Читать книгу Mistletoe Bride - Linda Varner - Страница 11
Chapter Two
Оглавление“How far is it to your ranch?” asked Sawyer, now nestled among Dani’s groceries in the back seat of her car. Ryan glanced over his shoulder at his obviously excited son and smiled. Though working as a cowhand on some two-bit ranch wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind on leaving Oklahoma, his boy clearly had no objections.
“Just fifty miles,” Dani told him. “But it usually takes about an hour to get there because the last ten miles are steep and curvy. This snow isn’t going to help us, either.”
“Hey, Dad,” Sawyer then said. “How’s your head?”
“It’s fine,” Ryan replied. He did not touch the wound, which had been cleansed and was remarkably tender to the touch.
“I see bologna and bread back here,” the boy said. “You want me to make you a sandwich?” Ryan had refused all offers of food at the police station.
“Those groceries belong to Miss Sellica,” Ryan quickly replied, with a glance of apology to Dani. Once he and Sawyer were alone, he’d make plain their destitute situation for the next few days and lay down the ground rules, the first of which was take as little charity as possible until Monday. That’s when he’d call his bank in Tulsa and have some money wired to him. Just how difficult such a transaction would be now that he didn’t have his savings book, his ATM card or even ID remained to be seen.
“Feeding you is part of the bargain,” Dani tartly informed him and then glanced back at Sawyer. “I have a regular picnic in those sacks—paper plates, napkins, cookies, chips. Why don’t you rummage through them and see what you can find for your dad to eat?”
“There’s no need, Miss Sellica,” Ryan began, even though his mouth watered at the thought of food.
“I insist,” Dani coolly replied, adding, “And you may as well call me Dani since I intend to call you Ryan. We don’t stand on formality around here.”
“Right,” Ryan murmured, once again put in his place. Damn, er, darn, but it rankled having a woman tell him what to do. Darn? Darn? Was he really censoring his very thoughts? Ryan flicked a glance of annoyance at Dani, the woman to blame.
Though not a beauty by any means, she had a nice enough face, what looked to be natural blond hair, cut short and shaggy, and big, brown eyes. Her shapeless denim jacket, which came nearly to her knees, hid what curves she had. A deliberate attempt to conceal her femininity? he wondered. And if so, why?
“Go ahead and make me a sandwich, Sawyer,” he said, though his son was already rustling through the plastic bags of groceries. Ryan said it to remind Dani who was the parent here. The look she gave him said he’d made his point.
Just then, they passed the Clearwater Café, now closed and dark inside. At once Dani stomped on the brake. Muttering an apology, she began to back up the car so that she could turn into the deserted parking lot. Moments later, she killed the engine and fumbled to unfasten her seat belt.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.
“I’m going to see if I can find my Christmas tree. Whoever stuffed you in my trunk had to have left it somewhere around here.” She felt all around on the floorboard of the vehicle. “What’d I do with my flashlight?”
“Forget the flashlight,” he told her. “Forget the tree. It’s too late to decorate it tonight, anyway. I’ll get you another one tomorrow.”
“With what?” she challenged, obviously referring to his lack of funds.
“With an ax,” he replied. “You do have at least one pine tree on your property, don’t you?”
“I have hundreds. I just prefer a Douglas fir for my Christmas tree. It’s sort of a Sellica tradition.” She sat in thoughtful silence, from all appearances in a real quandary about the switch in trees.
“For the sake of my aching head,” he said, “could you please dispense with tradition just this once?”
She looked at him with some alarm, no doubt remembering Cliff’s cautionary speech about possible concussions and certain headaches. “I guess a pine would be okay this year, but it’ll have to be perfect.”
“No problem,” Ryan said. “We’ll look until we find one, won’t we, Sawyer?”
“Yeah!” the boy exclaimed, clearly delighted with the idea. And no wonder—up until now, they weren’t going to have a tree at all.
