Cowboy Firefighter Christmas Kiss

by Kim Redford

  He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to let down her thick, auburn hair so he could run his fingers through the silky strands. He’d caress every single curve of her body before he stripped away all her clothes to reveal peaches-and-cream skin.

  “Did you change your mind about what you wanted to tell me?” Ivy asked with a hint of impatience in her husky voice.

  He felt his fantasy disintegrate like morning mist over a lake. He was reluctant to let his vision go, but he had to set it aside till later. Right now, he needed to persuade her to work with him—not only for his own marketing benefit, but so he could keep an eye on how she handled Wildcat Hall. He’d been all business when he’d opened the door, but it had turned personal the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  “You have ideas for Wildcat Hall?” She leaned toward him as she focused her attention on his face. “Maybe you discussed something with Fern.”

  “Right.” He shook his head to clear it. “I suppose you haven’t been in town long enough to learn much about local businesses.”

  “Fern told me a little about the community.” She eyed him with interest. “Wait a minute. She mentioned adding to the snack foods. Are you that award-winning pie baker?”

  He nodded at the moniker, comparing it to how he’d once been known on the rodeo circuit as the bull rider to beat. No more. Not since he got busted up. But that was in the past and so was all the glory—and the cowgirls—that went with it. Now he stayed busy with one project piled on top of another to keep the memories at bay, but sometimes in the middle of the night, he’d remember what it’d been like to be in prime condition and on top of the world. That was when he’d have swaggered into the life of a red-hot gal like Ivy without a second thought, expecting her to fall quick and hard for him. No more. He’d be lucky if he could bribe her with pies even to talk to him while he imagined so much more in his fantasies.

  “Do you want to serve pie here? Is that your idea?”

  At her words, he fell back to reality hard—like coming off the back of a bull. “It’s one idea. Right now, the Hall has packaged snacks and drinks. That’s it.”

  “Fern mentioned she was thinking of expanding the food line, but I’m concerned it’ll add more problems than benefits.”

  “Not if it’s done right.”

  “How so?”

  “What do you see?” He gestured around the room filled with tables and chairs.

  “Simple and stark furnishings.”

  “That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way people like it. Wildcat Hall looks a lot like the simplicity of Gruene Hall, and nobody complains about that standout honky-tonk.”

  “Gruene is in a class all its own.”

  “So is the Hall. Here’s my point. The dance hall opens out into the beer garden. Folks like beer, water, or a glass of wine there. Snacks are good, too, like the prepackaged dried sausage, chips, and nuts that you already serve.”

  She nodded in agreement, watching him with interest.

  “This front area has been a community gathering place since 1884 when it was first built. Folks get together after work, after events, and even after fighting fires to let off a little steam and catch up on local news. The Hall can also be rented for special events like weddings and reunions.”

  “You’re thinking we could offer more options?”

  “You probably wouldn’t want to change what you serve in the dance hall, but in here, why not add to the menu?”

  “It’d generate more income, wouldn’t it?” She glanced behind the bar. “But there aren’t any cooking facilities inside, are there?”

  “Right. Fern and I discussed it and decided it wouldn’t be worth putting in a kitchen. At least not right away.”

  “I’d prefer not to sink any more money here than necessary.”

  “The Hall’s pretty solidly built. I don’t think that’s an issue. Those rental cowboy cabins might be another story. Have you seen them?”

  “I moved into the main cabin Fern was living in, but I haven’t checked anything beyond what I saw when we bought the place.”

  “Cabins might need some work but probably not much.” He took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts again because he kept getting distracted by her green eyes, peach-tinted lips, and single dimple in her left cheek.

  “I plan to focus on the Hall first.”

  “Good. Bottom line, I could prepare food at the Chuckwagon Café and deliver it here.”

  “That’d be convenient. It’s an interesting idea if we could come to terms so we both make a profit.” She leaned toward him, thoughtfully tracing the bar top with her fingertips.

  “I’m sure we could work out something. I’m thinking you could offer coffee and pie.” He looked at those long fingers of hers, thought about them touching his skin—and the fire he’d banked down to embers suddenly seared him. He pulled his collar away from his neck, trying to get some relief from the heat.

  “I like the idea.” She cast him a slow smile. “But do you have time?”

  “I’ll make time. What about cookies?”

  “Those sounds good, too.”

  “I’m thinking something simple like Texas tea cakes and cowboy cookies.”

  “What are those?”

  “Texas tea cakes are the old Southern type of sugar cookies. To make cowboy cookies, I might add extra ingredients to the recipe and whiskey to the dough.”

  She chuckled, smiling in delight. “Those would go well with coffee, too. For the holidays, I’d like to see the cookies decorated in Christmas colors.”

  “Sounds good. What about one night a week, or more often, you serve chili or stew or something else that goes well with cornbread but is still simple and easy to serve as well as clean up?”

  “I like it, but I’m concerned it’ll require servers. Cookies and pieces of pie could be picked up at the bar along with drinks.”

  “Fern and I discussed letting folks serve themselves from a big vat of chili kept warm on a sideboard.”

