Texan for the Holidays

by Victoria Chancellor

  “We brought you a Danish,” Venetia said. “They were really good this morning at the café.”

  “Thanks.” Scarlett took the bag and peeked inside. Cherry, her favorite. How thoughtful. Now Venetia was practically an old friend. And Clarissa acted more like a benevolent aunt than an employer, much different than Diego. Not that she could really compare the two vastly different lifestyles and situations.

  “We’re going to have our annual Christmas lunch with the girls at the café next Wednesday at noon,” Clarissa said as she filled a mug with coffee and added half-and-half from the refrigerator. “We want you to come, of course, but don’t feel as if you need to bring a gift. We have this long-standing gift exchange, but everyone knows you haven’t had a car or anything to go shopping.”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t intrude on your lunch.”

  “No, we want you to come. Just bring yourself, that’s what we say. We’ll have fun. Bobbi Jean always makes dessert for us and everyone in the café.”

  “If I’m here,” Scarlett hedged. “I haven’t heard from Claude on how long it’s taking to put in the new engine.” The idea of driving away from Brody’s Crossing made her panic, much as the idea of pink smocks made her feel trapped. Why couldn’t she pick one emotion and stick to it?

  “I hope you’re still here,” Venetia said. “We’ll be busy next week, and we could really use an extra set of hands.”

  Scarlett’s ten o’clock came through the door then, and everyone got to work. She barely had time to think of her upcoming weekend, much less next week, as she snipped and styled and colored her way to closing time.

  “THIS IS REALLY NEAT,” Scarlett said as she walked beside James back to the house. “I haven’t been around so many animals before.”

  “My parents just keep the ones they can’t part with, plus some beef cattle. Back when they were younger, before my dad’s stroke, they kept a whole herd of Santa Gertrudis and a half-dozen cutting horses.”

  “Was if hard for them to give it up?”

  James nodded. “My dad fought it for a while. He thought he’d be back one hundred percent, and things would go back to the way there were. But over time, he realized that he was getting a little older and he wasn’t going to be working cattle anymore.”

  “Is he very affected by the stroke?”

  “No, he’s really not. He still has some weakness on his left side, but it’s not very noticeable. He did his physical therapy. My mother worked with him, and we had lots of volunteers who came out here to help. When my mother was tired, there was always someone else who could pitch in. That’s one reason I love this town so much.”

  “I can see that. I’m sure your parents are respected and well liked. That’s why everyone is so helpful.”

  “Yes, they’ve been a part of the community for a long time. Church, my school, town projects. They always participated. They never said it, but I think they felt a special responsibility because of our connection to the founding of Brody’s Crossing.”

  “Sounds idyllic. My neighborhood was nice, but not that close. Most people worked long hours, and went their own ways. We’d drive into the garage, shut the door and be in our own homes or yards most of the time.”

  “Sounds kind of unfriendly.”

  “I guess it does to you, based on how close you are to friends and neighbors. But that’s the way I grew up. That’s my reality.”

  “So you’re going to work in a new place where you won’t know anyone, and you’ll probably live in an apartment building full of strangers. That really seems cold.”

  “I’ll get used to it,” she said, but wondered if she would feel lonely. Would the excitement of the salon make up for the loneliness?

  Yes, of course it would. How many people got the type of opportunity she was getting at Diego’s? A high school counselor had told her that she had an obligation to herself to go after what she wanted in life.

  She wanted to be a stylist to the stars. She had for as long as she could remember, as soon as she realized she wanted to do hair. She’d always been great at duplicating the styles of her favorite celebrities on her friends and family.

  Unfortunately, her mother got stuck on the 1980s Linda Gray bob-with-bangs style. No matter how many times Scarlett offered to update her look, she declined. The only progress Scarlett had made was to get all the shoulder pads out of her mom’s dresses, blouses and jackets.

  “So,” she said as they returned to the house, “what are you fixing for supper?”

