Slowly, the hungry nature of his kiss—the thirsty nature of hers—the feverish exchange broiling between them—settled. In a moment more, Jesse offered Cozy one last, tender, and warm kiss before releasing her.
She couldn’t stop the audible sigh of blissful satisfaction that escaped her lungs, and she blushed as Jesse smiled at her.
“I’ll take that as a good sign,” he teased.
Cozy bit her lip, embarrassed that she’d allowed her delight to be so obvious.
“Now that you understand the difference between kissing and making out,” he began, retrieving their gloves from the snowy ground, “let’s go to Grandpa’s house and get you warmed up before you catch pneumonia.”
Cozy smiled at him as he helped her put her gloves on and zipped up her coat. “Actually, I’m already pretty warmed up,” she mumbled with blatant insinuation. She could hardly believe she’d said it, but she had, and as Jesse’s smile broadened, she was glad.
Jesse chuckled and nodded with approval. “Are you just flirting with me, Cozy Robbins?” he teased. “Or are you baiting me into demonstrating the difference between kissing and making out again?”
Cozy shrugged and started toward the sidewalk. “What do you think?”
Jesse looked to her grandma’s window, and she followed his gaze. Buck and her grandma were still sitting on the couch.
“I think my grandpa and your grandma are going to be occupied for a while,” Jesse said, winking at her.
Cozy giggled as he lunged toward her then, taking her by the waist and lifting her up onto one shoulder as if she were no more than a sack of flour, and started down the walkway toward the sidewalk and street.
She couldn’t believe how fast he was walking. Still, she felt bad, for it couldn’t be an easy thing to do—carrying her down the sidewalk.
“Put me down!” she laughed, slapping him on the back. “You’ll break your back!”
“Nope. And besides, you might chicken out and run home to your grandma if I put you down,” he said as he increased the speed of his gait.
Cozy laughed as he hurried up the front porch of his grandpa’s house and began fumbling in his front pocket. “Put me down, Jesse!” she begged. “I promise I won’t run off.”
“I don’t trust you,” he mumbled as he used his teeth to remove his glove and then returned to trying to pull his keys out of his pocket.
Cozy playfully slapped him on the back again as she heard the front door to Buck Bryant’s house open. “Brrr!” he shivered, setting her feet on the floor at last. “Okay,” he began, stripping off his coat. “You make the hot chocolate…and I’ll start the fire and get the chestnuts ready.”
“What?” Cozy asked, amused and fascinated by the expression of mischief on his face.
“I’ll get the fire started so we can warm up and roast a few chestnuts,” he reiterated. “You make us some hot chocolate, and then we’ll settle down on the couch for a little…light conversation.”
“I think we’ve had quite enough ‘light conversation’ for one night, don’t you?” she asked—desperately hoping he would disagree.
He frowned and feigned thoughtfulness for a moment. “Um…no,” he said, taking hold of her chin and pressing a smoldering, alluring kiss to her mouth. “If our grandparents can sit on the couch and make out in front of the fire…then so can we.”
“But you said they were just kissing,” Cozy reminded him.
“Cozy, Cozy, Cozy,” he said, his voice low and alluring. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? Wolves are very good hunters, baby. I only said that so I could throw you down in the snow and taste your mouth. When are you ever going to learn?”
“Never…if I’m lucky,” she breathed.
Cozy sighed then as Jesse gathered her into his arms, growled like a wolf, and laid claim to her lips.
Chapter Nine
November waned. The brilliant golden leaves of the autumn cottonwoods had disappeared with the first snow. Although Cozy always missed the leaves when they were gone, she loved the delicate frost feathers of December that decorated the window glass each night. In truth, Cozy found herself loving everything—the cool winter air, not having to go to the café every day, her family, and the way her grandmother had traded in her mulling spices for almond extract in order to keep her warm, orange almond punch simmering and ever ready on her stovetop. Yet for everything Cozy found to love in December—including the delicious anticipation of Christmas—what she loved most, and more than anything else, was Jesse Bryant.
