“What are you doing in town?”
Sam lifted himself up to his full height. “I’m buying the land next to my dad’s place.”
“The cow field?” She tipped her head.
“Part of it—the forty acres adjacent to my cabin.”
“Sam, that’s great news!” Cat gave him a quick hug, their coats crinkling.
Much too quick, the hug was enough to remind him of how perfect she felt in that space. As if he could forget, and yet the feeling hit him anew. “Thanks. I’ve still got to sign the papers, but it looks like everything’s moving forward.”
“Congratulations.” Cat folded the front of her coat around her body and shivered. “Let me buy you a celebratory shake from Big C’s.”
Sam laughed. “If you eat ice cream, you’re going to turn into an icicle.”
Cat groaned. “More like a fudgesicle. I ate enough chocolate cake yesterday to turn me off cocoa for life.”
Sam put his hand over his heart. “I love your chocolate cake. Is there any left?” he asked hopefully. Settling in around the O’Shae kitchen table was as much of a treat as chocolate cake in Sam’s mind.
Cat’s smile faltered. “Not much. Grandpa helped.”
“Ah, then I guess ice cream it is.”
“Great.” They walked the half block from the bank to Big C’s quickly. Cat sank into her scarf, and Sam tucked his chin close to his chest so his hat could block the wind. They breezed through the door, bringing in a bunch of cold with them. A pile of napkins on the nearest Formica table blew across the floor.
“I told Eve not to leave those there,” griped Chuck. Big C’s owner was indeed big, at least around the middle. He claimed his belly was his best advertising tool. No one wanted to eat hamburgers made by a skinny guy. “Eve, come clean this up.”
Sam and Cat both squatted to help pick up the mess. Their knees collided, knocking them off balance. “Hey.” Cat grabbed Sam’s coat to steady herself. Instead, she pulled them both over as she landed on her behind, her legs shooting out.
Sam reached for solid ground so he didn’t end up tackling her and put his hand on the floor behind her back, their faces just inches apart.
If remembering hugging Cat brought a memory, leaning over her brought desire. Strong, unmistakable attraction coursed through his veins.
He couldn’t move.
Couldn’t.
He was caught up in the sensations of having her all to himself, like the chicken coop all over again. Only this feeling was pervasive and persuasive. Holding her close had started the fever inside him, and now his whole body flamed.
Up close and all sorts of personal, Cat’s eyes were kind of amazing. Starting in the center was a ring of deep brown, followed by another of light green, and finally one of gold. He’d never seen eyes quite like hers, but what he found unsettling—in the best of ways—was that they were probing just as deeply into his soul as he was into Cat’s. The scent of peaches was strong in the air, and heat pulsed between them. His gaze dropped to her peachy lips and back up again.
Cat leaned forward slightly, her hand resting on his chest. Leaning, he encouraged her to move it up and around his neck. She did, ever so slowly.
Sam didn’t have thoughts about what he was doing. There wasn’t a reason to think it through. Kissing Cat was the most natural thing in the world—yet he knew it would be anything but ordinary.
Cat’s eyes slowly shut and Sam dipped his head.
Just before their lips touched, Eve stomped her foot. “I can’t sweep with you two mooning over each other.” She shook the broom to make them move out of the way.
“Sorry,” Sam muttered as he got to his feet and offered his hand to Cat. She took it, and a sense of pieces falling into alignment settled into his chest. The air between them hung heavy with a missed opportunity.
Cat stood and brushed off her backside. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He smiled.
Their eyes met, and they both looked away quickly. “What flavor do you want?” she asked as she stepped up to the counter. Her cheeks were flushed and she shed her coat.
“Peach,” answered Sam. He too stripped off his winter layer. “I really want peaches.”
Cat pressed her lips together as if she sensed there was more to his choice than just the flavor of ice cream.
Sam wondered what the heck he was doing. Cat was in his thoughts more often than not. She had his heart pumping like an irrigation sprinkler under double pressure.
