Between Christmas and Romance

by Shanna Hatfield

  As I ate my bagel, I turned on the television and found a second airing of the parade. Apparently, the stroll had calmed my anxiety because I settled back and viewed the floats, bands, and huge balloons on the TV with a smile.

  The longer I watched, the more I relaxed. My eyelids grew heavy and I was almost asleep when I heard what sounded like the bell jingle downstairs. That was impossible. The store was closed. The door was locked. Besides, no one in their right mind would want to be at the bookstore today. Not when there were family meals waiting to be consumed. I could almost taste the creamy mashed potatoes and smell the spices in a homemade pumpkin pie I imagined would be served at homes throughout Christmas Mountain.

  Convinced I was hearing things, I returned to watching TV. Everything was fine until I heard the stairs creak a few minutes later.

  Freaked out that someone was in the store, I jumped up and glanced around. I had a baseball bat in my bedroom closet, but wasn’t sure I could actually bring myself to hit someone with it. The creaking on the stairs grew louder and my panic escalated. At least the old steps prevented anyone from sneaking up them.

  As quietly as I could, I crept over to my open apartment door and tiptoed over to the bookcase. I’d left the panel open so Hemi could come and go as he pleased throughout the day. Now, I wished I’d pushed it shut when I returned from my walk.

  Footsteps sounded on the landing then stopped. If someone planned on robbing the place, they’d be downstairs breaking into the cash register, not skulking around on the stairs. Was someone looking for me specifically, or just casing the joint?

  Obviously, I’d watched one too many detective shows. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and thought of all the self defense and martial arts classes I’d taken. When you live on your own in a big city, it’s a handy thing to know how to protect yourself. I’d even earned a brown belt in karate before I had to drop out of my class.

  Whoever was on the other side of the bookcase was most likely not aware of my skills, which gave me an advantage and a dose of courage.

  With another deep breath, I rushed around the bookcase and went into full-on attack-ninja mode. My hand was less than an inch away from chopping into the intruder’s windpipe when I realized the man was calling me by name.

  “Carol! Hold on! It’s okay!” The voice didn’t sound scared, but slightly pained.

  I stopped before I did more damage, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and glared at Tim Burke. The shocked look on his face was enough to make me feel a slight twinge of remorse for striking first and asking questions later.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked in a terse tone, dropping my hands and stepping back.

  It took him a moment to respond. He bent over and retrieved the hat I’d knocked off his head to the floor. It gave me the opportunity to note he had dark brown hair, worn in a crew cut that somehow suited him. It also let me observe his backside in snug-fitting jeans. The sight was enough to make my eyes widen in acute appreciation. The guy must have a girlfriend or wife. Incredibly good-looking men typically didn’t stay unattached for long.

  Once he’d picked up his hat and brushed it off, he held it in his right hand while his left rubbed over his jaw. There was a distinct possibility I hit it with my fist, or possibly a foot. Then again, it might have been when he dodged away from me and collided with a sconce on the wall.

  He worked his jaw from side to side before he sighed and looked at me again. It was then I noticed a scratch on his cheek with a drop of blood about to drip from it.

  Remorse settled over me. Even if he had no business in my store, I didn’t mean to hurt him. If he was there for nefarious reasons, he would have likely done something by now instead of glaring at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Come on,” I said and tipped my head toward my apartment then walked around the end of the bookcase. I didn’t look back to see if he followed, but the sound of his boots on the hardwood let me know he was right behind me.

  I led the way to my kitchen where I ripped a paper towel off the roll, dampened it, then dabbed at his cheek.

  Rather than apologize, I repeated my earlier question, minus the attitude. “What are you doing here?”

  “Nana made me come. She’s convinced you are spending the day alone and rambled on about you most likely eating a frozen dinner and having no one but your cat to talk to,” Tim said looking at my ceiling as I continued to press the paper towel to his cheek. “I didn’t break in, if that’s what you’re thinking. The door was unlocked. I looked around downstairs, but didn’t see you. Nana mentioned you live above the store, so I came upstairs.”

