Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  “He’s coming,” Faith whispered, unable to contain the giddiness bubbling up as he made his way across the lawn, his gaze never straying from hers.

  “My word.” Gina placed a hand to her chest. “That’s so intense I can feel the heat.”

  “Are you ready?” Shelby whispered, turning to Faith and fluffing her hair.

  “Do you think he knows he’s doing the whole ‘Heath Ledger in Ten Things I Hate About You’ act, wearing a Santa hat that says CUFFS INCLUDED”? Gina asked.

  “Doesn’t matter, he’s totally pulling it off,” Faith breathed.

  “Which”—Shelby pinched Faith’s cheeks—“is why you need to be ready. Please be ready. Because I know that look. It’s all Tucker and it’s all aimed in your direction.”

  Afraid to look away, she whispered back, “What does it mean?”

  “It means your world is about to change,” Shelby said, then turned her attention to the new arrival. “Hey there, Noah. Can I interest you in some sweet tea?”

  And there he was, standing in front of her, looking big and strong and as if there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt about what he wanted. Faith swallowed, pretty sure it was her because he said, “No, ma’am,” to Shelby, his voice changing a bit when he asked Faith, “Can I borrow you for as many moments as you have left tonight?”

  “No sweet tea then? Great.” Shelby stood, pulling Gina with her.

  “Not many men could rock the hat. Kudos to you, Middle Tucker,” Gina called out right before they disappeared into the house. Only to reappear in the bottom right-hand corner of the window.

  “How long do you think they’re going to stay there?” he asked, and Faith laughed. “Right.” He ran a hand down his face, checking behind his shoulders, then said, “Stay right there. I’ll be back in two seconds.”

  Faith looked at her pretend watch and he grinned, then took off into the house. Faith glanced at the window behind her, where Shelby was pretending to make out with her hand and Gina sang the beginning of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” into an invisible microphone.

  “Stop,” she mouthed, but they appeared nowhere near ready to stop. So she was relieved when Noah reappeared on the porch with a canvas bag in hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “This is a surprise.” He took her hand to help her up and a charged current crackled between them. “And that, angel, is chemistry.”

  He led her down the steps and across the lawn, their fingers completely intertwined, their steps in harmony. He didn’t break contact until they reached the gate that separated the house from the grazing pastures.

  Noah held it open for her to pass through, immediately taking her hand in his larger one. Heaven help her, he had great hands. Strong, firm, and work-roughened, yet absolutely tender as he ran his thumb over her skin.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You getting suspicious on me again?”

  “Cautious,” she corrected, and he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

  “Cautious is okay,” he whispered against her fingers. “I want to show you where I used to spend a lot of time at the ranch.”

  “Are you taking me to the place you’d bring girls? Show them the stars, steal a kiss?” she teased.

  “No, ma’am. I’ve never brought anyone but my brothers to this place. So, kissing was never on the agenda.”

  “And tonight’s agenda?”

  “That, darlin’, is up to you.”

  Faith looked up to study the man who, little by little, was chiseling away the walls she’d put in place to keep her safe. He’d managed to slide right past them and into her heart. Then she thought about how he’d phrased it, “where I spent a lot of time.” He hadn’t said a beautiful view or his favorite spot, and his body language didn’t read as if they were going to his favorite anything.

  His handsome face was tense, his lips not in their usual mischievous smile. He looked determined but uncertain, and his vulnerability reached out and pulled Faith in that much deeper.

  As if sensing her stare, he looked down and gave her a busted grin, then squeezed her hands. She squeezed back, and he laughed.

  “How many moments do you have left before your ginger bears call, needing you home?” he asked, stepping down onto one of the big boulders that lined the hillside next to the creek. He lifted her hand, steadying it so she could step down with him. He did it for every boulder they descended.

  “If you ask Pax, he’d say all night. But I promised myself not more than two hours of fun, and then I have to get back to work.”

  “Not many people smile like that when they say work.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re happy.”

