“Maybe it’s a Montana thing,” he said. “So what do you say?”
Caitlin and Noah were staring at them, along with others. Meg looked at Ty. “I don’t want to disappoint the bride and groom. Let’s just get it over with.”
“You are tired.”
She nodded. “But like you said, it’s not—”
He captured her mouth with his.
. . . real.
The music disappeared. The other people, too.
She wondered what a real kiss might feel like, because this one was amazing. Ty moved his lips expertly over hers. She clung to him, afraid her knees might give out if she let go.
Sensations pulsated through her. Blood boiled inside her veins. An ache developed deep inside her.
Not real.
The two words became her mantra.
The mistletoe kiss might not be real, but Ty felt real. So did his lips against hers and his tongue inside her mouth.
He pulled her against him, and she moved closer, running her free hand through the ends of his hair.
Not real.
She and Ty weren’t a couple. They had never dated. They were friends, but they kissed as if they were . . . more.
Things just got real.
Meg drew back. The questions in her mind matched the look in her eyes. “Friends, right?”
Ty nodded once. He started to speak, then pressed his lips together.
“Not real,” she added.
Another nod. “That doesn’t mean it’s not enjoyable. Or that we can’t kiss again.”
“Under the mistletoe, you mean,” she said.
He nodded, then grinned. “A good thing you hung sprigs all over the place.”
Was it? Because the way her lips tingled from Ty’s kiss, she wasn’t sure about anything. Kissing him again under the mistletoe at a romantic wedding where love floated on the air was a recipe for disaster. She didn’t dare take a chance.
The last thing I want is for my brother to break your heart and make you quit your job here.
Rachel’s words sounded in Meg’s head like a warning bell. That was the last thing she wanted, too. But when she kissed Ty, she forgot everything—logic, common sense, basic math skills.
However tempted she was to see where these unreal mistletoe kisses might lead, she . . . couldn’t. She couldn’t get caught up in something that might feel good now, but wouldn’t be good for her later, or more importantly, good for Brooklyn.
“Thanks so much for the dance,” Meg said, backing away from him. She left off thanking him for the kisses. “I need to get back to work.”
Chapter Eight
On the afternoon of December twenty-fourth, Ty closed the stall door and double-checked the latch was secure. He peered through the bars, and a brown-eyed gaze met his. Gorgeous colt, far from full-grown. “Sorry, you’re going to be in the horse barn for a while before you can run in the pasture.”
The horse neighed.
Dusty barked.
“Don’t rub in your freedom,” Ty said to the dog. “You know what it’s like to be crated. No fun.”
The dog pawed at the stall.
“Nope, this is the best place for him.” Ty looked at the other stalls decorated with lights, garland and wreaths. Until fifteen minutes ago, this one had been empty, so the door had been left plain. “Next year you’ll have decorations for your stall. You’ll probably get your own themed wreath, too.”
Ty couldn’t believe the popularity of the wreaths themed by the horses’ names with guests and visitors alike. The Marietta Courier had done an article about the two Christmas barns at the Bar V5, prompting visits by people seeking unique holiday photo opportunities. Meg had found her own way to celebrate Christmas Montana style and used her ideas to gain the Bar V5 publicity.
The woman was amazing.
So was Brooklyn.
“That little girl is going to love her Christmas present.”
Dusty barked, as if agreeing. The dog had been Ralph Vaughn’s trusty companion, then Ty’s after Ralph passed. But the dog now spent time with Brooklyn, too, much to the delight of the six year old.
The dog ran around in a circle.
“Brooklyn’s not here.” Ty was meeting them at the church tonight. “She’ll be back later.”
Dusty lay on the ground.
“Don’t pout. It’s almost Christmas.”
The dog’s tail wagged.
“I got her a gift, and you’re getting two.”
Dusty panted.
“You’ll like them.” Ty scratched behind the dog’s ear. He’d bought the dog a toy and a bag of treats. Both would fit inside Dusty’s stocking, along with whatever the other wranglers got the pup. “But you have to wait until tomorrow. Like everyone else.”
