It didn’t help that there had been something vaguely sexual in pounding the post hole digger into the ground time after time—the sweat, the rhythm, the physical exertion. He finally had to force himself to stop watching her bend over to place each stake into the ground.
Yeah, he had been without a woman for a long time if he could get worked up over digging a bunch of holes in half-frozen Idaho soil.
Was it any wonder he hadn’t been able to help himself from taking advantage of the moment when she stumbled into his arms? What normal red-blooded—not to mention already half-aroused male—could possibly resist?
Only a kiss, he thought. Just enough to ease both his hunger and his curiosity. He might have been content with that—though probably not, he acknowledged—until she started kissing him back, sweet and sultry and eager.
All thought flew out of his head and he yanked her against him and just devoured her.
The kiss was hot, wild—his hands under her jacket, hers tangled in his hair. A flat surface. That was all he needed. The analytical part of his brain that helped him survive difficult missions was already scanning the storage shed for something that might work even while the rest of him was busy enjoying the kiss. A cot, a table, anything.
The work bench she had stumbled against might have to do, though its narrowness wouldn’t be comfortable for either of them...
He was just about to lower her to it, comfort be damned, when a sudden cold gust of wind rattled the door of the shed. She shivered in his arms and he felt as if that wind had sucked the air right out of him.
What was he doing? This was crazy.
He stepped away, his breathing ragged. She still had her eyes closed, her face lifted to his, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to reach for her again.
She was a dangerous woman.
For several days—since he met her, really—he had been trying to convince himself of all the reasons he couldn’t allow himself to give in to this attraction seething through him. One kiss and all that careful reasoning headed for the hills.
This wild, urgent need, the edgy hunger, was completely out of his experience. In truth, it scared the hell out of him. He liked being in control of every situation and right now he felt about as in control as a churning leaf caught in a whirlpool.
He drew in a deep breath and then another, fighting for calm. This was stupid. If she knew who he was, what he had done, she would be bashing him over the head with that post hole digger instead of looking at him with those soft, dazed eyes that made him want to yank her against him and kiss her all over again.
For a long moment, the only sound in the shed was their ragged breathing and then she let out a surprised-sounding laugh.
“Well. You certainly know how to take the winter chill off the morning.”
How did she do that? He had half expected her to yell at him for distracting her with a kiss. Instead, she laughed and tried to diffuse the tension—making him want to laugh, too, even when his thoughts were in a tumult.
He decided to respond in the same casual vein. “Just doing my humanitarian duty. I wouldn’t want your lips to freeze off.”
She smiled a little. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m pretty fond of my lips.”
He was growing quite fond of them himself. “They are certainly memorable.”
She laughed again, a soft bell of a sound that seemed to slip beneath his jacket and lodge somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.
“Um. Thanks, I guess.”
“Right.” He paused. “Despite how memorable I find them, I will do my best to forget. Kissing you was...inappropriate. I’ve been trying to talk myself out of doing it for days but apparently I don’t have the ironclad self-control I always thought I did—at least when it comes to you.”
“You’ve really been trying to talk yourself out of kissing me for days?”
“Something like that.” It seemed like eons—vast, endless eternities. He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize about. We don’t need to make a big deal about this, Rafe. You’re a great-looking guy—all that sexy warrior mojo you’ve got going on—and I’m obviously attracted to you. But I’m not in the market for a casual relationship right now. Neither are you. We both have stuff going on. I get that. This was a mutual, uh, lip-warming. Now that we are sufficiently heated, we can get back to business. For me, that business is the thousand and sixteen things I have to do today, not fretting about a moment of craziness that isn’t going to happen again.”
He should be relieved that they were both on the same page. Instead, he wanted to toss the whole book in the air, push her farther into that little shed and kiss her until they created their own tropical microclimate.
He nodded, forcing down the urge. “Good. That’s good. I guess I’ll get going on some of the things I wrote down yesterday.”
“You still want to help?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I... Great. Thank you. I need to take care of some things in the office. You can find me inside the lodge if you need me.”
If he needed her. That was a laugh. He needed her like he needed water and air—but he was going to have to accept he couldn’t have her. “Got it. I’ll see you later.”
She waved and hurried away, leaving him aching and aroused.
* * *
Hope hurried inside the St. Nicholas Lodge, pausing only when she was certain she was quite concealed from view.
Inside, she sagged against the wall, fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands.
What in the world just happened there?
That kiss.
She drew in a shuddering breath, grateful for the steady support from the wall. Her knees still felt shaky and she was afraid if she stepped away she would teeter. She tried to tell herself it was merely exhaustion from only catching a few hours of sleep but she knew it was a lie.
Oh, she was in big trouble here.
She pressed a finger to her lips—her apparently memorable lips—and closed her eyes, still tasting him there, like coffee and mint and all things delicious.
