She gestured listlessly, feeling tears threaten once again. “Not without love and marriage and all the traditional things that go along with it.” Why was she suddenly feeling so moody? Up one minute, down the next…!
“Including courtship.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“And a man who doesn’t view me as an unwanted burden or responsibility.”
“You’ll get that, too,” he promised softly.
Would she? Holden seemed so sure. Fighting off a new wave of emotion, Libby swallowed and moved on to yet another aisle of decorations, these more her current speed. “I think I know how I want to decorate my Christmas tree.”
She pointed to the row of individual ornaments, of every theme and variety. “I’m going to make a completely asymmetrical, one-hundred-percent-whimsical tree. As a symbol of my moving on.”
Holden smiled and caught her hand in his. “Sounds good to me.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m surprised to see you here—alone—again,” Emily remarked when Holden sought her out on Thursday evening. As usual during the holidays, his baby sis was working late. Hence, even though the Daybreak Café had officially closed after the lunch rush, Emily was back in the restaurant kitchen at eight that evening, making some of the dough and batter that would be baked and served the following day.
Usually, though, her husband hung out with her. Holden took a seat at the stainless-steel work counter. “Where’s Dylan?”
Emily shaped dough into candy canes. “At our ranch, hosting a 4-H Club workshop on the best way to get a green horse used to the saddle. So what’s up?” She paused to wipe her hands on her apron. “Are you just here to see if I will feed you dinner—as you know I will?” Her expression gentled. “Or is something else on your mind?”
“I’ve already eaten, thanks.” Holden rested his forearms on the table. “I came to get some advice.”
Emily lifted her eyebrows. “This is new.”
“Go easy on me.” He scowled. “I’m struggling here.”
His sister poured him a cup of coffee and brought out a platter of cookies for him to peruse. “Obviously, this is about Libby and your crazy rebound deal with her.”
Holden selected a thumbprint cookie with a strawberry center. “We’re past that.” He munched on the delicious confection.
“Oh?” Emily started shaping Christmas coffee cakes.
Holden worked to contain his frustration. “We agreed it would just go however long it goes. Into the spring, or before the holidays end.” Realizing their affair could be over even sooner than he’d thought caused him to worry. And Holden wasn’t used to worrying about romance.
Emily slid the dough into the oven and paused to set the timer. “Is that why you and Libby haven’t been buddying around together the last three nights?”
Was it that obvious he was getting the heave-ho? Deciding maybe he was overreacting, Holden stuck to the facts. “I saw her Monday evening. We went shopping in San Angelo to get ornaments for our trees.”
Emily cut peanut-butter fudge into neat one-inch squares. “What about Tuesday?”
Holden helped himself to a frosted sugar cookie. “She had an appointment with the outside accounting firm auditing her business, in advance of the sale.”
“Wednesday?”
“A meeting with her attorney.”
Again his sister lifted an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
Holden tensed. “She said she’s not feeling well.”
Emily mulled that over. “And you’re not buying it?” she guessed.
He shrugged. “It is flu season. We both had our shots last weekend, but the pharmacist said it takes two weeks for them to become fully effective.”
“I haven’t heard of anyone being sick here in Laramie just yet, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t pick up something when you were in San Angelo the other night.”
“So you don’t think she’s just making excuses to try and cool things off between us?”
His sister paused. “Is there some reason you think that might be the case?”
Holden wasn’t sure. “Things have been moving pretty fast.”
A knowing smile crossed her lips. “Too fast for her?” Emily asked pointedly. “Or too fast for you?”
“Too slow for me,” Holden clarified. He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m not sure about her.”
Emily patted him on the shoulder. “Well, then, brother dear, there is only one way to find out.”
LIBBY WAS HALFWAY THROUGH changing the sheets and comforter on her bed when the doorbell rang.
She glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock? Who would be stopping by this late? And without calling first!
Swearing at the inconvenience, as well as her dishabille, Libby stepped over the pile of discarded linens and headed down the stairs. A glance through the peephole in the heavy wooden door gave her the answer she needed.
Feeling equally thrilled and dismayed, she opened the door. Using flirtatiousness as a shield, she propped one hand on her hip and approximated her best Southern belle voice. “Why, Holden McCabe, is that you beneath the red-and-white Santa hat?”
He grinned, then bowed to her like a courtier. “It is indeed.”
Her glance drifted to the items in his hand. “What’s with the wreath and the bag?”
“The wreath is for your front door, since you don’t have one yet. You’ll notice it’s very traditional,”
Meaning, Libby thought, it didn’t have any sports memorabilia or university colors on it. Instead it was adorned with red and white berries woven throughout, and a big, red velvet bow.
She smiled at his teasing and accepted the gift gratefully. Together, they used the hook provided to hang it on her front door. Libby centered it just so, then stepped back to admire it. “It’s very nice, thank you.” Shivering in her yoga clothes, she ushered him in.
“As for the other…” Holden stepped over the threshold, shut the door behind him and handed her the bag. “I brought you some chicken soup from the Daybreak Café.”
