All I Want for Christmas is You

by Lisa Mondello

  But he was still Devin Michael's, her childhood buddy.

  “Devin,” she said, catching her breath when he was finally standing before her. She looked up and noticed the inches he'd grown taller. He was now at least six inches taller than her five foot seven inch frame.

  “Hello, mia Cara.” The words of endearment rolled off his tongue with ease, sounding as soothing as the ocean that lulled her to sleep at night. My dear one was the meaning. Her grandmother had referred to her that way on countless occasions in her youth, which Devin had teased her about when he'd been privy to hear. But this time, the pure emotion with which he spoke the simple words cascaded over her like the incoming tide.

  # # #

  Excerpt from NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

  NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

  “Like I just told you, ma'am,” Stoney Buxton said, glancing up through squinted eyes at the fair-skinned woman standing over him. “I’m a rancher. I don't do wilderness tours. You'll just have to find someone else to guide you through that terrain.”

  Though the sun floating in the cloudless sky in front of him made it difficult to see, he tipped the brim of his well-worn cowboy hat with the edge of the hammer he gripped between his fingers to get a better look at the young woman.

  Now what in hell’s blazes is this?

  She stood there, all legs, eyes, and lips pouting down at him. A picture of beauty, polished and gleaming like Sunday silver. Her long legs--he noticed every inch of them as his eyes trailed the length of her--would do better wrapped around a man's waist. Even hidden beneath her smooth fitting jeans he could tell those legs were much too refined and delicate to take the hard living of trailing through Wyoming wilderness. Her red manicured nails shone bright in the mid-day sun and matched the vibrant shade of her full lips. Her eyes, a soft shade of cinnamon brown, held a determined fire that told him she wasn't going to back down, no matter what he threw at her.

  Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

  “Gerald Hammond from the General Store said that you were the best guide in the area. I want the best.”

  He saw her jaw set as a gentle breeze blew a wisp of hair over her forehead. She quickly brushed it away with an air of grace that spoke of money. Lots of it. Family money that paid for the designer clothes caressing every curve and valley of her body.

  Pulling himself up to a stand, he stretched out the ache in his leg and his shoulder. That nagging ache was a constant reminder of the long days he now spent working the family ranch. And why he'd quit rodeo over a year ago.

  “Old man Hammond said that, did he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he was mistaken. There are plenty of guides on the reservation that can take you safely through the Wind River Mountain Range.”

  Her chest heaved with an impatient sigh. “Yes, I know. But I need something a little more than what they’re offering. Much more, in fact.”

  She didn't blink, even when he shifted closer. He had to admire that she didn’t appear intimidated by him, seeing how he stood a good ten inches taller than her. Lord, but she smelled good, all sunshine and fresh rain mixed with a hint of vanilla. Bailing hay and stringing barbed wire didn’t afford him much opportunity to be in the company the likes of this pretty little eyeful standing before him. It was just one more thing to remind him of what he was missing now that he was off the road and home for good.

  “I don't think you understand, Miss...?” He flipped his hand, palm up and waited for her reply.

  “Ms. Summers. Melanie Summers. And I understand perfectly. I understand that I am in need of a guide for the next four weeks.” She sucked in a deep breath as he moved a step closer.

  “What you're asking for is impossible at best.” He shook his head at the absurdity of her request. “Have you ever been in the wilderness? Have you ever even saddled a horse?”

  She lifted her chin defiantly, the spark in her soft brown eyes fired up like the heat of the sun beating down on them. Her voice was sure. “I know perfectly well how to ride, Mr. Buxton.”

  “I'm not talking equestrian jumps that a poodle could land at the country club. I'm talking wild terrain where you are no better than the animals that consider you their prey. Have you ever had eight hundred pounds of snarling grizzly breathing down your neck? Ever felt a hungry mountain lion's eyes on your back as she stalks you?”

  She gasped softly, a small flash of uncertainty creeping into her sun filled eyes.

  Stoney sputtered. “Just as I thought. Lady, roughing it isn't staying at the local motor lodge-”

  Her eyes flew open in sudden surprise. “Wait a minute. The local motor lodge? My father got to you.” She said the words as a statement, he noticed, as if she was already convinced that it was fact.

  Stoney arched an eyebrow.

  “This just stinks!” Balling her fists, she spun on her heels, muttering something unladylike under her breath as she took a few steps along the corral he'd been repairing in the feed yard. Her soft red cotton shirt clung to her back, defining the lines of her slender figure as she took each labored breath. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to run his hand along her small back.

  As she turned to face him again, he saw that her determined fire was back. “No matter. This isn't between you and my father; it's between you and me. If you're holding out for more money, then fine. Whatever it is that he promised you for turning me away, I'll top in return for getting me safely through the next month.”

  “Look, lady, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. But my refusal has nothing to do with money.”

  She cocked her head in disbelief. Her anger had vanished with the dust and was replaced with blue-blooded charm. “Oh, it’s always about money, isn't it?”

