A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  It didn’t matter.

  She loved him.

  Loved him enough to trust him, to take his hand and lead him up the stairs to her bedroom. Loved him enough to undress him and kiss him again, long and hard and deep.

  She wanted him…so much.

  Wanted him to tumble her onto her bed and disrobe her just as playfully as she had just done to him.

  Her body was as ready for him, as his was for hers, and she reclined on her side, taking this gift for what it was, a coming together that was also an act of hope and faith, a moment in time to be cherished.

  Hank trailed a hand over her side, the indentation of her waist, the curve of her hip, the line of her thigh. Her breath grew ragged as he caressed her abdomen, going lower still.

  “I missed you,” he whispered as he explored the tip of her nipple with the pad of his thumb, and followed it with a kiss.

  “I missed you, too,” Ally said, her pulse pounding, her senses in an uproar.

  Shifting her onto her back, he draped a thigh over hers and continued caressing her, studiously avoiding the part she most wanted him to touch. Until she moaned, arched her back and opened her thighs, aware that nothing had ever felt so right….

  Hank had never imagined he’d be in a position to use the chemistry he had with Ally to break down that stone wall around her heart. But Ally was so guarded and her time on the ranch with him so short that he had no choice but to use whatever advantage he had to get close to her. He wanted her in his life. Not as some long distance or occasional lover, but as a real, viable part of his everyday existence. He wanted to go to sleep with her every night and wake up with her every morning. He wanted to roam the ranch with her, and then hunker down inside, before the fire. Spend lazy afternoons in bed, when the mood struck, and work side-by-side all night when that was necessary, too.

  It was more important for him to get her to stay than for him to own the ranch. If she ended up selling Mesquite Ridge to someone else, so be it. There was always more land in Laramie County. There was only one Ally.

  Only one woman who could make the impossible happen, make him ready and willing to love again. Not the selfish way he had in his youth, but in the completely giving way of a man.

  And she sacrificed for him, too, drifting lower, giving him what he needed, letting him know with each soft, sensual kiss just how much she cared.

  Loving the no-holds-barred way she surrendered herself to him, he knelt on the floor in front of her and guided her to the edge of the bed. She caught her breath as he nudged her legs farther apart.

  “Oh, Hank,” she whispered, shivering as he breathed in the sweet musky scent of her and explored the petal pink softness. Satisfaction unlike anything he had ever experienced roared through him. Tightening her hands on his head, she allowed him full access, letting him stroke the pearly bud again and again. Until she was calling his name and coming apart in his hands, and he was moving upward once again, not waiting, taking her the way she yearned to be taken, until there was no stopping. Until she was clamped around him, shaking with sensation, bringing him to a shuddering climax and then slowly, sweetly down again.

  HOURS LATER, DAWN STREAMED in through the bedroom windows. Ally was curled up next to Hank, her head on his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her. Her thigh nestled between his legs, and the warmth of his body pressed against hers. She inhaled the masculine scent of his skin and hair, and reflected on the passionate lovemaking that had kept them awake—and aroused—most of the night.

  Hank stroked a hand through her hair. “What are you thinking?” he murmured, kissing her temple.

  Easy. Aware she had never felt so safe, or so cherished, Ally let her eyelids flutter shut.

  “I never knew it could be like this.” Never knew I could fall in love so hard and fast…or want to be with someone so very much.

  Was it just that it was Christmastime—and she was leaving Mesquite Ridge for good—that had her in desperate need of a connection? Ally wondered. Or was it because she had never had anyone so invested in making sure she was okay? All she knew for certain was that Hank was as tender and considerate as he was sensual, and that he had brought out a side of her she hadn’t realized existed. He’d made her feel it was okay to be vulnerable. He’d helped her realize it was all right to need to be touched and held and cherished, in the way only he could.

  “I…hoped…it could.” His touch grew more loving and his husky voice dropped a notch. “But for the record…” his expression radiated a soul-deep happiness that mirrored her own “…I never imagined anything could feel this right, either.”

  Ally had only to look into Hank’s eyes to know how true that was.

  Disconcerted by the intensity of her feelings and the fluttering of her heart, she reverted to her usual cynicism. “Maybe it’s a yuletide miracle,” she teased.

  The corners of his lips lifted. “Or just a plain miracle,” he drawled.

  The raw affection in his tone made her catch her breath. “Must you always have your way?” she murmured back.

  He pressed his palm to hers. “Once a marine, always a marine at heart. And now I’m a Texas rancher, too.”

  With no ranch to call his own. Yet.

  Where had that thought come from?

  He wasn’t using her as a means to an end! He was not like that.

  Hank had a lot more in his life, and on his mind, than the need to acquire land. He was a McCabe, and McCabes valued family and the people they loved above all else.

  And even though Hank hadn’t said he loved her, any more than she had confessed she loved him, she felt the connection between them. Knew they were on the cusp of something very moving and profound….

  Whether or not it would last, she couldn’t say. But she was going to be here for another week. She intended to spend that time enjoying Hank’s company, seeing where this would lead….