The dog whined, as if he understood and wanted his presents now.
“Nope. Not going to happen.” Ty walked out of the horse barn whistling, “Deck the Halls.” Dusty trotted alongside him.
The air was cool and crisp. The brilliant blue sky defined the word big. Perfect flying weather for Santa and the reindeer pulling his sled. No one would guess snowfall was predicted for tomorrow, but most people around here liked having a white Christmas. Would Meg?
He couldn’t wait to see her and Brooklyn, who would be the cutest angel on stage. Maybe later he could sneak Meg under the mistletoe again. He missed her sweet kisses.
Ty looked at Dusty. “We’ve got Christmas Eve service, then we’ll read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ and check the NORAD Santa Tracker website.”
“Tracking Santa for Brooklyn, huh?” Dustin stood, holding a lead rope.
“Kids like knowing Santa’s on the way. Easier to get them to go to sleep.”
“I just remember wanting to tear open the presents at the crack of dawn.”
“That, too. When you heading to town?”
“Soon,” Dustin said. “Zack and I are going in early. We’ll grab a bite somewhere, then save seats for everybody.”
“Good idea. Thanks,” Ty said. “Rachel and Nate are staying here. They have a Christmas Eve dinner and a few other things planned for the guests. It’ll just be us wranglers and Meg.”
“Any seating requests?”
“As long as one seat has a clear shot so we can videotape Brooklyn, we’ll be good.”
Dustin eyed him warily. “Videotape, huh?”
“Meg will want a copy.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
Dustin folded the lead rope, then coiled the rest around the two pieces. “You seem pretty close to Meg and Brooklyn.”
“I’ve been showing them around the area during my down time.”
His gaze met Ty’s. “Thought you said you’d never date a mom with kids.”
“I did. I won’t.”
“Yeah, right.”
Ty didn’t appreciate Dustin’s tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How much did Brooklyn’s Christmas present set you back?”
“The cost wasn’t an issue.” Ty had more money in his savings account than he had time to spend it. “Nate thought it was a good idea. Zack, too. You agreed, along with Eli.”
“Sure, Brooklyn’s a cute kid,” Dustin admitted. “She’s got a way with animals. Like you and Charlie.”
“Exactly. This gift was a no-brainer.”
“An expensive one.”
“Worth every penny to see if she’s as good with horses as I think she’ll be. We’ve got ourselves a future cowgirl on our hands.”
“So that’s why you spearheaded the present?” Dustin asked.
“Damn straight.”
“Nothing to do with you liking the mom?”
“We all like Meg.”
“Yeah, but none of us have been kissing her.”
“A kiss under mistletoe.”
“Looked like more to me.”
Ty’s gut clenched. “Maybe you should have your eyes examined.”
Dustin raised his hands
as if surrendering. “Just wondering. You’ve been sayin’ no to a wife and kid for as long as I’ve known you, yet the last few weeks you’ve become Mr. Family Man.”
“I . . . ” Ty was about to disagree, until he realized Dustin was correct. “I guess I sort of have.”
“Not sort of.” Dustin pointed to Ty’s pocket. “You’re using a key chain a six year old made for you out of rubber bands and videotaping other people’s kids wearing halos, bathrobes and towels. You’ve gone all in, man. Big time.”
Damn. Ty scratched his head. He had, even if he had no clue what cards he was holding. Not a winning hand. Except getting wrapped up in the family unit scenario with Meg and Brooklyn had been easy to do and fun.
“You didn’t know?” Dustin sounded surprised.
“Nope.” Ty didn’t regret spending time with them. Doing so hadn’t required much thought. What had Meg said? Never say never. He didn’t know if he was ready to go that far. “Just sort of happened.”
“Have you told Meg how you feel about having a family?”
“Yes. A while back.”
“Dude . . . ”
“She knows.” Ty had told her he didn’t want to have a family, and she understood. “She’s not interested in getting serious.”
