She carried a bucket of milk in each hand from the barn to the house. Essie did need her help, that was for sure. Until she got there, Essie had been doing all the work on the place, and at eighty-six she didn’t have a bit of business milking two cows and picking apples. But convincing her to leave the five-acre farm was like getting St. Peter to open up the pearly gates and welcome Lucifer in for a double shot of Jack Daniel’s.
Essie had always kept two milk cows. According to her, it was as easy to milk and feed two as one and she sold enough milk to the neighbors to buy her groceries. The small apple orchard produced abundantly, and on good years she put quite a wad of money into her bank account, but last year she’d fallen off a ladder while picking apples.
Ada kicked the back door with the toe of her cowboy boot. “Eighty-six and still climbing ladders!”
Essie opened it wide. “Age don’t mean I can’t fix a roof or pick apples, so stop your bellyachin’. Idabelle called and said that blasted Texas storm is headed toward us now. Weatherman says it’s going to build up force until it hits the East Coast and that by the middle of next week, we’ll have snow.”
“Long as my flight can get off the ground on Christmas Eve morning, I’m not too worried. I’ve fed cattle and milked cows in everything from a hundred and fifteen degrees down to ten below zero.”
“You promise you’ll come back the day after Christmas? I really like having you here, Ada.”
“Got the ticket already bought and paid for. But you got to promise me that you won’t climb any more ladders to pick apples. If I’m going to live here, you are going to have to trust me to do the work.”
The wrinkles around Essie’s mouth disappeared when she smiled. “I didn’t tell you that just before I fell, I climbed on the roof and fixed a few loose shingles.”
Ada set the milk on the counter. “Great God Almighty, Esther! I’ll have to live with you. Your mind has done left your body.”
“No it didn’t,” Essie argued. “It’s just that my stupid old body ran off and left it. Body is eighty-six. Mind is still twenty-six.”
“Those boys of yours ought to be over here helping you,” Ada fussed.
“Calvin is sixty-eight and he’s had two heart attacks. Can’t say how it’s any big surprise with that woman he’s been married to for more than forty years. She’d nag a normal man to death and Calvin ain’t never been real healthy. He ain’t got no business crawlin’ up on a two-story roof and hammerin’ shingles back on.”
“Neither do you,” Ada said.
Essie shot her a dirty look. “Omar is sixty-six and he just retired from over at Letterkenny Army Depot. His wife is a whiner and a hypochondriac. You just try namin’ a disease and by golly she’s either had it or has it ordered for next year. She’s got him runnin’ back and forth to that drugstore so often it’s a wonder to me that his car don’t have the place on automatic pilot.”
Ada laughed.
The daughters-in-law had always been a sore spot and age hadn’t improved any of them. Essie hadn’t really liked any of them from the beginning, but then they hadn’t liked her either.
“Well, Lester is only sixty and his wife is busy with her church stuff. He could help while she’s off doing her charity work,” Ada said.
Essie shook her head. “Lester got his grandpa’s tongue. Not my sweet daddy’s but his paternal grandpa’s. He’d help but I’d have to endure a lecture about how this house is too big for me and how I should be lookin’ at a nursing home. No thank you!”
Ada strained the milk and put it in the extra refrigerator in the pantry. Ten gallons were ready for sale. It would be gone by noon the next day. If they had ten milk cows they couldn’t keep up with the demand for it.
She wiped her hands on the butt of her jeans and unsnapped a shirt pocket to take out her cell phone. Sage’s cell phone’s battery would have long since died, but there was a possibility that the landline would work.
Three rings later, Sage’s voice came through.
“Grand! We’ve got service, at least on this old rotary phone you keep in the kitchen for emergencies. The storm has passed. It’s still cloudy and cold. How are you? Are you ready to come home?”
“I am home, Sage. How’s the cowboy working out?”
“He didn’t lose a single cow and he’s been doing the milking. You know how I hate to milk. And I painted a new picture. I took a snapshot and sent it to Marquee but then when I tried to call you the battery had gone dead and the service had gone out again. It’s very different than what I’d done before…”
Ada butted in. “Is the cowboy naked in it?”
“Grand!”
“Well, shit! I guess that means you aren’t bein’ nice to him. Is he bein’ nice to you?”
“He’s standing right here, Grand.”
“Is he smiling?”
“Yes.”
“Then he knows we’re talkin’ about him. What do you want me to bring you for Christmas?”
“Just you. Come home and call this whole thing off.”
“Essie needs me. You’re a big girl. You don’t need me, and you are beginning to cut out. Well, shit! I forgot to charge my phone. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll talk longer.”
“Grand, I’ll always need you.”
That was the last thing Ada heard before the line went dead.
“Well?” Essie asked.
Ada sat down at the table. “Service is still spotty even on the old phone and the battery is down on her cell phone. Damned technology! Get used to it all and then it plays out.”
Essie poured two cups of strong black coffee and carried them to the table. “Is he a serial killer or were your instincts right?”
Ada picked up her coffee. “She says she needs me and wants me to come home for Christmas and call it all off.”
