Christmas at Home

by Carolyn Brown

  In her other relationships there had been no sweet talk—just a few kisses, shed the clothes, get it done with a couple of oh, babies muttered, and then he would collapse on top of her. Afterwards there was very little cuddling because he fell asleep or wanted to get right up and make sandwiches or order pizza.

  She loved the sweet-talking. She even loved the loud music playing on the television as the movie kept running.

  “I feel like I’m making out in a movie theater,” she gasped.

  “Darlin’, they don’t have sofas in the theaters I went to.”

  She smiled and bucked against him.

  “Now?” he asked.

  She raked her nails across his back and wrapped her legs more firmly around his waist.

  “Please, now!” she whispered.

  “I’m not ready for it to be over,” he said.

  “It doesn’t have to be over for good, just this time!” Her voice sounded squeaky in her ears.

  One firm thrust and she felt herself floating, then the afterglow settled around them like warm sunlight. He shifted his weight until they were face-to-face on the narrow sofa and he pulled the quilt more firmly around them.

  “Sleepy?” she asked.

  “Too fired up to sleep, darlin’. I just want to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear the rest of the day.”

  She cuddled even closer to him on the narrow sofa. “I could stay right here forever. I am so sleepy.”

  It was there. It wasn’t a myth that writers talked about. There was really afterglow and it really did wrap around them like golden sunshine.

  He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Then nap, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  “Promise?” she asked.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Sage.”

  She awoke to G. W. McLintock’s buddy saying something about him knowing what Katy’s temper was. She opened her eyes to see a dark-haired woman sitting on McLintock’s lap, and he had a whiskey bottle in his hand.

  Creed would be dead if he ever cheated on her. Her predominant genes had gotten the upper hand with her body, but the hot-tempered Irish genes ruled her heart. Creed’s chest shook with laughter. She watched him for a long time, being very still and studying his cheekbones, his full sexy mouth, his heavy dark lashes. How could she ever let him go?

  The movie was near the end and McLintock was chasing the flaming redhead, Maureen O’Hara, through the streets when Creed looked down and realized she was awake.

  “Well, hello, sleepyhead. The movie is about over and it’s even better than the last time I watched it. Would you get that mad at me over lipstick on my collar?”

  “Number one, we are not married. Number two, you don’t want to test my mettle.”

  “You’ve seemed pretty tame to me,” he said.

  “Honey, cowgirls can’t be tamed and this cowgirl has some pretty hot Irish blood in her.”

  “But you are a painter, not a cowgirl.”

  She reached up and patted him on the cheek. “You can take the cowgirl out of the canyon. You can put paintbrushes and sketch pencils in her hands. You can even put a dress on her. But you can’t take the canyon out of the cowgirl and all this old canyon knows how to produce is cowgirls. A mealymouthed, sissified woman wouldn’t last two weeks in this place.”

  “That what happened to Mrs. Lawton?”

  “Eva? No, she was a cowgirl from Claude, Texas. You ever seen a baby chicken right out of the egg?”

  He grinned and kissed her on the nose. “Of course. Baby chickens, baby geese, and baby ducks.”

  “They don’t have much in the way of wings until they’re a few weeks old. Eva was just getting her wings when she got pregnant and had to marry Lawton. When they came in full strength she wanted to fly but she had a husband, a ranch, a mother-in-law from hell, and a new baby all tied around her neck.”

  “So she flew away?”

  “That’s right. She did.”

  “What happens if I test your mettle?” he teased.

  “You’d better make that doghouse real comfortable.”

  * * *

  There had been no doubt in Creed’s mind that he was going to buy the ranch when Ada Presley came back. He liked it. The price was more than right. And he’d fight Sage to the last breath to have it.

  And then he lost his heart to her.

  And then she cried.

  He laid aside his book and turned out the lamp on his nightstand. He’d rather be curved around her body in her bed, but she hadn’t asked him to spend the night with her. They’d had glorious daytime sex twice, but when it was over they’d gone on about the business of running a ranch or in her case, painting a picture.

  He wanted to wake up with Sage in his arms. The time between that Wednesday night and the day Ada would come home was so short. In two weeks it would be over and he’d be driving up the road out of the canyon.

  Sage deserved happiness and he loved her enough to give it to her.

  He laced his fingers behind his neck. With the curtains opened, he could see the Christmas lights burning brightly on the barn and barbed wire fence. He imagined Sage as a child running down the short hallway, slinging open the door and jumping on the bed on Christmas morning.

  The room went from semidarkness to instant light. He threw a hand over his eyes and sat straight up in bed. Electricity could plunge the house into darkness but he’d never heard of it flashing on when the switch was off.

  The bed bounced when Sage jumped in the middle of it.

  “Creed, wake up, you’ve got to see!”

  Things came into focus slowly when he uncovered his eyes. She was sitting in the middle of the bed in his red and black plaid shirt. It had been in the laundry and he’d hung up all his shirts after they’d dried, so why was she wearing it?

  “Look!” She was fairly well bouncing. “Wake up, Creed.”