  She touched her cheek, surprised to find it plump with joy. “I guess I am. Even though I’m exhausted and will probably never eat another gingerbread cookie as long as I live, once I put my apron on I feel, I don’t know, content.”

  To her, contentment was almost a foreign concept. She knew discipline, resilience, and a bunch of other traits that went along with constantly being in motion. But contentment was something new.

  She looked at Noah, standing on another rock with his hand outstretched, and she realized contentment was right up there with refreshing.

  “It’s hard not to be when surrounded by all of this,” she said, taking in the rushing creek and leaves rustling in the breeze. While she’d been helping organize the silent auction, the sun had begun to set. And now that they were down in the valley, the sky had turned to a dark twilight.

  “I know,” he said, and Faith realized he wasn’t looking at the surroundings. She was so overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, she found it hard to remember why this was a bad idea.

  “Can you hold on?” She held up a finger and he looked thoroughly amused. “I know that was a moment and I totally blew it, but hang on.” She dug through her purse and pulled out the mistletoe he’d left on her doorstep. She held it high, but he was too tall.

  “I’ve got an idea—stay with me,” she directed.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Oh boy. As if that didn’t make her wish for more. Ignoring temptation for the moment, she took the bag from his hand and set it down, then led him to the last boulder of their descent. She climbed up to the top and turned to face him—

  “Oh, fa-la-la.” Now she was too high.

  “Why don’t you sit, right here?” He patted an indentation in the rock, and she shimmied down to—well, my oh my, she was at perfect lip-locking level.

  She held up the mistletoe over their heads. “I think if we get the after-the-first-kiss jitters out of the way, I’ll be able to breathe.”

  “Who am I to argue with a lady?”

  Noah stepped forward, his hands sliding up her thighs, to part them as he pressed himself against her until there was no more than a whisper between them. Her hands were still holding the mistletoe, her heartbeat pounding so loudly she barely heard him when he said, “Funny, the second you took my hand was the second I started breathing.”

  With a small groan, he captured her mouth.

  No hesitation, no gentle exploratory brushes this time. Oh no, Noah kissed her as if he had to expel everything he felt in one, single, solitary kiss.

  Except his one kiss turned into two, and by the time he went back for thirds, Faith thought she had died and gone to Tuckerland, where every kiss packed enough punch to rock her world.

  And, Lord have mercy, he was not a man to be rushed. He teased and kissed, his hands moving from her legs to her backside, languidly taking his time to get out every . . . last . . . jitter.

  And when he pulled back, they were both breathing hard, and Faith was convinced they were flying.

  When she opened her eyes, she found herself wrapped around him like a pretzel while he was supporting her. Her hand was still raised in the air, clutching the mistletoe.

  “That’s some powerful mistletoe. I’d better confiscate it,” he said, walking
them over to where they’d dropped the bag, not setting her on her feet until she handed over the contraband.

  With another quick smooch to her mouth, he pulled a blanket from the bag and spread it out. Faith was so in awe of his thoughtfulness she might have kissed him again.

  “Why is this place special to you?”

  She needed to know because her gut said this was the key to unraveling the mystery of Noah Tucker, the lethal Texas Ranger who hunted bad people by day and helped bake cookies by night. A man who loved his family but never came home. A man who looked at her as if she were a treasure to be cherished.

  “This is my safe place,” he said, pulling her down to lie beside him. He rolled onto his back and she nestled into the crook of his arm. “After my mom died, it was the only place I could feel like a kid. My brothers and I would fish, swim in the river, play cops and robbers, pirates. We even built a fort.”

  He pointed to a small opening under the old bridge that, without being shown, she would never have spotted. She had a strong suspicion that was intentional.

  She shifted to rest her cheek on his chest. “No girls allowed, I assume.”

  “Yeah, I was pretty dumb back then.” His hand slid up her back and over the nape of her neck. He absently played with her hair while staring at the stars.