Cozy had never been a pessimist—never. She’d always seen the hopeful and bright side of things. Yet she found herself waiting for a conflict—for something that would pull Jesse away from her. It all seemed too good to be true—too wonderful to be real. Even the growing romance between her grandmother and Buck made her nervous somehow. Her grandmother was so happy—happier than Cozy could remember her having been in years. Nothing seemed to distract Buck from Dottie or Dottie from Buck. Mr. Bryant even took to drinking her grandma’s orange almond punch as voraciously as he’d consumed the gallons and gallons of mulled cider. Still, Cozy struggled to believe it all really was as beautiful and untainted as it appeared—especially her relationship with Jesse.
Furthermore, the longer she and Jesse were involved, the more Cozy knew she could never give him up—never! At least not without being forever scarred—her heart permanently maimed. She’d spoken with her grandma about it, of course—and as always, Dottie Robbins was the perfect feel‑good fairy.
“Darling, you’ve just seen too many movies and read too many mystery novels,” Dottie had told Cozy. “In real life, things really work out…and much more smoothly than they do in fiction. Don’t worry so much, pumpkin. Your forehead will wrinkle prematurely if you do.”
Cozy always felt better after a pep talk from her grandmother. She wondered how it was that her grandma seemed so free of anxiety all the time. Perhaps it was simply age and experience, for Dottie always said that ninety percent of everything people worried over never even actually transpired. Or perhaps it was simply that she’d learned to mask her concerns better than Cozy had. Whatever the reason, Cozy had long before determined that when she was in her sixties, she wanted to emulate Dottie’s character, nature, and happy countenance. Thus, she knew she had to master it soon—and she tried.
Still, the anticipation of some sort of something that would disturb her mounting relationship with Jesse pricked at her brain, like a goathead thorn stuck in her sock. Even so, she did her best to ignore it—to simply bathe in the wonder of loving Jesse Bryant and knowing he cared deeply for her. Neither of them had actually spoken the three little magic words out loud to one another, but Cozy knew she loved Jesse—and she knew he at least owned intense feelings toward her. That fact was never more evident than the first time Jesse took her to his own house.
This time it was Buck and Dottie that had gone for a stroll down to the coffee house and bakery on the corner. As Cozy sat with Jesse on her grandmother’s sofa—nestled warmly against him with his arm around her shoulders—they watched the candle flames flickering in the crackle-glass votives on the mantel. Her grandmother’s walnut-ornament-adorned Christmas tree stood in one corner of the room, and the fire in the fireplace provided the only other lighting. It was a soft, serene, and very romantic atmosphere.
Cozy sighed with contentment, thinking that moment was one of the most wonderful she’d ever known.
“Your grandma’s tree is really something,” Jesse noted.
Cozy smiled. “Oh, yes! She takes great care when decorating it. See how she makes sure every one of the hinged walnuts is displayed just so?”
Jesse chuckled. “Yeah. Mine looks like that little bald cartoon kid picked it out and decorated it.”
Cozy giggled, sat up, and looked at him. “I still don’t know if I even believe you have a tree,” she teased him. It was true, for she just couldn’t seem to imagine Jesse Bryant—being a bachelor and living alone—putting
up a Christmas tree and decorating it.
“I told you I have one,” he said, smiling at her.
Cozy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I think you just bought my ornaments because you felt pressured into it by my grandma.”
“Nope,” he assured her. “I really wanted them. They’re on my tree right this minute.”
“No, they are not,” she said, playfully slapping him on his granite-hard chest.
“They are too!” he assured her with a chuckle.
“I still don’t believe you,” she said, snuggling up against him once more.
“Well, they are,” he said. “Though…I am thinking that some of those candle things your grandma always has on her mantel would really perk my place up a bit.”
Cozy sat up again. “I have a ton of them!” she exclaimed. “You can borrow some of mine! They’re just sitting in boxes in my room at home.”
“Would you think that was too girlie of me?” he asked, his expression entirely serious. “To have candles on my mantel at home?”