For several long moments there in the supply shed, she had forgotten everything she had to do. All she wanted to do was stay there. In the circle of his arms, she had been aware of a strange but powerful feeling of security, of safety, as if he would protect her from everything ugly and dark in the world.
Yeah. Big, big trouble.
It was only a kiss, she tried to remind herself. But why did she feel as if something monumental had just shifted in her world?
She could fall hard for a man like him. How could she resist the combination of quiet strength, inherent decency and raw gorgeousness?
As if she needed one more thing to worry about right now! She didn’t have time for a broken heart, darn it.
For one crazy moment, she wanted to march out there and tell him that while she appreciated what he had done so far, she didn’t need his help and he could now just go on his merry way finding some other memorable lips to warm, thanks very much.
He would know as well as she did that was a lie, that she was nothing short of desperate. If she wanted to open the day after Thanksgiving, she needed every bit of help she could eke out—even from a man she sensed might have the potential to leave her battered and broken.
She needed Rafe’s help. Pure and simple. That had been reinforced to her quite emphatically that morning when his muscles and strength had turned a seemingly impossible job into a big checked-off item on her to-do list.
Where on earth would she find someone else on short notice to take care of everything that needed to be done—and how could she possibly find the time to start the search?
Rafe was here, he was more than capable and for reasons she didn’t understand, he wanted to help
her.
She would simply have to do her best to forget about that kiss—which just might be harder than the task she had set out for herself to bring Christmas to Cold Creek Canyon.
* * *
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going at this frenetic pace.
Tuesday night—five days after that stunning kiss, which, of course, she hadn’t been able to forget whatsoever—Hope let herself into the darkened ranch house at ten minutes to midnight. Her family was probably sound asleep. Oh, how she envied them. She was so tired, her left eye had started to twitch hours ago, but she still had at least a few hours of work to do before she could give both eyes a rest.
For the umpteenth time, she wondered if she was crazy to have ever started this whole thing with The Christmas Ranch. The odds still seemed stacked sky-high against her. With each passing hour, she grew more and more certain she simply wouldn’t have time to accomplish everything necessary to open to the public.
Maybe she would have been better off throwing all the time and energy she had expended the past week into the cattle side of the Star N. At least then she would feel like she was actually helping Faith and the rest of her family, not entangling them all in this ridiculous holiday attraction that would probably be a huge bust this year.
She had one more full day and evening to accomplish everything on her list. The day after that was Thanksgiving and she had vowed she would take off at least part of the day to be with her family.
She wouldn’t have even come close to being ready for the opening if not for Rafe Santiago.
He showed up as soon as Joey went to school and left only long enough to pick his nephew up and then the two of them would come back and help out until after dark. He was a relentlessly hard worker and didn’t stop going from the moment he showed up until he left.
She had no idea how she would ever repay him.
Hope was painfully aware that since that kiss, both of them made a conscious effort to avoid being alone together. Awareness still seemed to shimmer between them, bright and dazzling, but he had been careful to focus on jobs on the other side of the Ranch from wherever she was working.
When they spoke, it was polite, even friendly, but they exchanged no more of those confidences they had shared that day while digging the holes for the pathway light stakes.
That hadn’t stopped her from watching him when he wasn’t looking and remembering those heated moments in his arms.
She pushed away thoughts of Rafe, which had the strangest way of sneaking into her mind when she could least afford the distraction. She still had a few hours of work to finish before she could sleep but she needed a little fuel to keep her engine going.
With any luck, Aunt Mary or her sisters—depending on who had cooked that night—might have left her a plate of whatever the family had for dinner.
After hanging her coat in the mudroom, she headed for the kitchen and was shocked to find a light on and Celeste working at the table with art supplies spread out all around her—googly eyes, colorful feathers and construction paper.
“Wow. You’re up late!”
Celeste shrugged. “I had a few things to prep for the Thanksgiving storytime I’m doing at the library tomorrow. We’re making paper plate turkeys and I’ve learned the only way to keep things halfway sane is to throw all the kits together ahead of time.”
“Those are darling. The kids are going to love them.”
Hope knew Celeste adored her job as the children’s librarian at the small city library in Pine Gulch and she was wonderful at it—dedicated and caring and passionate.
“Thanks,” Celeste said, then gave her a somewhat sheepish look. “Okay, these handouts are only part of the reason I’m still up. I could have done this in my room, but I was waiting for you. I’ve been dying of curiosity.”
“Oh?” For a crazy moment, she wondered if Celeste was going to ask about the big, gorgeous man who was working at The Christmas Ranch, but both of her sisters were so busy, she wasn’t sure they were even aware of Rafe and all his efforts on her behalf.
“You got a FedEx delivery this evening. Two big boxes from Seaberry Publishing.”
“What?” she exclaimed, her exhaustion instantly sluicing away. “They’re here? Oh! That’s fantastic news! The best!”
“What’s here?”