  “You should have yelled for me.” Or worn his jangly spurs. That would have been a good giveaway a cowboy had entered my domain uninvited.

  “I didn’t want to startle you.”

  I couldn’t stop from smirking. “How’d that work out for you?”

  He rubbed his jaw where the skin was already bruising. “Not well.”

  “You know, they have this thing called a telephone,” I said, unable to reel in the sarcasm. “Most people call if they have a question rather than drive fifteen miles into town for no reason. You can’t pick up a load of feed today because I know for a fact the store’s closed.”

  He grinned, then grimaced at the pain it must have caused. “I told Nana to call you, but she wouldn’t calm down until I agreed to come get you. If you want to be mad at someone, take it up with her.”

  I stopped dabbing at his cheek and studied the cut. “It was kind of her to think of me, but I’ll pass on the invitation.”

  “You have other plans?” Tim asked, looking down at me with a knowing expression on his face.

  What clued him in to my pathetic holiday? The parade blaring on the TV or the little chocolate cake on the counter, still in its serving-for-one plastic container.

  “Of sorts,” I said, unwilling to outright lie.

  He leaned back and studied me for a moment. “You look… different. Have a hot date?”

  Did Hemi and a John Wayne marathon count?

  “Are you okay?” I asked, not answering his question. I hadn’t gone on a date in so long, hot or otherwise, I wasn’t sure I even remembered how the whole dating thing worked.

  “I’m fine,” he said, straightening to his full height although I saw him wince and tuck his arm against his side.

  “Let me at least get some peroxide for your cheek.” I didn’t wait for him to argue as I left the kitchen and hurried into my bathroom. I returned to find him in the living room on the couch with Hemi on his lap. The cat looked like he’d found his long-lost best friend.

  Furry turncoat.

  When I pressed a cotton ball soaked in peroxide against Tim’s cheek, he squirmed like I attempted to pour flesh-eating acid over his skin.

  “Are you five or a grown up?” I asked as he continued turning his face away from my hand.

  “It depends on the day,” he said in a deep voice that seemed to rumble through my whole apartment. His hand caught my wrist and held it away from him.

  I checked to make sure he wasn’t attempting to electrocute me since something charged raced up my arm and out to every extremity.

  Abruptly he released my hand and went back to scratching Hemi’s back. The cat’s purrs increased in volume. “What’s his name?”

  “Hemi.” I dropped the cotton ball in the trash then observed as the cowboy pet my cat. He looked far too at home and comfortable in my apartment. And I hated to admit it, but I liked seeing him there. Hemi was quite discerning when it came to humans, besides me. The fact he cozied right up to Tim made me think he was probably a good guy under his opinionated, outspoken exterior.

  “Like the engine?” he asked

  I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling. “It doesn’t surprise me in the least a guy like you would automatically jump to that conclusion. He is not named after car parts. He’s named after Hemingway. Perhaps you’ve heard of him. He wrote books.”

  He didn’t even
lift his eyes from the cat as he continued petting him. “I have heard of Hemingway.” He glanced up at me and spouted, “‘The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.’”

  Point taken, and bonus points to the cowboy for not only knowing a Hemingway quote, but reciting one so particularly appropriate for the situation.

  Other than aggravating me beyond endurance the other day, he really hadn’t done anything to make me think he had evil motives.

  As I studied him with Hemi, watched those long fingers run through the cat’s fur, any number of ideas, all of them unsettling, raced through my head. Before I did something insane, like sit beside Tim and rest my head against his brawny shoulder, I needed him to leave. Veiled insults hadn’t worked, so perhaps I needed to take a direct approach.

  “I really do appreciate Nancy’s invitation and you driving all the way here to extend it, but I can’t make it today.”

  There. That should make it clear I had no interest in going to the ranch.

