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

by Kim Redford

  A spot opened up and Trey parked in front of Adelia’s Delights. Misty noticed the “CLOSED” sign still hung on the door, as well as one on the door to Morning’s Glory. She hoped they hadn’t lost too much business because of the house fire.

  Trey picked up his phone, got out, and started around the front of his truck, tucking his cell into his back pocket.

  She realized he was going to open her door in his gentlemanly way again. She wasn’t used to that type of behavior, but she was learning she wasn’t used to the cowboy way. Still, she was much too accustomed to doing for herself to stop now. She opened her door as he drew near and stepped out. In her hurry, she forgot she was high off the ground and needed to use the running board. She touched nothing but empty air, lost her balance, and fell forward against his hard chest.

  “Easy there.” Trey wrapped his arms around her and let her slide down the long length of his body.

  She couldn’t have been more embarrassed about forgetting that extra step. She immediately tried to push back, but she ended up with her palms pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. He smelled of smoke, leather, and dry grass, almost as if he’d ridden straight out of an ancient Comanche camp.

  “No need to rush.” He stroked large hands up and down her back. “You okay?”

  “I forgot the height.” She felt superheated everywhere he touched her. To make matters worse, she had no desire to move. She wanted to stroke him just as he was stroking her. If this kept up, she’d need a fire extinguisher every time she was around him.

  “Happens. You didn’t twist an ankle, did you?”

  “No. I’m fine.” She pushed against his chest, but he didn’t budge. She realized in surprise that she had no way to move him back if he didn’t want to go. He was like a rock. “You can let me go now.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  When he chuckled at her words, she felt the vibration up her hands, her arms, and into her own chest. Turned up the heat even more.

  He leaned down so his lips were close to her ear. “Are you hungry for food or something else?”

  “Food!”

  He chuckled again, then let her go as he slowly stepped back. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “You promised lunch.”

  “And I never break a promise.” As if they were back in the 1880s, he held out his elbow for her to grasp.

  She hesitated, but how could she resist the allure of the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes?

  “When in Rome, or in this case, Wildcat Bluff—”

  She tucked her fingers around his elbow. He drew her in so close that the curve of her breast pressed against him.

  They walked down the boardwalk as if they were a lady and gentleman out for an afternoon promenade. She could easily imagine that horses and buggies filled the streets instead of noisy vehicles. Somehow the past seemed more peaceful, more manageable, more refined than the present. Then she remembered that they were in a town that had catered to the wildest of the wild. Shoot-outs, brawls, and Rebel yells had probably filled the air.

  “Have you been in Morning’s Glory?” Trey stopped in front of the store’s colorfully decorated window.

  “Not yet. I just met her earlier today.”

  “She’s quite the character.”

  “In Wildcat Bluff, how can you tell?”

  He laughed. “Guess you’ve got a point.”

  “Great people.” She wiggled her fingers at the ginger cat that was taking a nap in the fake snow by the pointy-toed slippers of three elves dressed in red-and-green outfits with multiple strands of macramé necklaces around their necks. With their jaunty red hats with dangling white balls and overdone makeup with big red lips, the elves looked more naughty than nice as they waved at passersby with electronic arms tipped by white-gloved hands.

  “Morning Glory does like to start a dialogue.” Trey pointed at the display.

  Misty smiled. “What do you suppose she’d like us to discuss?”

  “Let’s not even go there.”

  “Angels?” She chuckled as she touched the angel hanging from the macramé necklace around her own neck.

  Trey cocked an eyebrow as he glanced down at her with darkened eyes. “Now I could talk about angels—all night long.”

  “Not me. I’d prefer to talk about—well, cowboys.”

  She didn’t wait for his response or the gleam she knew she’d see in his eyes. Instead, she quickly turned and walked the few steps to the Chuckwagon Café. She focused on the carved wooden café sign painted in red and white that hung from hooks above the boardwalk. Red-and-white checked curtains filled the lower half of the windows. Someone had hand-painted colorful Christmas scenes on the upper half of the windows. Santa Claus and his gift-laden sleigh were pulled by brown-and-white painted ponies. Boisterous children wearing earmuffs and mittens tugged a green Christmas tree home from the forest.

