All I Want for Christmas Is a Cowboy

by Jennifer Ryan

“Good mornin’,” he said in a voice that could melt butter.

  Alana swallowed and looked away from those sexy blue eyes. “Good morning.”

  “Sleep well?”

  She cleared her throat. “Umm . . . yes, thank you.”

  “No frostbite?”

  “No.” She got to her feet and tugged on the hem of the shirt, realizing too late that she’d snapped it wrong. The hem hung uneven and there was a gaping hole right over her— She went to slap a hand over the opening, but Rand stepped closer.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” He slipped his surprisingly warm fingers inside the top edge of the shirt and gave a slight tug. Snaps popped open, and his gaze drifted down. When it returned, his eyes were filled with heat and admiration.

  Alana tried to speak, but it was hard when pinned by those smoky blue eyes. Then he slowly began to re-snap, the backs of fingers brushing against her chilled skin.

  She shivered.

  “As much as I like you in just my shirt,” he said, “I think we need to find you some dry clothes.” He finished snapping and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her neck. “Unless you want to get back under the blankets and take up where we left off?”

  Knowing where one more second in his arms would lead, she pushed away. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake.” She stepped back, bumping into the nightstand and rattling the champagne glasses. “A terrible mistake.”

  One of his dark eyebrows quirked up. “A mistake?”

  As much as she wished there was a way out of this predicament without sacrificing her newfound relationship with Clint, she suddenly realized that there wasn’t. And the realization brought with it a deep-felt pain. She had finally found a man she was compatible with and she’d let her weakness for a pretty face screw it up. But she refused to be like her mother and not take responsibility for her actions.

  “I wasn’t in that snowstorm by accident,” she said. “Your brother Clint invited me here for the holidays. We met on the Internet and”—she swallowed back the tears that threatened—“became friends.”

  His eyes squinted as he studied her. “My brother . . . Clint?”

  The disbelief in his voice caused guilt to wash over her, and her gaze dropped. He had moved closer, the scuffed toes of his cowboy boots only inches away from her bare toes with their bright orange polish.

  “I know this must be a shock for you,” she said. “And I apologize for not telling you sooner. But with the accident and the blizzard, not to mention the alcohol, things got a little muddled.” Her gaze skittered over to the rumpled sheets on the bed, and she blushed to the roots of her bedhead hair. “I certainly don’t blame you for anything that happened. I take full responsibility.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” he said in a voice that said he didn’t think it was nice at all. In fact, he sounded pissed. “So let me get this straight. You came here to see my brother and ended up in bed with . . . me.”

  “Well, I didn’t know you were Rand. I thought you were just a ranch hand.”

  His eyes hardened. “And going to bed with a ranch hand would’ve been much better than going to bed with Clint’s brother?”

  The censure in his voice had her bristling. “Of course not. I had no plans to go to bed with anyone. It was just that I was in shock and had a little too much to drink.”

  “One glass of champagne?”

  “And a fourth of a bottle of rum before I got here.”

  “So you’re an alcoholic.”

  “No!” she snapped. Suddenly, he didn’t look quite so handsome. “I only had something to drink to keep warm. And I don’t know why I have to explain to a man who invited one woman here and quickly hopped in bed with another. And your girlfriend wasn’t exactly happy to see that I had taken her place.”

  “I hopped in bed to save your butt from freezing to death. And Frannie’s not my girlfriend.”

  “No, I’m sure she’s not. She’s just some poor woman you’re whiling away your time with until you find something—or someone—that interests you more.”

  He squinted. “And what difference does it make to you?”

  “No difference, at all. In fact, if you could just take me back to my car and help me get it out of the ditch, I’ll let you get back to your womanizing.” She tried to move around him, but he stepped in front of her.

  “And what about Clint?”