Normally, that sounded great. Tonight it made her want to barf. Again. Just catching a faint whiff of it made her hold up her palm and back away. “Thanks, but…”
Holden shrugged out of his jacket, and tossed it and his Santa hat on the coat tree next to the front door. He peered at her closely, his expression concerned. “You really are ill, aren’t you?”
Libby knew her skin was an odd grayish color again; she could feel it. Wishing her heart would stop racing and her knees cease trembling, she clapped a hand over her abdomen. Working to sound a great deal more matter-of-fact than she felt, she explained, “I’ve got tummy troubles. I’m not sure why. It may have something to do with the chicken-salad sandwich I had at lunch. It tasted odd, but I was so hungry I was weak-kneed, so I ate it anyway, and have been paying for it this evening.”
“Bummer.”
“No kidding. I made it only halfway through my yoga workout when I upchucked all over my mat. So…that’s why I begged off seeing you tonight.” She hadn’t wanted to go into the gory details.
He walked with her to the family room. Saw the bags and boxes right where they had left them on Monday evening. “Still haven’t decorated your tree?”
Libby sighed. “No time.”
He leveled an assessing gaze on her and kept it there. “What can I do to help?”
Libby pulled in a stabilizing breath. “Honestly? Nothing. I was just changing the linens on my bed. I was going to take a shower and go to bed.” And hope I don’t throw up again.
He gave her a long look that spoke volumes. “I can help with that,” he offered.
She swallowed around the parched feeling in her throat and made a joke to lighten the tension between them. “The shower?”
“The bed making,” he replied in a humorous way that made her heart skip a beat.
Their glances met and held.
Wishing she felt well enough to spend the evening with him, Libby
sighed.
He clapped a hand to her forehead and frowned. “No fever.”
Without warning, she felt weak-kneed again. Dizzy and trembling all over.
The last time she had felt like this had been in the first months after Percy died.
Libby swore silently to herself and closed her eyes. She could not go through this again.
IT DIDN’T TAKE A MIND READER to know that Libby wasn’t telling him everything, Holden thought, as he accompanied her upstairs and helped her finish changing the sheets on her bed. Clearly, she was worried about the way she was feeling. He studied her pale skin and slightly shaky demeanor. “You sure you’re okay to get in the shower by yourself?”
She scoffed, “I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think I could.”
A mixture of gallantry and tenderness surged through him. He touched the side of her face, not sure when he had felt such overwhelming devotion or responsibility for another human being. “Okay.” He decided her color had almost returned to normal. “But I’ll be right outside the bathroom door. So if you need help,” he told her sternly, “you just call me.”
Libby picked up the nightclothes she had already laid out, and cradled them in her arms. She took a moment to scowl at him. “I think I’ll survive.”
Heaven help him, he wanted to make love to her, here and now.
She slipped inside the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
Holden heard the water start.
By the time she emerged, her hair wrapped in a towel, prim and proper flannel pajamas on, he had her bed turned down and all ready for her. Wishing he could climb under the covers with her, Holden kissed the top of her head. “In you go.”
She huffed in exasperation as he drew the covers up and tucked them in around her. “You’re really overdoing it, you know.”
Finished, he rested a palm on either side of her. “I’m also spending the night,” he confided gently. “On the family-room sofa downstairs.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she protested weakly.
He caught her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. Still holding her eyes, he whispered, “I want to. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”
LIBBY WOKE TO SUNLIGHT streaming through the windows. It took her only a moment to realize that the nausea and dizziness she had felt the night before were gone.
The desire she felt for Holden, when she walked downstairs and found him puttering around her kitchen, increased by leaps and bounds.
He looked incredibly attractive with his shirttail hanging out, the morning beard lining his jaw, his dark hair rumpled.
Turning, he regarded her with tenderness. “How are you feeling?” His voice was a sexy rumble.
“Much better, thanks.”
Surprised by the emotions sifting through her, Libby sat down at the kitchen table. If she had been attracted to Holden before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now, after experiencing his kindness and consideration.
This was what an intimate relationship should be like. Two people caring for and depending on each other. Putting the other person’s needs ahead of their own.
Holden set a plate of toast, a cup of her favorite peach tea in front of her.
By the time they had finished eating breakfast together, Libby knew she was well enough to go to work, so he decided to head out to his ranch.
She walked him as far as the front door. Taking a page from the man’s playbook, she decided to try and line up their next date. “Want to come back tonight? It’s Friday. I’ll fix you dinner. You can help me decorate the tree.”
Holden’s face fell. He gave her a look more potent than any kiss. “I’d love to, but I already promised to deliver a couple quarter horses to a ranch outside Wimberly today. I won’t be back until late.” He smiled. “Rain check? For Sunday evening, maybe?”
Libby had missed seeing him this week on the days they had been apart. Missed having time to talk to each other. Missed making love even more. “Sunday evening sounds good.” Even though she would have preferred it to be sooner.