He considered the idea that he could have misread the situation. Except she’d moved her hand! That was a clear signal, and he’d taken it, trusting his instincts.
The whole reason I made that stupid New Year’s resolution was so could reprogram myself. Needing a moment to clear his head, he considered jumping in a snowbank. Instead, he took a step back and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll find us a seat.”
“Okay.” Cat turned to Chuck. “One peach shake and one chocolate with marshmallow, please.”
Sam found a booth as far away from the counter as possible. He nodded to Riker Carmichael as he dumped his tray in the garbage. “Are you still interested in backpacking this summer?” asked Riker. He was a pilot, firefighter, and avid outdoorsman.
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.” Sam smiled. He’d gotten in with a few of the firefighters who helped clear the brush a hundred feet from his fence line last summer. They were planning a survivalist-type adventure in the early summer. Sam was looking forward to testing his mettle.
“Great. I’ll email you the supply list.”
“Sounds good.” Sam settled in the booth while Cat waited for their shakes. He took the time to calm himself down. Once his heart rate slowed, he could think clearly. He and Cat were way passed the rule of three. He saw more of her than any other woman in town. Taking their relationship to the next level would be as simple as asking her on a date. He was pretty sure, after the way she was looking at him, that she’d say yes. The only question was how to work it into their conversation in a casual way. If she turned him down, he’d slink away and avoid Main Street for a few days.
After a couple of minutes, Cat sat down, passing the peach shake across the table.
“I thought you were all chocolated out?” Sam swirled his spoon around before sampling the flavor. The ice cream was sweet—just like he knew Cat’s lips would be.
Cat took a bite, closing her eyes and slumping in her chair. “There’s no such thing.”
He chuckled. “Well, thanks for celebrating with me. You made this day all the more special.”
“I’m glad I’m your first friend to find out—I am the first, right?” Cat gave him a mock glare insinuating that she’d take issue with being anything less.
Despite her teasing, Sam had gotten the underlying message loud and clear. Friend. That was one signal from a woman he couldn’t misinterpret. Friends.
* * *
Cat smiled. When she’d seen Sam at the bank, he glowed—with possibilities, probably. Buying his own land was a big deal. She’d learned that much from Chet and his family of ranchers. But when he’d fallen with her, she’d caught a glimpse of those possibilities in his gaze. Sam was a true-hearted man. Uncomplicated, really. Home, the orchard, and family made up the sinew of his soul, and Cat was drawn to that with a strength that took her breath away.
Sam’s brow furrowed and he cleared his throat. He pulled his legs back from where they occasionally bumped hers and talked into his cup.
“Yep, you’re my first friend to find out.”
The way his voice dipped on the word friend made it sound like a pledge. She didn’t like that at all but wasn’t sure what it really meant.
Grateful for the cold cup in her hands, because it helped her keep her focus on the conversation and not on how soft Sam’s cotton shirt had been under her palm, she asked the first practical question that came to mind. “How does this land thing work? Are you planning to farm it or buy your own herd?”
“I’m expanding my orchard.”
“I thought you worked for your dad?”
“I bought a small chunk of his place a few years back. I’m in the black, so I’d like to move forward.”
“Sounds smart.”
Sam lifted a shoulder. “I have to if I want to get mar—” He looked up in time to see the surprise register on Cat’s face. She didn’t mean to go wide-eyed, but it wasn’t every day that a guy almost used the word married. Guys were dumb like that. They thought if they got near the subject, they’d break out in hives or something. Oh, she knew he wasn’t talking about marrying her, but she had no idea that men actually thought about those things. How sweet was that?
“Sorry.” Shoveling three bites in his mouth in quick succession, Sam clammed up.
Cat looked around the restaurant, finding it difficult to meet Sam’s gaze for some reason. Maybe because the idea of being married to Sam had crossed her mind once or a dozen times in the last week.
