A Very Cowboy Christmas

by Kim Redford

  Dune raised his arms up and outward, then dropped them to his sides. “Where do you want me?”

  “Well now,” she said, unable to resist teasing him, “you did say you wanted trouble.”

  He looked down at the ground, then back at her with a mischievous grin. “Okay. Let’s get this shoot done, so I can get my trouble.”

  “Would you take off your boots, then unsnap your shirt and pull it out so it hangs loose?”

  He gave a big sigh, but he went ahead and toed off one boot before the other. He leaned down, tugged off his socks, and stuffed them into his boots. He straightened up and then gave her a slight smile as he popped open his shirt and jerked it loose. “Will this do?”

  “Oh yes.” At the sight of his tanned, muscular chest, she felt as if summer had suddenly come back and bathed her in moist heat, but she knew that was simply her own personal over-the-top reaction to him.

  “Now what?”

  She shook her head to get her mind back on track and away from thoughts of tangled, sweaty sheets. “Please get in Celeste’s back, then sit on top of the back seat.”

  “On top?” He opened the car door, pushed the front seat forward, and stepped onto the back floorboard. He glanced at her with a questioning look in his deep blue eyes.

  “Yes, please. If you’ll sit in the center, put your legs over the back of the seat and your feet on the bottom of the seat, then drape that jacket next to you, and you’re good to go.”

  She watched as he positioned his body and the firefighter jacket, obviously uncomfortable with the entire layout, and glanced at her again. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. If there was a money shot, this was it. “Will you spread your arms wide like your legs, then put one hand on the jacket and the other on the back of the seat?”

  “Sydney, are you sure?” he asked, even as he got into the perfect position.

  “Yes. Trust me.”

  “As far as this calendar goes, I don’t trust you at all.”

  “It’ll be great. People will love this cowboy firefighter calendar.”

  She raised her camera, not telling him that he might not be completely comfortable with how hot and sexy he looked combined with the hot and sexy Cadillac convertible. He appeared to be ready, willing, and able to tumble a willing woman down onto the back seat and show her just what these classic cars were really made for back in their heyday. She’d be happy to be the cowgirl in that back seat with him, but she had to keep her mind on business, at least for right now.

  And yet there was skepticism growing in his gaze, and it wasn’t the look she wanted and needed to sell calendars. She had to do something to get him in the right frame of mind. She lowered the camera to one side with her right hand. With her left hand, she slowly undid the top button of her sweater, followed by the second button, the third, and by the time she’d exposed a little cleavage, she had his undivided attention—and exactly the look she wanted from him.

  She quickly raised the camera and took several shots, moving closer and closer until she rested the base of the camera on the frame of the car to get a steady, up-close-and-personal photograph. He truly looked as if he’d just come from fighting a fire, with the slight beard stubble along his strong jawline, the smear of what appeared to be soot across his chest, and the dampness of his tanned skin stretched across rock-hard muscles.

  “Not fair,” he said, shaking his head and causing a lock of thick tawny hair to fall across his forehead.

  She quickly snapped that shot for posterity, knowing she wouldn’t mind one bit having it enlarged, framed, and perched on her nightstand. She took several more pictures, making sure she had plenty for choice, and then checked to see if any of the shots she’d taken would do. She flicked forward, smiling as she saw that she’d outdone even her own high expectations. Oh yes, Dune definitely would heat up chilly winter rooms with his pose as Mr. December.

  “Are you done?” He leaned toward her, resting his elbows on his knees, as he gazed at the gap in her sweater.

  She flicked him a knowing look, but she was well aware she’d been the one to entice him with a little revealed skin to match his own. “Yes, we’re all done here. Now I can finish the calendar and get it into production.”

  “Not just yet.” He wiggled his fingers at her, indicating for her to come to him.

  “Dune, we don’t have time for games.”

  “What did you promise me if I cooperated with your photo shoot?”

  She never went back on her word, so he sort of had her there if she couldn’t get out of it. “Trouble?”

  “If ever there was a gal whose name was trouble, it’s you.”

  “Now, Dune—”

  “Come here, Trouble.”

  Chapter 26

  Sydney had been called a lot of things in her life, such as cowgirl, barrel racer, mother, daughter, and firefighter, but never had she been called “trouble.” She was known as the practical, responsible one who got stuff done in a timely manner. In fact, folks came to her to get a project off the ground, just as they had with Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In. She’d come up with the benefit calendar all on her own, and she was driving hard to complete it. But “trouble”?

  The single word made her sound like something she’d never been, but something she might want to try just to see if it actually fit her. On the other hand, maybe Dune was simply attempting to maneuver her where he wanted her to go as he would a recalcitrant cow or horse. Either way, she’d gotten all her photos, so she had leeway for a bit of fun before she went home and put the calendar to bed. She deserved a reward for being so good, now didn’t she?