Sawyer handed Ryan a paper plate that sagged with the weight of a thick sandwich, ridged potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and a giant dill pickle, plus a canned soft drink. The can, which had probably been in the car for hours, actually felt cool to the touch.
“Good job!” Ryan told his son, adding a proud grin to the compliment. Though times were a little tough now and might be for a while longer, he wanted Sawyer to feel secure in his love, at least.
While he set his plate in his lap and popped the top of the canned drink, Dani refastened her seat belt. Soon they were speeding down the asphalt two-lane again. Though little but the black of midnight could be seen through the window, Ryan nonetheless cherished what he could make out of the landscape whizzing by. Moving out West was the right thing for him and Sawyer. He felt it in his gut.
And even getting off to this bad start did little to dampen his enthusiasm. Certainly having his truck and all his worldly goods stolen amounted to a major setback, but the vehicle was insured, after all. As for his “worldly goods,” well, they didn’t really amount to much more than old clothes, a few hundred dollars in cash and a box or two of memories. It was the last he’d miss most, Ryan suspected. Clothes and cash could be replaced. The photographs, rodeo trophies and belt buckles that represented the high points of his life could not.
But he still had his son, Sawyer. Son. Though an undeniable reality—Sawyer had Ryan’s nose and his eyes—the concept of fatherhood continued to amaze him.
“Not far now,” Dani commented, words that brought Ryan back to the present with a jolt of surprise. A quick glance at the clock on her dash revealed that it was almost 1:00 a.m. Another glance confirmed that Sawyer was asleep, his head resting on Ryan’s jacket. Where had the miles gone? Had he, too, snoozed?
The car lurched sharply when Dani turned off the pavement onto a narrow, rutted and graveled road that disappeared into a dense stand of pines.
“We’re on my land now,” she said, pride in her voice. “A Sellica has lived on this mountain for ninety-four of the past one hundred years.”
“How may acres do you have?” Ryan asked.
“Only half of the original homestead, thanks to my stepfather’s getting the other half when my mother passed away three years ago.”
Ryan noted that her reply told him nothing about the size of the ranch. A deliberate evasion of his question? he wondered. “And you work the place alone?”
“Easily.”
They topped a small rise and her ranch suddenly lay before them, a loose gathering of buildings, all shapes and sizes, illuminated by a couple of strategically placed mercury vapor lamps. The main house was easiest to spot, since it was largest. There were several other buildings around it.
“That the bunkhouse?” Ryan asked as she braked the car to a halt near the side porch of the house. He pointed to a white frame building off to their left, which looked large for a ranch so small one woman could handle it alone.
Dani glanced off in that direction. “Yes.”
“Good.” He moved to get out of the truck.
“You and Sawyer can’t sleep in there.”
Ryan froze, his hand still on the door handle. “Why not?”
“Because it’s full of junk, not to mention mice and who knows what other little varmints.”
He waved away her concerns. “Just loan us a couple of pillows and blankets, and we’ll be fine.”
“No way.” She killed the engine and shook her head. “The two of you sleep in the house tonight.”
Ryan stared at her in disbelief and some irritation. He wanted to keep his debt to her to a minimum. “Lady, you don’t even know me.”
“So?” she retorted.
“So don’t you think a little caution is in order, here? I could be six kinds of psycho.”
“I could be, too.”
“All the more reason for Sawyer and me to sleep in the bunkhouse.”
“Are you saying you think I’d hurt you?”
“N-no, but—”
“We may as well clear this up right now,” Dani suddenly stated, turning sideways in her seat and hooking an arm around the neck rest. “Do you do drugs?”
“Never have, never will.”
“Ditto for me. Do you drink?”
“Only the occasional beer and not even that lately.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sawyer.
“Same here. Have you ever robbed a bank?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Me, neither. How about murder?” she asked next. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Not no, but hell no,” Ryan said.
“Hmm. Well, though sorely tempted at times—”
Like when he forgot himself and cursed? Ryan wondered.
“—I haven’t, either. But is safety really the issue here? Or is it some misbegotten macho notion that you don’t want to take more from me than you have to?”