  “Nana said you’d say that and to tell you she won’t accept no as an answer. Unless you want me to bodily pack you out to my pickup, you should get your things so we can go. My aunt Charli came to stay until Nana is back on her feet and she’s a retired chef. She worked in Chicago at some fancy places. You ever hear of Magdala? She was the head chef there for ten years. I promise the food will be worth the trip.”

  Now he was playing dirty. Not only had I heard of Magdala, but I’d eaten there a few times. The food was out-of-this-world delicious.

  I never learned to cook and my mother was not exactly Harriet homemaker during my growing up years. The thought of a home-cooked meal, made by a talented chef, was enough incentive to get me to go with Tim, no matter how much I wanted to pretend I wasn’t interested.

  “I don’t want to intrude on your family gathering,” I said, still scrambling for excuses even as I thought about what I had on hand I could take as a hostess gift.

  Tim scoffed. “Our family gathering consists of me, Aunt Charli, and Nana, and maybe one or two of the hired hands who don’t have better offers.”

  “Oh, well, I…”

  He set Hemi on the couch and stood. “Just agree to come. If you don’t, Nana will never let me hear the end of it.” Those big hands settled on my arms. A jolt rocked through me at his touch and I hoped he didn’t notice my legs trembling from the contact.

  When I continued to hesitate, he bent his knees and fused his gaze to mine. “Please?”

  Warm chocolate eyes were evidently my kryptonite, because I nodded my head in agreement.

  He grinned and dropped his hands. “Anything you need to do before we go?” he asked, looking around my apartment. I wondered what he saw as he studied my eclectic mix of furniture and decor. There were antiques I’d picked up here and there, a few things from my many travels abroad, and more modern pieces, like the comfy couch and big screen television.

  “I’ll just grab a few things and be ready to go.” I rushed into the kitchen, snagged an empty basket from the pantry and filled it with an assortment of tea, something I always had plenty of on hand. I added a box of expensive chocolates I also liked to keep readily available. I usually ordered half a dozen boxes at a time and kept them in the freezer. I’d gotten this one out a few days ago thinking about enjoying a piece, or five, this weekend. I figured if I survived Black Friday, I deserved a treat.

  I carried the basket into the living room where Tim waited with Hemi. When I picked up my coat, Tim hurried to hold it for me. Nice manners, that was unexpected. Then again, Nancy was a delightful woman and I would have expected no less from her grandson, if I hadn’t known her grandson was Tim. After our encounter the other day, I would have labeled him as boorish and too lunkheaded to ever behave like a gentleman. Apparently, I was wrong.

  Quickly tucking my wallet, phone, and keys inside my purse, I rubbed a hand over Hemi’s back. “You be a good boy while I’m gone. No hairballs, gifts of rodents, or other similar surprises.”

  The cat swished his tail then licked his foot, as though he didn’t care if I stayed or left.

  “Fickle feline,” I murmured as I walked over to my apartment door. Tim lifted his hat from where he’d left it on my pie crust table and followed me downstairs. I detoured over to the section of cozy mysteries Nancy preferred, and picked up one I knew she didn’t have. I jotted a quick note and left it on my desk so I wouldn’t forget to remove it from inventory, then walked out the front door. I double-checked to make sure it was locked before I turned around. Tim stood at the open passenger door of a big, black, double cab pickup. There weren’t any running boards, but with my long legs I didn’t need them.

  He started to give me a hand, but I hopped in before he could touch me. The look he gave me was one I couldn’t decipher, so I didn’t even try. I buckled my seatbelt while he jogged around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel.

  As he backed out of the parking space in front of my store, I wondered what I had done. I’d never even checked to verify Nancy really was his grandmother. What if he was an imposter? Someone trying to get me off alone to…

  Covertly as I could, I studied him. He was still as handsome as he’d been the other day, maybe even more so. Well, he would have been except for the cut on his cheek and a rapidly-forming bruise on his jaw. I should have filled a bag of ice for him to put on his jaw.

  It’s possible I might have gotten a teensy bit carried away in my self-defense moves. Then again, he could have at least called out my name before he started up the stairs. If he had, the martial arts exhibition could have been avoided.

