by Kadie Scott
His lips quirked. “What do you need from me?”
“Um…” It was just a kiss of relief and thanks. Pull your head out the clouds and think, girl. “I may have questions as we go along. Will you be around?”
He stood and took a couple of steps back, but the distance didn’t help her lack-of-oxygen situation. “I planned to decorate my Christmas tree this afternoon.”
No way. A small part of her froze, taken by his simple statement. His Christmas tree? Did single men do that? Dad always grumbled when Mom made him help with the tree. So did Eric. But Ashley always harbored a silly romantic vision of decorating the tree with her husband and, eventually, their children. Now she sat here in a puddle of turned-on goo, because Jennings Hill happened to decorate his own Christmas tree. When she got back to Dallas, maybe she should find a psychiatrist who specialized in delusional neuroses.
Some of her thoughts must’ve shown on her face, because he grinned. “Mine doesn’t take much decorating.”
“Oh.” She mentally smacked her head. Good comeback. Got any more like that?
“I’ll cook dinner too. You like your steak medium rare, right?”
“Yes.” Her answer came out distracted as her mind remained on the Christmas tree thing.
“Mashed or baked potato? Mashed right?”
His comments finally penetrated. Wait. Either he was an amazing guesser, or he actually remembered that. She waved a hand, feeling a bit like a bug run over by an eighteen-wheeler on a highway. “Either.”
“Right. I’ll leave you to it.”
An hour later, the soft strains of Christmas music reached her. Ashley paused in her work and listened. Usually, when she worked from home, she did so on the couch, computer in her lap, with the TV on or music playing. Sitting in this back office seemed…lonely. On the other hand, if she went out to Jennings, she’d have to be around him.
What bothered her most about that idea was the way her stomach clenched in eager anticipation.
He’d promised to behave. And he had, if she discounted the kiss he gave her in a moment of gratitude. How dangerous could tree decorating and a steak dinner be? Having mentally talked herself around, she decided no harm could come from working from his couch. Why change her habits just because Jennings happened to be close?
She snatched up his laptop along with her notepad and pen and followed the sound of the music, currently a snappy rendition of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” She discovered Jennings in the family room—showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt sporting the logo for the best football team in Texas, the Cowboys, with the sleeves pushed back, of course, and holey socks on his feet. Maybe she’d get him some socks for Christmas. He was playing the role of her new crush, after all. A gift would be expected. Right?
The crackly fire cast a lovely glow over the dimly lit room, reminding her of campfires with its burnt cedar scent. The TV, mounted over the mantle, softly played holiday tunes. He hummed under his breath as he haphazardly sprinkled silver strands of tinsel over the most pathetic Christmas tree she’d ever seen.
“You’d have been better off using that one for firewood,” she teased.
Startled, Jennings threw a glance over his shoulder at her, then turned back to the tree, giving it a cockeyed look. “Don’t listen to her. You’re perfect,” he half-whispered at the scrap of bark and pine needles. The thing was more like a bedraggled branch than a tree.
She grinned, amused despite herself. “Are you talking to the tree?”
He chuckled. “The best trees are the sad ones no one wants. I give them a home.”
“You have a soft spot for lost causes?”
He turned those deep blue eyes that seemed to take in way too much her way. “No one is ever a lost cause.”
There went her oxygen again as part of her wished he was talking about her. The air whooshed out of Ashley’s body as she plopped onto the long leather couch facing the fireplace. Jennings’s sad tree stood lopsidedly to the right of the hearth.
He couldn’t have meant their friendship, but it sure felt as though he had. What would having Jennings’s friendship again feel like? She shooed the crazy thought away. She was going back to Dallas after Christmas. Besides, despite how he’d hurt her in the past, Jennings deserved someone who knew what the hell she wanted. That wasn’t her.
“So…did you figure everything out? Can I go after this guy?”
Jennings’s voice pulled her out of her own head. She blinked, trying to catch up, and he nodded at the computer in her lap.