  “I wonder who painted these windows.” Misty pointed at the artwork. “It’s wonderful.”

  “Morning Glory’d be my guess. She’s talented enough to do about anything creative.”

  “I like her.” Misty fingered the harness hardware hanging around her neck. “Did you notice my necklace? She gave it to me.”

  He picked up the angel, rubbed a thumb over the face, and glanced up at Misty. “Suits you.”

  “You started this entire Christmas angel thing. I don’t think I’ll ever hear the last of it.”

  He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I didn’t spread it far. Once something catches folks’ fancy, it’s hell and gone.”

  “I’m sort of embarrassed about it.”

  “Don’t be. We needed something or someone to give us hope. You were at the right place at the right time.”

  “And you had the idea.”

  He let go of the angel, then brushed a strand of hair back from her face, lingering suggestively on the soft shell of her ear. “For sure, you’re our Christmas angel.”

  Chapter 15

  Misty simply smiled at him, realizing that particular horse—or Christmas angel—had already left the barn and there was no bringing it back. She might as well make the best of the situation and use it to her advantage.

  “You gotta admit it’s got a certain charm.” Trey tweaked her ear and grinned as he reached around her and pulled open the door to the Chuckwagon Café.

  She stepped inside and heard sleigh bells jingle against the front door’s glass window as the door closed behind them. A group of local folks seated at two tables glanced up, nodded in greeting, and went back to their meals.

  “Hold your horses!” a man hollered in a deep, rough voice from the back of the café. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Misty glanced around the long room, noting the high ceilings covered in pressed tin squares and the smooth oak floors like in Adelia’s Delights. Wagon-wheel chandeliers—old lantern-type globes attached to the outer spokes of horizontally hanging wooden wheels—cast soft light over round tables covered in red-and-white checked tablecloths. A tiger oak bar with enough dings and scratches to look original stretched across the back of the room with battered oak bar stools in front and a cash register on one end. A window behind the bar revealed a kitchen updated with chrome appliances.

  In one corner, a large cedar Christmas tree reached almost to the ceiling. Red-and-white candy canes, red- and-white plaid bows, and twinkling red-and-white lights decorated the deep green boughs. The scent of cedar battled with the tantalizing aroma of food for prominence.

  “What a lovely place,” Misty said. “I could almost believe we’ve stepped back over a hundred years in time.”

  “Bet the food’s better now.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Let’s sit at my favorite table.” Trey indicated a table for two near a front window. He walked over and pulled
out a spindle barrel-back captain’s chair with a red-and-white checked seat cushion.

  “Thanks,” she said as he seated her at the table.

  He sat down and eased the curtains apart. “Never know what you’ll see on Main Street. That’s why I like to sit here.”

  “Perfect view.”

  “Yeah,” he quickly agreed as he turned his gaze from the street to her. “Couldn’t be better.”

  She grabbed a two-sided, plastic-coated menu from between the salt and pepper shakers and big bottle of hot sauce, so she could look at anything but his teasing gaze. She’d never met a guy before who could so easily and comfortably and effectively flirt. He must have graduated top of his class. For that matter, his cousin Kent wasn’t far behind in that graduate degree. No doubt Texans could be outrageous teases for the sheer fun of it, but Wildcat Bluff raised the art form to a new level.

  She picked up the other menu and offered it to Trey, wanting him to look at something besides her. She might not have crawled under a burning house, but she wasn’t as pristine as she’d started the day.

  “No thanks. I don’t need it.”

  “You know what you want to order?”

  “I’m a creature of habit.”

  “Barbeque?”

  He nodded, smiling with boyish charm. “Chopped beef sandwich. Curly fries. Coleslaw. Sweet tea.”