Ryan winced. Women and their intuition! It drove him nuts.
“For the sake of that boy’s Christmas,” Dani continued, her voice little more than a loud whisper. “Please just do what you’re told and stay with me tonight.”
Ryan glanced back at Sawyer, still sleeping like a babe. At once all the fight went out of him, and he sagged with defeat. “For the sake of that boy’s Christmas and only for that, I will.”
“Thank you. Now, could we please go inside? I’d really like to get a couple hours’sleep before I have to get up again, and I still have to phone my friend, Jonni, who’s probably out of her mind with worry by now.”
“You’re the boss,” Ryan replied—truth that rankled, truth he suspected he’d rue long before Lady Luck smiled on him again.
Ryan woke around seven o’clock on Friday morning feeling rested. Try as he might to go back to sleep, he couldn’t, and so crawled out of the narrow bed in which he’d slept. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a thermal undershirt, he tiptoed up the hall to make use of the single bathroom, then headed to the kitchen. Not hearing a sound, he assumed that Dani and Sawyer were still sleeping.
In a matter of minutes, Ryan located the coffeepot and coffee. He made short work of measuring out the grounds and the water, then set the pot on the stove and turned on the flame. While the coffee perked, he explored the front half of the house, which consisted of a dining room turned office, and a living room.
He liked the look of the place, which was too young to be antique, too old to be stylish, but just right, all the same. He saw no carpet on the wooden floors, just the occasional braided rug. The walls, most of them wallpapered in soft florals, were dotted throughout with what looked to be dozens of framed family portraits.
In the living room, Ryan spotted a pasteboard box labeled Decorations. Reminded that it was Christmas—a fact that had not crossed his mind yet—he walked back to his room, retrieved a heavy wool shirt from his suitcase and his boots from under the bed, and headed outside to what he assumed was the toolshed. With luck, he’d find an ax and chop down a tree before Dani even got out of bed, saving himself much traipsing around in the ankle-deep snow looking for the perfect one.
Ryan checked out the weather as he walked to the shed, noting with childish pleasure the cloudy sky and the crisp, clean smell of threatening snow. How he’d missed that smell the past twenty-three years. It was good to be home.
Home? Not by a long shot. Wyoming was their next home and no place else would do…even this picturesque Colorado ranch, nestled in the foothills of the Rockies.
Ryan reached for the door of the shed, only to hear the distinct thwack, thwack of an ax already in motion not too far away. Curious, he set out for the sound and in minutes came upon none other than Dani, chopping down a headtall pine. She wielded the ax rather awkwardly, he quickly realized, but he didn’t offer to help at once. Instead, he watched as she put her back into each swing, giving her bottom a provocative little wiggle in the process.
Her jacket lay in a heap on the snow. Thanks to the light of day, he had a better view of her than he’d had last night and so he took in the fit of her jeans and turtleneck shirt. No secrets today, he realized, relishing the full feminine curves her clothing revealed. Suddenly, Ryan felt the strongest urge to walk up behind Dani and press his body close.
He closed his eyes and imagined slipping his hands under her shirt and bra so he could cup his fingers around her bare breasts. Her skin would feel smooth as silk, he guessed, and her nipples soft…until he teased them to tautness, that is. Moving those same hands down her midriff in further exploration, he’d naturally encounter the barrier of her jeans. But what kind of barrier was a zipper or a snap to a man on fire?
“Hey, over there! Are you sleepwalking or what?”
With a guilty jolt, Ryan came to life and found that Dani had spotted him hiding behind the sapling just a few feet away. He felt his face glow crimson and could only hope that she didn’t notice the other physical evidence of his shocking, ill-timed fantasy, which now tested the buttons of his fly.
“Actually,” he said as he walked over to her, “I came out here for the same reason you did—to find a Christmas tree.”
“Were you going to pick it like a daisy?” She directed her gaze to his empty hands.
“Of course not. I heard someone out here and guessed it might be you. Naturally, I came to help.”