She glanced down and his question sunk in. “Oh! No. I just don’t like working in an office. If that’s okay?”
“Sure. Work wherever you want.”
“Thanks.” She lifted the laptop lid to log in while Jennings went back to decorating the tree. Ashley lost herself in the numbers and relaxed. Jennings’s solid presence in the background became almost soothing as he quietly went about his task, humming to the music in an off-key baritone.
She glanced up at one point and choked back a laugh.
Jennings turned. “What? Too much?”
“I think you missed a spot.” She sniggered. Silver tinsel obscured the entire tree.
He tilted his head, assessing his work. “Maybe I should pull a little off,” he mused.
“If you don’t want it to collapse under the weight, that might be a good idea.”
She turned her attention back to his finances, but hadn’t gotten very far when silver rained down all around her. “Hey! What’s the big idea?” She laughed, brushing clinging strands of tinsel from her face and off the keyboard.
“That’s for questioning my tree decorating skills.”
“I didn’t question. I gave you a helpful suggestion.”
“In the form of an insult.”
She slapped both hands to her cheeks in mock-horror. “Oh, the poor wittle cowboy got his feewings huwt?” she cooed.
In retaliation, he dumped another handful of tinsel on her, and Ashley laughed. “Okay, okay. I have work to do, Hill. Do you want me to figure this out or not?”
He narrowed his eyes, glowering with faked anger. “Are you blackmailing me, Hughes? Again? This is getting to be a habit.”
She held up both hands. “Just telling it like it is. I took a leaf from your book. Hard Truths as Seen by Jennings Hill.”
As soon as the words shot from her mouth, she wanted to toss out a lasso and yank them back. They’d been doing so well. Why couldn’t she let that past hurt just go? After all, she was as much to blame as he. More, maybe.
Jennings sobered suddenly, then, to her consternation, dropped to the couch beside her. She grabbed for the computer as it jiggled, her personal-space alarm going off at his nearness.
“I was a big jerk to you over the years, wasn’t I?” he asked.
Just like that, in the face of sincere regret staring her down, she wanted to forget those past insults. She’d played her own part in what had happened between them, constantly obsessing over her new boyfriend. Had he not realized how much losing his good opinion had hurt her, causing her teenaged self to stupidly shut down, closing him out even more?
She lifted a piece of tinsel off her lap, smoothing the strand with her fingers. “I believe the last time we talked, you told me, ‘Any woman who let a man dictate her life was no better than a dog on a leash.’”
Jennings winced. “I’m sorry, Hughes. Please blame it on being young and stupid. And frustrated. I never wanted to hurt you. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the thick dark strands so they stood up at odd angles.
Ashley had a sudden urge to smooth them down for him. She gripped the computer more tightly to keep her hands where they were.
He shifted to face her more directly. “When you started dating Eric, you suddenly had no time for me. I was hurt and jealous and fifteen. I should have talked to you or handled it better. Hindsight and all that. But you didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t around anymore.”
Ashley had no idea what to say to that. He’d been jealous? Again, her mother’s comparison to her dad popped into her head. Had all those comments and his disappointment in her come from a place of actual caring, rather than criticism or blame?
His lips crooked in a bitter smile. “The day I said that about the leash, when we had that fight? I noticed you didn’t have a ring, and you told me Eric hadn’t proposed. That you were waiting. For what? You’d been together years, and you deserved”—he shrugged—“more. You followed him all through high school, didn’t seem to mind losing me as a friend, gave up Math Club because he wanted you to do 4H with him, gave up going to Rice on scholarship to follow him to the college he got into, and you were waiting again. For him to get off his backside and propose. You were willing to wait for a lukewarm, late proposal. Something as huge as the-rest-of-your-life should come from a man who’s so in love with you he can’t wait to start that life together. Look at Eric and Taylor.”
Ouch.