  “Sounds good. But I still want to check out my options.”

  “Be sure to find out the daily special before you make up your mind. That’s always good, too.”

  Misty glanced down the list of down-home Texas favorites. “I bet their chicken-fried steak is delicious.”

  “And huge. Better save that order for a day after mending fence or busting a bronc.”

  “Then I’ll be saving it forever.”

  Trey chuckled. “You never know.”

  She didn’t say it, but she did know. Life for her didn’t include falling off a huge animal like a horse or hitting her thumb with a hammer. At least it hadn’t till she’d met Trey. Now she wasn’t so sure. He might have her up on the back of a horse or hammering a fence before she quite realized what had happened to her. No two ways about it, Trey Duval was a dangerous man.

  When she heard the uneven sound of boots thudding across the wooden floor in their direction, she glanced up. Now there was danger with a capital D. An enormous cowboy made his careful way toward them. He was six five easy, and solid muscle. A thick crop of ginger hair accented hazel eyes. A barbwire tattoo circled his right bicep—about as big around as her waist—while a lasso tattoo graced the other. Scuffed brown cowboy boots led to faded jeans with ripped-out knees that led to a tight white T-shirt. But the machismo stopped there. He’d tied a red-and-white checked and ruffled apron around his waist.

  “Lula Mae,” she read out loud from the pocket of his apron. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Trey snorted, but didn’t say anything.

  “Darlin’, all the gals are pleased to meet me.” The stranger stopped near the table, favoring his right leg.

  Trey snorted louder.

  “Just so you know, you can call me Lula, or you can call me Mae, or you can call me Lula Mae, just so long as you call me.”

  “And please call me Misty.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous words.

  “You think I jest?” He appeared wounded by her laughter.

  “Slade Steele, you big goof,” Trey said, sounding exasperated. “She’s never calling you.”

  “I don’t see a brand on her, but I’m not seeing nearly enough of this fine filly, am I?”

  “You’re seeing all you’re ever gonna see of her.” Trey drummed his fingertips on the tabletop.

  “Will you two stop talking about me as if I’m not here?” Misty glanced from one to the other. “And for the record, I’m not a filly.”

  “I didn’t say it.” Trey crossed his heart with two fingers.

  “Believe me, I spoke those words as the sincerest form of flattery,” Slade said.

  “I believe you.” Trey smiled at Misty with a teasing glint in his eyes. “My cousin knows how to appreciate fine horseflesh.”

  “Go ahead and keep this up,” Misty said with mock annoyance. “I bet there are other places in town to eat.”

  Slade pasted a sincere look on his face. “I apologize if that’s what you want. But please don’t take your business elsewhere. Granny’ll have me washing dishes for the rest of my life.”

  Misty laughed, shaking her head. She couldn’t help but like the outrageous cowboy. Slade made three graduates of what she could only imagine was the Wildcat Bluff School of Flirts. If there were more, she didn’t know how the cowgirls around here survived them. Unless, of course, the gals were just as ornery as the guys. Ruby might be a good example of that idea.

  “Right now Granny’s still at the fire so I’m safe.” Slade drew his straight eyebrows together in a frown as he focused on Trey. “Granny and Mom keep treating me like a put-out-to-pasture gelding. I should’ve been fighting the fire instead of holding down the fort here.”

  “Doctor’s orders. And you know it,” Trey said without giving an inch.

  Slade growled before he turned back to Misty. “Might as well get this show on the road.” He changed to a sweet voice. “My name is Slade. I’ll be your server today. What would you care to drink?”

  “Sweet tea,” Trey said, “for both of us.”

  “What do you recommend?” Misty couldn’t resist needling Trey by playing up to the big guy.

  Slade winked at her. “I’ve got a lot I could recommend, but maybe you’d better go with the tea.”

  “What’s the special?” Trey interrupted the banter.

  “Five-alarm chili. Made a batch myself this morning.”

