Christmas Cowboy Duet Read online

  Liam protested and began taking out his wallet. Miss Joan’s eyes narrowed.

  “Keep your money, boy. I intend to take the amounts out in trade. That tree needs to be decorated,” she repeated. “The sooner that’s done, the sooner our holiday season kicks into gear—even if the weather doesn’t want to cooperate.”

  With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Whitney found herself hurrying through the meal she initially hadn’t even wanted. All it had taken was one bite, coupled with the tempting aroma of warm, crisp bacon, to resuscitate her appetite. She realized that she actually was hungry.

  Even so, the reason behind her powering through the meal wasn’t spurred on because of hunger but because she was far more focused on what would happen once breakfast was out of the way.

  Her speedy consumption did not go unnoticed. “Any particular reason you’re eating as if you just went the last forty-eight hours without any food?” Liam asked, amused as he watched her clean her plate at lightning speed.

  Whitney spared him a quick glance, then went back to eating. “So Miss Joan doesn’t come out and lecture me about wasting food.”

  “And?” he asked, waiting for her to tell him the real reason.

  Whitney raised her eyes again. Okay, he’d caught her. She supposed there was no shame in admitting this.

  “And I want to get back to decorating the tree,” she confessed. When her mouth curved, he could have sworn the smile that graced her lips was on the shy side. “I forgot how much fun it could be.”

  He hoped that he would never get so busy that he put his personal life and family traditions on hold. Curious about the woman he’d rescued, Liam asked, “When was the last time you decorated a Christmas tree?”

  Whitney paused for so long, he thought she’d decided not to answer him. And then, to his surprise, she told him. “The year before my mother...left.”

  She looked uncomfortable about her admission. He wondered why.

  “Left,” Liam repeated. “Is that a euphemism or...?”

  “It’s a description,” she replied, doing her best to sound distant and having very little luck about it. “My mother left.” Even now, so many years later, the words she was uttering felt as if they were comprised of cotton and sticking to her tongue and throat. “She took off with this guy who was a couple of years older than Wilson, my oldest brother.”

  Her expression was rueful as she continued. “Christmas was canceled that year. And the year after that. There didn’t seem to be much point in celebrating it. My father had never been much for that kind of thing anyway—it was my mother who handled the holiday celebrations, the buying and wrapping of presents, things like that. My father was always too busy earning a living.”

  She sighed, struggling not to sound bitter. “I think that’s why she took up with Roy in the first place. My mother was a beautiful woman—she always looked as if she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine—and Roy paid attention to her. He talked with her—not at her—and just like that, my mother was in heaven.

  “And then my father found out about Roy and he gave her an ultimatum. It was him or Roy.” Whitney paused for a moment as she struggled to gain some sort of control over herself, keeping the words she was saying from hurting her. “She picked Roy—and just like that, she was gone.”

  Leaning in, Liam asked her gently, “How old were you?”

  “Eleven.” Her meal finished, Whitney pushed the plate away and squared her shoulders. “So to answer your question, the last time I decorated a Christmas tree, I was eleven.”

  Finished as well, Liam rose to his feet and smiled at her. “Then let’s get started. You’ve got a lot of time to make up for,” he said. One hand lightly pressed against the lower portion of her spine, he gently guided her out of the diner.

  Even with several blocks between the diner and the town square, she could hear the happy squeals of children enjoying themselves.

  It warmed her heart.

  The moment she approached the semi-decorated giant Scotch pine in the square, Whitney began to feel like a kid again.

  There was something almost magical about the experience and the fact that she was sharing it with someone—with the man she quite literally owed her life to—just made it that much more meaningful, that much more special for her.

  Because, once she was up close, the tree was so tall and so wide, several very tall ladders had been recruited and arranged in what amounted to a circle around the Scotch pine. The working theory was that with these ladders positioned for use, all the high places could be reached and decorated, as well.

  That particular task would be handed over to the tallest residents of Forever, since their reach was higher than the average person’s.

  But that would come later. For now, there was an interweaving of bodies as young and old pitched in to make the tree presentable and uniquely theirs.

  A lot of the town’s citizens came and joined in for short periods of time, but most of them had work or classrooms they had to get to, some with passes stamped with a definite return time.

  Whitney had no timetable to follow, no time when she had to return because she needed to be somewhere else. Consequently, decorating the tree, helping with myriad details that went along with the festive occasion, turned into almost an all-day affair.

  Because her car was still with Mick, she had nowhere she needed to be. Wilson hadn’t gotten back to her regarding his schedule, so for the time being, she was freer than she’d been in a very long time.

  Free to enjoy herself in any way she saw fit.

  And free to spend time with Liam, a man she found herself increasingly attracted to, despite her own firm promises to herself that she was not about to fall into the very same trap that had been her mother’s downfall.

  Her mother’s actions had ruined the family, splintered it because she’d run off with a younger man, leaving her husband and children behind.