“Of course not!” she assured him. “Every home should have candles on the mantel…especially at Christmas.”
“Even a guy’s mantel?” he asked, still uncertain. “I mean, it could be construed as…you know…weird.”
“Your grandpa has candles on his mantel,” she reminded him.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Those cheap ones you get at the grocery store, and they’re just sitting on old mismatched saucers. They’re nothing like those,” he said, motioning to the crackle glass. He frowned, thoughtful for a moment. “Do you have any that aren’t so…um…feminine? Your grandma’s all have, like, little birds and stuff. I don’t know if I could—”
“I have some with pinecones and fir branches,” Cozy interjected. “And what’s more masculine than pinecones and fir branches? That’s totally woodsy…a guy sort of thing.”
Jesse’s eyebrows arched as he considered what she’d suggested. “So, if I drive you over to your house and we pick up these masculine glass candle things…do you want to come over to my house and slap them up on my mantel for me?”
Cozy’s heart nearly leapt out of her mouth. He was going to take her to his house? She’d wanted to see where he lived since the moment she met him. But he spent every evening with his grandfather, her grandmother, and her, so the opportunity never presented itself before.
“I would love it!” she exclaimed, entirely unable to hide her excitement. “Only, one arranges candle votives on a mantel. One does not slap them up.”
He smiled, laughed, and kissed her forehead. “You’re such a girl, Cozy Robbins,” he sighed. “Come on then. Let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Grandma and Buck?” she asked.
“We’ll leave a note on the kitchen table,” he answered. “I heard your grandma tell Grandpa she was taking her keys, just in case you and I had to go home before they got back.”
“Okay, then,” Cozy said, fairly leaping to her feet. “Let’s go make your mantel more Christmas‑y, Mr. Bryant.”
He stood, taking her hand as he led her toward the kitchen. “If you’re a good Little Red Riding Hood,” he began, “I just might let you sample my first batch of raspberry almonds for the year.”
“Ooo!” Cozy teased, shivering with exaggerated anticipation. “So you’re saying my life will be changed forever tonight?”
Jesse paused a moment before answering, wildly amused at the innocent way Cozy had of saying something he could easily turn into an insinuation. Still, he decided to let her off the hook this time. After all, he wasn’t certain yet; he wasn’t certain she was ready for him to forever change her life the way he really wanted to.
“Oh, yes,” he answered. “Once you’ve tasted my raspberry almonds…you’ll be completely helpless to resist me.”
“Well, that’s not really anything new, is it?” she flirted.
“Ooo! Little Red!” he growled, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t you know better than to tempt the wolf?”
She smiled, and he couldn’t keep from kissing her. And it was no gentle and tender kiss he enforced. Rather it was a heated, driven, all-consuming kiss that he well knew took her breath away. She didn’t shrink from it in the least, however, but met his mouth with pure as much desire, fiery wanting, and passion as he vigorously applied to hers.
He could’ve lingered forever in kissing her—had to fight to keep from tossing her over one shoulder, carrying her into the privacy of the den, and…
“Let’s get that note written so we can go,” he said, abruptly breaking the seal of their mouths.
“Okay,” she sighed, smiling at him with such glistening emotion in her eyes that he almost dropped to his knees then and there and proposed marriage.
“Good,” he said instead, however. “It’s high time I proved to you that I bought your walnut things for my Christmas tree.”
“Yes, it is,” Cozy agreed, releasing him and going to retrieve a pen and paper from her grandmother’s junk drawer.
❦
“Wonderful!” Buck exclaimed once Dottie had finished reading Cozy’s note. “He’s taking her to his place? This is big, Dottie. Real big.”
“How big?” Dottie asked as mounting excitement caused her heart to start hammering.
Buck nodded, his smile broadening. “Big enough that…well, I don’t want to jinx anything.”
“How big, Buck?” Dottie whined. She was almost miserable with anticipation.