  If ever a reward was staring her right in the face, it was Dune Barrett. He looked deliciously bad, as if he’d invaded her pink Cadillac with only one thing on his mind. If somebody was trouble, it definitely was him. She’d known that from the first, so she’d resisted him until she had no resistance left. Now all she craved was the soft look in his eyes, the warm touch of his hands, and the driving force of his body. Did she have the strength of will to throw caution to the wind and take what she wanted, no matter the consequences? Could she actually meet “trouble” with “trouble”?

  She cocked a hip and put one hand on her waist as she looked him over where he sat spread-legged in her Caddy. “If you want trouble, you’re gonna have to come get it.”

  He grinned, giving her back as good as she gave with a gaze that took her in from head to toe and back again. “Trouble, do you think you’ve got something worth my time?”

  She simply shrugged, raising an eyebrow as she imagined a smart gal back in the day would do. If she was truly trouble, she wouldn’t go to him—he’d come to her. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  He grinned even bigger, with sunlight glinting on his white teeth, while he leaned toward her, as if caught in the gossamer threads of a spiderweb that had captured both of them in its iridescent threads.

  Satisfied by his response, she opened the door to Celeste, set Kent’s camera on the passenger seat, and picked up the Sure-Shot Drive-In key ring. She held up the ring and jingled the keys at him. “If you want trouble, you might look for it in the snack shed.”

  And with those words, she simply turned on her heel and walked away without looking back. He’d follow her or he wouldn’t, but she was pretty sure he couldn’t resist her any more than she could resist him. At the very least, she needed to check out the snack shed again to make sure all was still in order for the upcoming event.

  She walked up to the patio and noticed that the colorful metal chairs that faced the screen were still outside. She wondered if it might not be a good idea to keep them inside when not in use to avoid inclement weather or other problems, but that was a decision for Bert and Bert Two. She was just glad to see the patio was ready for Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In.

  After she inserted the key in the loc
k, she resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see if Dune was following her, although she wanted nothing more than for him to be here with her. She opened the door, flicked on the lights, stepped inside, and shut the door firmly behind her. Once more, she delighted in the snack shed’s fun interior. Somebody had already turned on the heat, so warm air knocked out the chill in the air.

  She walked over to the candy counter and was pleased to see that it’d been stocked with all sorts of yummy candy, granola bars, and trail mix. A big glass jar of green pickles stood on one side of the glass countertop. She even saw a display of Sure-Shot Drive-In promotional items with the drive-in’s logo on baseball caps, magnets, travel mugs, ballpoint pens, and such stuff.

  Now what would a troublesome gal do? She grabbed a cap and put it on her head, figuring she’d pay later, since there was nobody to take her payment now. She felt quite sassy as she glided across the floor in her cigarette pants while setting her cap at a jaunty angle. She ended up at the jukebox. She felt warm tenderness envelop her as she remembered the slow dance with Dune that had turned her life around and started her on a new path—one filled with glorious passion.

  She checked to make sure the jukebox was plugged into the wall before she pushed the buttons for “Unchained Melody.” Soon the snack shed filled with soaring music, and then came the heartrending words:

  “Oh, my love, my darling… I’ve hungered for your touch…”

  She swayed to the rhythm, hugging her arms around her waist as she imagined Dune holding her in his strong embrace. She heard the outer door open and shut, so she stopped and looked in that direction. She felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of the tall cowboy with his shirttail loose and shirt front gaping open to reveal the washboard abs of his chest and the dark indentation of his belly button above his big gold rodeo buckle.

  Dune flipped off the overhead lights so that only sunlight from two windows illuminated the snack shed, turning the dance floor into a cozy, shadowy, intimate area—except for the bright, bold, luminous colors of the jukebox. He strode toward her, wearing his cowboy boots again, with that special balance riders develop after spending long hours in the saddle.

  When he set foot on the parquet dance floor, he gave her a lopsided, mischievous smile as he pointedly looked down at her exposed cleavage and then back up at her face.

  She realized she’d forgotten to redo the buttons. She started to automatically button her sweater, then stopped her hand in midmotion. If she was trouble, she’d better act like it. She straightened her back and thrust out her chest, watching him closely for his reaction. She was amply rewarded for a few undone buttons when his blue eyes turned dark with desire.

  He nodded as if accepting her challenge or invitation, and then he held out his strong, long-fingered hand with palm turned upward in invitation. “Dance with me.”

  Oh yes, she wanted to dance with him, and he knew it, too. Still, she couldn’t resist the playfulness that came over her, perhaps in response to her sheer joy in his presence or his desire for—or expectation of—trouble. She whipped the baseball cap off her head and plunked it down on top of his wind-blown hair.

  He caught her playfulness with a twinkle in his eyes, lifted the cap, smoothed back his hair, and adjusted the cap for a perfect fit. “Thanks.”

  “Looks as if you’re all ready for Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In,” she said mischievously, suddenly realizing that she was drawing out this moment, building this moment, upping the intensity of this moment, because it was a special time and place to remember for a lifetime.

  “It’s a start.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll be more than ready for our Christmas event once we initiate the snack shed.”

