He wasn’t looking for anything serious. He was still too raw from his break up, but maybe Cassidy was too. If that was the case, and she was still hurting, he could think of lots of creative ways to sooth her pain.
CHAPTER THREE
A KNOCK SOUNDED on the door. Cassidy opened her eyes and sat up with a groan. Her ankle still throbbed like a sonofabitch. The pills had really knocked her out but hadn’t done much for the pain.
“Cassidy?” Liz entered. “Mandy and I are starving. Are you up for some dinner?”
“Dinner? Already?” Cassidy asked, trying her best to shake away the cobwebs. She felt less hungry than hung-over.
“Yes. It’s six thirty,” Liz answered. “We have a table at Snake River Grill at seven fifteen. I made all our reservations last week,” Liz explained. “Otherwise the best places would all have been booked.”
Cassidy grimaced. “I hate to be a wet blanket, but I don’t know if I’m quite up to going out tonight. Why don’t you and Mandy go on without me? I’m still a little out of it. To be truthful, I’d rather just veg on the sofa and order a pizza delivery.”
“Are you sure, Cass?” Liz asked, looking hesitant.
“Yeah. I’m sure,” Cassidy reassured her. “It’s been a really long day and the ankle hurts like hell. I promise I’ll be much better company tomorrow.”
“All right,” Liz replied. “Just know I’ll hold you to that. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
After taking a hot shower, Cassidy changed into some yoga pants and a Carolina Panther’s tee, and then dialed for a pizza. All wound up from the events of the day, she considered pouring a glass of wine but then decided it wouldn’t mix well with the pain pills. Settling back onto the sofa, she flipped through the television channels, hoping to find something to coax her into the holiday spirit. After surfing around for about twenty minutes, she finally decided on one of her favorite movies on Netflix. She’d just made it through the opening credits when the door bell rang.
“Hang on please!” she called out, hit the pause button, and then grabbed the crutches. “Be right there!” She hoped they’d hear her through the door and wait long enough for her to gimp over to answer it. She propped a crutch against the wall to free her hand and swung the door open to find Griff standing there with two pizza boxes, a six pack, and a dimpled grin. Her gaze focused on the dimples. She’d always found dimples sexy on a man. Why did all cowboys seem to have them?
“Got your pizza,” he said.
“How did you know?” she asked. “Did you bug the phone or something?”
“Nothing so stalkerish,” he answered. “I was at the pizza place picking up my own order when you called yours in, so I thought I’d save the delivery guy a trip.”
“Thanks Griff. You really didn’t have to.”
He grinned. “What I really didn’t have to do is tip the delivery guy to let me bring it to you. Can I come in?”
The request took her aback considering the state of her appearance. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, and she was wearing a terry bathrobe over her tee shirt and yoga pants. In truth, she was surprised he hadn’t just handed her the box and run.
“Sure. I didn’t mean to leave you standing there. You just surprised me.” She grabbed her crutches and moved into the kitchen.
“Go ahead and sit down,” Griff urged. “I know where everything is in this place better than you do.” She plopped down on a bar stood and watched as he shed his jacket and moved efficiently about the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t have any alcohol,” she said. “I’m on pain medication.”
“I thought of that.” He raised the six pack to display the label. “I figured you for more of a wine drinker but this was non-alcoholic. ‘Sides, pizza is always better with beer.”
She laughed. “Okay then. I’ll have one.”
He reached for a glass.
“I’m fine with the bottle,” she said.
His brows rose ever so slightly. “I never would have taken you for the bottle swigging type.”
“Why’s that?” she asked as he popped the top and handed her the drink. “I promise you I swigged plenty of bottles with my pizza back in my college days.”
“I guess some things are universal.” He raised his bottle in a playful salute, took a drink, and then set a plate in front of her. “Let me guess, you ordered a veggie special?”
“Wrong, cowboy.” She grinned. “I got the bacon and sausage with extra cheese.”
“That’s not a very feminine choice,” he said.
“But it goes with the movie I picked. It’s one of my holiday favorites.”
“Really?” He looked intrigued. “And just what kind of holiday movie would go with a bacon and sausage pizza?”
She took a bite and studied him for a long silent moment. “Since you are so pre-disposed to stereotyping, I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”
***
Griff wasn’t put off in the least. He’d always appreciated a challenge and that’s exactly what she was doing, intentionally taunting and challenging him. It was time to up the ante. “How about if I guess?”
“You won’t guess,” she replied confidently.
“Give me three hints.”
“Why is it so important?” she asked.
“Maybe I like a challenge.”
She smiled. “It’s a waste of your time even with hints. You will never guess what my favorite holiday movie is.”
“C’mon, Cassidy,” he coaxed. “Just give me three hints. If I get it wrong I’ll be your slave for a day. Fetch and carry, cook, clean, full body massage, whatever you like.” He hoped she’d take him up on the massage. She was covered from neck to foot, but he still remembered the feel of her small supple body in his arms. He relished the thought of stripping off her layers and revealing what was hidden beneath.