He broke off with a grimace. “I’m doing it again, I guess. I don’t say that to be mean. But look at how fast he moved to propose when the right woman turned up. You deserved that too. You still do. Someone to adore you and wants you to reach your full potential. Look what you’ve done at the accounting firm. Promoted already, after less than a year, I heard.”
Wow. Just, wow.
Ashley gulped. She had no idea. “I’m sorry about my part in our friendship too. You were right. I was love blind, I guess. Also, young and stupid.” She paused. She wasn’t doing so hot as an adult, for that matter. “As for all the other decisions… Rice wasn’t my scene. I found it too intimidating and wanted to do more with ranching, which A&M’s agricultural school allowed for. What I wanted most was to come home and work the ranch with my family and start my own. Not very modern, I’m well aware, but it’s what I wanted. Eric might have been an additional factor in my decisions, but he was never the driving reason.”
Jennings stared at her, as if trying to see into the truth inside her soul. “Is that true?”
She gave him a half-smile, not bothering to hide her sadness, because, suddenly, she regretted all those years of miscommunication more than any part of the long list of regrets she had. “Maybe what I needed was a friend to point out any concerns—gently—then stop and listen to me. Instead of someone who made me feel as if I were an idiot for every decision I made.”
She wanted that friend back. Except guilt poked at her because she still didn’t have her shit figured out. It would be unfair of her to even hope. Jennings said she deserved more…and so did he.
He ran a hand over his jaw, the soft scratch of his early-evening stubble loud in the silence. “I couldn’t be your friend back then, Ashley. It would have been too…self-serving.” Regret, and an elusive emotion she couldn’t put her finger on, laced his voice.
“What does that mean?” She cocked her head, confusion pursing her lips.
Had he liked her? As more than a friend? Her insides tangled up like the tinsel at the mere idea.
He blew out a long breath and pushed off the couch. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Her heart constricted at his words, and she shivered at the loss of his warmth beside her.
He faced her, purpose hardening his mouth. “You are a smart, capable, beautiful woman. Someone I always admired and liked. I’m sorry if my words or actions ever hurt you.” He held out a hand. “Maybe we could start over? As friends. Again.”
Friends. A second chance. Just what she’d been wishing for. Underneath a warm layer of happiness that settled in her was a layer of disappointment. What was going on with her anyway? Did she want more? No. Friends was the best she could offer. Until she had a better handle on what she wanted moving forward, she couldn’t risk more. For both their sakes.
“And you were always the measuring stick I compared myself to—fun, confident, dependable. I’m sorry too.” Ashley shook his hand. “Friends it is.”
Awkward silence descended as they stared at each other. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand out of his grasp and waved at the computer. “Okay, friend, I’d better keep working on your fraud issue.”
“Right.” He turned away and went into the kitchen, where he rattled around for a bit, the clang of pots and pans reaching her where she remained on the couch.
Ashley did her best to ignore him until the sound of popping filled the air, followed by the buttery scent of popcorn.
“Popcorn with steak?” she called.
He held up a bowl of fresh cranberries. “I’m stringing it for the tree.” He grimaced. “Carter’s suggestion.”
“Ah.” That sounded like Carter.
Until today, she would’ve placed seeing Jennings string popcorn and berries for his Christmas tree at the same level of likelihood as catching a jackalope. “Don’t you have any ornaments?”
He brought the bowls, along with a needle and thread, into the family room and sat beside her on the couch, laying it all out on the coffee table. “No. All the ornaments on my parents’ tree growing up represented a memory. Each one reminded us of a trip or a big occasion or a family member. I want to do that, too, with my own family’s memories. Until then, tinsel and stringed popcorn and berries work fine.”
She’d forgotten about his family’s tree tradition. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just…Jennings Hill. Captain of the football team, class president, prom king, and big, tough rancher, has a secret marshmallow center.”
“What can I say? I’m the total package.” He grinned, eyes twinkling brighter than old Saint Nick’s and with a lot more mischief.
Just friends. Not sexy. Not even a little bit. If she mentally repeated it enough, it might come true. Of course, he’d have to sprout some warts and lose all his hair and add a beer gut. Though she suspected he’d be sexy even then. “Let’s add modest to the list.”