  “Initiate?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, a smile tugging up one corner of his full lips. “Remember, this drive-in is also called the Passion Pit.”

  “I hardly think Christmas at the Passion Pit will bring in the type of folks we have in mind for family-oriented films and events.”

  He grinned, blue eyes dancing with laughter. “After midnight, that’s when the cool cats came out to prowl, right?”

  “I think you’ve got the wrong county for fifties’ cool cats.”

  “It’s never too late. Want to be a cool cat?”

  “I thought I was trouble.”

  “All cool cats are trouble with a capital T, didn’t you know?”

  “I just found out about trouble, so how would I know about cool cats?”

  He chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled in his broad chest. “You’re dressed like a cool cat in your cigarette pants, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” She realized he had a point. “But how do you know about fifties stuff?”

  “My mom.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I guess she’d know.”

  “And that means I’d know. Now come here. Let’s dance, and I’ll show you all about trouble and cool cats.”

  “But the music’s over.”

  He shook his head in denial. “The music will never be over for us.” And he held wide his arms.

  She’d bantered long enough. She didn’t care about trouble or cool cats. She didn’t care about prolonging the moment. Now she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his strong arms, so she could feel the beat of his heart in time with her own. She’d missed him. She’d worried about him. And she’d pined for his touch after all they’d shared one night together. Now he was back, and she didn’t want to ever let him go.

  She put her hands flat against his chest—feeling his muscles harden, feeling his nipples tighten—and then she slowly, so very slowly, slid her fingers upward across his bare flesh, creating goose bumps in her wake as he reacted to her touch. She trembled in response to him, knowing how much more they could draw from each other. She curled her fingers into the hair he wore a little long at the back of his muscular neck, tightening her grip as her entire body tightened with growing desire.

  As if he couldn’t wait another moment, he crushed her against his chest, molding their bodies together as if they were one instead of two. She caught his scent—sunshine and prairie grass—and that alone almost sent her over the edge, because it was so symbolic of him. And just like the song, she hungered for his touch, wanting him, needing him, maybe even loving him.

  When he hummed “Unchained Melody,” she put her head on his shoulder, holding him fiercely with both hands. She felt his need for her grow hot and hard as he slowly guided them across the dance floor, teasing and tormenting with every brush of body to body.

  At the jukebox, he stopped their dance, squeezed her tight, and let her go. He quickly leaned over and punched several buttons. When a 45 dropped into place, the room filled with “Unchained Melody” again.

  She caught her breath, for she knew she’d never hear this song anywhere at any time without thinking of Dune.

  As he turned back to her, he didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to utter a single sound, because everything he felt was there in his eyes that now blazed blue fire.

  She went to him, as if on angel’s wings, and put her arms around him. She could feel her hot skin against his hot flesh. Nothing that had gone before, nothing that she had experienced before, nothing that had been in her life before had prepared her for Dune and his overwhelming effect on her.

  He kissed her, a light, feathery touch at first that quickly turned fiery as he nipped her lower lip, traced her mouth with his tongue, and then plunged deep inside. She trembled all over as she returned his kiss, feeling their heat ignite into an out-of-control wildfire that threatened to burn down everything in their vicinity as it completely consumed them.

  Finally, he tore his mouth from hers as he gasped for air, lifted her in his arms, and walked to the nearest wall. “I can’t wait.” He unbuckled his belt and the button on his jeans.

 
She glanced toward the unlocked front door and the windows without drapes, realizing that anybody could walk in on them or look in on them at any moment. “But what about the door and—”

  “Are you saying no?” He pulled a condom out of his back pocket and held it out in the palm of his hand. “See, I’m prepared now.”

  She couldn’t help but smile, feeling her blaze grow hotter because he’d thought about them while they were apart and prepared for this very moment. “Fortunately, we’re pretty isolated here.”

  “Right now, I don’t care if the whole town of Sure-Shot walks in on us. I’m burning up.” He reached for her pants, frowned in confusion, and looked up at her face. “How do you get these down?”

  “Side zipper. Let me.”

  “Oh no. It’ll be my pleasure to undress you.”

  “But Dune—” As she felt his hands on her zipper, she glanced toward the outside door, deciding they’d hear somebody drive up in time for her to get dressed or get inside the ladies’ room.

  When he tugged her cigarette pants down to her ankles, she kicked them off, along with her moccasins. If not for the dimness in the room, she’d have felt much too exposed, and yet she felt even more excited now, particularly with the look in his eyes that was getting hotter by the moment. He put both hands on her hips, tucked his thumbs under the waistband of her red panties, and slowly slid them down her long legs.

  “I want these,” he muttered in a voice gone deep and hoarse.

  “To add to your collection?”

  “Only until I have the real thing—that’d be you—permanently in my bed.”

  She shivered with his words, with his touch, with his determination as she stepped out of her underwear and watched him push them deep into a front pocket of his Wranglers.

  “Now we can get somewhere.” He unzipped his jeans and tore open the condom container.