keep back the moisture.

  “I know,” Trey said. “It can catch you by surprise and bring back all your wonderful childhood memories.”

  She swallowed hard, unable to respond. She absolutely would not be overwhelmed by her emotions. She’d had sixteen years of practice at putting those feelings in a closet and slamming the door shut. She was a grown, professional woman and she could handle anything Wildcat Bluff threw at her. She’d simply focus on the present and whatever lay beneath shiny tinsel and country charm. And do her job.

  A long row of one- and two-story buildings built of rock and brick nestled behind a white portico that covered a long boardwalk. Sunlight glinted off shop windows. Once more, she felt as if she’d stepped back in time into a Western town like the ones she’d seen in old tintype photos that Aunt Cami had shared with her. Yet everything appeared as fresh as if it’d been constructed yesterday.

  “Wildcat Bluff spreads out from Old Town in streets named after trees and cats. We’ve got architecture from Victorian to Art Deco to Midcentury Modern to Ranch Hacienda. Modular housing, too. Offices are in homes or in the business and warehouse district to the south. You name it, we’ve probably got it.”

  “Sounds eclectic.”

  He chuckled. “More like a lot of hard-headed mavericks built across the centuries to suit their own whims.”

  “I like it.”

  “Glad you do. I’m right partial myself.”

  “Are these original structures?” She was proud of her steady voice and clear thoughts.

  “Here on Main Street, yes.”

  “They’re beautiful. And the buildings are so perfectly maintained. But how did they get built here? I mean, who had those skills?”

  “Italian masons.”

  She looked harder at the buildings, trying to reconcile skilled masons with the old West. She noticed more details. “Saloon” was painted in tall yellow letters near the roofline of a brick two-story building. Next door was the Wildcat Hotel with a second-floor balcony enclosed with a stone balustrade supported by five fancy columns.

  “I don’t understand.” She pointed from one building to another. “Back then, this town would have been on the frontier of Texas. Where would they have found European masons?”

  “I guess most people don’t know the history anymore. Back then, there were coal mines over to the west of here. And the Choctaw Nation had coal mines in Indian Territory near McAlester. Those old train engines were hungry beasts—ate coal by the ton load. Italian miners came over to work the mines with locals. Some of those guys were masons.”

  “Wildcat Bluff must be quite the tourist attraction.”

  “Somet
imes. Like at Christmas. But we’re not set up to be a resort destination.”

  “Still mostly undiscovered by outsiders?” Misty found herself authentically interested in what Trey was telling her about Wildcat Bluff. She hadn’t had much in the way of expectations of the place coming up here. Of course, she could have listened to Trey’s smooth baritone all day—and well into the night.

  “Impossible to stay undiscovered,” Trey said as he sighed and shook his head. “With all our natural resources it’s impossible to stay under the radar. Water. Timber. Coal, gas, oil. Cattle. Not to mention our soil’s so fertile it’ll grow most anything.”

  “Wonderful.” Misty was impressed.

  “Yeah. On the other hand, somebody or other is always after what we’ve got.”

  “Like Dallas and Fort Worth?”

  “We’re on the Red River. You know how fast those cities are growing and needing water. The state and feds are looking at us, too.”

  “I know the drought’s bad, but we’ve got lots of lakes in Texas.”

  “They’re already tapped into, so folks are eyeballing the rivers. The Colorado River in Arizona and the Rio Grande down in South Texas used to be big rivers not so long ago. Not now. Water’s siphoned off to the farms, towns, you name it.”

  “But the Red River’s not that big to begin with. Won’t they just leave it alone?”

  He shrugged as he made a sweeping gesture toward Main Street. “We’re protecting the land like we’ve always done, so we’re good so far.”

  “I’m glad.” She imagined an unbroken line of brave warriors watching over and taking care of the Comancheria.

  He had set her mind to spinning. Could a fight over water rights affect Texas Timber? If the water table dropped too much, tree seedlings might not be able to take root. That’d have a major impact on business. If someone else wanted the water, they might want to get rid of Texas Timber. Other natural resources could also be at the root of the company’s problems. After she checked in at the B&B, she’d jump on her computer and see what else she could find out, now that she had a new lead to follow.

  Trey had just proved his worth. He was a lot more than a handsome face and a hot body. He had a steel-trap mind to go with all his other assets.

  Chapter 4

  “Why don’t you park on Main Street and take a gander at Old Town?” Trey was genuinely having a good time with Misty. It wasn’t often he got such pleasure from delivering his tourist spiel. Misty already seemed like more than just a tourist to him. He had things to do, but he wanted to keep her with him a while longer.

  “Are you still my guide?”

  “You know it.” He pointed toward the Wildcat Bluff Hotel, where fresh fir wreaths with huge red bows decorated each window in the redbrick two-story building.

  “What a lovely place. Maybe I should’ve stayed here.” She parked in front of the hotel’s grand entrance of cream brick keystones and brass planters with Christmas-tree-shaped rosemary bushes.

  “Ruby’ll do right by you.” He noticed two ladies stop and pointedly look in the window at him before they scurried on down the boardwalk. What was that about? And then he remembered. He was still shirtless. Not only that, but he was sitting in a vehicle with a good-looking woman in front of a hotel. He could just imagine how this story was going to develop as it spread around Wildcat Bluff. He chuckled at small-town life. At least it wouldn’t hurt his reputation.

  “Is that really a saloon?” Misty gestured next door as she leaned forward for a better look.