  His jaw tightened. Yes, there was something definitely wrong here. And money had nothing to do with it. It had everything to do with this beauty standing in front of him, who was clueless about what she was getting her pretty little hide into. “No,” he replied tersely.

  “Mr. Buxton, I need your help.”

  “Tourist season is in full swing. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”

  He turned his back to her and began walking along the fence toward the barn, almost forgetting... Abruptly, he glanced up and saw the charred remains of the barn. The place where all his troubles had started just one year ago. It hadn't taken but a second for him to hear her boots digging into the dusty gravel behind him, jarring him from his thoughts.

  “Then I'll do it myself,” she said to his back.

  His whole body stiffened. He angled back to read her face, to see if she was just being a spoiled rotten rich kid, trying to get her way, or if she was actually serious. Seeing her head held high and her arms crossed in front of her, he realized she was dead serious.

  And dead she'd be if she stepped one boot into those mountains alone.

  “You'll do no such thing.” Frustration flaring, he lifted his dusty hat and forced his fingers through the thick crop of black hair before returning the hat to his head. “You just don't get it, do you? You're not asking me to take you on a theme park ride where you'll get to see the wonders of the world at a nice safe distance. This is God's country. The creatures that live up there don't know civilization, and you are no better than them. You could--probably will--get killed if you go out there alone.” His lips twitched, taking a good long appraising look at the woman in front of him. “You might even chip a nail on that pretty hand of yours.”

  The condescending bastard! Melanie fumed inwardly. If there was one thing she didn’t need right now was an overblown ego for a guide. Unfortunately, she knew it was foolish to venture out in the wilderness on her own, given her medical needs. She exhaled, feeling a prickly heat, caused by the sun and jet lag, settle along her spine. “I’m not exactly a babe in the woods, Mr. Buxton. In fact, I probably know more about those wild animals you fear will eat me alive than you do.”

  He tilted an eyebrow. “Oh, really?
”

  Okay, he was kind of cute, she admitted to herself, in a primitive sort of way. She probably would have thought more about it if he didn’t smell so much like a barnyard. Lord only knew how long he’d been baking out in the sun, gaining steam. But then again, cowboys in the rough and tough real world held little resemblance to the glamour that Hollywood gave them. “I’m a zoologist. I’ve studied all about animals and the wilderness-”

  “Yes, but have you ever ridden that kind of terrain before? Met the beast face to face?”

  He had her there. The only beast she’d ever encountered was him! Leading the sheltered life she had--albeit with protest--she hadn’t had the chance to venture into anything more dangerous than a walk through the Bronx Zoo. But she was determined to change that starting now. The deal she’d made with her father held only one requirement. She needed to stay one month in the wilderness, and he’d keep the funding for the Kenya project alive. Now that her dreams were within reaching distance, she wasn’t going to let some arrogant cowboy keep her down.

  She answered honestly, with reluctance. “No.”

  His mouth twitched, and then he gave her a half grin that made her insides stir and her mouth go dry. “Just as I thought.”

  “But that doesn’t mean--”

  “After I’m done here, there’s a long line of fence to repair before the weekend, Ms. Summer. I don’t have the time to waste baby-sitting some city girl with romantic notions about experiencing the wilderness. I’ve got work to do.”

  Her blood burned through her veins. His dismissal of her may have signified the end of the conversation to him, but she was far from through with this overbearing cowboy.

  Melanie followed his skinny little butt past the corral and all the way down a row of barbed wire rolled out on the ground along the fence, ignoring the reason she’d taken notice of his behind at all. “So do I. That’s why I need to hire you.”

  He stopped short, and she almost plowed right into his back. Dust from the ground heaved up in a cloud, choking her. He twisted around and with his hard body mere inches from her, she had to crane her neck to look up at his face.

  Immediately, she was sorry she’d taken a closer look. His rugged good looks and appeal were all too evident now. His shoulders seemed as wide as he was tall, giving him the kind of strength and power that had a woman longing to be wrapped in his arms. His thick dark hair, sweaty from working in the heat of the sun, curled around the edges of his cowboy hat. His features were sharply defined and his jaw was square. Although he’d yet to give up more than a quirk of a smile, she had the feeling that deep dimples marked his cheeks when he laughed.

  He touched his hat by the brim and adjusted it on his head. “Look, there are more than a handful of outfitters in this territory. Any one of them would be more than willing to give you what you need for the right price.”

  Sure they would, Melanie groaned inwardly. And then all it would take would be a quick phone call from her father, promising a hefty deposit to the bank account of their choice and the deal would be over. She’d be on a plane back to Long Island before her lipstick wore off her mouth.

  No, she needed Stoney Buxton. From what Gerald Hammond had said, he was good on a horse and solid in the range. Most of all, he was invisible. No matter how hard her father tried or what kind of money he tossed around, he’d never find Stoney Buxton. That was the only way she’d get a fair shot at proving herself.