  Another wave of guilt assailed her. Guilt and regret at ruining the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. “Of course, I’ll tell him the truth about what happened. But I was wondering if you could keep it to yourself until after the holidays. I know how much he was looking forward to spending time with his family, and I would hate to ruin his Christmas.”

  “I think you already ruined it when you turned down his invitation to spend Christmas here at the ranch.”

  “So he told you about me?”

  “Briefly. What made you change your mind?”

  “My best friend, Keiko,” Alana said. “While I have a tendency to overanalyze things, she believes in being more spontaneous.”

  He glanced down at the bed. “I wouldn’t say that spontaneity is your problem.”

  She blushed. “I can assure you that last night was a freak incident due to shock, alcohol, and—”

  “Carnal lust?”

  “I was going to say exposure to the elements.” She scooted past him, ignoring the flash of carnal lust that flared up when her breasts brushed his chest.

  He laughed. “You were way too hot to be experiencing frostbite.”

  “Fine.” She turned back around and placed her hands on her hips, not realizing how high the flannel shirt hiked up until Rand’s gaze lowered. She quickly jerked the hem back down. “I’ll admit that I’ve always been sexually attracted to virile, athletic men. But no matter how attracted I am, I’m not in the habit of doing what I did last night.” She paused, and her brow knotted. “Exactly what did I do last night?”

  He shot her a smug look. “Before or after you screamed out your orgasm?”

  Alana turned away to hide her blush. “Never mind. If you could just loan me some dry clothes, I’ll send them back once I get to Hawaii.”

  “I’d be more than happy to loan you some dry clothes, but you’re not going back to Hawaii. At least, not yet.”

  She turned around to find him standing way too close. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that the blizzard closed all the roads, and even if we could dig your car out, you wouldn’t be going very far.”

  “But your girlfriend got here.”

  “On a snowmobile.” He shrugged. “But there’s no snowmobile here. Or even a four-wheel-drive vehicle.”

  “But what about your horse?”

  “Old Apple Jacks?” He shook his head. “After he helped me haul back your luggage, he’s done in.”

  “So that means I’m stuck here?”

  “Just until the roads clear.”

  Panic didn’t come close to describing the emotion that welled up inside her. She would’ve liked to blame it on her fear of meeting up with Clint and having to explain, but deep down she knew it had more to do with the cocky cowboy who stood before her. A cocky cowboy whose mere presence made her knees weak and her stomach tremble.

  “I can’t stay here with you another night,” she whispered.

  “I don’t see why not.” Rand smiled. “I promise to stay on my side of the bed as long as you stay on yours.”

  Chapter Four

  “YOU HAD SEX with his brother!”

  Alana moved closer to the window and peeked out. Rand was shoveling a path in the snow a good twenty feet from the cabin. Still, she kept her voice low when she answered Keiko.

  “I don’t know if I had sex with him. I don’t remember anything after I reached orgasm. But it doesn’t matter. I did enough to ruin any chances I had with Clint.”

  There was a pause before Keiko spoke. “Well, you’re probably right. Whether you were drunk or sober, no man cou
ld get over you riding his brother like a Jet Ski at high tide. And maybe this is destiny at work. Maybe you didn’t travel to New Mexico to meet Clint. Maybe you traveled there to meet his brother.”

  “I traveled here because I wanted to meet the responsible, sweet man I met on the Internet. I did not fly here to go to bed with the same type of irresponsible man I’ve wasted most of my life on.”

  An exasperated sigh came through the receiver. “You need to give it up, Al. Last night should’ve proved that you’re physically attracted to virile men—not sensitive bookworms who can quote Shakespeare. While Clint appeals to your brain, his brother appeals to your flesh. And the flesh always beats out the brain—sad, but true.”

  “Well, I refuse to let my libido dictate who I spend the rest of my life with,” Alana said.

  About then Rand pulled off his sheepskin jacket, and just the sight of the flannel shirt hugging broad chest and defined biceps made her libido do a happy dance. She turned away from the window and walked into the kitchen.