“So help,” she said, handing him the ax.
Immediately, Ryan tested the edge of the blade. “I could probably gnaw that tree down faster than this blade will ever cut it.”
Dani sighed. “The grinder is in the shed. Sharpening this ax can be your very first task as my temporary ranch hand.”
“Actually, making the coffee was my first task,” he retorted, adding, “Why don’t you go in and have a cup? You look as if you could use it.” In truth, her cheeks glowed scarlet with cold, and he noticed that her teeth had begun to chatter. Scooping up her jacket, probably shed for ease of movement, he held it out so she could slip into it.
Dani did, then gave him a smile. “I’m not the most wonderful cook in the world, but I’m pretty good with pancakes. Is that okay for breakfast?”
“Cook anything you like,” Ryan said. “We’ll never complain.”
They walked together as far as the toolshed, both silent. She did not stop since the door had been left ajar, but nodded a goodbye as Ryan veered off to duck into the building. He found the grinder, mounted on a sturdy wooden worktable, without any trouble.
While Ryan sharpened the ax blade, he tried to analyze the reasons for what had happened in the woods, from the sudden onset of his lustful fantasy, to its embarrassing physical result. Such an analysis proved next to impossible since Dani wasn’t the sort of woman who normally turned him on. As a rule, he preferred taller females, probably because of his own six-three height. Critical body parts—private parts—fit together best when the woman stood nearly heads even. Besides that, he favored brunettes, though, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had much luck with them so far.
Maybe it was time for a blonde.
Time for a blonde? Ryan nearly dropped the ax. It wasn’t time for a blonde. It wasn’t time for any woman. He had a son now, an impressionable son who needed food and clothing, a son whose upbringing would require dedication and full concentration. The last thing Ryan needed was the distraction of some female. Not that Dani could ever really distract him. She couldn’t. Clearly, the problem was him. Deprived of the pleasures of sex for too long now, his libido was just a little trigger-happy.
Trigger-happy.
Ryan laughed aloud at that unfortunate metaphor. So his libido was trigger-happy, huh? Well, something told him he’d damn well better keep it holstered lest it get him kicked off Dani’s ranch. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of Pike’s Peak, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that a man—maybe even a cowboy—had put it there.
When the blade of the ax felt sharp to Ryan’s touch, he switched off the grinder and turned to head back outdoors, but paused first, giving the room a cursory examination. He saw a mess—clutter that could only result from years of neglect. Ryan, who despised a disorderly workroom such as this one, placed the cleaning of it high on a mental list of tasks he intended to accomplish over the next few days.
Just before he stepped through the door, he spied a basket, one of the kind so often sold at craft fairs for use as decoration. Ryan paused again, then impulsively scooped up the basket, which looked fairly new, by its handle. He could make use of it to remedy a situation that had bothered him all night.
Ax and basket in hand, he walked back to the pine tree Dani had picked out and quickly chopped it down. He left the tree where it lay for a few minutes while he searched for pinecones, easily visible in the sparse snow beneath some of the larger pine trees several yards away. There were plenty to choose from, ranging from small to huge. Ryan picked up quite a few and put them into Dani’s basket, which looked pretty dusty now that he had it out in good light.
Ryan tried to remember if he’d seen an outside water spigot. He couldn’t, and had almost decided he’d have to carry the basket indoors, thus spoiling what he’d intended to be a surprise, when he heard the unmistakable trickle of water. He froze, straining to hear the sound again. When he heard it a second later, Ryan followed it into the woods, where he soon stumbled onto a spring.
He wished for his camera to capture forever the beauty of the winter scene—snowbanks, trickling stream, gnarled tree roots at his feet, a canopy of tangled bare limbs over his head. Enchanted, Ryan knelt and dipped his hand into the ice-cold water, then raised it to his lips so he could sip. He grinned. Delicious!
Next, he proceeded to wipe down the basket with his hands, which were now red and rough from the cold. When it passed inspection, he set it down so he could gather some of the colorful pebbles lying all around. They were smooth and round, thanks to time and water flow. He laid them inside the basket with the pinecones.