“What I meant to say was that if I want to make a go as an orchard owner, then I need more land.”
“Yeah. Sure. I mean, that makes perfect sense.” Cat’s shake was half gone and melting fast. She rubbed her moist hands on her pant legs before taking another bite.
“What about you? How’s your book coming along? It’s a modern western, right?”
Cat choked on her ice cream. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, her hero had gone from a bull rider to an orchard owner who wrangled more bees than cattle. He also had a nice set of biceps that stretched his T-shirts to the limit and a perpetual five o’clock shadow.
Sam scratched at his scruffy chin.
Cat squeaked. “It’s good.” She cleared her throat and her head. “Really good. My most realistic and descriptive book yet.”
“Living in Snow Valley is quite the inspiration, isn’t it?”
“You’ve no idea,” she muttered into her cup. Grinning, she looked up. “I named the mean girl in the story Bessie.”
Sam barked a laugh. “You did not!”
Grinning, Cat reached across the table and gently slapped his forearm. “I did too.”
“She deserves it. You should have seen what she did to my coveralls.”
Cat’s hand flew to her mouth. “I am so sorry!”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, but you were doing something nice for me.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll wash them for you.” She had no idea how to get chicken droppings out of coveralls, but for Sam, she’d figure it out.
He waved her off. “Already done.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders fell. Taking a wild leap, she asked, “Can I make you dinner as a thank-you?”
“Is that the going rate for slaying a dragon?”
Cat giggled. “I believe it’s dinner and a chocolate cake.” She’d make him a dozen chocolate cakes, one for every month of the year. Then she’d make sure they weren’t interrupted so the next time he leaned in to kiss her…
Sam opened his mouth and then closed it again. He frowned at his almost empty cup before saying, “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”
“Okay.” Cat shrank into her seat. Despite the heated moment they’d shared, their rhythm felt off. She was planning to leave in a couple weeks, but what if there could be more between them than the occasional heated exchange? Would she be able to leave knowing she hadn’t at least tried with Sam? Would he become her one that got away?
For some reason, that stupid blank paper came to mind, and she remembered the resolution Grandpa had written in for her.
Create romance.
She could give it a try—if only so she could leave Snow Valley behind with a clean slate. Cat considered Sam. He’d already refused her invitation to dinner. There wasn’t much else going on as of late. In Montana, winters were for sticking close to home.
Another minute ticked by.
Did Grandpa have any idea how hard real life romance really was? Candlelight dinners—with Grandpa upstairs—weren’t exactly romantic. And shakes, though fun and delicious, weren’t exactly inspiring passion.
Come on—you’re a romance writer, for Pete’s sake. Sitting with Sam, not knowing what to say was ten times worse than staring at a blank sheet of paper and not knowing what to write. “Congratulations again.” Cat gathered her garbage. The shake she hadn’t really wanted was gone—used to fill in the strained silences.
“Thanks. This was really nice of you. You’re a good person, Cat.” Sam’s words were warm and kind, melting away some of Cat’s uncertainty.
“Hey, anytime you buy forty acres.”
Sam smiled. “Let’s hope that happens a lot in my life.”
She folded her coat over her stomach and clamped her elbows close to her side. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.” Sam held the door, and they were once again where breath froze in the air and conversation was difficult. They both did a quick wave goodbye in the bank parking lot and dove for their vehicles.
Cat shivered as Chet’s truck came to life. . “Brrr.” Cat had a small economy car. Great for life in Boston—not so great for snow-packed roads. Grandpa had a truck he drove into Billings this afternoon. Chet had a spare truck that he loaned Cat as needed.
She’d just stopped at the one light on Main Street when her phone rang.
“Hi, Grandpa.”
“Hi, pumpkin. I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“What?”
“Is Aiden still out for winter break?”
Aiden was Chet’s teenaged nephew that they borrowed for projects every now and again. “I think so. He has this week off.”