  “I might’ve screwed things up with Clint, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find another sensitive, responsible man.” She opened the refrigerator and looked inside. Rand had stocked it well for his little rendezvous with the redhead. Besides the multiple bottles of champagne, there were platters of vegetables, fruit, cheeses, and deli meat, along with a container of strawberries and two cans of whipped cream. She rolled her eyes. “Maybe the next guy I meet won’t physically light my fire. But I’d rather have a slow simmer than a hot blaze that burns out in just a few months.”

  “So last night was a hot blaze?”

  Alana pulled out the strawberries. “Last night was a fluke brought on by a near brush with death. I’ve never reacted that way to a man, and I doubt I ever will again.”

  “You don’t say.”

  The masculine voice caused Alana to drop the phone and the strawberries. The phone bounced off the counter and slid into the sink, while the container of strawberries hit the floor and spilled plump fruit everywhere. She turned to find Rand standing not more than three feet away. His face and ears were red from the cold, but his eyes glittered with heat.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.

  “Obviously.” He looked down at the strawberries. “Well, that’s a waste.”

  “I believe that’s what you said about the champagne.” Alana turned away and retrieved her phone from the sink. “I’ll have to call you back.” She hung up and reached for the roll of paper towel. “I’m sorry about the strawberries, but you shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

  “I wasn’t exactly sneaking.” He took the paper towel from her. “So was that your friend Keiko?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what advice did she give you?” He knelt down and started picking up strawberries and tossing them into the nearby trash can.

  “What makes you think I called her for advice?” She leaned over and helped him. “Maybe I just called to let her know I was safe.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “And tell her about last night. Does she agree that it was a fluke brought on by . . . a near brush with death?”

  She blushed. “I didn’t have time to find out before I was interrupted. But it’s doubtful. She believes in destiny and letting life lead you where it will—even to bed with a womanizing cowboy.”

  He flashed a smile. “I like the sound of this girl.” He threw away the last of the strawberries in the trash before using the paper towel to wipe up any juice left on the wood floor. His thorough cleaning surprised her. Most men would’ve tossed the strawberries and been done with it. In fact, most of her ex-boyfriends would’ve just let her deal with the mess.

  “And what do you believe?” Rand stood and tossed the paper towel at the trash before holding out his hand and helping her to her feet.

  “I believe that intellectual compatibility is more important to a relationship than physical attraction.” Ignoring the tingles his touch ignited, she pulled her hand from his. “Physical attraction can wear off, whereas two people with the same interests, values, and beliefs can stay together for a lifetime.”

  “And you and Clint are that compatible?”

  She tucked her unused paper towel back in the roll. “I think so.”

  “And you were hoping it would last a lifetime?”

  Alana froze with her hand poised over the paper towel rack, suddenly realizing that there would be no more sweet e-mails waiting in her inbox. No more funny text messages bleeping up on her phone. And no more flowers arriving on her doorstep.

  “Yes.” She turned and went to walk past him, but he reached out and stopped her. For just coming in from the cold, his hand seemed to burn through the sleeve of her flannel shirt.

  He started to say something, but then caught himself. He stared at her for a few moments before he released her arm. “We haven’t eaten anything all morning. How about if I make us some breakfast?”

  Alana didn’t want breakfast. She wanted to go home to a sunny beach with no snow, no cowboys, and no memories of what might’ve been. But if she was anything, she was a realist. She was stuck here, and she was hungry, so she might as well eat.

  Rand surprised her again by being a good cook. Using croissants, he prepared a decadent French toast with peach brandy–infused maple syrup that would rival a five-star restaurant’s.

  “This is unbelievable,” she said after the first bite. “Where in the world did you learn to cook like this?”

  “My mom believed that her sons should know their way around the kitchen.” He slid another slice on her plate before taking the stool next to her at the small breakfast bar. “Probably because my daddy doesn’t know one end of a spatula from the other. I just took to it a little better than my brothers.”