  The sound of boot-scooting country music floated through old batwing-style doors. Strings of blinking Christmas lights and star-shaped ornaments festooned a row of plate-glass windows with the words “Lone Star Saloon” painted in gold in old-fashioned curlicue script. A wooden cigar store Indian at one side of the doors had been irreverently adorned with a bright red Santa hat.

  “Yep. Old Town hasn’t changed much since the 1880s. The Lone Star Saloon still serves the same function. Food. Drinks. Dance hall. Live country bands on weekends.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “We get a lot of tourists looking for a taste of the Old West like they do in Tombstone, Arizona.” He glanced at Misty, wanting her to like everything about Wildcat Bluff and wondering again why it was so important to him. He hadn’t known her an hour and he was acting like it was his first rodeo—first win, first buckle, first gal. There was something about her that he flat-out liked. She was courageous, he’d give her that. She was also comfortable to talk to and sexy as hell.

  “I’ve been to Tombstone. It’s great.”

  “We’re wall-to-wall folks during Wild West Days over Labor Day weekend.” He still couldn’t stop bragging about his town. “They like to see our reenactment of the shoot-out between the Hellions and the Ruffians for control of the town.”

  “Sounds like the shoot-out at the OK Corral in Tombstone.” Misty smiled.

  “Yep. Sometimes those old-time outlaws fought the law. Sometimes they were just fighting each other for turf.”

  “Where does the shoot-out take place?”

  “Right here in front of the Lone Star.” He pointed at the batwing doors.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me who won back in the day?”

  “Why don’t you come back for Wild West Days? You could see the reenactment and find out.” Now he was proposing she come back in nine months when she’d hardly been in town nine minutes. Still, she might like it. He watched her reaction, hoping she liked the Bluff, or him, well enough and wondering at his own sense of insecurity. He felt like a teenager all of a sudden, with no experience with girls—or women. Misty was definitely all woman. She was soft, curvy, and sweet smelling, in spite of a little sweat and soot.

  “How about I ask somebody?” She gave him a playful look with her pale green eyes.

  “Bet we could find you a part to play. Dance-hall darlings in their white pinafores turned the tide. You’d look good all dolled up like that.” He couldn’t resist teasing her to see what kind of a response he’d get.

  “You’re trying to lure me back with irresistible ideas like that.”

  “If you think that’s tempting, I’ve got some even better suggestions.” He leaned toward her, feeling the cold of the AC against the rising heat of his bare skin.

  “No more! I’m not made of stone.” She turned from him and pointed down the row of buildings. “Adelia’s Delights. I love the name. What’s there?”

  He knew she’d used the distraction to cool things back down, and it wasn’t a bad idea. “Gifts. Tearoom.”

  Inside one window, a life-size Santa Claus dressed in bright red velvet with a wide black belt and matching black cowboy hat waved back and forth. A pretty tortoiseshell cat snuggled up to Santa’s cowboy boot. She was a cat so perfect she looked like a stuffed animal until she turned her head to look in their direction.

  “I see Miss Kitty’s in town,” Misty said with a mischievous lilt to her voice. “Is the town marshal named Dillon?”

  Trey laughed. “That’s Rosie, Queen of Adelia’s. She’s one of the best Hemingway mousers in town.”

  “And literary, too?”

  He laughed harder. “Wildcat Bluff has a long history with cats. Store cats take care of bugs and rodents. Companionship, too.”

  “And they guard the books?”

  He shook his head, knowing she was teasing him now. He was enjoying every minute of it. She was almost too sharp for her own good. “If you get a chance, you’ll notice Rosie and other cats here have an extra dewclaw on one or more paws.”

  “Like the polydactyl cats at the Hemingway House?”

  “Hah! You’ve heard of the polydactyls.”

  “I’ve seen them in Key West. Bought the T-shirt, too.”

  “Even better.” He couldn’t help but like a gal who liked cats, especially one who knew abou
t Hemingway’s.

  “Somebody must have brought cats out west over a hundred years ago,” she said thoughtfully.

  “They were worth their weight in gold in lots of places. They kept out vermin.” He chuckled. “Lots of fights over cat-stealing.”

  “Hard to imagine now.”

  “Not so hard here in the Bluff. Folks still prize their cats.”

  “I’d like to go in just to meet the cat. And then shop, of course.”

  “Plenty of time later. I need to stop by the fire station and check in.”

  “I’m yours to command.” She tossed him a mischievous glance.

  “Best not promise something you don’t mean.” He gave her a teasing look in return. He knew exactly what he’d command her given the opportunity.

  “Directions, please.”

  “That’s not any better. Gets a guy’s hopes up.”

  “You’re being obtuse on purpose, Mr. Firefighter.” She arched one eyebrow, a sparkle in her big green eyes.

  “I’ve been called thickheaded before. Don’t bother me a bit.” He leaned toward her, looked deep into her eyes, and saw the same heat there that he was feeling. He slowly kissed the tip of one finger and placed it against her lips. “A little bit of soot there. A devil’s kiss on an angel’s lips.”

  She pushed his hand away, but she also licked her lower lip as if unable to resist tasting him. “Now you’re just trouble.”

  He felt that little lick go straight to his belly. “You look like a gal who could use some trouble.”

  “And you’re the guy to give it to me?”

  “If it’s my kind of trouble, I’d be happy to help.” Right about now, he’d be happy to take a good long while to quench the fire they were building between them.

  “No doubt. You’re such a helpful guy.”

  “Anything to please a lady.”

  “How about those directions?”

  “Which ones?” He grinned, feeling hot enough to grill steaks on his bare flesh.

  She tossed him a sharp-eyed glance, as if shutting down the fun. “No more talk about—well, you know what.”