  He looked where she was pointing. She’d made a hollow in the bedspread and there were three wiggling kittens. Where had she gotten more kittens? Was she going to be one of those old eccentric women who took in cats by the dozens now that she’d found how much she liked them?

  He rubbed his eyes. “Where did you get those?”

  “In the barn,” she said happily.

  “Why were you in the barn this time of night?”

  She touched his forearm. “Creed! These are Angel’s babies.”

  Angel landed in the middle of the bed, made sure her kittens were all right, turned around a couple of times on the spare pillow, and then lay down.

  She held Rudy. “And their eyes are open. Look, they can see!”

  Sure enough the kitten’s eyes were wide open but it wasn’t Rudy’s eyes that made him smile; it was Sage’s. If she got that excited about kittens, what would she do the first time her child did something fantastic—like clasp her finger or make goo-goo noises?

  “Well, I’ll be damned. They’re some really smart kittens to open their eyes this early.”

  “You think so? I thought he looked a little slow,” Sage said.

  Creed’s laughter bounced off the bedroom walls and the cows out in the feedlot probably heard the commotion. “He’s got to get adjusted to the world. Right now everything is probably one big blur, even his momma. By Christmas, they’ll be playing and biting each other’s ears.”

  “They’ll fight?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s what siblings do.”

  “Did you bite your brothers’ ears?”

  Creed threw back his head and laughed again. “Not exactly, but that didn’t mean we didn’t spit on our knuckles and have it out.”

  He took Rudy from her and held the cat close to his chest. “You aren’t going to have to take special classes at the kitty school, are you, Rudy? You’ll learn how to catch barn rats and c
limb trees and get As on all your report cards. Yes, sir, you’re going to be a smart kitten when you go to school.”

  Sage shivered.

  “I promise,” Creed said.

  “It’s not that. My feet are cold.”

  “Then get under the covers and sit beside me.”

  She handed the other two kittens to him and repositioned herself so that she was covered from the waist down. He laid the kittens back in her lap and kissed her on the cheek.

  “You’re going to make a great mother, Sage.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. I’ve never been around babies in my life except at church, and then there was April, but I was just a little girl back then,” she rambled. “I’m going to put them back in their bed now.”

  “And then you’ll come back to bed with me?”

  She shook her head. “Not in Grand’s bed. You can come over to my room, but Grand would haunt me if I…”

  “I’m not asking you to have sex with me. I just want you to feel your body next to mine,” he said.

  She looked at the four bedposts as if hunting for something.

  Creed laid a hand over hers. “She hasn’t haunted me one single night, but I’ll gladly come to your room.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Chapter 14

  Sage was always glad to see April. They talked weekly when she wasn’t at the ranch, and when she was they saw each other often. But on Friday morning when she showed up with a big flat box and an even bigger smile, Sage wanted to kick her off the front porch.

  Tradition.

  It was a bitch.

  On the day before the Canyon Rose Christmas party, April always brought her new dress to model. Afterwards, she and Sage would talk shoes, hairstyles, and cowboys. That Thursday morning, Sage didn’t want to talk about any of those things and she sure didn’t want Creed to see the petite April strutting around in a deep blue velvet dress that hugged every one of her tiny curves.

  One look at her using the living room floor like a model’s runway and Creed wouldn’t want to be seen with the tall gangly giant called Sage. Even April’s name brought up visions of minty green leaves and new life, whereas the name Sage would remind Creed of a pungent aroma coming from an ugly green powder.

  April plopped the box down on the kitchen table and pulled out a dark brown satin dress trimmed in ecru velvet. “Isn’t it gorgeous? We should give all the cowboys a drooling bib at the door because they’re going to need it when they see you in this.”

  The back door swung open and cold wind came inside with Creed. He hung his coat on the rack and kicked off his boots.

  “Couldn’t feel my fingers, and besides, the houses are ready for the insulation, so I couldn’t go any further. What’s that about drooling bibs? There going to be a bunch of babies at the party?”

  April flashed him her best smile. “No, they’re for the cowboys when they see Sage in this dress. She’s going to be the queen.”

  Jealousy settled around Sage’s heart followed by instant guilt. April wasn’t making a play for Creed. And he didn’t belong to Sage, so if she wanted to flirt with him, she had every right.

  “I see,” Creed said shortly. “I need something hot.”

  April giggled.

  Sage shot him a dirty look.

  “Guess that came out wrong, didn’t it? And it sure didn’t fit the conversation. I was thinking out loud. My hands are frozen. I need a cup of coffee or hot chocolate to wrap them around,” he explained.

  Sage’s self-esteem plunged even lower.

  He looked right at Sage and one eyelid slid shut in a sexy wink. “However, I do believe that Sage is going to be beautiful in that dress. When are you going to model it?”

  “You don’t get to see her in it until tomorrow night,” April said quickly. “But I’ll model mine.”

  “I’ll look forward to it, ma’am.” Creed poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the living room. He sat down in a rocking chair and listened to the music on the radio. “Waitin’ on a Woman” by Brad Paisley started playing. Creed could relate to every word of the song where an older gentleman was telling a younger man about the art of waiting on a woman.