  He disengaged his hand from hers and chucked her beneath the chin. “I wish you wouldn’t worry so much.”

  She wished so much wasn’t at stake. How much easier it would be if Mesquite Ridge wasn’t standing between them. She squinted at him. “I’m not worrying.”

  “The wrinkle between your brows says otherwise.” Hank leaned over to kiss her temple. “All you have to do is trust me and give me a little more time, and I promise you, everything will be all right.”

  HANK STAYED TO TAKE CARE of Duchess and the puppies, then headed off to feed his herd and “do what he needed to do” to be able to make her a solid offer on the ranch.

  Which meant, Ally thought, as she headed to her father’s den to begin the task of going through his many papers, Hank would likely be spending time with Lulu Sanderson.

  Ally knew she shouldn’t be jealous.

  Hank was an honorable man, and he had shown her how he felt about her, the night before.

  She had to do what he had asked of her, and trust in his power to achieve his goals.

  She reassured herself that, unlike her parents, Hank knew what he was doing when it came to the business side of ranching. Certainly he had the connections through his family to get any expertise, advice and probably even financing that he needed.

  Yet as Ally plowed through her father’s notes about one crazy, ill-formed plan after another to make Mesquite Ridge profitable, her mood went downhill fast.

  She was close to putting her head down in despair when Hank strode into the den, a fistful of mistletoe in his hand, a grin as big as Texas on his handsome face. “You look… happy,” Ally murmured. Really happy.

  He set the mistletoe down and sat on the edge of the desk facing her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “And you look like you just lost your prize cow.”

  Ally flushed. “I don’t have a prize cow.”

  “Exactly.” He swiveled slightly, so the side of his denimclad leg pressed against hers. “But you could, if you hang with me long enough.” He paused to survey her from head to toe, before returning his gaze ever so deliberately to
her face. “Seriously…” his voice dropped to a compassionate murmur “…what’s going on?”

  Ally rocked back in the ancient wooden swivel chair and sighed. “I was going through my dad’s papers, trying to figure out if there was anything I should save.”

  Hank’s brows knit together. “And…?”

  “See for yourself.” Feeling like she could use an impartial opinion, Ally handed over a folder. “These are his plans to put Mesquite Ridge on the map. First there was the dude ranch idea. He spent several years on that, when I was in elementary school, but learning how much it would cost to get an operation like that up and running eventually put an end to that notion.”

  She handed over another folder. “Then there was his grand idea to open up a rock quarry on one end of the property and harvest limestone for builders.”

  Hank frowned. “I imagine hauling the rock to the cities made the cost of that prohibitive.”

  Ally sighed. “Exactly.” She picked up another box of meticulously kept folders. “For the next few years after that he tried to find a way to buy or build a giant telescope, and put a pay-per-view planetarium on the property for tourists or star lovers passing through.”

  “Hmm.” Hank glanced through the pages and pages of papers. “That’s actually kind of interesting.”

  “If completely impractical,” Ally added impatiently. “Next up was the idea to build a wind farm and somehow connect it up to an electrical power plant.”

  Hank raised his hand in the age-old gesture of peace. “He was just ahead of his time there. That’s the wave of future.”

  That, Ally knew. She wet her lips. “The point is…in all of this, you know what you don’t see?”

  Hank shrugged. “What?”

  Ally drummed her hand on the scarred wooden desktop. “Books on cattle or grass management. Data on the latest breeding practices. Or anything related to what he was supposed to be doing all along, which was building a cattle operation.”

  Hank cocked his head. “He had a herd.”

  “A small one that never amounted to much. You can see when you drive around the property how he let the land go to seed. There’s mesquite and cedar everywhere. And everyone knows you can never get rid of mesquite. Cut it down, and it comes right back up.”

  “Hey. That’s not such a bad thing.” Hank set her father’s folders in one neat pile, on the far side of the desk. “All of that untamed brush has not only kept the topsoil intact, it’s added to the nutrient value.”

  Ally scowled. “You’re just like him. You look at the land and you see value.”

  Hank grinned. Clasping her hands in his, he stood and drew her to her feet. “I sure do. And you know what else I see?” He winked playfully, refusing to allow her glum mood to spread to him. “A promise I need to keep.”

  The devilry in his blue eyes was almost as exciting as his lovemaking had been. “And what ‘promise’ would that be?” Ally found herself asking.

  Hank picked up the half-dozen sprigs of mistletoe he had brought into the house, and clutched them in his fist. “Finding the perfect places to hang these.”

  “YOU’RE SURE WE NEED six sprigs of mistletoe?” Ally asked as she and Hank set off to find the perfect spots to hang the holiday greenery.

  Hank followed, admiring the view. There was no question Ally looked good in her chic city clothing, but she really filled out a pair of jeans and a sweater, too. “What number would you have us use?” He paused to secure one just inside his bedroom door.

  Ally’s heavenward glance told him what she thought about the subtlety of that. “One.”

  “But then—” Hank continued on down the hall, stopping at her bedroom door. He stepped inside the sanctuary that had been hers for the first eighteen years of her life, and tacked one there, too. “—You wouldn’t have one here.”