  Melanie snapped her gaze back toward the house on the opposite side of the corral with the sound of the screen door slamming. On the front porch she saw a man sitting tall in a wheelchair, glaring down at Stoney. “What in tarnation has got hold of you, son? Why don’t you bring the girl in for a drink of something cool? Don’t leave her baking out there with the animals.”

  “That’s what she wants,” she heard Stoney mumble under his breath. When she glanced up, his dark blue eyes met hers, and he grew flush. “Leave it to Pop to keep me in my manners. I’m sure Ma saw your car drive in and has something already set out for company. That is if you’d like something.”

  Well at least she wasn’t getting hauled off the ranch like she’d suspected she would. It gave her more time to work on convincing Stoney to take her up on her offer. “That would be nice.”

  They walked to the small farmhouse in silence. When she’d arrived, she’d noticed the ranch was smaller than some of the others she’d passed in the area. But the farmhouse had a nice welcome feel about it that put her at ease. She hadn’t noticed the ramp leading up to the front entrance when she’d pulled onto the property earlier. Stoney had been working by the corral, and she’d zeroed in on him as the point of contact.

  A woman Melanie guessed to be Stoney’s mother greeted them at the door and welcomed her with a wide smile. Melanie suddenly felt completely out of place in a world she’d never known. The house was simply decorated with a mix of Indian rugs, beaded crafts and old furniture that had seen years of wear. As simple as the home appeared, with its lace drapes and braided rugs, it felt warm and cozy, like the Velveteen Rabbit who’d been loved a lot. A lump formed deep in her throat and she didn’t know why.

  “My name is Adele,” the woman said warmly.

  “It’s nice to meet you and...” Melanie swung around to greet the man in the wheelchair. She was caught by his overt appraisal of her, not quite sure it she met with approval or with censure.

  “Wally Buxton,” he said, finally rewarding her with a wide smile, revealing deep dimples. Melanie returned the smile, again wondering if Stoney had inherited the same gene.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Stoney stood at the kitchen door, filling it completely with his height and bulk, holding his hat in one hand, his hammer in the other. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’ve got some barbed wire that’s been needing my attention.” He put on his black hat and tipped it cordially before spinning through the door. Adele did nothing to hide the disappointment of his dismissal. Melanie fought to keep hers in check.

  “Why don’t you come into the dining room?”

  Still looking at the empty doorway, she said, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. It’s no trouble at all. I rather enjoy having the company. Since my daughter, Delia, got married and moved away, I don’t get the opportunity to entertain much, except for these sweaty cowboys and they’re not fit to be in my dining room half the time.”

  Melanie was raised with the finest that life had to offer. That included attending the best finishing schools that had groomed her to polish and shine herself for the world to see. What was expected of her all her life and given her parents pride at the many social functions she was forced to attend had always been the bane of Melanie’s existence. Still, in unpretentious company, she was glad her good manners and grace were something she could draw on to put her hostess at ease. She only hoped that when she was finished visiting with Stoney’s mother, Stoney himself would still be around for her to deal with on her own terms.

  * * *

  Stoney shook out the pain in his throbbing thumb for the second time in the last fifteen minutes. Damn that hammer. Damn the fence. Damn Melanie Summers for showing up here, flashing easy money around as if he was some mongrel sniffing for tidbits.

  He tossed the hammer to the ground and inspected the raw skin on his thumb. No doubt the nail would be black and purple by nightfall. Serves him right for thinking about Melanie sitting with his mom, no doubt telling her things a mother wants to hear. He had a hard enough time trying to convince his folks his decision to go back to rodeo was good for the ranch. He didn’t need the likes of some city princess to do in all his hard work.

  He heard the familiar sound of his father’s wheelchair rolling over gravel and swung around to greet him.

  “Almost done?” the elder Buxton asked.

  “Done breaking my hand, if that’s what you mean.” He shook out the lingering throb in his thumb. “I still have the section of fence in the
far side where the herd broke through yesterday. There’s nothing but that old broken tree limb propped up, keeping most of the cattle inside the property line. After I’m through, I’ll take a ride out to see if I can round up the strays.”

  He finally stole a quick glance at his father, who was just sitting in his chair, nodding his head. No outward emotion registered on his father’s face, but Stoney knew it was there, buried somewhere, eating at him.

  Before the accident, it would have been the two of them riding out together. But since a falling beam that struck him during the barn fire left him without the use of his legs, Wally Buxton was limited to what he could do at the ranch from the confines of his motorized wheelchair. Knowing his father’s spirit would be broken if he couldn’t do anything but watch from the porch as he worked the ranch, Stoney had constructed as many wheelchair friendly devices to allow his father to work his ranch. Given his father’s determination and stubbornness--something both father and son shared--he’d made the best of it without much of a fuss. Still, there were times when his injuries were all too apparent and confining.