  Liam wasn’t that much younger than she was, but she would still be ignoring her responsibility to her family—just as her mother had done.

  Whitney refused to even remotely repeat history.

  So she immersed herself in the enormous task of Christmas tree decorating, in volunteering to be everywhere, do everything, all under the sharp eye of one Miss Joan.

  * * *

  “GIRL, YOU’RE BEGINNING to wear me out,” Miss Joan protested later that day. “And I’m just standing down here, watching you. Pace yourself,” she ordered, shading her amber eyes as she looked up at Whitney.

  The latter was currently balancing her weight on the step second from the top of the ladder, bracing her thighs against it as she tried to extend her reach.

  “And for God’s sakes, don’t lean like that!” Miss Joan shouted. “C’mon down and Liam here will move the ladder for you so you can hang that ornament up properly.”

  Ordinarily, that would have been enough to get her instructions carried out. But Whitney made no attempt to come down.

  “Whitney!” Miss Joan shouted when Whitney gave no indication that she had even heard her, much less would do as she was told.

  The words were no sooner out of Miss Joan’s mouth than the entire ladder moved because Whitney had shifted her weight. Listing, it began to fall to the side. The next fraction of a second saw Whitney suddenly free-falling.

  Impact with the ground below was imminent.

  “I gotcha!” Liam yelled as he rushed over to the exact point where she was about to do a bone-jarring, possibly bone-breaking touchdown.

  Miraculously, Liam managed to catch her. But as he did so, because of the angle, his knees buckled. They made abrupt contact with the ground, hitting it so hard that he felt his teeth all but rattling in his head.

  It took everything he
had not to drop her, but he managed to hold on to Whitney even more tightly.

  Whitney heard him sucking in air, as if that would somehow shield him from the pain she knew he had to be experiencing.

  The second she’d stopped falling and Liam came to a resting position, Whitney scrambled out of his arms. Her knees felt wobbly, but she wasn’t the one she was worried about.

  She looked at Liam with concern. Impact could have shattered his knees or a thigh bone. “Are you all right?” she cried.

  He tried to smile and found that it took more effort than he normally expended.

  “I think I’m probably two inches shorter now, but yeah, I’m all right.” After struggling up to his feet, deliberately ignoring the hand she’d extended to him, Liam looked her over quickly. “Are you?”

  Whitney shrugged away his question. “Other than feeling terminally stupid, I’m fine.” And then her expression softened. “That’s twice you saved me in less than a week,” she pointed out. “If you hadn’t caught me just then, I could have broken my back, or injured my spleen, or—”

  She found she had to stop talking because he’d laid his index finger against her lips.

  “The point is, you didn’t. And the next time I catch you going up a ladder, I won’t.”

  “You won’t what?”

  “I won’t catch you,” he told her. “You’ll be on your own then. Why are you grinning?” he asked.

  Her smile was warm and inviting. She was onto him.

  “Because you talk big, but once a hero, always a hero,” she told him, then quickly added, “That doesn’t mean I plan to be reckless again. Hell, I didn’t plan on being reckless to begin with. Things just devolved into that state. I’m sorry if I worried you,” she apologized quietly, knowing he didn’t want to attract attention to what he’d just done. “And thank you—again—for saving me.”

  He laughed shortly. Gratitude always left him wondering how to respond. “Yeah, well, don’t mention it—and if you’re really grateful—”

  “Yes?” she asked, finding she had to coax the words out of his mouth.

  “You’ll decorate the lower branches,” Liam said, pointing to that area on the tree.

  Whitney turned to look at it. That particular level had been long since taken care of by Forever’s children, mostly the ones under the age of eight.

  “I think if the lower branches get one more decoration hung on them, the tree’ll sink deep into the ground. That’s a lot of concentrated weight all in a small radius.”

  “Then shift it,” Miss Joan suggested. When Whitney continued to look at her, Miss Joan gave her a demonstration. She plucked a small decoration depicting a classic cartoon character getting all caught up in wrapping tape and paper, suffering the unfortunate state with a display of anger that was typical for this particular character.

  Reaching up higher, where no child could manage to reach, Miss Joan hung up the ornament.

  “See? Easy.” Dusting off her hands, she signaled that her association with the decorations was now purely in an advisory capacity. “Now you do it,” she told Whitney. Glancing at Liam, she added, “You, too, sunshine.”

  Liam gave her a mock-salute and began to shift every third decoration to a higher level.

  * * *

  IT FELT AS IF every bone in her body had gotten caught up in this tree-decorating venture. And now, with the tree finally dressed in all its decorative finery, those muscles and tendons were all issuing formal complaints.

  With enthusiasm.

  She was so tired that when Miss Joan’s remaining helpers had retreated back to the diner for dinner, Whitney had trouble picking up her cup of freshly brewed coffee and bringing it to her lips.

  Sitting there and trying to regroup, she was definitely too tired to chew. The idea of dinner had no appeal to her.

  “I don’t think I have ever felt this bone weary,” she told Liam.