“Our book! Sparkle and the Magic Snowball. My friend Deb was going to rush the print job but she warned me not to expect anything until next week at the earliest. I’m so happy the first shipment of books will be here for the opening!”
“You said you wanted to print up a few copies,” Celeste exclaimed, looking suddenly nervous. “Exactly how many was a few?”
“Um. Five hundred.” She winced, waiting for her sister’s reaction.
“Five hundred!” As she might have expected, Celeste’s jaw sagged and her eyes filled with horror. “What are we going to do with five hundred copies of a book no one wants? How much did that cost you out of pocket?”
More than she wanted to share with her sister. She had used a big chunk of her savings but fully expected to earn it back—when the books completely sold out—and enough to give her sister a nice royalty. “Don’t worry about it. I got a good deal from Deb and Carlo.”
“Five hundred copies!”
She reached for her sister’s hands. “CeCe, it’s a delightful story, full of heart and wisdom and beauty. The best sort of children’s story. Deb absolutely adored it. She asked if she could print some extras to give as Christmas gifts to her daughter’s friends and reduced our cost accordingly. I hope that’s okay.”
Celeste swallowed hard. Her eyes looked huge in suddenly pale features. “Oh, Hope. What have you done?”
“We talked about this, remember?”
“You said a few copies!”
“It’s always cheaper per item if you print more quantity at the same time. That just makes good business sense.”
“But what are you going to do with all those books?”
“We don’t have to sell them all this year. We can keep them in the gift shop for years to come.”
“If we even have The Christmas Ranch after this year!”
She wasn’t going to think about that yet. Not tonight, when she finally had something wonderful to celebrate.
“You will love it, I swear. I can’t wait to see the finished product. I can’t believe you didn’t already open the boxes!”
Celeste looked pale, her eyes huge in her narrow face. “They were addressed to you. I couldn’t snoop through your personal mail.”
Hope certainly would have snooped, but then she and Celeste were two completely different people. Her sister was sweet and gentle and kind and Hope was...not.
She squeezed Celeste’s hands. “I’m so glad you stayed up until I came home. It’s only right that we look at them for the first time together. The author and the illustrator. How cool is that?”
Celeste was all but wringing her hands as Hope lifted one of the boxes onto the table and grabbed some scissors out of the kitchen catch-all drawer to carefully split the packing tape.
She pulled the flaps back and her heart gave an excited little kick at the delicious new-book smell that escaped.
There it was, in bright, brilliant colors. She reached inside and pulled one out. Had she really drawn that darling, whimsical picture on the cover, of a reindeer with a wreath around his neck and his little bird friend Snowdrop perched in his antlers?
It seemed only right that she handed the first copy over to Celeste, who took it with hands that trembled. “Oh. Oh, my,” her sister breathed, gazing at the picture book as if it contained all the secrets to the universe.
Celeste ran a finger over the little reindeer and for the first time, Hope felt a qualm or two or ten, hoping she had done the right thing.
>
“It’s such a charming story,” she said softly. “I’m afraid my illustrations haven’t quite done your words justice.”
“No. No, they’re perfect. You hit exactly the right note between sweet and warm, without being corny.”
She flipped through the pages, stopping on one or two to look more closely. “This is crazy. These are fantastic, Hope! When could you possibly have had time to do this? You’ve only been here a little more than a week!”
“Oh, here and there. A lot of it was at night after everyone was in bed.”
This was the reason she was so tired, because she had spent three nights straight without sleep, trying to get all the details right on the twenty illustrations.
“They’re wonderful. I love Snowdrop. He’s my favorite. Oh, and the way you’ve put that darling little holly wreath in all the pictures.”
She flipped another page with a soft smile. “You’re very good,” she said. The note of surprise in her sister’s voice probably wouldn’t have bothered Hope so much if it didn’t serve to emphasize the distance that had crept up between her and her sisters the past few years, mostly by her own doing.
“Tell me this,” Celeste said. “Why are you off teaching English in far-away countries when you could be a professional illustrator?”
She harrumphed. “You don’t need to exaggerate. I’m not that good.”
“I know books, Hope—especially children’s books. It’s what I do. These illustrations are fantastic—whimsical and charming and full of wonder and heart. People are going to love it. How could they not?”
“I hope so. I have five hundred copies to sell.” At least one of her harebrained ideas just might pan out, though it was too early to know until visitors to the gift shop were able to get their hands on the book. “You’ll be receiving fifty percent of the profits, by the way.”
Celeste shook her head. “Just put it back into the Ranch. Buy a few more strings of lights or something.”
She hoped the book would result in far more sales than that but she didn’t say anything now to her sister. It was hard enough for Celeste to know she had printed five hundred copies so she decided not to mention that Deb and Carlo were prepared to go back to press at any moment once they gauged the demand.
The Christmas Ranch (The Cowboys of Cold Creek) Page 11
