Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  He’s clearly been drinking. Halle liked the attention. These were harmless guys just having fun. She pushed the notion of the other stuffy events out of her mind. Tonight she was going to enjoy herself.

  • • •

  Blake took a deep breath. Roy was harmless—his wife was probably around here somewhere—but even so, Blake felt protective of Halle. He didn’t bring her here to be ogled. He hadn’t really needed a date to this function. This was just some ranch hands hanging out drinking beer. So why did I bring her here? He was scared of the answer.

  “Grab us some beer, will ya?” Blake called after Roy.

  “Us? Hmm.” Blake heard a smooth male voice behind him. Great. Tony Watford, the lady’s man who was a confirmed bachelor. “So I guess we know who you came with.”

  “I guess we do,” Halle replied calmly to Tony.

  Before Blake could say anything, Tony was sitting on the other side of Halle. A jealous pang seized his throat and he swallowed hard. This bastard better not lay a hand on her.

  Tony was good looking. Blake was man enough to admit that. He’d seen the playboy in town at the bars, and women always responded to his looks and silver deviled tongue. But this wasn’t the bar and this wasn’t a random gal out for a good time. This was Halle. His date. Dammit. Not date. I really shouldn’t have brought her here.

  He drank the cold beer in his hands, wishing Halle’s focus was on him and not Tony. He slid the other beer Roy had given him in front of Halle, touching the nape of her neck so she’d know it was there. He thought about keeping his hand there but removed it. He had no business keeping it there.

  Music fired up from the other side of the barn and Blake turned to see Roy messing with equipment.

  “May I have this dance?” Tony asked Halle.

  Blake froze. That sonuva . . .

  “Do you mind?”

  Halle was looking at him, her head tilted slightly and her brows rose in question. She’s asking me for permission? It took him a moment to realize he needed to answer. Yes.

  “Nope.” He shrugged and drank his beer. “Go ahead.”

  Halle and Tony sauntered to the dance floor that had been set up in the middle of the barn. They fox-trotted, two-stepped, and did every other silly country dance in the dirt. Whatever. Blake turned back to the table. He couldn’t watch Halle laughing and smiling in that man’s arms.

  “She’s a beaut.” Frank watched Blake with knowing eyes.

  “Eh.” Blake took a long pull from his beer, glancing at Halle, trying to make it not obvious.

  “Seems someone’s a little jealous,” Frank chortled.

  “Who? Me? Nah.”

  “Son, I see the way you look at her . . . and the way she looks at you.”

  “No. We’re friends. Nothing more. We have a deal.” Blake drank again, finishing his beer. He needed to do something to stop the rambling. At this rate he’d be drunk before the end of the song. “I just needed a date to holiday stuff. She agreed to tag along.”

  “Uh huh.”

  • • •

  Halle had been smiling so much since they arrived that her cheeks were starting to hurt. Tony was light on his feet and the others were hilarious. The stories about ranching life kept her in high spirits most of the night. Even Blake seemed to loosen up. His easy smile was gorgeous . . . his masculine face softened along with his mouth and Halle wanted to wrap her arms around him every time he laughed.

  Everyone was gathered around the picnic table as Blake told a story about the first time he branded with Frank. Blake had been determined but still managed to get kicked and thrown around like a rag doll the entire week. Apparently the next year he wasn’t much better. It wasn’t until year four that he really figured it out, but the damage had been done and his reputation was sealed. His face was animated and his punch lines well timed—he even laughed with the others and casually drank his beer when Frank added his own not so flattering insights about Blake to the story. Damn, I like this side of him.

  Tony had a nice face, too, she couldn’t help but notice. Nothing. Her body didn’t have the same reaction to Tony. She seemed to tingle only at the sight of Blake, his touch.

  It was getting late and she yawned. From the three beers to the dancing and laughing, she was exhausted. She felt a hand on her lower back and melted into it. Blake. Halle let the tingles sweep through her and closed her eyes for a moment. His simple gesture made her want so much more.