  Silence lingered between us as he drove out of town heading south toward Kalispell. I stared out the window at the beautiful landscape, thinking I really should get out more. Generally, I chose a Sunday afternoon every month or two and drove into Kalispell to stock up on supplies not readily available in Christmas Mountain. There was even a mall there where I could wander through clothing stores and sniff perfume and lotion samples (which I loved). And I’d eat at a favorite restaurant, then order extra to take home that would serve as my dinner for a few nights.

  Nancy had mentioned Aspen Grove Ranch was south of town, but that’s about all I knew. We’d gone eight miles, by my calculations, from Christmas Mountain when Tim turned off the highway and headed west.

  It took a good deal of effort on my part to maintain my calm façade. Inside, I was running a dozen scenarios through my mind of all the things that could happen to me. No one knew who I was with. Where I’d gone. Would anyone miss me if Tim turned out to be a perverted stalker or serial killer.

  Then again, Hemi had given him a stamp of approval, so I was probably safe.

  “You look nice.” Tim’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  Taken aback that he’d offer me a compliment, I shifted my focus from the landscape to him. The shy, lopsided grin on his face appeared more sincere than any other expression I’d seen so far, except maybe the one of shock when I beat him up earlier. Okay, so I didn’t beat him up, but I did get in a few serious licks.

  Right now, I was much more interested in what he said than what had happened earlier. “Thank you.”

  He lifted his hand and waved it in my general direction. “You should dress like that more often instead of trying to look like Professor Trelawney from…”

  “Harry Potter!” we said in unison, then he chuckled.

  I didn’t know whether to be amused or offended by the comparison, or just stunned that he made it in the first place. Even if he was closer to the truth than I cared to consider. Besides, I’d only seen him once the other day. How could he possibly know what I looked like the rest of the time?

  Tim Burke seemed far too perceptive for my liking. He glanced at me again. “Nana mentioned you like to wear clothes that are…loose.”

  Now I wondered if he read minds. If that was even a remote possibility, I was in big trouble, considering the thoughts I was thinking earlier as I stared at his
fine caboose when he bent over to pick up his hat.

  “And you seem to like dressing like a cowboy.” There, that should guide the conversation away from my attire.

  Rather than the snarky retort I anticipated, he remained silent. A slow, tantalizing grin creased his cheeks and he looked like he tried to swallow back a laugh.

  “What’s funny?” I asked, assuming he’d thought of something amusing at my expense.

  He glanced over at me then back at the road, still grinning. “I was just picturing the look on Miles’ face if I walked into the feedstore and asked him for a pair of purple skinny jeans in my size.”

  A vision of Tim trying to squeeze his big, buff bod into a pair of tiny pants caused me to giggle.

  Tim chuckled and looked my way again. “I think I better stick with what works.”

  No argument from me. What he had going on was definitely working. He smelled like horses, snow, and sunshine with something masculine and intriguing thrown in that made me want to draw in deep breaths of his scent. From the top of his cowboy hat to the tips of his boots, there was no mistaking the fact he was all rugged man and all cowboy.

  Even his pickup shouted his chosen career path. Worn leather gloves, coils of rope, a set of hay tongs (don’t ask how I know what those are), a smattering of hay leaves, and a saddle blanket in the back seat all attested to the fact this man knew a thing or two about rural life. If that wasn’t enough, country music played softly on the radio.

  It had been years since I’d listened to country music and I suddenly remembered how much I liked it. While I was away from Christmas Mountain, doing my best to pretend I was sophisticated and savvy in the ways of the world, I mostly listened to jazz or pop music. At the store, I played music that wasn’t distracting to shoppers. But as I listened to an old Wade Hayes song about being old enough to know better and still too young to care, it made me smile.

  I wondered if Tim was still too young to care. Somehow, I got the idea he was far past that stage of his life.

  Unable to fully contain my tumbling thoughts, I gave him a quick glance. “So, Nancy mentioned you were in the Army. Was that something you did right out of high school?”