“He’s letting her in…letting her past the last blockade he’s built up around himself,” Buck answered. “Jesse guards his privacy like a rottweiler. He never takes a woman to his home. He always said he never would…not until he found the one that was going to live in it with him.”
Dottie squealed and began bounding up and down with euphoric delight. Giggling with joy, she threw her arms around Buck’s neck.
“Oh, Buck. I knew it! I knew they were just meant for each other,” she squealed. “I knew it from the moment I saw them in the same room!”
Buck chuckled. “Me, too, sugar cube,” he said. “But they still have a ways to go yet. We need to be patient.”
“Oh, I know. I do know,” Dottie said, releasing him and smoothing her hair. She was sure he thought she was a complete idiot for acting so childish, but she hadn’t been able to help it. Cozy was going to know every happiness with Jesse—Dottie was sure of it. “But I really do feel as if…oh, Buck! Can you even imagine how wonderful their lives would be together?”
Buck smiled, reached out, and took Dottie in his arms. “I imagine they’ll be about as happy as ours will,” he said.
He chuckled when her eyebrows puckered into a puzzled frown. “What?”’ she asked.
“As soon as these kids finally get their act together—as soon as we’re sure they don’t need any more urging from us—I want you to marry me, Dottie Robbins,” he said.
Dottie gasped, moisture instantly filling her beautiful blue eyes. “Really?” she squeaked. She began to tremble in his arms, and tears began rolling down her cheeks.
“Really,” Buck confirmed. “You know I love you, Dottie. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known.” He paused to tenderly brush the tears from her face with the back of his hand. “Let’s live out our lives together—laugh, be happy, and love like we never imagined we would again…maybe even differently than we did before.” She nodded, still weeping and unable to speak. “Though, if you keep pouring cider and punch down my gullet, you’re gonna drown me before I have a chance to marry you and carry you away on wings of passion.”
She laughed through her tears. “All right,” she sniffled. “For wings of passion with you…I’ll neglect my mulling cider and orange almond punch more often.” She started crying again and buried her face in her hands, and he gathered her into his arms.
“What’re you crying for, honey?” he chuckled.
“I never thought…that day Cozy and I were spying on you and Jesse through the kitchen window…I never d
ared to imagine this! I never, never dared even dream of it,” she cried.
“You never dared to dream of it?” Buck asked with amused skepticism.
Dottie raised her head once more, sniffled, and brushed tears from her cheeks. “Well, maybe I did dream of it…a little.”
“I love you, Dottie,” Buck sighed, taking her face in his hands.
Dottie gazed at the man who had captured her heart—at the man she had fallen so desperately in love with—at the hero who made her feel seventeen all over again. “I love you, Buck,” she said. “Oh, how I love you!”
“Then come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms again. “Come here and let me kiss you the way Jesse kisses Cozy.”
Dottie giggled, her heart so filled with love she thought it might actually burst. “Are you sure you know how?” she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Buck chuckled. “I taught that boy everything he knows, honey. And I do mean everything.”
As Buckly Bryant kissed her, tears streamed over Dottie Robbins’s cheeks. Buck’s lips were warm and moist, his mouth laced with impassioned love and desire as he kissed her—kissed her as she hadn’t been kissed in seemingly decades. Feelings and sensations she thought were lost long ago blossomed like the earliest flowers of spring as he awakened them within her. In those moments, as she allowed herself to drown in physical passion and heart-pounding love, Dottie knew she must be the happiest woman on the face of the earth.
And there was more—more that flittered through her mind as Buck continued to rain bliss over her—Cozy. Dottie knew that if she were this happy—this euphoric in Buck’s arms—then how perfectly blissful would Cozy be in Jesse’s?
She sighed as Buck broke the seal of their lips a moment to gaze into her eyes.
“I owe finding you to Jesse, you know,” he told her. “It was Jesse that talked me into moving down here. It was Jesse who found the house next door and did everything to get me to buy it.”
Dottie smiled. “It’s ironic, isn’t it?” she whispered, reaching up to run her fingers through his soft, silver hair.
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