He gathered other natural artifacts, all of which he tucked into the basket. In his mind’s eye, he arranged and rearranged everything. By the time he walked back to get the tree, he had a good idea what he wanted to do.
Leaving the basket sitting behind a wooden chair on the side porch and placing the tree near the door, Ryan stomped the snow off his boots and stepped into the kitchen. On the floor just inside the door, a Christmas-tree stand waited.
“Finally!” Dani exclaimed from where she stood frying bacon at the stove. Her smile said she wasn’t scolding, just impatient to get started decorating the tree.
Ryan noted that Sawyer had risen and dressed and was now helping Dani by setting the table. The boy did a good job, arranging the colorful plates on coordinating place mats and placing napkins and silverware to the side while she instructed.
“Actually,” Dani said, “I don’t know why I’m so anxious about the tree. We can’t decorate it until after breakfast, and that won’t be ready for another ten minutes.”
“Then I think I’ll go ahead and get the tree set up in the living room,” Ryan told her, lifting the stand and heading outside. Several minutes after, he reentered the house via the front door and proceeded to situate the tree in the stand. That accomplished, he stepped back to examine it. Dani had chosen well, he realized, noting the symmetry of the branches.
“It’s ready!” she called out.
Ryan returned to the kitchen and washed his hands, then joined them at the small, wooden kitchen table. Dani held out one hand to him across the food. The other she held out to Sawyer, seated to her right, an action that baffled Ryan until he remembered the old custom of joining hands to return grace. Somewhat awkwardly, he took her hand and extended his other one to Sawyer. Taking his cue from his dad, Sawyer quickly completed the link. Dani bowed her head, and in a clear, sweet voice, thanked her maker for their food, their shelter and each other.
She tried to release his hand immediately after her soft “amen,” but Ryan wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he tightened his grip slightly, a move that earned him a questioning look.
“I want you to know how grateful I, uh, we are to be here. You didn’t have to take us in.”
“It’s no big deal,” she said, clearly uncomfortable with his thanks.
“Maybe not to you,” he said. “It is to me. And I’ll never forget it.” That said, he released her.
Cheeks stained an attractive pink that had nothing to do with the cold, Dani could only stare at him for a moment before coming to life and thrusting a plate stacked with pancakes in his direction.
Ryan took the food, but instead of helping himself, he offered the pancakes to Sawyer, who forked a stack, the next instant exclaiming, “Look! Christmas trees.”
Christmas trees? Belatedly, Ryan realized to what Sawyer referred—the pancakes. Somehow, Dani had shaped each like a Christmas tree and decorated it with blueberries. And she said she couldn’t cook….
“Some of them are a little lopsided,” she said, shrugging self-consciously.
“I like ’em just fine!” Sawyer gleefully assured her. His grin stretched from ear to ear.
Oddly pleased that she’d taken such pains to make Sawyer’s Christmas breakfast so special, Ryan helped himself to a short stack of the “trees,” then passed the plate back to Dani. Butter and syrup came next, then the bacon. Soon everyone ate in contented silence.
“I like this,” Sawyer suddenly announced.
“Pancakes are my favorite, too,” Dani said.
“I’m not talking about them,” Sawyer told her. “I’m talking about us eating together. It’s just like at my friend Robby’s house. He sits at the table every single morning with his mom and dad and eats stuff like this.”
His mom and dad? Ryan nearly choked at the comparison.
Dani, however, looked amused. “And what do you usually do for breakfast?”
“Well, when I lived with Granny Wright in Arkansas, I always had cereal and milk,” Sawyer told her around a huge bite of pancake. Ryan bit back the urge to tell him not to talk with his mouth full. “Dad and I have doughnuts and cookies and stuff.”
Ryan felt Dani’s accusing gaze on him and squirmed in the chair. “That’s because you told me you didn’t eat cereal,” he said. “You know I don’t have time to cook in the mornings.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Sawyer hastily assured Ryan, as if afraid he might have hurt his feelings. “I like what we have.”