She laughed. “I do like the sound of that slave penalty.”
“What if I guess right?” he asked. “What do I win?”
“I won’t be your slave,” she said.
“How about if you pay a forfeit—yet to be determined?”
“That’s like signing a blank check,” she exclaimed. “I don’t think so!”
“All right, then promise you’ll spend New Year’s Eve with me.” The request spilled from his lips before he even realized what he was saying.
“New Years?” she repeated, and pursed her pretty mouth.
She had nicely shaped lips. He wondered how she’d taste. He’d been testing the waters, hoping she’d respond to him, but so far, she was less than receptive.
“Yeah. How about dinner at the Couloir?” he said. “There’s no place better to view the fireworks and glow stick skiers.” He’d have to pull some major strings to get a reservation this late but the manager owed him a big favor.
“Dinner with you doesn’t sound like much of a forfeit, compared to your day as my slave,” she replied. “Seems like I’m coming out ahead either way. All right, cowboy, you just sealed your doom. I’ll play.”
“Write it down,” he said.
“Write what down?”
“The name of the movie,” he replied. He rose and went to a drawer to look for a pen and paper.
“You think I’d cheat?” she asked.
“I’m not taking any chances. Here.” He straddled the bar stool beside her and handed her the pen and a note pad.
She scribbled something down, tore the paper off the pad and then folded it twice. “All right. I wrote it down. Now I’ll allow you three hints but you’ll have to ask the questions. Fire away.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
She frowned. “I hardly see how it’s relevant.”
“It’s relevant,” he said. “If I know how old you are, I know what movies were popular when you were a kid. Most of us are pretty nostalgic this time of year.”
“All right. I was born in 1986. You do the math.”
So she was twenty-nine to his thirty-two. “How long have you been divorced?” he asked.
Her frown deepened. “How did you know I’m divorced?”
He reached for her hand and traced the white line on her left ring finger. Her hand was small and delicate with skin smooth as silk. She stiffened at his touch but didn’t pull away. “How long?” he asked, caressing her knuckles with the pad of his thumb.
She responded with a tiny shiver and then drew her hand away. “That question has nothing to do with movies.”
“I think it does,” he argued. “People often gravitate toward certain things based on experiences. It’s human nature to like what we can relate to.”
“A little less than a year ago,” she answered. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”
“No. I was close once. We grew up together, dated off and on through high school and college, but she broke it off two months before the wedding. I didn’t even see it coming.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It was for the best. I thought we wanted the same things, but she only wanted out of Wyoming.”
“I once thought Doug and I wanted the same things,” she said. “Maybe we did in the beginning but then everything changed.” Her pretty eyes clouded. “Now you’ve wasted two questions. You only have one left.”
He sat back and pursed his mouth. “Given this is your first Christmas alone, I’m guessing romances aren’t all that appealing. I’m also going to take a chance here and rule out all the sci-fi, thrillers, horror, and action-adventure films, which leaves us with comedy, musicals, and animation.”
“Why would you automatically rule out action adventure?” she asked.
“Because women only watch those under duress, just like men only tolerate romantic comedies because they set the right mood for sex.”
She shook her head on an exasperated huff. “There you go stereotyping again! Is that what you really believe? You think all women only watch chick flicks and Hallmark specials? Do I look that boring to you?”
“I wasn’t suggesting that at all,” he replied. “Your footwear is anything but boring.”
She regarded him with arched brows. “You know, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned those boots. Do you have a secret shoe fetish, Griff?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, suppressing a grin, “but I’d be hard pressed to find a man who didn’t have a weakness for fu... .” He barely caught himself before blurting ‘fuck-me’ shoes. “Er...really high heels.”
“I could say the same about cowboy boots.” She eyed him head to toe with a seductive look. “A lot of woman have a weakness for those too.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned both elbows on the counter top, leveling his gaze with hers. No doubt about it, Cassidy Cantrell was stirring interest in long neglected places. “If that’s so, Miz Cantrell, I have to ask if you’re one of those women.”
“Yes.” She smirked. “I own five pairs.” She took a long swallow of beer and snatched up another slice of pizza.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“This conversation has once more steered way off course,” she said. “For the record, I happen to love action movies.”
“Then you’re an exception to the rule,” he said. She was becoming more interesting with every little revelation. “You prefer action over musicals? That helps to narrows the field. I can now cross off White Christmas and The Sound of Music.”
“Ooh!” she exclaimed. “I hate White Christmas but I love The Sound of Music. I know all the songs by heart.”
He laughed. “Do you really?”
“Yes,” she said, “but my singing is restricted to when I’m alone in the car.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I once made my dogs cry.”
“They cried?” He laughed. “Maybe they were just singing along?”
“No.” She shook her head solemnly. “It was a pitiful sound. I’m very certain they were crying, but I think you’re stalling now.”
“Maybe I’m enjoying the company.”
“Me too,” she confessed, looking suddenly soft and vulnerable. “Everything in my life has been so serious lately. I was determined to change all that but then I hurt myself. Now my whole holiday is ruined.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “Sometimes it helps a great deal to slow down whether we want to or not. Rushed decisions are almost always bad ones.”