  Blake leaned in close to her, his lips almost touching her ear. “Tired? Ready to go?” he whispered.

  Forget the simmering tingles. Energy bounced around every part of her and landed south. His low words, breath on her skin, and touch on her back sent her to a very awake cloud nine. She turned her head slightly toward his, causing their faces to nearly touch. He moved back a little before that happened. Dangit.

  “Only if you are,” she whispered back, looking into his brown eyes. They weren’t just brown . . . they had flecks of gold in them that seemed to call her name. She wanted to lean into him, put her lips on his, and lose herself. Her gaze dropped to his mouth.

  Blake pulled back, sat upright, and announced to the crowd, “Well, guys. We’re calling it a night. Merry Christmas.”

  After exchanging well wishes for the holidays and the new year that was quickly approaching, they were on their way out the door, his hand never moving away from her back.

  “Mistletoe,” someone in the group shouted and laughter roared.

  She looked up to see that right above the barn door hung a small cluster of mistletoe. A thrill shot straight up her spine to her throat. She brought her gaze back down and it landed square on Blake. Is he going to kiss me? He looked like he was contemplating life and was, once again, back to being unhappy about it. Halle wanted to crawl in a hole. Apparently, she wasn’t mistletoe kissable.

  “Afraid that’s not gonna happen, boys. I’m not a PDA kinda gal,” she tossed back. She’d saved face and now she couldn’t reach the truck tucked away in the dark night fast enough. This night ended on a low note. Thanks a lot, cowboy.

  Halle felt Blake’s hand grab hers. She halted in midstride and pursed her lips together before whipping around. I better get a lower interest rate.

  Blake was there, right there in front of her. She took in a quick breath. His rich evergreen smell enveloped her. What’s he doing? Thrills swirled around in her midsection, extending outward until her entire being felt light. Before she knew what was happening or could voice words to ask, his hands were on her cheeks and his lips on hers. He was kissing her, deepening it with every moment. Halle relaxed into him, reaching out and finding his solid chest, then sliding her hands around to his back. Her excitement turned into fiery want . . . want she needed him to satisfy. Then, his lips were gone. She opened her eyes, staring back into ones that were full of desire.

  Blake turned and faced the barn door. Putting his hand on the small of her back, he prodded her forward. She may not have moved otherwise. Blake just kissed me and in front of people. The words sounded off in her head then repeated themselves freely the rest of the night.

  He raised one arm as they left and waved to the group that had been—surprisingly enough—stunned into silence. They weren’t the only ones.

  “Good night, ya’ll.”

  Chapter Five

  Blake pulled up to the North Platte River Bank, sat in his truck and stared at the front door. People strolled in and out on an uncharacteristically sunny and warm morning for December. This is my future. He put his hand up to his chin and rubbed it while he leaned back in the leather seat of his truck. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He watched a women with three kids in tow fight them into the bank. Ah hell, who am I kidding? For the rest of my life I’m going to be tied to an office.

  Blake had been the interim bank president for five weeks. Five. Weeks. He couldn’t remember one day that he went home thinking yep, this is what I want to do forever.

  He grumbled as he ambled out of his truck and to t
he top floor of the bank. He’d much rather be baling hay, hauling hay, or feeding hay to his horses. He belonged outside. You’d think in my family I’d get to do what I wanted. He stewed on that as he said his morning pleasantries. It wasn’t the people he didn’t like. They were fine. Some of them were even great. No, it was the job. He didn’t like being in a stuffy office all day talking about numbers. At one point, the life of an accountant sounded ideal. His finance degree and MBA even made it seem lucrative, in theory. But the practice sucked. The life of a banker, accountant, or even president of a bank was nothing more than a glorified bean counter. Hell no. Now, he couldn’t seem to muster the ambition for four walls.