  She didn’t know how long they lay, with her silently watching him, but realized that she’d be content to stay right there all night long. With him holding her while the crickets chirped in the distance and the water glided over the rocks.

  “I hated living here,” he admitted. “I couldn’t wait to get out. I had a countdown calendar with my eighteenth birthday circled and a plan of never coming back. And I didn’t, for over a decade. And I don’t know if it’s time, or age, or you.” His arm tightened around her. “But since coming back, I’ve realized there are a lot more good memories than bad. Turns out it wasn’t this place I hated. It was my dad.”

  She cupped his cheek. “I’m proud of you. That’s an incredibly painful realization to have. That you hate one of the people who gave you life.” She leaned up and kissed his chin. “You’re a good man, Noah. You’ve overcome so much, and you didn’t let it harden you.”

  “I’ve heard the same about you,” he said, and when she tensed, he gently rubbed her back. “But I’d like to hear from you instead of the people of Mayberry.”

  “Most of what you’ve heard about my family is probably true.”

  “I’m not asking about your family. I’m asking about you.”

  She looked at him through her lashes. “Let’s say I’ve had to atone for a lot of my parents’ mistakes.”

  “Sweet’s Secret Samaritan?”

  There was no point in hiding it. In fact, she didn’t want to hide anything from him. “Yeah. Since the day my stepdad ran Mr. Rayborn’s hearse into a tree.”

  “The sheriff’s tree,” he guessed. “So I gather you were also the mysterious person who planted the new one.”

  “Yup. It’s finally big enough to decorate. And the cookies are my thanks to Ester for never saying a bad word about me or my family.”

  “That’s a big list and a pretty big burden for one teenager to carry,” he said, and she didn’t comment. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Life is rarely fair. And I’m trying to balance out the bad karma from my family. I had to grow up with everyone in town hating me for my last name. I don’t want the same for Pax.”

  He chuckled and the sound vibrated through her body. “Are you kidding? Everyone in town loves you. Do you have any idea how many people threatened me with bodily harm if I hurt even a hair on your head? Cody, Logan, Gina, even Shelby. They are more concerned about my hurting you than about my trip home.”

  Her head popped up and she smiled. “Really?”

  “You think that’s funny?” He gave her backside a teasing smack.

  “Yeah.” She touched his nose. “I also think it’s sweet you’re telling me.”

  “Sweet? Angel, I can feel the testosterone level drop as we lie here.”

  “You have plenty to spare.” She sobered. “Before we go any further—”

  “I’m a second-date, second-base-only kind of guy.”

  She smacked his chest, but inside she melted. She had something difficult to say, and he knew she was nervous, so he was doing his best to ease her anxiety. “I have to tell you something that might make you not want to see me anymore.”

  “You only have to tell me what you’re comfortable with. For the rest, it’s up to me to earn your trust, so that you want to share,” he clarified, then tugged her closer while his hands slid around to lock at the small of her back. Suddenly she wasn’t so afraid, because those soft blue eyes were gentle and sincere. “I’m not going to go snooping around. There’s no timeline to beat.”

  Why did it seem like it then? Because she didn’t want to get any more invested than she already was, only to find out that courting her was a conflict of interest for a Texas Ranger.

  Absently, she touched a button on his shirt. “That’s not how people usually go about getting to know me.”

  “Maybe I’m not like other people you’ve met,” he said, and she smiled.

  “I guess I’ll have to find out for myself then.” She pulled back. Not intentionally, but his arms tightened around her all the same.

  “But?” he asked.

  “I hate buts, don’t you?” Realizing what she’d said, she held up a hand and he grinned. “I meant, I want to find out for myself, but I’ve been burned.”

  Too many times to count. Although her heart kept a checklist of each and every one and liked to review them whenever she watched a sappy movie.

  “So have I,” he said, taking her hand. “You want to know why I used to come here?”