  “So Clint doesn’t like to cook?”

  He took his time pouring syrup over his French toast before he answered. “Some.”

  For the rest of the meal, Rand regaled her with humorous stories about his rodeo days. And when they were through eating, he accepted her offer to do the dishes, but helped rinse and dry. After the kitchen was cleaned, he went back outside to finish clearing a path to the road, leaving Alana to read the best-seller she had bought at the Los Angeles airport during her layover. But the mystery didn’t hold her attention for long. And feeling a little claustrophobic, she borrowed some winter outerwear from the closet and went outside.

  For a sunny day, the temperature was frigid. Or maybe it was just frigid to a girl who was used to seventy-degree weather. Alana shivered and hugged her body as she thumped along in her oversized boots. She walked down the cleared path to the point where Rand had stopped shoveling. The snow shovel rested against the snowbank, and Rand was nowhere in sight. Turning in a full circle, she took in her surroundings.

  She expected New Mexico to be a flat, barren desert, not gently sloping hills and clusters of snow-laden pines that glistened in the sun like a white sandy beach. The winter wonderland was capped with a sky as big and blue as Hawaii’s, and Alana couldn’t help but feel impressed by the untouched beauty before her.

  Or almost untouched.

  Snowmobile tracks cut through the snow, starting at the cabin and ending in the closest cluster of trees. Obviously, Rand had been right about his girlfriend’s transportation. A few feet from the snowmobile tracks was another set of tracks—these more like large footprints that started at the cabin but then veered off to the opposite cluster of trees.

  Alana had just caught a glimpse of red amid the white and brown of the trees when Rand appeared, trudging through the snow in a pair of snowshoes. She waited for him to get closer before she spoke.

  “Where were you? Did you dig out my car?”

  “No.” He slid down the bank of snow to land on the cleared path next to her. “Your car is down the road in the opposite direction. I was in the barn.” He gave her the once-over. “You look like that kid in A Christmas Story. Although it’s much more appropriate for the weather than what you had on last
night. I thought I was seeing things when I stumbled upon a singing woman with a bra on her head.”

  “Just another example of my inebriated state.” She looked back at the cluster of trees. “So how is Bambi?”

  “Bambi?” He laughed. “Bambi is doing just fine and very thankful to be in a warm stall with her mama. And you should be very thankful that she got separated from her mama during the blizzard. Otherwise, I would’ve never found you.”

  Alana might’ve agreed if her mind hadn’t been preoccupied with something else. “How far did you say the house was? I mean, if the barn is just right there . . .”

  “A lot of ranches have more than one barn. And why do you want to get to the house? Are you in a hurry to explain things to Clint?”

  “No!” she said a little too quickly and was forced to backpedal. “I mean, I was thinking that maybe it would be better if I just e-mailed or texted him when I got home.”

  “Chicken.”

  She glanced over to find him wearing a teasing grin. She smiled and conceded. “Fine, I admit it. But I also think it would be better if we never meet in person.”

  The smile faded. “Why not? Afraid he’ll pale by comparison?”

  Alana paused only a moment before answering truthfully. “Actually, I’m afraid of the opposite. I’m afraid he’ll be everything I ever wanted.”

  Chapter Five

  A FRIGID WIND kicked up in the afternoon, forcing Alana back inside where she spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in front of the fire with her mystery. It started to snow again around dusk, and she walked to the window to check on Rand’s progress. The path was now cleared to the road, but Rand was nowhere in sight. No doubt, he was back in the barn checking on the livestock.

  Turning on the porch light, she headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t a gourmet cook like Rand, but she was proficient enough to put together a soup, using some broth and canned beans from the pantry and the ham and vegetables in the refrigerator. She had just started some grilled cheese sandwiches when Rand came in the door, carrying a cut tree. He propped it in the corner, before he pulled off his gloves and hat.