  His grandpa had entrusted the bank to him, and Blake knew why. They’d always shared a passion for finance and helping people with loans. Blake had grown up with his grandpa by his side both on the prairie and in the office, two passions they’d equally shared. It had been a great mix: during the week they worked hard inside and the nights and weekends were spent sweating outside. He loved his life. Since his grandpa’s death eight weeks ago, Blake couldn’t seem to find that light anymore. It all seemed pointless. He wanted to be on the open range. He wanted the blue sky above him, not fluorescent lights.

  Worse yet was now his father controlled most of the Ellison assets. He’d never hit it off quite right with his father. His grandpa had been more like a dad to him—they’d shared the same interests, had the same way of thinking, and had always respected the other’s opinion. His father on the other hand? All he respected was the bottom line. There’s more to life than money. Blake had long since given up hope on having what others had with their dads. He took solace in the fact he had that with his grandpa. Well, he’d had that.

  “Mr. Ellison, here are your morning reports.” Nina, his assistant, placed a stack of papers and his morning coffee on his desk.

  “Thank you,” he said to her back as she scurried out of his office.

  Some parts of the job weren’t so bad. The morning dark roast filled his nose and his eyes seemed to open a little wider. His first order of business: find out why in the heck Halle’s application had been denied. Surely there’d been a mistake.

  He picked up the phone and dialed the loan department extension.

  “North Platte River Bank, loan department, this is Agnes, how can I assist you today?”

  “Agnes, it’s Blake. How’s your morning going?” He grinned because he’d always been partial to Agnes. He remembered when she started; she’d been the first hire his grandpa had let him help with.

  “The sun rose and so did I. It’s a great day.”

  He laughed. She always had something catchy to say.

  “I was calling to get Halle Adams’ loan application. Apparently it has already been denied and I wanted to take a closer look.”

  “Sure thing, just give me a second . . .” He could hear fingers tapping on the other end. “Well, there’s a note here . . .” her voice was hesitant. “I can’t access the file.”

  Why would her file be flagged? He realized he still didn’t know much about Halle, and this mystery was just more proof.

  “What does the note say?” he asked.

  “It says you need to speak with Mr. Bowman.”

  “That’s all it says?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Alright, Agnes. Thanks for checking.” He paused. “May the moon come out to kiss you good night and hold you safely in its heart and sight.” Blake heard giggling and “ah, Mr. Ellison” on the other end as he hung up the phone.

  Why did Jerry limit access? He couldn’t remember when he’d ever been denied anything at the bank. Was there a legal issue with Halle’s application? Personal information that needed to be locked up for some weird reason? He grumbled.

  Blake tried not to let frustration get the better of him. Was nothing simple anymore? Why couldn’t people who needed a loan get a loan? Why couldn’t people change their dreams? Why had he kissed Halle?

  Boom. That was his real problem. That was the question that had been haunting his every waking moment, and most of his dreams, for the last two days. Kissing Halle was the closest he’d ever come to an out-of-body experience, or what he figured one felt like. His arm was grabbing after her and his hands found her face and his lips set on hers. His anatomy had decided to kiss her, not his mind. Now, his mind wouldn’t let go. Halle had felt so soft under his lips, so inviting. She’d kissed back; there was no denying that. Halle had caressed her lips over his and reached out for him, pulling him closer. The memory fired up Blake’s skin starting at his lips and working downward. He wished Halle was with him now. If she were, he didn’t think he’d be able to stop at one kiss.

  She hadn’t said much on the ride home. She’d sat silently and looked out her window. At what, Blake wasn’t sure. It’d been pitch black outside.

  Blake had clearly overstepped his bounds. He blamed it on the moment and the dumb mistletoe for lending him an excuse. He blamed it on his stupid jealousy and seeing Halle thrive in the environment he coveted the most. She’d kept her own with the guys and they’d taken to her. The whole night had led to one big mistake that had screwed him over. And he wasn’t quite certain how far his misstep reached.

  Blake got back on the phone and dialed Jerry. Instead of a real Jerry, he got a recorded Jerry and left a message at the beep.

  • • •

  Corrine stopped fussing with her sewing project and lifted an eyebrow. “Say that again.”

  “He kissed me.” Every time Halle said it she bit the side of her bottom lip to keep from gushing like a schoolgirl.