  “That might work.”

  “Glad you think so.” He was encouraged that she liked his ideas. He hadn’t known what kind of person he’d find when he got here, but Ivy was way ahead of his expectations in more ways than one.

  “Let me give it some thought.”

  “Okay…speaking of Fern.” He wished she’d just waltz in the front door even though he knew she couldn’t do it. “I still can’t believe she just up and left with so many plans and so many people she’d gotten involved to help put Wildcat Hall on the map as a destination honky-tonk.”

  “You aren’t the first one to feel that way.” She pointed at her chest. “Take a number and get behind me. I’m always first in line. Not that I don’t love every little bit of my sister, but music comes first in her life and always will. She simply received an offer for a gig she couldn’t refuse, and off she went.”

  “Well, there’s a long line of folks behind you now.” He looked at her, wondering if she had what it took to pull off what had come so easily to her sister. “Are you up for dealing with this community?”

  “Excellent question.” She leaned forward, then tugged her hair out of a ponytail holder, stretched the hot pink band around one wrist, and let down her thick mane, which fell past her neck to settle like a curtain just below her shoulder blades.

  He felt lightheaded at the sight as he caught the scent of lavender that wafted from her hair and enveloped him like a springtime field of delicate flowers. He fisted his hands to keep from snatching her up against him and burying his face in her hair and cuddling her so close there was nothing between them.

  She leaned forward, massaged her scalp with both hands, and then tossed her hair back as she raised her head and stared into the distance.

  “I could help you with that massage.”

  She gave a low groan as she slowly turned to look
at him. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “It’s always open.”

  “Good to know.” She gave him a little negative shake of her head with a wry smile, sending tendrils of hair across her face.

  He reached out—couldn’t stop himself—and gently clasped those loose strands and slowly tucked them behind her ear. Feeling the softness of her skin against the back of his knuckles hit him hard. If he didn’t back off, he was going to make a move that’d get him banned from Wildcat Hall for all eternity. He was already skating on thin ice. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever being struck so fast, so hard, like a bolt of lightning, by any other woman. And wouldn’t you just know it’d come when he was past his prime and she was in her prime?

  “I’m not outgoing like Fern. I’m used to spending my days in front of my computer, designing websites and doing most of my communication through emails. This is all going to be one-on-one, isn’t it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She lowered her face into her hands, moaning in frustration.

  On second thought, maybe he had a chance. Maybe she could get what she needed—from him. And who knew where the situation might lead? “I’ll help you. I know everybody. They’re good people.”

  She raised her head and looked at him with hope in her pale green eyes. “Will you? I mean, you’re already going to bake pies and cookies. Maybe cook chili. I’ll feel guilty if I take up any more of your time. Didn’t you mention a ranch? That’s bound to be time intensive.”

  “It’s a lot of work, but my mom and sister do their part, too. Plus, ranch hands carry the main load.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Anyway, I volunteered, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Look, we’ll find a way to make the Hall work. Only thing, I’ve got a major commitment coming up.”

  “Not a wedding…I mean, a social event?” she said, sounding flustered and embarrassed at her words.

  He grinned, feeling hope well up in his chest that she was wondering about his marital status. “Nothing social. I’m not engaged or going with anybody.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m not either.”

  “That’s good. Real good.” Maybe he had a chance after all. He felt his spirits lift at the prospect of getting what he wanted, as well as what he needed—from her. “It’s a cattle drive.”

  “Cattle drive? I didn’t know cowboys did those anymore.”

  “Not too much, but they’re still around. In this case, we recently bought Mr. Werner’s ranch from his descendants. Hated to lose him, but he’d gotten up there in years. He gave his pristine 1959 Cadillac to my sister, Sydney, and he wanted my family to take over his ranch. We were able to meet the price, so now we’re in the process of getting it up and running after he let it dwindle down the last few years.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work.”

  “True, but worth it. We’re calling the new ranch Steele Trap II, since it’ll be in the family, but I’ll be living there and running it.”

  She nodded but looked puzzled. “Congratulations on the new ranch, but what does it have to do with a cattle drive?”

  “Oh yeah. We’re going to move three hundred head of Angus cattle from our old ranch to our new one. Not far, like the old cattle drives, since it’ll only be about five miles, but it’ll still take the same stuff to get the job done.”

  “Do you have enough cowboys?”

  He chuckled, glancing out a window as if he could see the situation. “No problem with that. Most every cowboy and cowgirl in the county wants to be part of it.”

  She joined his laughter. “You’ve got to admit it sounds like fun and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “That’s it. DJs Wildcat Jack and Eden are talking it into a big event on our local radio station.”

  “Why are they doing that?”

  “It’s smart because it helps promote our Christmas events. Wildcat Bluff hosts Christmas in the Country, while over in Sure-Shot they stage Christmas at the Sure-Shot Drive-In. Folks come in from out of town. We have a lot of family fun. And it’s a boost to our economy.” He gazed at her, thinking about the upcoming festivities. “Christmas is my favorite time of year.”

  “I like it, too. But why is it your favorite?”