“You’re right about that,” she agreed. “But I’m very far from making any decisions about anything. My life is really a mess right now.”
“Maybe that’s just a matter of perspective,” he argued. “You can look back on it as a mess or you can set your sights forward and view it as a clean slate.”
“It does sound a whole lot better when you put it that way,” she said.
“As for the holiday,” he continued, “Maybe you won’t be skiing, but there’s plenty of other things to do.”
“Like what?”
“We have a big party out at my family ranch every Christmas Eve, bon fires, sleigh rides and caroling. You’re invited... as long as you promise not to sing.” His mouth twitched. “I’d hate for my dogs to cry.”
“You have dogs? What kind?”
“Mostly hunting breeds,” he said.
“We had hunting dogs too,” she said. “My daddy and granddaddy used them to hunt raccoons.
“Raccoons?” he repeated with a look of surprise.
“Yup. Lots of people coon hunt in North Carolina.”
“Wait a minute. I thought you said you were from Florida.”
“I live there but I grew up in Rocky Slope, North Carolina,” she explained. “I moved away after college but most of my family still lives around those parts.”
He shook his head with a chuckle. “You sure are full of surprises. I had you pegged as a city girl.”
“Why? Because I like pretty clothes and expensive shoes? I have a lot of different interests. You’ve got to quit judging books by their covers,” she said. “So what’s my movie, cowboy? You haven’t even made a guess.”
He hadn’t the foggiest clue and didn’t even care anymore. He just wanted to keep talking to her. Whether he won or lost, he was going to be spending more time with her, which is what he really wanted.
“C’mon, Griff,” she challenged. “What does a twenty-nine-year old, divorced, pork-loving, coon-hunting, action adventure aficionado like to watch during the holidays?”
He laughed outright. “Damn, it sure sounds good when you put it all together like that. You’re probably the fantasy woman of half the men I know.” Himself included.
“You still haven’t made a guess.” She tapped the folded paper.
“Okay. I admit it. You’ve got me stumped.”
“Not even a wild guess?” she asked.
“Nope.” He shook his head.
“Okay.” She sighed and tore the paper in half.
“Wait a minute! You aren’t going to tell me?”
“Nope.” She slowly shook her head. “You had your chance. Now you’re destined to remain...unsatisfied.”
Unsatisfied? WTF? He suddenly recalled all the suggestive remarks he’d made earlier when he’d carried her up the stairs and it all clicked. She was subtle, but he had no doubt she was paying him back in kind.
“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, honing in on her mouth.
Her tongue darted over her lips.
He’d been waiting for such a sign. He moved in closer.
Her gaze flickered. “You didn’t tell me yours,” she said.
“Tell you what?” he asked, suddenly confused. His mind had already moved on to other things—like her sweet beckoning lips.
“Your favorite holiday movie. What’s yours?”
“I dunno,” he replied. “I s’pose I like comedies the best at this time of year. Maybe Home Alone or A Christmas Story. Those two always make me laugh.”
“What do you think of Just Fri
ends?” she asked.
Griff pulled back and considered her question. Was she only talking about the movie or was she trying to politely push him away? “That one’s a romantic comedy,” he answered. “I haven’t had any reason to watch one of those for quite a while.”
“What do you mean, a reason?”
“I told you why men watch them.”
“For sex?” she said. “Are you saying you haven’t...?”
“It’s been a long time...” he replied slowly, watching her face.
She swallowed hard. “Me too...But I don’t... I mean I haven’t ever....”
Now or never, Griff. This time, he didn’t give her a chance to finish. He tipped her face up and moved in, intent on claiming the lips he’d been thinking about almost from the moment he’d carried her up the stairs.
***
Cassidy’s pulse raced as Griff’s gaze fixed on her mouth. She drew in a breath of anticipation, knowing what was about to happen, but unable to bring herself to resist it. Did she want the kiss? Her mind said it would be a mistake but her body wasn’t listening. She leaned toward him, eyes closed and mouth softly parted. Their lips were only a hairs breadth apart when the door rattled. She jerked back with a gasp.
Griff mumbled a curse as Liz and Mandy entered.
“Did we...er... interrupt something?” Liz asked, her eyes darting between them and then widening in speculation.
“Griff just brought me some pizza,” Cassidy blurted, feeling the heat of a flush.
“I see,” Liz said a little too knowingly.
“He was just leaving,” Cassidy said.
Griff made no reply, just rose and grabbed his hat.
“Thanks for checking on her, Griff,” Liz said.
“Happy to oblige,” Griff replied gruffly. “Good night, ladies.” At the door, he turned back to Cassidy. “I’ll be gone for the next couple of days to spend Christmas with my family, but when I come back I intend to make good on that wager.”
“There’s no need,” Cassidy said, already dreading the questions that would follow Griff’s departure.
“Yeah, there is,” he answered. “I always pay my debts.”
A Cowboy's Midnight Kiss (Romancing the Stones) Page 3