Cowboy Firefighter Christmas Kiss

by Kim Redford

  “I’d appreciate you taking a look, but I don’t want to put you out.”

  “I’m happy to do it. You’ve already helped me so much I want to return the favor.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.”

  She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “But maybe I’d like you to owe me.”

  He grinned, feeling glad they could share something else. “I’ll make payment anytime you want…right here in this bed.”

  “Don’t tempt me or we may never get out of here today.”

  “Just say the word.” He could live on cookies, coffee, and wine for a day. Everything else could go hang.

  “You know we can’t get away with disappearing for an entire day. Who knows how many folks would come looking for us?”

  “True.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I guess we’d better get up, get a shower, and get dressed.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to wear, but since you’re taking me straight back to the cabin, I guess it doesn’t much matter.”

  “Did you forget about…” he started to say, but he was interrupted by his cell with a familiar ringtone. “Uh-oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “Granny.”

  “Oh.”

  “Got to take it.” He pulled his phone out of his nightstand and punched it live with speakerphone.

  “Slade,” a strong, sweet voice said. “Time’s a wasting. Bring your new girlfriend. Be here in five.” And the voice was gone.

  He clicked off, gave Ivy a regretful look, and stood up.

  “Do we really have to go to the Chuckwagon?”

  “No. But I’d like you to meet my family on good terms, not after they’re irritated that I’ve kept you secret and away from them.”

  “You’re close to them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I guess I’d feel that way about Fern, except she’s always on the move and friends are transitory with her.”

  “Will you do this for me? I want them to love and accept you.”

  “And this is the best way?”

  “After last night, it definitely is.”

  “You’re presenting me as your girlfriend?”

  He smiled, feeling warm all over at her words. “Yes. And that makes me your boyfriend.”

  “I guess that’s where we are, isn’t it?”

  “It is, if that’s what you want, too. I’m not pushing you.” He was, of course, but he wasn’t about to say it.

  She sighed, looking thoughtful. “It’s just so sudden and not what I was expecting when I got here.”

  “I know, but—”

  “I’m not about to share you, so you’re definitely my boyfriend.”

  “Good.” He grinned, finally hearing the words he wanted from her.

  She found the robe and pulled it around her shoulders. “But what am I going to wear?”

  “We’ll think of something.”

  “I need to go back to the cabin.”

  “No time.”

  He walked over, pulled a crimson jacket out of a dresser drawer, and tossed it to her. “That’ll cover up your ripped jeans.”

  “It’s huge. And if I wear those jeans, I’ll smell like burnt cookies.”

  “We can douse you with some of Morning Glory’s smelly stuff.”

  “That’ll be just great. I’ll be a walking, talking odor machine.”

  “What do you want me to do?” He threw up his hands, feeling helpless to please everybody.

  “First impressions are lasting impressions.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you have a washer and dryer here?”

  “No.”

  “Needle and thread?”

  “What?” He knew he looked as confused as he felt, but even if he had sewing stuff, he wouldn’t know how to use it.

  “Never mind. I’m going to get a shower, then figure out something.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  She gave him a hard stare.

  He took her meaning. “If there is time—”

  “There’s not.” She cocked her head to one side. “Oh, come on. How bad can meeting your granny and family be?”

  He didn’t answer that, because…well, it was just better not to go there. And yet, it had to be better than a tumble off a bad bull.

  Chapter 21

  Ivy sat stiffly in the passenger seat of Slade’s pickup. He was quiet. She was quiet. It felt as if they were going to their doom. And that was ridiculous. His family had to be equally as friendly and generous as all the other people she’d met in Wildcat Bluff. Of course, she hadn’t been a girlfriend at the time, but that fact ought to make everything better. It was the unknown that worried her, like it had since she’d set foot in the country.

  She just wished she looked better. Fern could walk out of a shower, throw on cutoffs and T-shirt, and look like she was ready for the red carpet. Maybe it was her attitude that always carried her across the finish line first. Whatever it was, Ivy had missed that critical gene in the family pool.

  She glanced down. At least she mostly wore her own clothes. Dirty, ripped jeans. Long sleeve, sage green tee. But that was the end of her before he began. Slade had loaned her a big, red satin jacket with promo logos from some rodeo he’d entered back in the day. She liked the fact that it hung down almost to her knees, so it covered up the rip in the seat of her pants, but it also covered up her hands, so she had to keep pushing the sleeves up. Nothing could fault her moccasins except they were stay-at-home wear, not gadding-about-town wear. She could live with all that, but he’d insisted on something else that she still couldn’t wrap her head around.

  “I don’t see why I have to wear your old scratched, beat-up buckle and this belt of yours that you cut down to fit me.”

  He glanced over at her, smiling. “I told you. It’s a gift—from me to you.”

  “You’re wearing a nice, new, shiny one. I’d prefer that buckle, if I have to wear one of these giant things that is cutting me in half.”