“Will you see if he’s interested in earning some money?”
Cat snorted. “He’s always interested in earning money. Plus, prom is coming up.”
Grandpa chuckled. “Oh, to be young again.”
Cat couldn’t share the sentiment. Her prom date had gotten drunk in the first hour, thrown up in the punch bowl, and got them both kicked out of the dance. To top off the night, he got handsy, and she had to get self-defense insistent because no wasn’t making her point. She’d rather share a quiet meal at home than have another date like that. Although, even getting a quiet dinner with a guy was turning out to be harder than she thought. Sam’s hesitancy bugged her.
“Pumpkin?” Grandpa’s voice broke through her haze.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, I took a job doing some work for Sam, and I’m going to pick up the supplies. Do you want me to pick up a pizza while I’m in town?”
Town meaning Billings, not Snow Valley. Pizza was one of the few things Cat missed about Boston. “Yes!”
“You got it.”
“You’re too good to me, Grandpa.”
“You’re easy to be good to.”
They said goodbye and Cat was left, musing over the conversation. What did it say that the only things she could list about Boston that she missed were her parents, pizza, and Tony’s gelato?
Her flight left in less than two weeks, and she hadn’t even thought about packing. A move across country should take some time to plan. Instead, she wanted to spend every minute in Snow Valley as if it were her last. Working with Grandpa and Aiden would bring her stay full circle and be just perfect.
Speaking of Grandpa … there should be more men in the world like her grandpa. Men who said what they meant and meant what they said. Men who loved the women in their lives more than they loved themselves. She wanted to scream out to the world: where have all the good men gone?
Wait, wasn’t there a song about that? She did a quick search while she waited for the light to change. Pressing play, she jammed out to “Holding out for a Hero” from the movie Footloose, which she found hit too close to home.
When the song ended and silence descended on the cab, a quiet voice inside said, Sam is one of those good guys.
Dropping her head to the steering wheel, Cat fought the urge to withdraw from the university and set up a perm
anent residence in Montana. In the end, it was the thought of disappointing her dad that kept her from backing out. After all, nothing was sure when it came to Sam. It was just a feeling. Her head was usually a good guide, and she decided to plunge forward. Time to pull out the suitcases.
Chapter 7
That evening, Sam left his boots in his mom’s mudroom and made his way into the kitchen. The room was bathed in golden light from the setting sun. Leave Snow Valley? He mentally scoffed at the idea. Not when there are sunsets like this.
A fresh pan of cinnamon rolls sat on the stove. Light and extra cinnamonie, his mother’s rolls were legendary. Sam helped himself, laying two rolls on a plate and slathering them in butter. Thirty seconds in the microwave, and he had a plate full of amazing in front of him.
And yet, he couldn’t get excited about eating. Cat had offered dinner. He’d eaten her cooking enough times to know that whatever she served would be worth feeding a thousand chickens for—and he’d turned her down.
Had he gotten so big in the britches that he assumed even Cat was after him? Cat was one of the best friends he’d ever had. She was honest enough to tell him that the fauxhawk he’d tried before Christmas was not working for him. She was kind enough to bake and deliver bread for people when they were sick. She was funny enough to turn a phrase that had him laughing even days later. And he’d passed on an evening with a friend because his stupid dating instincts were in the middle of rebooting.
Only, his way of thinking about Cat wasn’t exactly in the realm of friendship. Holding her to his chest and wrapping her in his arms that day in the chicken coop had awakened feelings inside of him that he’d never known existed—at least where Cat was concerned. And today in Big C’s, when Cat had been close enough to kiss, he’d considered it. He’d searched her eyes for a reason he shouldn’t kiss her, and had come up empty-handed.
Maybe he should have skipped the whole dating thing and just gone for the kiss. Right! And time is found in little bottles on the bottom of the sea, and his dad had a money tree in the backyard.
Winter in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance) Page 5