Dani said nothing—at least not out loud. But her expression spoke volumes, and Ryan saw curiosity and speculation in her eyes. At once, he made two mental vows, the first to keep his personal business to himself. As for the second, well, that was to drag his butt out of bed a little earlier from now on to cook his kid some eggs or something.
“Tell me about your Granny Wright,” Dani said to Sawyer. “How long did you live with her?”
“Until she died.”
Ryan bit back a smile at Sawyer’s innocent answer, which didn’t begin to answer Dani’s question.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother, Sawyer. I’m sure you miss her.” Dani took a sip of coffee, then tried again. “Where did you stay until your dad came to get you?”
“At Granny Wright’s house with Erica.”
“Erica?”
“My mom.”
“Your mom?” The words were a squeak of surprise. As though aware she sounded like a parrot, Dani hastily explained, “I’d assumed she was dead or something.”
Sawyer giggled as only an eight-year-old boy can. “No way.” He said nothing else, but went on shoveling pancakes into his mouth, an action that left Dani visibly frustrated.
Apparently giving up on getting information from the boy, she raised her gaze to Ryan. “You and Sawyer’s mother are divorced?”
Ryan shook his head. “We never married.”
“I…see,” Dani murmured, even though she couldn’t possibly. Clearly, her curiosity battled the need to protect Sawyer from whatever truth Ryan so obviously resisted sharing.
“Erica’s a movie star,” Sawyer offered as he reached for his glass of milk. “She don’t have time to take care of a kid.” He spoke the words as if he was quoting them…no evidence of blame or pain, just a flat statement of fact that stabbed Ryan’s heart.
Dani caught her breath, a soft sound Sawyer didn’t appear to hear. Without uttering a word, she rose suddenly from the table and walked over to the counter to stand for several seconds with her back to them. Sawyer went right on eating.
Ryan barely acknowledged Dani’s action, himself, since familiar fury roiled inside him, hot as a volcano about to blow. He’d felt it before, this all-consuming rage, this bitterness, and realized that it seemed to be getting hotter, more intense with each passing day. How long until eruption? he wondered. How long until he lost control and verbalized truths that his son did not need to hear about Erica, the “movie star” who didn’t want to be called mom because it made her feel old?
“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas, Dad?” Sawyer suddenly asked, an innocent subject change that forced Ryan to ignore the pain in his heart.
He had to suck in a deep, calming breath before he could answer. “Um, cookies, I guess. My aunt Mabel used to make the best Santa-shaped ones. They had this red icing on them and these little sparkle things, all colors.” He faked a smile. “Er, Dani, what’s your favorite thing about Christmas?”
Slowly, she turned and walked back to the table. She didn’t sit, but reached for her plate. Holding it as though she’d lost her appetite and couldn’t bear to look at the food, she said after a moment, “I’d have to say the tree.”
Ryan noted that her eyes shimmered suspiciously. Tears? Almost certainly, and a sure indication of a very soft heart. Since he’d never met a woman with one of those before, he didn’t quite know what to make of it or what to do about it.
Oblivious to Ryan’s bemusement, Dani smiled at Sawyer. “What about you? What’s your favorite thing?”
“This Christmas it’s everything!” Sawyer exclaimed, throwing out his arms as if to encompass all the magic of the season.
Dani laughed then, a light, happy sound that did much to cool Ryan’s rage at Sawyer’s mother. “Why don’t we leave all these dishes for now and get busy on the tree? I don’t think I can wait another minute!”
“All right!” Sawyer said excitedly, slipping from his chair and dashing out of the room. Ryan stood, too, and slowly walked toward the door.
Dani caught his arm, stopping him. “Just tell me this, and I won’t ask another question. Before last September, did you know you had a son?”
He met her probing gaze without a blink. “I did not.”
“Somehow I knew that.” Dani sighed and stepped close to slip one arm around his waist, gently hugging him to her side. “And I’m so sorry.”