“And?” Essie held her breath.
“And her tone says something different. I was right. She just don’t know it yet.”
“What if she don’t figure it out?”
“She will,” Ada said.
* * *
Sage grabbed Creed by the arm and danced around the kitchen floor with him. Chores could wait. She’d talked to her Grand and the world was almost right again.
“I heard her voice again, Creed, and she’s fine.”
Creed pulled her to his chest and tipped her chin up with his fist. “Why wouldn’t she be? She’s doing exactly what she wants to do.”
All the air left Sage’s lungs. She wanted her grandmother to come home and never leave again, but after only three days she didn’t want Creed to leave either. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to snuggle into his arms and listen to him describe her paintings to her. She couldn’t have it all and she only had until Christmas to decide what she wanted most.
The movement stopped and she looked up at Creed. His lips were coming closer and closer. Warmth shot through her body like she was hooked up to a Jack Daniel’s IV. The first touch made her lips so hot that his tongue felt cold when it gently probed her lips and begged for entrance.
It was the first time that she had experienced a kiss that was every bit as intimate as sex, and the feeling was so heady that she wondered if it came complete with a climax. She closed every inch of space between them and savored the touch, the taste, and the moment.
His hands found their way under her knit shirt and splayed out on her back. She wished he’d move them all over her body because they were frying her skin with blistering hot heat, but the only thing that moved was his thumbs. They made lazy, deliberate circles right below her bra line.
If he hadn’t stopped when he did, she would have pulled the shirt off, shucked out of her bra, and stretched her body out on the kitchen table and whined for sex. But it all ended with a gentle kiss to her forehead and one more hug.
“I’m glad you heard from
her. I’m sure she’s been worried,” Creed said hoarsely.
His kisses.
Her grandmother’s voice.
She didn’t want to give up either one. Was there a way under heaven she could have both?
Chapter 6
Sage had started with a fistful of snow and patted it firmly until it was big enough to roll, and then she and Creed worked together. It went fast at first, but the last couple of rolls had taken all their combined strength.
“I reckon that’s big enough,” Creed said.
Sage huffed as she leaned against the round ball. “Now what? Even though the next one will be smaller, we won’t be able to lift it up on this one, even if we work together.”
“You start rolling one up and I’ll go get the tractor. If it can lift a bale of hay from the back of a truck, it’ll easily put the next ball up on that one,” Creed said.
Sage picked up a handful of snow and patted it into a ball. She really intended to start rolling but Creed’s wide back was just too tempting. She drew an imaginary bull’s-eye on the back of his coveralls, drew back, and hurled it like a softball. It hit with a loud thud and if he hadn’t grabbed the porch railing, he would have pitched forward into a six-foot drift.
She had another one formed and ready by the time he got his wits about him and turned around. He sidestepped to the right, caught it like an outfielder, and hurled it back at her. She giggled and hid behind the base for the snowman. He hid behind a cedar tree and sunk his glove into the snow. When he peeked around the tree, she got him right in the chest. He threw one and it whizzed past her ear. She reloaded her glove and stood up only to come face-to-face with him.
The grin on his face said that she’d lost the battle. The warmth spreading through her when she looked at his face said she hadn’t lost a damn thing.
He grabbed her around the waist and wrestled her to the ground. From the hips down she was on bare frozen ground. From there up, the snow made a soft mattress. She wasn’t aware of hard, cold, or softness because Creed was suddenly on top of her and his lips made their way to hers.
Cold lips tasted different than warm ones. She’d never realized that before or how they could send such a sensation down her entire body. His tongue slid through her parted lips. She dropped the snowball and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him tighter against her.
Damned old coveralls anyway! If they were gone she could feel all those muscles that had taken her down with hardly any effort at all. If he’d make love to her in the snow, she’d gladly die of pneumonia.
He drew back and tried to prop up on his elbows, but they sunk deep into the snow. He sat up and pulled her with him, settling her onto his lap.
“You lose, darlin’.”
She tangled her fingers in his hair and brought his lips back to hers. He wasn’t calling the shots and she hadn’t lost. She was the winner of the whole war. Her hands went from his hair to his neck, down inside the coverall’s collar. She wiggled out of one glove so she could feel bare skin, and she felt him shiver.
“God that feels good,” he said.
“Mmm,” she purred.
“You are something else, Sage Presley.”
His warm breath in her ear traveled down her body like a lightning bolt, creating heat all the way to the deepest reaches. He nibbled on her earlobe and strung light, sweet kisses to her cheeks, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and finally back to her mouth.
So she was something else, was she? What did that mean in cowboy language, anyway? She hoped it meant that he was as besotted as she was. And there was that blasted word again. Besotted. The last time she heard anyone use that was when Aunt Essie was telling the story for the nine millionth time about when she met her husband, Richard.
That nagging common sense voice that she hated reminded her that it would be even harder to watch Creed leave and never look back if they had sex. So when his lips left hers and he nuzzled the inside of her neck, she wiggled free. She almost made it out of his reach, but he got her by an ankle and brought her back down beside him, her cheek in the snow.