He tossed a piece of popcorn at her, which she plucked off her lap and popped into her mouth. The burst of buttery flavor on her tongue had her reaching for a handful from the bowl, only to have her hand smacked.
“Hey!”
“Get to work, woman.”
“How can I look away from all your manly awesomeness?” She used her best southern accent and batted her eyelashes at him, damsel-style.
He speared a piece of popcorn with the needle and stabbed his finger with the pointed end. “Dang.” He snatched his hand back with a glare for the needle and stuck his bleeding finger in his mouth. Catching her amused gaze, he winked. “Not exactly my thing—I’m better with horses and cattle—but someone has to do it.”
Ashley chuckled and turned back to the computer, supremely conscious of the man at her side. She tried to ignore the fission of attraction pulsing through her. Apparently, she found a work-hardened cowboy like Jennings decorating a tree, somewhat ineptly, granted, sexy as all get out.
Doggone it.
Chapter Nine
Several more hours, a steak dinner, and an evening of ignoring Jennings’s looming presence later, and she was satisfied with the results of her efforts.
“I think…” Ashley paused to type a few more notes. “Yup. I’m done.” She hit save with a flourish, flopped back against the couch, and let out a long sigh, her brain fuzzy from hours of continued, detailed concentration.
Jennings lowered the Texas Cattlemen magazine he was reading, having cleaned up from dinner and finished decorating long before. He eyed her with weary disbelief. “You’re joking?”
When she’d gotten sick of his asking how things were going—she’d never been able to do homework with him for the same reason—she’d teased him by pretending to be done. A couple times.
This time she meant it. Leaning forward, she deposited the computer on the coffee table, next to the empty popcorn bowl. “I’m an accountant. We don’t joke about numbers.”
She winked at him, then stood and stretched. Other than a break for the scrumptious steaks he’d grilled, she’d been sitti
ng on the couch for hours. Darkness had fallen ages ago, and a smattering of rain now tapped against the tin roof in a steady rhythm. Jennings kept the fire going, which crackled merrily away behind a lovely iron grate.
Jennings stood too. “And?”
She dropped her arms. “What I found is definitive. You should give it all to your lawyer. They’ll work with the local, and possibly state, police to prosecute.”
“You can prove it?”
“Yes. And it wasn’t easy.”
Before she finished talking, he swept her up in a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground, and buried his face in her hair. “I didn’t want it to be true. I’ve heard about cases where they couldn’t prove it. All that money lost. I’m relieved I don’t have to go to my family and tell them we have no recourse.”
“Can’t breathe,” Ashley squeaked.
He huffed a laugh and lowered her feet to the ground, but his arms stayed entwined around her. “I’m serious. Thank you.”
Those simple words combined with how he looked at her—as though she was precious—lightened her heart. She could have floated away on a cloud. She hadn’t realized until this moment exactly how much she’d missed Jennings Hill. The friend, not the guy he’d been the last ten years…or, for that matter, the girl she’d been.
Ashley smiled back. “I’m happy to help.”
Jennings’s gaze dropped to her lips, and his grin slowly faded.
Her ribs suddenly feeling tight, Ashley cocked her head. “What?”
He shook his head, laser-focused on her in a way that made her stomach clench. “You never smile at me anymore, is all. It’s…nice.”
There went all the oxygen. Again. She should leave. “Oh.”
She gave a mental wince at the inane response, but her verbal skills had deserted her along with the air.
“I want to kiss you.” He held himself stiffly but didn’t let her go.
Ashley bit her lip as her clamoring body begged her to let him. But, this was Jennings Hill. Sure, they’d cleared the air a bit, and he’d shown her the side she’d forgotten—the likeable, patient, fun-loving man who enjoyed laughing with her. However, as wrong as she’d been about Eric, and the person she was slowly starting to realize she’d become with him…she didn’t trust her instincts any more.