Astonished by the unexpected display of sympathy, Ryan could do nothing more than return the embrace somewhat awkwardly by laying his arm over her back and shoulders. She hugged him harder in response. Almost instantly, Ryan felt the tension begin to drain from his body. Several seconds passed before Dani released him from the healing half hug and stepped away, tears on her cheeks.
“You saw the ornaments in the living room?” she asked, unselfconsciously swiping the drops away with her fingers.
He nodded.
“Then why don’t you go help your son get started. I’m going to pour myself another cup of coffee. Want one?”
“Sure.”
With a nod, she retrieved their mugs from the table and walked over to the stove. She poured one mugful, then turned to glance curiously at Ryan, still rooted to the spot near the door. “Something wrong?”
“Actually, I think something’s right,” he murmured-words straight from the heart and, therefore, uncensored. Words that seemed to surprise her as much as they did him. Embarrassed, he turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.
Only later, when the three of them worked at hanging colorful glass balls, homemade wooden stars and glittering icicles on the tree, did Ryan think about what he’d said to her in the kitchen.
Something was right at this moment. Or maybe a lot of somethings, now that he thought about it. For the first time in his young life, Sawyer was having a fun Christmas, something Erica’s stern, no-frills mother would never have tolerated. Ryan, himself, was seeing the holiday season through Sawyer’s eyes—a joyful, renewing experience he cherished.
And Dani…well, who knew about his mystery employer? From all appearances, she enjoyed having the two of them around to share her Christmas. Ryan couldn’t imagine why, since it was bound to mean more work for her. He silently vowed to make her efforts worthwhile by working his butt off for her until he hit the road. From the looks of the ranch, there was much to be done in the way of cleanup and repair, not to mention caring for the livestock.
On that thought, Ryan suddenly remembered the horses she boarded. “Do I need to feed and water the horses?”
“No ranch work on Christmas,” she told him, adding, “I put out extra feed yesterday,” as she hung a reindeer with a tiny light bulb for a nose on the tree. She threaded the green electrical cord attached to it up the branch then down the trunk, where she plugged it into the extension cord that would provide electricity to the rest of the twinkling tree lights when connected to the electrical outlet on the wall. Smiling with pleasure, Dani turned to Sawyer. “See Rudolph, here?”
The boy nodded.
“I won him at a school carnival when I was your age.”
“They had electricity then?”
His grin gave away the fact that he was joking, but Dani squealed and pounced on him all the same. They fell to the floor in a heap, both laughing hysterically as she paid him back for his teasing insult with torturous tickles.
“Save me, Dad! Save me!” Sawyer gasped.
Who could resist such a plea? Not Ryan, who instantly reached down and plucked Dani off his squirming son. She countered the move by reaching back to goose him in the ribs. With a yelp, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, immobilizing the attack and putting her exactly where he’d put her in his delicious fantasy—back to front with him.
The all-woman scent of her assailed him. Her breasts, crushed under his arms, tantalized beyond endurance, as did her derriere, brushing his manly front every time she struggled to be free. With a soft oomph! of pure sexual overload, Ryan released her as abruptly as he’d captured her.
Clearly unaware of the state of his libido, unholstered again in spite of all his good intentions, Dani turned. “What’s wrong?” she demanded between pants for air.
“You stepped on my foot,” he lied.
Breathless, flushed, beautiful—yes, God help him, beautiful—she eyed his foot with visible regret. “Oh. I’m sorry. That’s what I get for fooling around when I should be decorating the tree.”
Fooling around? Ryan, who could think of nothing he’d enjoy more, gulped audibly and had to look away. Though he actually ached with the need to be lying face-to-face with Dani in a bed somewhere private—bodies bare, legs tangled, hearts afire—he nonetheless feared her.
Warmhearted, caring, she had the innate potential to wreak havoc on his and Sawyer’s future by setting precedents impossible to maintain. And, inevitably, whatever life he made with his son would suffer by comparison.