  “I told you. You’re wearing the last buckle I won. It’s the one I’ve worn all these years because it’s the most important one.”

  She pointed at the multicolored stones and raised lettering on a gold-and-crimson background of the rodeo buckle he wore. “But that one is prettier.”

  “It’s the next-to-last one I won.”

  “I’ll happily take it.”

  “Won’t do.”

  “And just why not?”

  “My best buckle shows my commitment to you.”

  “What if you gave me your second best?”

  “Then you’d be second best. I’d never do it.”

  “Will people, like your family, know what it means?”

  “Yes.”

  “That I’m your girlfriend?”

  “Well…it means a bit more than girlfriend.”

  She turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes steady on the road. “What’s after that? Going steady? If it gets any more archaic here, I really will have to go home just to get a reality check.”

  “You are home. And it’s sort of like…well, on our way to engagement.”

  “Engagement?” She felt shocked to the bone. “What next? I guess we could just skip all the in-between, catch a flight to Vegas, and find Elvis to marry us.”

  “I’m ready when you are.”

  “That is not funny.”

  “Are you getting cold feet?”

  “More like the flu.”

  He chuckled as he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I didn’t know you were going to be so grumpy in the mornings.”

  “And this belt!”

  “You know I didn’t have anything smaller, so I had to cut down one of mine.”

  “You used a knife. It looks strange.”
>
  “At least I had a hole punch.”

  “But it’s for horse and cow stuff, not people stuff!”

  “Best I could do.”

  She glanced down at the too-large holes and wondered how long before the whole contraption fell off her—naturally, if it happened, it’d be right in front of the entire Steele clan.

  “You could dress in a feed sack and you’d still look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. If that’s the comparison, I feel so much better.” She knew she was being ungrateful and griping about little things, but she was feeling more out of control by the moment. She wanted to rewind the clock or opt out of the entire situation. Pouting, she looked over at Slade, but the sight of him made all her doubts fly out the window. It was just…what if his family that was so important to him didn’t like her?

  “I wish one of my hats fit you, but any one of them would be down on your ears.”

  “It’s okay. I washed my hair.”

  “Your hair always looks beautiful. I just meant you’d look good in a cowgirl hat.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I’ll get one.” She felt a little better at his words. She just needed to hold her head high and carry on. That’s what Fern would do, but she’d make a joke out of it and everyone would laugh with her, not at her. Maybe she could be Fern for a day and all would be well.

  “Trust me, it’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll give you back your buckle when it’s all over.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s your best buckle.”

  “I gave it to you. I want you to have it. For keeps.”

  “Thank you. I do appreciate the sentiment, but—”

  “No buts. We’re in this together.” He glanced over at her again, blue eyes warm, then nodded ahead of them. “We’re almost to Old Town.”

  “And the Chuckwagon Café.” She adjusted the big, heavy buckle, hoping once more that it wouldn’t fall off and take her jeans down with it. Still, she felt warm and tender at the thought of him giving her something so important to him, something that he wanted her to keep forever.

  “I’ll get you a new belt and a hat at Gene’s Boot Hospital after breakfast.” He glanced down at her feet. “Maybe a pair of boots, too.”

  “Jeans are first on my list.”

  “Oh yeah.” He tossed a grin her way. “You can have new jeans with my blessing, but I get the old ones.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I’ve got real fond memories of those particular jeans.”

  When what he meant filtered through her worries, she chuckled at the memory of his hand on her bare butt. They’d come a long way since that moment. Suddenly everything seemed okay, or at least good enough. Slade was with her. She wore his prize belt buckle. With that thought, she really felt better, but anything to do with Slade always made her feel better.

  “Have you been in Old Town before now?”

  “No. I’ve pretty much stayed at the Park. This is lovely,” she said, glancing at the street coming into view.

  “I’ll slow down so you can take a closer look. We’re proud of all we’ve done to maintain the original structures.”

  She lowered her window so she could get a better look at Main Street’s row of one- and two-story buildings built of stone and brick and nestled behind a white portico that covered a long boardwalk. Sunlight glinted off store windows. She felt as if she’d stepped back in time—just like at Wildcat Hall—into an Old West town like the ones she’d seen in tintype photographs. Yet everything appeared as fresh as if it’d been constructed yesterday.

  The Wildcat Bluff Hotel anchored one end of the street. It was an impressive, two-story structure of red brick with a grand entrance of cream keystones and brass planters with Christmas-tree-shaped rosemary bushes. Fresh fir wreaths with huge, red bows decorated each window of a second-floor balcony enclosed with a stone balustrade supported by five columns.

  On the other end of Main Street, the Chuckwagon Café held the place of honor, with Morning’s Glory, Adelia’s Delights, Gene’s Boot Hospital, Thingamajigs, and other popular shops in between. Pickups were nosed in all along the front of the café.

  Slade found an empty place, pulled in, parked between two other trucks, and turned off the engine.