  “I thought I’d make you my special baby back ribs.”

  “Yum. Let’s get started.”

  She worked side by side with James in the kitchen. He’d obviously gone to the grocery earlier today. He’d marinated the slabs of ribs and gotten all the fixings for salad and loaded baked potatoes. The Brodys had a nice gas grill that James said got lots of use from his dad.

  By the time they’d finished grilling, the sun had long since set and the temperature had dropped to near freezing. James herded the dogs inside for the night, shut down the grill and treated Scarlett as if she was an honored guest rather than a temporary lover.

  He built a fire in the cozy family room and they settled in to watch the flames and listen to the logs pop. Two of the dogs curled up on the rug as Scarlett tucked her feet beneath a hand-knit afghan on the couch. “I’m so full,” she said. “You are a terrific cook.”

  “I’m limited as to what I cook or grill, but I know what I like. I’m glad you enjoyed dinner.”

  “I really, really did,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder. She felt warm, full and happy. James smelled of barbecue smoke and subtle cologne. She closed her eyes and inhaled, enjoying the moment. Enjoying the man and his family home. She told herself she should thank him for asking her to join him this weekend, but she was so sleepy. She’d close her eyes for just a minute….

  JAMES WATCHED THE PLAY of firelight on Scarlett’s relaxed features. Her red hair seemed to turn to dark, mysterious flames. She appeared young and almost girlish tonight, snuggled next to him on the sofa’s soft pillows.

  He sighed and frowned, feeling alone in the dark, quiet house. Would he feel this way when Scarlett was gone to California? Or would his mood be even worse?

  She seemed so right, next to him on the couch. Sleeping beside him in bed. Laughing at a joke they shared, or entertaining him with witty comments.

  He didn’t miss being married, but he missed this. A comfortable evening at home. A warm fire and even warmer woman. A good meal and a couple of dogs curled at his feet. What could be better? He’d never had all of this at once—a wife but no dogs, a fireplace but a chilly woman, a good meal but a one-bedroom apartment.

  Maybe it was time to think about having it all.

  As if she could read his thoughts, Scarlett moaned in her sleep and snuggled next to him. He tightened his arm, leaned down and kissed her head. He vaguely recalled a conversation where someone had accused him of being rich. He wasn’t. He made enough for himself to live comfortably and pay his bills, but he wasn’t rolling in dough. He couldn’t, for example, buy the office building where he worked and lived, even though that might be a good option in the near future. If he had a child, he’d have to make compromises to create a college fund. His clients paid him promptly, perhaps because he didn’t charge nearly as much as a big city lawyer.

  He wouldn’t move, though. He loved this town and felt tied to the people and the land. When he’d gone to school and moved away to live, he’d lost the connection, and he’d subconsciously missed the places and people. Now he felt grounded, even though he wasn’t rich.

  Perhaps he should consider running for office. He could set his sights on one of the county positions, earn his salary there for several years, and use his experience and name identification to boost his law practice. Plus, he’d get a nice retirement package as a judge. It was an option he should consider if he was thinking about a family and a future.

  Scarlett’s hand fell to his lap,
bringing him back to the present. Would she care what he did? Would she stay? He wasn’t sure there was any condition that would keep her in Texas. She was hell-bent on getting to Diego in California. She’d practically laughed at the idea of working in a place like Clarissa’s House of Style.

  Would she laugh at the idea of being married to a lawyer? A judge? Probably. She viewed herself as a free spirit, an independent and self-styled individual.

  She needed family, though, even if she thought they didn’t appreciate her. Scarlett didn’t realize how defined she was by the values and traditions of her parents. Even if she didn’t agree with them, she reacted to them. She didn’t want to give up that car, she wanted to remember the Christmas traditions, and she wore fashions that would make her folks respond, either positively or negatively.

  “Scarlett, what am I going to do with you?” he whispered against her hair. But she might take that option away by leaving as soon as the engine was installed.