  She wasn’t sure what had happened. They were in the clear with the guys, they could’ve walked away. But Blake had still laid one on her.

  Neither one spoke much on the way home. Halle wouldn’t have minded conversation, but she couldn’t come up with much to say that didn’t involve some version of hey, you just kissed me—why? Do ya wanna go steady or somethin’?

  “He kissed you in front of everyone?” Corrine asked.

  “Uh huh. But it wasn’t one of those fancy parties. We were out at a ranch his family owns.”

  “Still.”

  Halle had broken down and told Corrine who she’d been going to parties with. She still played it off as if they were old friends—a friend she’d never mentioned to Corrine in five years. Halle just had to tell someone. She had to give the account of the night out loud so that it was real . . . because it was.

  “Maybe you’re not in the friend zone anymore.” Corrine got back to sewing.

  “Nah.” Halle shook her head. “I think we are.”

  Does that kiss bring this whole thing to the next level? Like, friends? She took a deep breath. She didn’t know what the kiss made them. But she did know they avoided talking about it after, and that didn’t feel like a good sign.

  “The kiss was fantastic though.” She returned to browsing through the racks of clothes at Dress to Impress. “I think the next thing is political. I should probably be ultra conservative.” Halle glared at Corrine. “Nothing strapless.”

  “I’ve got just the thing.” Corrine cleared her lap of fabric, stood, and headed toward the back where she kept extra inventory. “Be careful, Halle. It sounds like you like him,” she called out.

  Yeah, I should be careful. This business arrangement was getting complicated, Halle reminded herself for the umpteenth time. Maybe this could turn into a friendship. Not dating. Surely he had a girlfriend. And, if that’s how he acts when he has a girlfriend then . . . geez, no thank you. I don’t need that mess. She needed her loan to get approved so she could move out from under her father’s thumb once and for all. Halle straightened herself and held her head high as she followed in Corrine’s footsteps to see what she had in mind. It better be classy.

  Chapter Six

  Where’s Halle? Blake nodded to the bartender for a beer, shoved his hands in his black jean pockets and spotted Halle twenty feet away. Halle and Candace laughed like
old friends on the other end of the open bar at the Christmas party for all of the bank branch employees. Halle’s curly hair bounced on her shoulders as she used her hands to emphasize her words. She looked so touchable. And kissable.

  They’d been separated when he’d commanded the floor to welcome the bank employees and their families and thank them for a wonderful year. He’d damn near choked up when he started to talk about his grandpa. Then, he’d searched the crowd and locked onto Halle’s watery green eyes. Somehow, down deep, her face—that single moment—had given him strength to finish his story without blubbering like a fool in front of hundreds. Now, all he wanted was a replay of the mistletoe scene. His gaze flitted across the room. Damn. Every party should have mistletoe. He picked up his beer and started to walk toward the only person he wanted to talk with.

  “Nice speech.” Gordon Ellison stepped in his path.

  “Thanks.” Blake let the cold beer splash down his throat to give him a couple seconds to figure out why his father had seemingly sought him out.

  His father looked over his shoulder then back to him with a knowing smile. “That the girl?”

  “Yep.” Blake didn’t like where this conversation could go. Now I remember why I don’t bring dates to these things. He put his free hand back in his pocket. His father reeked of whiskey.

  “Pretty.”

  Blake didn’t say anything. He only stared. They didn’t talk about women. His father had never showed much interest in his life in general; only business. Irritation flooded Blake’s head. Is he seriously trying to show interest in my life right now? His father couldn’t replace his grandpa if that’s what he was trying—poorly—to do.

  “How’s the portfolio?” His father’s position as the executive director of the Ellison assets put his hands in everything—everything but the bank. His grandpa had always kept that separate. He’d always ear marked the bank for Blake it seemed. Thank you, Grandpa.

  “I’ve contacted a few buyers who have shown interest over the years in the ranch.” He jingled the ice in his stubby glass. “I should have it sold by January.”