  “It’s winter, so there’s not quite as much ranch work. We get to spend more time with family and friends.”

  “Don’t forget lots of good food like we’ll serve at the Hall.”

  “And gifts.” He smiled, liking her excitement about the season. “What do you want for Christmas?”

  “I just want Wildcat Hall to do well.”

  “I don’t doubt that it will. Did you know the Hall is on the old cattle trail we’ll be taking, so Fern planned to serve snacks and drinks to the drovers? Wildcat Jack and Eden want livestreaming on KWCB from right here.”

  “Oh my.” Ivy put fingertips to her lips. “I’m getting in way over my head. Fern is perfect for this type of event. Not me.”

  “I bet you’ve got more of your sister in you than you think.”

  “I’m a behind-the-camera type of person. Fern is the one who gets out there and makes people happy.”

  “Remember, I said I’d help you.” He held out his hand to her, hoping she’d take it, hoping she’d trust him to get her through the coming days, hoping she’d come to see him as more than a strong shoulder to lean on.

  She looked up, down, all around, then finally gazed steadily at him with determination in her green eyes. And clasped his hand.

  Chapter 3

  “I said I’d help you, and I will, but there could be a glitch in our plans,” Slade said with narrowed eyes.

  “Oh no.” Ivy felt as if problems in Wildcat Bluff just piled upon problems. If she’d known she was going to end up here, she might have passed on the project. Still, she was as susceptible as everyone to Fern’s great charm, meaning her sister usually snagged whatever she wanted in life. Besides, she’d liked the idea of Wildcat Hall Park and wanted to support it.

  “We’ve got problems around here.” He pushed off the bar, walked over to a window, and looked outside as if checking for incoming trouble.

  “I hope they don’t involve the Hall.”

  “Not directly, but it’s possible.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Rustlers.”

  “Do you mean cattle rustlers?” She felt as if she’d been dropped into the middle of an Old West movie. First, a cattle drive. Now, cattle rustlers. How could any of it be real? They were in the twenty-first century, not the nineteenth. Maybe she was so city that country made no sense.

  “Yep.”

  “Are you making a joke? Do I need to worry outlaws are going to raid Wildcat Hall for snacks and drinks or make this a rendezvous point after their latest cow heist?”

  “I’m not joking, but it sounds like you are.”

  “I don’t know what to think. I lived in Houston until a few days ago. In that world, cattle drives and cattle rustlers are relegated to the dustbin of history.”

  “You’re city,” he said on a sigh. “And I’m country.”

  “And never the twain shall meet. Is that your point?” She was trying to keep her feet on the ground, but she’d been abruptly jerked out of a simple life and thrust into a world of escalating chaos.

  “My point is that I’m trying to alert you to a situation that could affect you here at the Hall.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to get across to you.”

  “Okay. I’d better listen.” She gave up trying to make the problem go away and walked over to a table in front of a window, pulled out a chair, and sat down. She gestured for him to do the same before she placed her hands on top of the table. “I’m all ears.”

  He e
ased into the chair across from her but gave her a skeptical look with his blue eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “I promise,” she said, crossing her heart, “not to make any more jokes about cattle rustlers.”

  “We’ll see.” He gave her a wry smile. “I guess it does sound a bit far-fetched coming out of the blue like this.”

  She put her hand over her mouth so he could see she wasn’t going to say a contrary word.

  He chuckled—just a little sound at first, but it soon turned into a big guffaw as he grinned at her. “Thanks. I guess I needed somebody to put the whole thing in perspective.”

  She smiled at him, finding his ability to laugh at himself as big a turn-on as his hot body. “I guess you should start at the beginning and put cattle rustlers into my perspective, so it’ll make sense to me.”

  “Might help me, too.” He looked at the ceiling, as if for help, then back to her. “I told you we were in the process of taking over the new ranch.”

  “Yes. That’s why you’re having the cattle drive.”

  “Right. We moved the horses from those pastures over to the first Steele Trap, but we left the cattle in the pastures. No point moving cows just to bring them back again.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Nobody’s living in the ranch house right now.” He placed his large hands on top of the table and clasped them.

  “Did it get broken into?”

  “Not yet. But cattle rustlers hit us.”

  “I’m sorry.” She suddenly felt a lot of sympathy for him and wished she hadn’t made light of his situation before she’d heard the details.

  “Yeah. Sheriff Calhoun is looking into it, but so far he’s had no luck catching the thieves.”

  “Did you set up guards or a security system?”

  “Yeah, we set up a new system on the house and barns, but rustlers can be in and out before we get there. Here’s how they do it. Nighttime. Two guys. A pickup. A one-ton truck with a thirty-two-foot gooseneck—that’s a trailer—that’ll haul eighteen thousand pounds. First rustler gets dropped off on foot with a bucket of feed near a gate. He either uses a ranch pen or brings a portable one. Once he has cows in the pen, he contacts his partner, who backs in the gooseneck. They load up the cows, leave the gate open so cattle will get loose and confuse the rancher until a count can be made in daylight. Two minutes tops.”