Dustin’s forehead wrinkled. “Sure about that?”
Yes. No. Maybe? Ty rubbed the back of his neck.
He hoped he wasn’t sending the wrong message. Nah, Meg wasn’t naïve. She’d admitted she had baggage from her failed marriage and she wasn’t looking for a relationship. They had gotten closer, especially over the past week. Kissing her was great, so was spending time together. That didn’t mean they had to get serious. Being friends, as they’d been doing, was fine, wasn’t it?
Maybe he should find out.
Anticipation swelled inside Meg. She couldn’t wait to see her little girl in the church’s Nativity play, part of tonight’s Christmas Eve service. Meg had enjoyed everything about the holidays. The barn decorating would go better next year. She was also excited to see how tonight and tomorrow turned out. As lovely as the wedding last weekend? She hoped so.
Holding Brooklyn’s hand, Meg crossed the street to reach the church. “Are you ready?”
“I can’t wait to put on my wings.”
Meg squeezed her daughter’s hand. Her little girl was growing up so fast. She’d grown taller since they’d arrived in Montana. Spending time with Ty and the horses seemed to have made Brooklyn more independent, too. “You’ll be a beautiful angel.”
“All angels are beautiful, Mommy. So are you.”
“Thanks, honey. That means a lot.” Meg kicked up her foot to show off her red ankle boots. “What do you think?”
Brooklyn gasped. “They’re like my pink ones.”
“That’s why I bought them.” The days of Brooklyn wanting to match Meg wouldn’t last forever. She hoped Ty liked them and her dress she found at a local thrift store. “I thought the red looks Christmassy.”
“It does. It does.”
Brooklyn’s enthusiasm was contagious. “Excited?”
Her daughter nodded, then pointed at the church’s life-sized Nativity set. “Look, Mommy. The angel has wings and a halo like I’m going to wear. But our baby Jesus is cuter than that one.”
“It’s hard to carve a baby out of wood.”
Brooklyn tilted her head and studied the baby in the manger. “They should have used a doll like us.”
A walkway leading to the steps had been shoveled for churchgoers attending services tonight. Two gorgeous wreaths with holly, pinecones and bows hung on the church’s double red doors.
Meg loved how Caitlin and Noah’s wedding had turned out, romantic with a warm, down-home feel. Perfect for the couple and little Mistletoe. But a church like this, traditional gray stone, red doors and a bell steeple, was where Meg wanted to get married. She imagined walking up the steps in a white dress holding a bouquet of white roses and stephanotis and finding Ty waiting at the altar for her.
Her heart lodged in her throat. She struggled to breathe.
What was she thinking?
Getting married again was not on her To Do list. Not now, or in the near future. The long term was out, too. She shook the image from her head.
Brooklyn tugged on her arm. “Come on, Mommy. I don’t want to be late.”
Meg walked her daughter up the stairs and into the church. Inside her head, she heard Bach, a lovely tune for bridesmaids to walk down the aisle.
What was wrong with her?
On the left-hand side of the vestibule was a check-in table. A gray-haired woman sat on the opposite side and smiled. “If it isn’t one of our angels. Five minutes early even.”
“I’m Brooklyn.” She beamed. “I’m angel number three.”
The woman checked Brooklyn’s name off the list, then looked at Meg. “The children will come sit with you after the Nativity portion of the service finishes.”
“Thanks. I’ll look for her.” Meg hugged her daughter. “Break a leg.”
“I don’t want to be on crutches or have a cast on Christmas.”
“It’s an expression that means ‘go out there and do your best.’”
“Oh, okay. Bye, Mommy.” With that, Brooklyn went around the side of the table where a teenaged volunteer waited.
“The choir will start singing carols in thirty minutes,” the woman behind the table said. “Plenty of time to grab a coffee or a snack if you’d like.”
“Thanks.” Meg peered into the church. Zack and Dustin sat in the second row. She walked up the aisle, telling herself not to feel like a bride. “You guys know how to save seats.”