  The thought was enough to make him consider sabotaging the Benz. Consider, not do. Not if he seriously wanted to be a judge or other elected official.

  “What time is it?” she murmured.

  “I don’t know. You haven’t been sleeping that long,” he answered.

  “Oh. I didn’t know where I was for a moment.”

  “You’re with me, at the ranch.” He tipped her chin up and smiled into her sleepy eyes. “You do remember me, don’t you?”

  Her smile lit up her face. Her skin appeared golden and warm in the firelight, and he wanted to strip her naked and kiss her all over. “I remember you,” she said. “You’re that preppy lawyer who gives me a hard time.”

  “Um-hmm. I’ll show you a hard time,” he said, pushing her back into the pillows. He kissed her smiling mouth as he pulled her beneath him.

  Her lips parted and she kissed him back, as hungry for him as she’d been for the meal earlier. She held him tightly as they sank deeper into the sofa. Even though they’d made love almost ten times already, this felt new and exciting.

  He tugged at her sweater, then moved lower to tease that tempting belly button ring. He lingered to unfasten her jeans and run his tongue along the edge of her lacy panties while she writhed beneath him. When she grabbed his hair and pulled, though, he decided to temporarily leave his quest.

  She kissed him again and pulled at his clothes. If he didn’t slow them down, they’d be naked in less than a minute. “We have to go upstairs,” he rasped.

  “Why? I like it here.”

  “No condoms.”

  She dropped her head to the pillows. “Damn.”

  “Besides, I have a particular fantasy that involves you in my teenage bedroom,” he said between nips to her neck.

  “Do I get to be naked?”

  “Absolutely. And multiorgasmic.”

  “Oh, that’s a big word for a teenager.”

  “I’m a big boy now,” he growled into her neck.

  Scarlett laughed, pulling him close. “You certainly are. Lead the way.”

  “I’ll do better than that.” He eased off her warm body, stood beside the couch, scooped her into his arms and took the stairs to his old room two at a time.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning Scarlett woke with a smile on her face and not a speck of clothing on her body. She’d snuggled against James in his double bed under the eaves all night. She hated to move from beneath the thick comforter, away from his warmth, but nature called. Besides, she owed him breakfast. He’d cooked dinner for her several times.

  She kissed his cheek, making him groan and smile in his sleep. She slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom across the hall. Darn it. She was naked and her overnight bag was on the floor in the living room. Oh, well. She’d borrow something of James’s. Within ten minutes she’d showered, and shortly after that, she was dressed in a large BCHS sweatshirt, rolled-up athletic pants and his oversize socks. She grinned and headed downstairs.

  Life was strange. Here she was on a Texas ranch, enjoying a calm weekend with a preppy lawyer who kissed like a dream and made her toes curl. She stirred the eggs in his mother’s skillet and sprinkled cheddar cheese she’d found in the refrigerator.

  “Something smells good,” James said, walking into the kitchen. He wore jeans, a cable-knit cotton sweater and thick socks. He looked like a Ralph Lauren ad as he strolled over and kissed her temple. “Nice fashion statement.”

  “I was desperate. It was this or my birthday suit.”

  “I didn’t get a vote on that option.”

  “No, you didn’t,” she said, leaning back and kissing him. “Now, don’t distract me.”

  “What are you making?”

  “Just a simple breakfast. The bacon is in the oven, staying warm. I’ll make toast—”

  “I’ll make it,” he offered.

  Together they finished putting together the meal. The round table was in a nook with a bay window that overlooked the patio and pasture beyond the picket fence. “It’s really homey here,” Scarlett said as she sipped coffee.

  “I’m lucky. I have good parents and I had an unremarkable childhood, except for a few pranks.”

  “Pranks?” She vaguely remembered him mentioning his childhood transgressions. “What kind of pranks?”

  He shrugged. “Normal stuff. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

  “Oh, I’ll be the judge of that. Come on. You’re too perfect. Tell me something naughty you did.”