  “Ouch. That’ll take the lining off a gut.”

  “That’s why I made the jalapeño cornbread. Cuts the fire.”

  “Nothing you make cuts the fire,” Trey complained. “Don’t have it in you. That’s why you ride bulls.”

  “Dang it. Why’d you have to go and bring up rodeo? Are you orderin’ a fist sandwich?”

  “Sorry. Forgot.” Trey managed to look contrite and unrepentant at the same time.

  “I’ll take the chili and cornbread.” Misty hoped her choice would help ease the unhappy look on Slade’s handsome face, but she also hoped supporting his cooking would ease him into opening up more about his life in Wildcat Bluff. If the cousins would sort of forget she was here, or accept that she was part of the group since she was with Trey, or continue showing off for her, she could learn a lot about folks in the town. She was in a perfect position to listen and learn.

  “My usual,” Trey said. “I saw Sydney at the fire.”

  “Bet she took that big whopping engine, hit the sirens and everything.”

  “You know it. Kent had to settle for the booster.”

  “Dang hothead.” Slade rolled his eyes. “We should’ve gotten her in line when we were kids.”

  “Like we didn’t try.”

  “What’re you gonna do with a six-foot-tall strawberry-blond cowgirl with a mind like a steel trap?”

  Misty couldn’t help but chuckle at the image. She’d seen Sydney fighting the fire and the gal was impressive. She could tell how much the cousins loved Sydney by the way they talked about her. Misty hoped she’d get to meet the cowgirl soon.

  “Or a six-foot-five cowboy?” Trey chuckled, gesturing toward Slade.

  “Twins!” Slade complained. “You’d think I could’ve at least had a womb to myself. But no, I’ve had a banshee on my case my whole life.”

  “Valkyrie, not banshee,” Trey corrected, “what with all that Viking blood.”

  “Sydney’s slain enough hearts.” Slade gave a big, heavy sigh. “But I doubt she’s taken a single guy to Valhalla.”

&nb
sp; “I wouldn’t bet on it.” Trey laughed hard, giving Misty a glance to include her in the humor.

  She chuckled, imagining all the tricks and pranks Sydney must have played on her cousins over the years.

  “Stop it!” Slade held up a hand in protest. “Remember. No rodeo. No Sydney love life.”

  “My lips are sealed.” Trey grinned before he turned serious. “Ole Man Winston’s house bought it.”

  “Bert around?”

  “Nope.”

  “Par for the course.”

  “Granny and Aunt Maybelline ought to be back from the fire soon. I bet they’re making sure it doesn’t reignite, or they could just be shooting the breeze,” Trey said.

  “All I can say is they better be back soon. I’ve got a hot date with a barrel racer.”

  “When don’t you?”

  Slade sighed, slumped, and rubbed his right hip.

  “Sorry.” Trey looked sincere. “Gals won’t desert you.”

  “Yeah right.”

  “We saved a kitten.” Misty decided to change the direction of the conversation that appeared headed downhill, even though she could’ve listened to their good-natured bickering all day. Trey had talked the same easy way with Kent. Even Ruby. What she wouldn’t give to have that type of big, close-knit family and friends. An unshakable love had to be at the base of all their interactions. Of course, she had love and friendship, but not in so much abundance. She still missed Aunt Camilla every day, but now she enjoyed other friends and her BFF Cindi Lou, too.

  “You saved a kitten?” Slade nodded at Misty before he gave Trey a questioning look.

  “One of Slim’s barn cat litters. We left the little tyke at the clinic.”

  Slade cocked his head at Misty. “Oh, now I get it. You’re our Christmas angel.”

  “Trey’s idea, not mine.”

  “In that case, bet the kitten makes it.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Now, darlin’, if this cowboy gives you any trouble, feel free to call me. I may have a hitch in my get-a-long, but most bull riders do. We’ve never let it stop us—not for long anyway.”

  “There’s always a first time.” Trey gave Slade a warning stare.