  “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you just spent the last eight hours climbing, stretching, lifting and practically being two places at once. That tree wouldn’t have been finished today if not for you. Have you always been an overachiever?” Liam asked.

  Whitney laughed at his question. “In my world, that’s just being a plain old achiever.”

  “Wow. It’s a wonder that you all don’t burn out by the time you hit thirty,” Liam marveled.

  “Well, since I’ve already hit that so-called milestone, I guess I should consider that a compliment,” she replied.

  “Lady,” he said, “everything about you suggests a compliment. You are, quite honestly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “I take it you don’t get out much,” she commented.

  “I get out plenty,” he assured her.

  Whitney took out her phone and glanced at the screen.

  “I didn’t hear it ring,” he said, assuming that was why she’d taken out the cell phone.

  “That’s because it didn’t,” she replied. “I was just checking to see if I missed a call.” Closing the cover, she slipped the phone back into her pocket. “I didn’t,” she said with a sigh.

  “You’re not eating,” Miss Joan accused, coming over to their table.

  “Too tired to eat,” Whitney told the woman.

  “Well, you did a bang-up job and I owe you a steak dinner anytime you want to take me up on it,” Miss Joan said. “I always pay my debts,” she added with a wink.

  “Ready to go?” Liam asked her.

  She nodded. “More than ready.”

  Getting up, Whitney found that she wasn’t quite as mobile as she thought. “Give me a second to get my legs in gear.”

  “I could carry you to the truck,” Liam offered with a grin.

  It sounded rather tempting, but the last thing she wanted was to be the center of attention.

  “I’ll take a rain check on that,” she said, moving slowly toward the exit.

  * * *

  THE TRIP BACK to the hotel was short. Just as Liam pulled up to the entrance, Whitney’s curiosity got the better of her.

  “This morning, just before we left the diner, Miss Joan called you ‘Sunshine.’ Isn’t that kind of an odd name to call a guy?” To her, it was a nickname best suited for a girl with long, flowing blond hair.

  Turning the engine off, Liam shrugged. “It’s a nickname she gave me years ago.”

  “Still doesn’t explain why she calls you that,” Whitney persisted.

  There was no point in not answering her question. He’d stopped being embarrassed by it long ago. “It’s because of my smile.”

  Whitney narrowed her eyes. “Your smile?”

  Okay, maybe he was just a tad embarrassed about it, he decided. But he pushed on, thinking he probably had no choice in the matter. He had a feeling that Whitney would only keep after him until he gave her a satisfactory answer.

  “Miss Joan claims it looks like sunshine when I’m really smiling.” He shrugged. “I’d rather just drop the subject, okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Whitney agreed. It hadn’t been her intention to make him uncomfortable. She’d just been curious. “But since we’re talking about dropping it—”

  “Yes?”

  She forced herself to make eye contact even though she felt like fidgeting inside and just staring at the truck’s floor. “What I told you about my mother this morning, I’d rather just keep it between the two of us if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” he was quick to assure her. And then, because the moment seemed to call for it—or maybe because his guard was completely down, he said, “It seems kind of nice, keeping your secret.” He paused for a moment. “It makes me feel close to you,” he admitted.

  “I would have thought that saving my life and my butt all in under
a week’s time would have done that,” Whitney quipped.

  “Well, it certainly didn’t hurt,” he agreed. Uncoupling his seat belt, Liam turned toward her and said, “Anytime you need saving, I’m your man.”

  Whitney immediately focused on the last part of his sentence.

  I’m your man.

  Ah, if only, she couldn’t help thinking.

  “Actually,” he continued, slowly threading his fingers through her hair, “I’m your man no matter what it is that you need.” Liam’s voice was just barely above a whisper.

  He’d been struggling with his reaction to her for the better part of the evening, especially during this short—and intimate—drive to the hotel.

  Now, breathing in her perfume, sitting mere inches away from her, Liam couldn’t think of anything else but her.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him, her heart going into overdrive as she suddenly felt the space in the truck’s cab shrink.

  “You do that,” Liam replied, his eyes caressing her face.

  The next moment, he couldn’t hold himself in restraint any longer. Leaning forward, he brought his mouth down on hers.

  Unlike the other two times he had kissed her, this time the merest hint of contact shook his world. She’d unleashed a huge need in him, a void that for some unknown reason he felt only she could fill. She, with her unique way of dealing with life, with her almost childlike joy when it came to something so simple as decorating a Christmas tree, albeit a hugely oversize one.

  Liam had always been lucky when it came to women. He’d had his share of women to make love with. But as much as he always got along with them and retained their friendship long after the fact, none of them had ever fired up his imagination and his soul the way that this one did.

  Sitting beside her like this and not having her was sheer torture. He hadn’t realized just how much torture until this very moment.

  * * *

  THIS WAS WRONG.

  It went against everything she had said that she didn’t want. Everything she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do because that would mean following in her mother’s footsteps.