  James waggled his eyebrow and grinned. “I made out with Mary Rogers in the girls restroom at the high school field house during cheerleading tryouts.”

  “No, I want something…big. Something you might have been arrested for.”

  “Why would you assume I did anything that bad?”

  She took a bite of eggs. “Just hoping.”

  He smiled. “Okay, here’s something. When I was seventeen, Wyatt McCall and I got hold of a parasail. We rigged it up behind Wyatt’s pickup truck and took turns pulling each other on this little road near Newcastle.” James laughed and shook his head. “That was fun…and really stupid. We could have killed ourselves.”

  “Wow, that was reckless. Did your parents find out?”

  “No, we weren’t caught, but they overheard us talking about it at our graduation party, and boy, were they mad.”

  “A little late to ground you, I suppose.”

  “Yes, but I got grounded for other things.”

  “Such as?”

  He sighed. “Well, when I was in ninth grade, a group of us streaked past a wedding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My friend’s older sister, whom he didn’t really like very much, was getting married at the church downtown. The one across from the feed store, near McCaskie’s garage. Anyway, we stripped off our clothes, waited for the wedding party to come down the steps, and ran naked past them, around the corner of the church, while everyone else was throwing rice.”

  “Oh, no! That was terrible of you.”

  “I know, but at the time, it seemed totally justified, based on my friend’s assertions that his sister had made his life hell.”

  Scarlett folded her arms on the table and leaned toward James. “This is great stuff. Tell me more.”

  He chuckled, seemingly in touch with the spirit of confession. “Once, we dyed our hair the school colors for the homecoming game. Wyatt was the quarterback and I was a wide receiver. Actually, the whole team dyed their hair.”

  “What are your team colors?”

  He pointed toward the purple letters outlined in bright yellow on the gray sweatshirt she wore. “Purple and yellow.”

  “Now I don’t feel nearly as weird having bright red hair.”

  He laughed again, and Scarlett felt so relaxed. If only life could be like this, it would be worth living in a small town. Her smiled faded, and she looked away. Life didn’t stay the same, though. James would go back to his apartment on Sunday night, she’d go back to the salon Monday morning. And she
couldn’t forget about his temporary judgeship next week.

  Or her upcoming exodus to California.

  “So whatever happened to your friend Wyatt?”

  “He went to Stanford, bought out some computer company and became rich enough to do whatever he wants.”

  “Wow. That’s a big change from getting in trouble in a small town.”

  “I suppose, but we sure had a lot of fun.”

  “I’ll clean up the dishes,” James offered. “Then we can go to the barn and feed the animals.”

  “Okay. Good idea.”

  Within a few minutes, she and James were trudging out to the barn. While he measured feed into buckets, she explored the stalls and talked to the goats and horses. The cattle were out in the pasture.

  She poked her head into what James called “the hay room,” which was really an empty stall stacked with rectangular bales of hay. The floor of the stall was covered in deep, loose hay and smelled so fragrant. She wanted to lie down and make hay angels!

  And then she got another idea, one that wasn’t nearly as angelic. Within moments, while James finished feeding, she made a big mound of hay, stripped off his old sweatshirt and pants, pulled off her socks and kicked off her shoes.

  “Scarlett, where are you?” he called.

  “Back here in the hay room,” she said, lying back on the pile. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as she’d imagined. The dried grass poked her in places she didn’t want to be poked, and felt way too itchy to be sexy.

  She was wiggling around, scratching her back, when James walked into the stall. “Wow!” he said succinctly, reaching for the snap on his jeans.

  “Wait! It’s really itchy down here.”

  He grabbed her discarded clothes and pulled her to her feet, kissing her along the way. Then he spread the sweatshirt and his sweater on the hay and, with an evil glint in his eyes, tossed her down. “Better?”

  She wriggled a little to get comfortable. “Yeah,” she said, crooking her finger toward him.