Holden paused, looking as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure he should.
Following a hunch, Libby drawled, “You may as well come out with it. Otherwise, I’m going to be wondering all day long what’s on your mind.”
He exhaled. “You know the bowl games start tomorrow.”
It took her a moment to follow what he was saying. “Football?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Football.”
Or in other words, the sport that was so popular it was almost considered a religion in Texas. It was all the guys at the dealership talked about when they weren’t with customers. “I thought the Rose Bowl wasn’t until January,” Libby said.
“It’s not.”
“And UT is in that, right?”
Holden nodded. He came close enough that she could feel his body heat. “But the rest of the games are exciting, too. And my brothers and I have a tradition of placing bets with each other, and watching as many of the games as we can together.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It really is,” he said with a grin.
Libby nodded. If there was one thing she had learned at an early age, it was how to be a good sport. “Then I wish you luck.”
“Actually, I was hoping for more than that.” He took her hand in his and clasped it warmly. “Tomorrow it’s my turn to host the gathering at my ranch. There are three games—the first is at 1:00 p.m., the second at 4:30 and the third begins at 8:00 in the evening.”
That was a lot of football, Libby thought. And though she’d never been all that interested in it, she was interested in Holden. “So you are going to be busy.”
“Very. Given the fact that my brothers and sister and their spouses and kids, plus our parents, will all be there for the party. So I was wondering…” Holden tightened his grip on her hand and gave her a look that caused her heart to flutter.
“If you think you’re up to so many televised sports and McCabes in one day…would you be my date?”
“THE KEY TO ENJOYING YOURSELF is to place bets on the games, too,” Emily told Libby, as the two of them set out platters of wings and veggies, supplied by her café.
There was only one tiny problem with that, Libby thought. “I don’t know anything about the teams that are playing.”
Emily smiled mischievously. “Then do what I do, and bet against whoever your husband—or love interest—is backing.”
Libby flushed self-consciously. Sex and friendship weren’t the same thing as love. “Holden and I aren’t exactly…”
Holden passed by with a tub of beers and soft drinks on ice. He paused to kiss the slope of her neck in a decidedly possessive way. “Yes. We are.” He winked at them both and took off.
Emily’s eyes gleamed with a speculative light. “Wow…I don’t think I have ever seen my big brother that smitten.”
Still tingling from the tender warmth of his caress, Libby looked in the direction the handsome rancher had gone. “We’re just…” she sputtered.
“Falling in love.”
Libby was so startled she practically dropped the blue-cheese dip. “No.”
Emily chuckled. “Deny it all you want.” She set out a fruit platter and yogurt dip, confidence radiating in her low tone. “I know what I see. And don’t forget to sign up for your teams on the sheet and put ten dollars into the pot. The winner gets to donate the sum to the charity of his or her choice.”
Her excitement mounting, Libby did as ordered, making sure her picks were the opposite of the ones Holden chose.
And Emily was right, she soon found out. Ribbing Holden, and getting teased in return, garnered a great deal of enjoyment.
Unable to stop smiling, she headed to the kitchen between the first and second games.
Holden was pulling out trays of barbecue and all the fixings from Sonny’s Barbecue Restaurant.
She marveled at his multitasking hosting skills. “How can I help?”
>
“Says the woman who whipped my ego in the first game,” he told her flippantly.
She came closer and taunted him with an impudent smile. “The day is young, or so they’re saying out there.”
“They’re right.” Holden paused. He favored her with a sexy half smile, his eyes roving her face. “Have I told you how pretty you look today?”
Libby swallowed at the rough note of possession in his voice. He made her feel beautiful whenever he looked at her like that. She met his too-innocent gaze head-on. “You look mighty fine yourself, cowboy.”
He grinned wickedly. “Come closer and say that.”
Curious, Libby took two steps forward. All the humor left his gaze, replaced by something much more dangerous. She sent him a level look, aware her heart was racing again.
“Holden…your family…”
“I don’t care,” he whispered ardently, fitting his lips over hers. “I need you. Need this.”
And so, it turned out, did Libby. Their days and nights apart—had been excruciatingly lonely.
And that pent-up passion came forth in their kiss.
How long it would have continued, had the wolf whistles and clapping not sounded behind them, Libby would never know.
Flushing, she pulled back. Turned to see that they had quite an audience. The McCabes chorused their approval with huge grins.
“And here we thought you were the least romantic among us,” Jeb drawled.
“Clearly, not anymore,” Hank ribbed.
Even Shane McCabe, who usually chose not to weigh in on matters of the heart, smiled. “Looks like congratulations of some sort are in order,” he declared.
“STOP GLOATING,” Holden teased hours later, when the games were over and everyone had left.
Thanks to the use of disposable dinnerware, and the McCabe habit of pitching in, cleanup was left to a minimum. That mostly consisted of straightening a few throw pillows and carrying the bagged trash out to the cans.
“You beating me every single time was merely a matter of beginner’s luck.”
A Cowboy to Marry Page 14