  He placed her fingers on the tiny scar at his temple that she’d noticed more than once and had chalked up to the hazards of his chosen profession. With his hand over hers, he traced the length of the wound, which started above his ear and ran deep, disappearing into his hair.

  Her lips parted on a gasp as she tenderly followed the puckered skin until she was holding his head. He leaned into her palm and closed his eyes, and in that moment, she felt a connection between them that would never fade away.

  “This was a Christmas gift from my old man the year after my mama passed,” he began, and something inside her heart broke open. “My kid brother, Beau, was looking through my mom’s stuff and came across a box of glass ornaments. He was eight, maybe nine, and had grown like five inches that summer. So he was still finding his legs—and was about as coordinated as a newborn colt.”

  “He broke them?” she guessed.

  “No, that’s what’s so crazy. Beau wanted to surprise the family by stringing the ornaments under the mantel, thinking . . .” He trailed off, his accent thick with emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe he thought that if he decorated the house, it would be like my mama was back, and things would return to the way they were. Heck, I don’t know what he was thinking.”

  “We moved here a few years after your mama passed, so I never got to meet her. But Mrs. McKinney thinks the world of her.” Everyone in town had loved Miz Tucker.

  He smiled fondly. “She was pretty amazing. To deal with three wild, rough-and-tumble, troublemaking boys the way she did and keep my dad’s beast at bay. Not many could’ve handled all that the way she did, and she never had to even raise her voice or a hand. Anyway, she wasn’t there, and those glass balls were a reminder. When Silas came in for dinner, we could tell he’d been drinking and was already spittin’ mad on account of some cattle busting through the fence. He took one look at the mantel and I knew. Ms. Luella was already gone for the night, Cody was working in the barn, so I told Beau to run and hide—”

  Faith’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Noah, you took the blame.”

  “You could say that. Although it was more like the blunt end of a hoe to the head.”

  Faith framed his face, hating the sham
e hiding in his eyes. “I don’t know how someone could do that to a child. To their own child. I am so sorry,” she whispered, then pressed a gentle kiss to his ear. She couldn’t take back what had happened, but she could hold him now. “Did you tell the police?”

  Faith already knew the answer to that because, although she’d never been beaten, she’d lived through enough violent situations to know that the law doesn’t protect everyone.

  “Nah. Beau found me, and we hid here until Silas sobered up.” He rubbed his cheek against her hand, and she held him close. They were two broken souls who’d somehow managed to find each other.

  Faith closed her eyes, then took his hand, placing it under her sweater, low on her hip. She held her breath as his fingers brushed over her skin.

  “My dad is Timothy Shane,” she said, finding the courage to tell him the story she had never shared with another living soul. “He’s serving a double life sentence in Attica for shooting an officer.” Noah didn’t comment, but continued tracing over the scar on her hip. “It wasn’t his first offence. Hope said he liked nice things but didn’t like to work. He also liked to argue. One night he got into it with a neighbor over a parking spot in front of our house. It didn’t take much to rile him up. The guy refused to move his car, so my dad punctured his tires.”

  Faith paused for a moment, listening to the steady beat of Noah’s heart. Finding strength in it. “I was six and had spent that afternoon with him at Coney Island, the two of us. I was covered in cotton candy, so Hope put me in the bath. I heard a crash downstairs and lots of shouting, so I put on my nightgown and ran to see what was happening.”

  It was all so strange, rattling off the facts of an event as if it hadn’t happened to her.

  “Later I learned the neighbor had called the cops and when they showed up, my dad refused to let them in. But since he was still on parole for a burglary charge, he wasn’t allowed to deny them entry. He also wasn’t allowed to have a gun.”

  Beneath her, Noah’s body tightened, his free arm wrapping around her to hold her close.

  “All I remember was thinking this man was yelling at my dad, so I ran over to help him. I didn’t know I was walking into the middle of a standoff. The officer was a rookie, so when my dad moved to grab me, Officer John Harding saw he had a gun and fired, hitting me here.” She placed her hand atop his again and he laced their fingers.