“We’ve had practice.” Dustin took a mock bow. The guy was sweet and acknowledged Dusty had come before him, so he had to go by his full name, not his nickname on the rodeo circuit. He’d said sharing his name with such an amazing dog was humbling. “You’ll be able to videotape to your heart’s delight.”
She wiggled her toes. “Thank you. There’s a little angel who will want to see herself on TV.”
“Things don’t start for awhile,” Zack said. “We don’t plan on going anywhere. You have time to do some last minute shopping or grab a coffee.”
“Or get us a salted caramel from Sage’s store,” Dustin added.
Zack wet his lips. “Oh, man, one of those sounds good.”
The two cowboys were nothing but a couple of overgrown kids. Still they had a point.
“Sure,” she said. “Be right back.”
Dustin winked. “You’re the best.”
She smiled. “Keep that up and you may get an extra piece.”
“We can sweet talk with the best of them,” Zack said.
“Used to be the case, but you save all your words for Charlie,” Dustin countered. “Now me . . . ”
Meg shook her head. “I’ll leave that for you to decide while I head over to Copper Mountain Chocolates.”
Outside, the sky was clear and blue. The temperature seemed to have dropped since they arrived in town. Tonight would be colder if no clouds moved in.
“Look at those fancy red boots.”
Smiling, she turned toward the sound of Ty’s voice and struck a pose. “Like them?”
“Very much. The dress, too.”
She’d thought of him when she purchased it, hoping he would like the style. She adjusted the hem of her jacket, then smoothed the skirt.
“You’re going to get cold without a heavier coat,” he added.
Typical Ty. Looking out for everyone whether they needed watching or not. “Thank you. I’m wearing tights and a couple layers. I’m fine.”
“You look better than fine.”
The approval in his voice made her straighten. “So do you.”
Ty looked handsome in the blue plaid shirt he wore underneath a leather jacket, tan corduroy pants and brown boots.
“I’m off to get your wranglers salted caramels. Want to come?”
“I could be bribed.”
/> Just like his crew. “Chocolate?”
“That’s a start.”
Interesting. “What else do you want?”
“Oh, I could think of a few things.”
So could Meg, starting with a kiss. If he was thinking the same thing as her . . . Excitement flashed through her. “Give me a hint.”
“Having you guess might be more fun.”
“Possibly, or that might get me into trouble.”
He flashed her a lopsided smile. “Going to take the safe route?”
“This time.”
Uh-oh. What was she saying? Her answer should be every time. She had taken the safe route since getting pregnant with Brooklyn. Nothing had changed, had it?
“I need to get to Sage’s,” she said, feeling off-kilter around him.
“I’ll go with you.”
“Great.” She walked in the direction of the chocolate shop, and he fell in step with her. “Your piece is on me.”
Wicked laughter lit his eyes. “If you mean literally . . . ”
“Ha. Ha.” Except the playful, sexy images filling her mind were no joking matter. She wet her lips, then realized where her thoughts were leading her. First daydreaming about a wedding, now fantasizing about the honeymoon.
She glanced at Ty.
Her heart thudded. Sighed.
No. No. No.
She stared at the sidewalk, but her gaze kept straying back to the man walking next to her.
And she knew with pulse-pounding certainty.
All the rationalizations of why romantic feelings didn’t matter and why she was better off alone than in a relationship disappeared like a snowflake being caught on a tongue. They mattered, and she wanted those things badly.
With Ty.
She hadn’t meant to fall for him, but she had. Hard.
A shiver raced down her spine. The realization was unexpected, scary.
He shot her a sideways glance, which she knew because she couldn’t drag her attention off him. “You, okay?”
“Just thinking.” Of course, he would sense something was up. That was part of his appeal. He got her. The way he understood her daughter, too. If there was one man out there who was what she needed and Brooklyn needed, that was Ty Murphy.
Feelings and desires long buried rose to the surface. She was ready to stop saying she didn’t want more, want him.
Mistletoe Wedding Page 10