  In front of her, Ivy saw strings of blinking Christmas lights and star-shaped ornaments on a row of plate-glass windows with the words “Lone Star Saloon” painted in gold in old-fashioned curlicue script. A painted-wood cigar store Indian that stood sentinel on one side of the batwing-style doors had been irreverently adorned with a bright-red Santa hat.

  “Looks like Christmas has already come to Old Town,” she said. “I hope the Hall gets festive pretty soon.”

  “It will.”

  “Is that really an original saloon?”

  “Like Wildcat Hall, Old Town hasn’t changed much since the 1880s. This honky-tonk still serves the same function—food, drinks, dance hall, live country bands on weekends.”

  “Is it competition for the Hall?”

  “Somewhat. The Lone Star gets more tourist trade, but there’s enough business for both locations.”

  “Good.”

  “We get a lot of tourists looking for a taste of the Old West like they do in Tombstone, Arizona.”

  “I’ve been to Tombstone. It’s fascinating.”

  “We’ll have lots of folks in town during Wild West Days. They like to experience our reenactment of the shoot-out between the Hellions and the Ruffians for control of the town.”

  “Sounds like the shoot-out at the O.K. Corral.”

  “Right. Back then, outlaws fought the law, but they also fought each other for turf.”

  “Where does the shoot-out take place?” She was stalling and knew it, but she still wanted to learn more about the town that was fast finding a place in her heart.

  “Right here in front of the Lone Star.” He pointed at the batwing doors. “When Wild West Days rolls around, you could play a part in the reenactment. Dance hall darlings in their white pinafores turned the tide.”

  “It does sound like fun.”

  He glanced over at her, smiling. “You’d look really good dressed up like that.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled back at him, catching a hint of the heat that always smoldered between them. “With all the clothes women wore back then, it might take a while to remove them.”

  He grinned, blue eyes lighting up. “You’ll need help. I’ll be happy to get you in and out of a corset…stockings…and everything else.”

  She chuckled, shaking her head at him. “I sincerely suspect you don’t care if I’m in the reenactment at all. You just want me dressed up for fun.”

  “Not true…well, somewhat true. I’d like you on my arm so we can promenade on the boardwalk while the other guys eat their hearts out since you belong to me.”

  “Oh Slade, sometimes I’m not sure what century you belong in. Let’s just make sure there’s no shoot-out involved with our promenade.”

  “You never know. I’ll do my best to control my itchy trigger finger, but if some guy comes on to you, all bets are off.”

  She laughed, once more enjoying the banter that kept drawing them closer and closer.

  “Fern is supposed to perform with Craig here in the saloon, but I guess we can’t count on her making it.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to, but she hasn’t mentioned it. Hopefully, she’ll be back soon.”

  “Hope so.”

  “Me too.”

  “Come on.” He opened his door. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

  She took a deep breath, repositioning the belt buckle as if girding up for an upcoming battle. When he opened her door and held out his hand, she gave him a big smile as she let him help her down. She stepped up on the boardwalk with him at her side, almost as if they were beginni
ng an old-fashioned promenade.

  And then she remembered Peter and the fact that he was looking for a buyer for the Park. She felt sick to her stomach, as if she’d betrayed not only Slade but herself as well. She needed to call her friend and cancel the contract, although since she hadn’t heard anything, maybe it was all just fine. She took a deep breath, forcing those thoughts away. She had plenty on her plate at the moment. She didn’t need to borrow trouble. Right now she was going to enjoy being with Slade and starting off a brand-new day.

  She glanced at Adelia’s Delights, and saw a life-size Santa Claus dressed in bright-red velvet with a wide black belt and matching black cowboy hat waving back and forth in the display window. A pretty tortoiseshell cat snuggled up to Santa’s cowboy boot. The kitty looked so perfect she might have been a stuffed animal until she turned her head to look in their direction.

  “What a pretty cat,” she said.

  “You met Hedy, didn’t you? That’s her store and that’s Rosie, Queen of Adelia’s. She’s one of the best Hemingway mousers in town.”

  “Do you mean she’s a polydactyl?”

  “Right. Extra dewclaws like the descendants of Hemingway’s cats at his former home in Key West.”

  “Somebody must have brought cats out west over a hundred years ago,” she said thoughtfully.

  “They were worth their weight in gold in lots of places. They kept out vermin.” He chuckled. “Plenty of fights over cat stealing.”

  “Hard to imagine now.”

  “Not so hard around here. Folks still prize their cats.”

  As they continued onward, she caught the scent of lavender, rose, and frankincense, so she stopped in front of a store with “Morning’s Glory” painted in purples and greens on a front display window. Red and green Christmas lights twinkled around the front window. Inside, she saw bath products, framed paintings, and other items produced by local artisans.

  “Morning Glory really supports the community with her store,” he said, looking in the window.

  “I can’t wait to shop here.”

  “Everyone works hard to provide the best merchandise possible.”

  “Like your pies?”

  “Yeah. That’s what we do.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.