  Merriment sparkled in her green eyes. “What makes you think I want mistletoe in my bedroom?”

  Her teasing brought a smile to his face, too. She’d been so serious and bereft when she’d arrived at Mesquite Ridge the week before. It was good to see her loosening up and letting go of the grief and rigidity that had ruled her life prior to this holiday season. He winked again. “You never know when you might get the impulse to kiss someone. And need an excuse.”

  Ally sauntered past him, leaving a trail of orange blossom perfume. “If I want to kiss someone, I don’t need an excuse.”

  “Ah,” he said, thinking of the time when he would make love to her again, and get her to commit to more than just a momentary diversion or holiday fling. “Good to know.”

  Electricity shimmered between them. Ignoring his instincts, which were to make love to her then and there, Hank continued on down the hall. Determined to give her the emotional space she seemed to need, and show her they could have a good time simply hanging out together, he stopped midway down the staircase and put one there, too.

  “Now that’s an interesting place,” Ally murmured.

  “Isn’t it?” Hank fantasized about having her beneath him, her arms and legs locked around his waist, and him so deep inside her he didn’t know where he ended and she began. He continued to the front door and placed one just above it, in the foyer. One of these days, they’d make love without the sale of the ranch, and what that might or might not mean, between them…. One day soon, he’d be able to tell her how he really felt….

  Oblivious to the passionate, possessive nature of his thoughts, Ally tilted her head. She studied the decoration over the portal, decreeing whimsically, “Not as original, cowboy.”

  Loving the way the unexpected endearment sounded rolling off her lips, Hank pressed the remaining greenery in her hand, relishing the soft, silky feel of her palm. “There’s two left. Knock yourself out.”

  “Hmm.” Accepting his humorous challenge, Ally sauntered off.

  She paused next to the unadorned but fragrant Scotch pine and looked around. Then, grinning, she hurried across the room and stopped in the doorway between the living room and the hall that led to the kitchen and mudroom. “How about right here?”

  “Expecting an earthquake?” Hank quipped.

  “Door frames can be nice to lean against—” she batted her eyelashes flirtatiously “—should you want to lean, of course.”

  Hank liked this side of Ally. She was incredibly uninhibited and playful, deep down. The problem was that side of her didn’t surface all that much. So far. If he had his way, that would change as readily as their relationship. “One left.”

  “Obviously, we know where that will go.” Ally sashayed on down the hall and into the big country kitchen.

  The plastic baby pool that served as a whelping pen had been pushed to one side of the room. Duchess lay contentedly on the blanket lining it, her back against the side. The warming box, which contained all eleven puppies, was nestled beside the mother dog.

  As Ally approached, Duchess lifted her head and thumped her tail happily.

  Smiling in return, Ally handed the remaining sprig to Hank. “This should go in this room because you never know when one of us is going to want to kiss Duchess or a puppy.”

  Hank chuckled. He got out the step stool and fastened the mistletoe in the center of the eight-foot ceiling. “How’s that?”

  Ally stopped petting Duchess long enough to study the result. “Perfect.”

  “Maybe we should try it out.”

  “You’re right.” Ally gave the dog a final pat and turned her attention to the pile of slumbering puppies. She picked up the tiniest one and lifted her gently to her chest. “This one definitely needs a kiss.”

  Hank chuckled. “I’ll make sure I give her one,” he drawled. “But first this…” He wrapped his arms around Ally and, being careful not to squish Gracie, capture Ally’s lips with a tender kiss that conveyed everything he was feeling and could not say.

  She kissed him back just as ardently.

  When he finally lifted his head and looked into her eyes, she nudged him with her knee. “Y
ou are so bad.”

  “You haven’t experienced the half of it.” They exchanged sexy grins.

  Hank felt a surge of heat, content to wait. But it turned out his competition for Ally’s attention was not.

  The puppy lapped at her hand with her little pink tongue, let out a familiar squeak of hunger and began to squirm.

  Smiling tenderly, Ally tore her gaze from Hank’s. She glanced down, then gasped. “Oh my gosh, Hank! Look at this!”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Her eyes are open!” Ally cried in amazement. She had grown used to seeing the puppies in constant play, with their eyes shut tight. Being able to look into Gracie’s dark eyes forged yet another unexpected yet highly emotional connection. To the point that Ally knew leaving her was going to be excruciatingly hard.

  For Hank, too, judging by the depth of affection on his handsome face. He came closer and leaned in for a better look. “Right on schedule, too.” He grinned triumphantly, then turned to Ally, his warm breath brushing her face. “I told you that Gracie might be little, but she’s mighty.”

  Ally glowed with pride, knowing that just ten days ago the pup nearly hadn’t made it, and now she was leading the pack in development. Except…Ally frowned. “She doesn’t seem to be focusing.”

  Hank brushed a gentle hand over Gracie’s soft head and scratched her lovingly behind the ears. “She won’t be able to track an object for another two weeks, but between now and then, she’ll see a little more every day.”