He stretched out beside her, kissed her one more time, and then sat up, pulling her into his lap. “It’s my day to win, darlin’. Now I’m going to get the tractor, and if another snowball hits me on the way, I’m going to win a helluva lot more.”
Her brown eyes twinkled. “Oh, yeah!”
“Remember what I said: I always tell the truth.”
“Ever had sex in the snow?”
His neck jerked back with a crack and a wicked grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. “What did you say?”
“Ever had sex in the snow?” she repeated.
“You offerin’?”
“I’m askin’.”
He shook his head. “Don’t believe I have. You?”
“No, I have not. Well, now that we got that cleared up, I’ll start another snowball for the middle of our snowman. I believe we’ve got enough to build a snow momma and maybe a couple of kids.”
“Darlin’, there’s enough snow to build a whole new town. What shall we call it?”
She laughed. “Mistletoe.”
He raised one dark eyebrow, retrieved his hat from the snow where it had landed when he attacked her, and set her to one side. “Why Mistletoe?”
“You’ve got some stuck to your hat, Creed. Every time you go outside you bring more in the house.”
“All right, then our town of snow people shall be called Mistletoe, Texas.” He laughed, got to his feet, and offered her his hand. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the tractor.”
He pulled her up like she was a feather. Not many men could do that without a grimace or even a small grunt, but not Creed. She felt like a princess standing there in her mustard-colored overalls, no makeup, and snow in her hair.
* * *
Creed had planned to hop on the tractor, drive it through the snow to the front yard, and use the hay spike on the front to help lift Mr. Snowman’s midsection. But then he saw the scoop shoved up against the back wall of the barn. He grabbed the toolbox, removed the spike, and put it on the short trailer that could be affixed to the back of the tractor. He attached the trailer and put the scoop on the front of the tractor.
Noel hopped up on the seat beside him and he carefully backed out of the big double doors. Using the scoop like a snowplow, he cut a five-foot swath from barn to house, leaving a pathway with a ridge of slightly dingy snow on either side.
Sage shook her head when he got close and put up a palm. When he shut off the engine, she yelled, “Don’t plow all the way up to them! I want them sitting in snow when I take pictures.”
He nodded and hopped down off the tractor seat. Noel chased back and forth on the plowed pathway like a kid with a brand-new toy. Angel sat in the window watching the whole affair and twitching her tail.
“We need to let her out. She’s getting jealous of Noel,” Creed said.
“But she might run away or get buried in the snow and die and the kittens wouldn’t have a momma,” Sage argued.
“She’ll be fine, darlin’. Turn her loose to play with us.”
“Promise she won’t run away.”
“Not a chance. Her babies are inside and she gets fed in there.”
Creed could hardly believe it when Sage let the cat outside. The miracle was back on track. He was changing out implements when she crossed the distance from porch to tractor in a few long strides and helped him. “Good idea to plow out pathways. It’ll sure make chores easier. Look, she’s going to sit on the porch. She’s not even interested in coming out into the yard.”
“Got the idea from the ones we made when we made the snowman’s butt. We’ve never had snow like this in Ringgold. Noel might entice her out to play but she won’t go far.”
“I believe you are right. I wouldn’t have thought of plowing pathways
. Grand probably would have. She says when she first came here about fifty years ago there were some fierce winters. You about ready to give Frosty a big round belly?” She pointed to the big ball she’d rolled up while he was gone.
He looked down and nodded. “Perfect. But is that his jolly round belly or his wife’s butt?”
She studied the size and shape and even the location. “It could be his wife, couldn’t it? Okay, that is the wife’s butt, but we’ll have to move it closer to him. Let’s make all the bottoms and the middles and then stack them. It will make fewer tire tracks with the tractor when we put them in place. That way there will still be snow all around them.”
He grabbed a handful of snow and patted it.
The twinkle in her eyes when she looked up had him wondering if she’d start another battle. A part of him hoped she did because the next one was going to involve him touching bare skin. The only problem was that when he did, he might not have the willpower to stop.
“Want to go inside and warm up before we start?” Creed asked.
She shook her head. “I was going stir-crazy in the house. I can’t remember ever being cooped up like that.” She dropped her snowball on the ground and started rolling, patting the sides firmly as she did.
He did the same. When they were the perfect size, he picked up the first one and carried it to the place where the two snow children would stand.
“Right here?” he asked.
“Wow! You are strong,” Sage said.
He made fists and bent his elbows in a wrestler’s stance. “Muscles of steel!”
He didn’t need to posture to prove that to her. She’d felt those muscles up close and personal and would like nothing better than to feel them even more.
“You wrestle in high school or college?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, not unless you count wrestlin’ a bunch of hay bales into the barn. I worked on one ranch or the other during the summer from the time I was thirteen. Even went over the river and helped throw watermelons the summer I was sixteen. I’d rather throw hay from the pasture to the trucks than watermelons into the haulin’ busses.”
Christmas at Home Page 9