  April tucked the dress back into the box and headed toward Sage’s bedroom with it under her arm. Sage was right behind her and when she passed by Creed’s chair, he reached out and touched her arm.

  She stopped and looked down at him quizzically.

  “You sure look pretty this morning,” he said.

  His eyes had gone soft like they did just before he kissed her. All doubts about her size and her crazy name washed away. She bent and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Run her off and let’s go to bed.”

  Sage patted him on the shoulder.

  “Or lock her in your bedroom and we’ll grab that quilt and go to the barn.”

  She gave him a long, hard kiss that had both of them panting when she broke away and headed toward the bedroom. She held the handle for a full minute before opening it to catch her breath. She pasted a smile on her face, slung open the door, and found April standing in front of the cheval mirror in the corner. The blue velvet dress laid against her flawless, pale skin like it had been tailor-made for her. The hem stopped at midthigh and the neckline plunged low.

  “Finish zipping me, please, so I can see if Hilda has to do any altering. I’m not letting Daddy see it until the party starts or he’ll pitch a bitch fit about the neckline.”

  Sage pulled the zipper up the back and sat down on the end of her bed to admire April. “You are a perfect size three, girl. Hilda won’t have to do a thing to it except put a collar on it or maybe some lace to fill in the neckline.”

  April turned every which way, checking out every angle in the mirror. “Daddy would make her do that if he saw it. Oh!” April gasped.

  “What? Did you see a spider?”

  April was terrified of spiders and they multiplied like rabbits in the canyon. Those and stinging scorpions were part of the terrain, along with lizards and coyotes.

  “Two people slept in that bed. Both pillows have hollows and the sheets are rumpled and you are sleeping with Creed Riley.”

  “Sleeping, yes. But that’s all that went on,” Sage said.

  It wasn’t a lie. They had only slept in the bed the night before and she didn’t have to explain the other times when they’d done things to melt all the snow in the canyon. She sure wasn’t going to go into the story of what had happened on the sofa while John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara fought their way through an old Western movie.

  “Are you freakin’ crazy?” April hissed.

  “Probably. It won’t be easy to see him leave,” Sage admitted.

  “Not that! You got him into your bed and you didn’t have sex? Are you blind?”

  “Not last time I checked,” Sage said.

  “You have seen him, haven’t you? I mean, you don’t look at him and just see a cowboy trying to buy the Rockin’ C. You do see those big old arms, that cute little butt, and those dreamy green eyes, don’t you?”

  “I see Creed,” Sage said.

  “Are you gay?”

  Sage sputtered and almost choked on her own spit. “Why would you ask a fool question like that?”

  “You haven’t had a boyfriend in years. You’ve been shut up with that hunky man for almost two weeks and you sleep as in shut your eyes and snore? God, Sage, you just fell off your pedestal I’ve had you on all these years. You must be gay. Admit it. Come on out of the closet.”

  “I am not gay. I like men.”

  I love Creed. Now where in the hell did that come from?

  April sat down on the end of the bed beside Sage.

  “Well, thank God. Do you need me to give you some lessons in what to do with a sexy cowboy whe
n he gets into your bed?”

  “I think I can handle it.” Sage grinned.

  April slapped her on the arm. “You rat! You had me going. He didn’t sleep with you at all, did he? You wouldn’t do that when you’re trying to run him off. We both know Grand would never sell the Rockin’ C. She’s just giving you a taste of what could happen so you will get on the ball and find a husband.”

  “You are smarter than the average rich kid,” Sage said.

  “Not much or I would have figured it all out before I blew a gasket.”

  * * *

  Ada had been antsy since she awoke that morning. She had married when she was eighteen and had gone to live on the Rockin’ C the day after her wedding.

  Those were the days when Lawton’s father had just taken over the Canyon Rose, and the Christmas party had been an institution long before then. She’d attended ten or more parties before Lawton was even born. Fifty-plus years she’d looked forward to that party every year, and this year, she was sitting in Shade damn Gap, Pennsyl-shittin’-vania.

  Listening to Sage describe April’s dress just made her more homesick. Seeing the picture on her cell phone of Sage and April posing together in their new sexy dresses in front of the cheval mirror made her want to throw herself down and cry like a jilted bride.

  Missing the party where Lawton threw his daughter over his shoulder like a sack of chicken feed, hauled her upstairs kicking and screaming, and then brought her back to the party with a buttoned up flannel shirt over that dress—well, hell, that was the toughest thing she’d ever done or would do in her lifetime.

  And he would do that when she appeared at the top of the staircase and started down into the ballroom. Hell, she wouldn’t make it to the fifth step before his boot heels sounded like drums on those oak steps and he had her over his shoulder. No way would Lawton let April wear something that revealing to the party, and Ada was going to miss the fun.

  Essie peered over her sister’s shoulder at the dress with the deep, plunging neckline. “I’m durn sure glad I never had a daughter.”

  “One dress sure changed your mind in a hurry,” Ada said.

  “That ain’t a dress. It’s two Band-Aids stuck to a hanky. Lord, do girls really wear such things out in public? I wouldn’t have worn something like that to bed with my husband.”