“Okay. Well, I’m heading to bed.”
“I’m going out to walk around, check on things. I’ll be up in a bit.” He stared over her head at the dark window because he was afraid if he looked at her, he’d not be able to resist the urge to give her the goodnight kiss that would have been a given with any other girl.
“Good night,” she said. Maybe she was breathless. He couldn’t tell for sure, and he definitely didn’t know why she would be.
“Good night,” he replied. Then he forced his feet to move, going to the stairs and back out into the cold. It was welcome refreshment after the tight hotness he suffered under in the hall. A feeling he’d never had before.
He went to his pickup and got his phone out of the cupholder, checking to see that her message went through.
It popped up on the screen. He almost had it shoved in his pocket before he pulled it back out to look at it. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, he’d expected her to send. Maybe “hi” or something like that.
It sure wasn’t: I thought you might kiss me.
Chapter 8
She shouldn’t have sent that text. She really wished she hadn’t sent that text. Why had she sent that text?
Obviously, a man like Mack, if he’d wanted to kiss her, he would have done it. She just embarrassed herself and had probably made things awkward between them.
The girls hadn’t been up when she left for the diner. Either Mack was up and she just hadn’t seen him, or he’d set the timer on the coffeepot for her last night after he went downstairs, since she woke up to the scent of it brewing.
The lunch rush had dissipated, she was about to leave for the day, and her nerves were strung as tight as high tinsel line on a two-mile fence.
Why had she sent that text?
She’d been bold with Clay, but only because her parents were desperate. Her feelings hadn’t been involved, so it hadn’t felt like a risk.
Mack was the first man she was truly interested in for herself. Her text last night was the first time in her life she’d ever made a move because she wanted to. He hadn’t texted back.
It was probably just as well. She was interested, but not in a long-term thing. Maybe a rebound relationship. Someone to have fun with before he left with his crew in the spring. Someone to have a little romance over Christmas with.
Nothing serious.
Because Mack wasn’t really her type.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, regular time,” she said to Patty as she hung her apron up and grabbed her purse.
Her legs were tired, and her feet hurt, and she’d enjoy the ride out to Jeb’s farm, if only because it meant she could sit down for a few minutes and relax.
She wasn’t horribly interested in watching cows get milked, but it would tickle the girls and it would probably be interesting in an I’m-never-going-to-do-that-myself kind of way.
She knew they didn’t start milking until four, but she’d been under the impression that they were going to go out to the farm as soon as she’d gotten off work.
But the house was quiet when she walked in. Mr. Swanson was taking his afternoon nap in the living room. His snores drifted into the kitchen when she opened the back door.
Her eyes swept the tidy kitchen twice before she saw the note on the table. She walked over, her stomach tight and twisty.
Had she scared him that much with her text that he couldn’t even bring himself to use his phone to reach her this morning?
Shoving that thought aside, she reached the table and picked up the slip of white paper.
“Working on the gingerbread house.”
That was it.
She studied his handwriting. A no-nonsense scrawl that lacked curlicues or anything else that wasn’t completely essential. Total opposite of hers. Even with a note like this, she would have included a few doodles, flowers and hearts to make it cute. She’d probably have written it in calligraphy.
Folding the paper, she put it in her purse. After running upstairs to change, she headed out the door, eager to get to work on the festival stuff but even more eager to see Mack. She didn’t want to examine what that meant.
Humming softly to herself, she walked down the sidewalk, huddled in her coat, toward the town park where all the festival things were being set up.
The booths and stage were being handled by construction crews. She’d been in contact via phone calls and visits and knew things were progressing perfectly.
She’d sent out flyers for the 5K ski event and also coordinated the almost one hundred vendors who were participating.
Yesterday, she’d finally managed to hire a Santa Claus.
The stable for the live nativity still needed to be built, although she had plenty of animals to fill it.
She also had an idea for a kissing booth, knowing where she wanted it but not sure if the idea was too risqué for Sweet Water. It certainly was a little outside her comfort zone.
But the life-size gingerbread house was at the top of her list of things that needed to be put together. She smiled a little to herself, thinking of Mack and how he’d been so sweet to help her.
As she neared the end of the sidewalk, she could see the gingerbread house was almost done. But her footsteps slowed as she realized that Mack was standing beside the house and Lark was sitting on his shoulders, reaching up to do something with the roof pieces.
They were laughing. His hands were on her legs, and one of her hands held his chin while she reached up with her other. He leaned forward, helping her stretch, and she reached just a little too far. He stumbled forward, narrowly missing the gingerbread house, and took two big steps trying to regain his balance.
Lark threw her hands up and caught the low-hanging branch of the young oak tree, using her feet to help Mack regain his balance.
He turned, laughing as her legs fell off his shoulders and she hung on the branch. He reached up, taking her waist and lowering her to the ground. It seemed to Angela that he lowered her much slower than he needed to and his hands seemed to linger at her waist.
She bit the insides of her cheeks before she took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back, marshalling her inner soldier so she could march into the fray, giving orders like a drill sergeant and not letting anyone know that the man she wanted to kiss last night was holding another girl now.
“Hey, that looks great,” she said as she walked on the paved path between the gingerbread house and where Mack and Lark were standing.
His hands dropped from her waist, and they both jerked their heads toward her. She didn’t stop but gave them the happiest smile she could manage and kept walking.
“Wait.” Mack’s voice came almost immediately.
To her shame, she debated not stopping, but that felt way too much like running away, so she stopped and turned, a pleasant “I’m the pastor’s daughter and I’m nice to everyone” look on her face. She’d been practicing it since nursery school, and it came naturally to her.
“Yes?” she asked oh-so-politely.
His eyes narrowed a bit, like he was trying to figure out her angle. Funny, since she’d just seen his. But she didn’t allow a single muscle on her face to move.
“I...” He put a hand up, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed to realize there was a problem, but he also seemed to be pretending he didn’t know what it was.
She allowed herself to blink. Twice. Then she tilted her head, showing that she was waiting. Patiently. Unemotionally.
In her peripheral vision, she could see Lark glancing between the two of them. She’d figured out there was something going on.
Angela didn’t hold any hard feelings toward Lark. And she shouldn’t hold any toward Mack. He’d made her no promises.
He hadn’t even kissed her.
With that lack, and the fact that he hadn’t responded to her text, he’d been very clear about where he stood in their relationship. She’d been the one that had been hoping for more.
“We have one more hook to put in the top, and the g
ingerbread house is put together. I was too lazy to go get a stepladder, and I just made Mack let me use him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite high enough.” Lark held up the screw-like hook in her hand. “I guess I’ll walk my butt over and see if the guys putting the stage together will let me borrow their stepladder.”
She took off in the direction of the stage.
Leaving Angela standing awkwardly in front of Mack.
“It looks nice,” she said sincerely. “I’m going to go check on the pie stand.” She spoke in a softer voice, looking at his shoulder. Not angry anymore at anyone, except maybe herself for being stupid. She dropped her eyes and turned away.
“Angela.”
She didn’t want to hear him explain why he didn’t answer her and why he didn’t want to kiss her. She got it. She felt the same, really. They were different, and neither of them were really interested in the other. Except for that silly attraction she felt. Probably a result of her living such a sheltered life.
A part of her whispered it wasn’t so, reminding her of the fun they had and how he made her laugh. How she felt safe with him and how she admired how good he was with his nieces.
She needed misdirection, because she was too confused to address the burning jealousy that had eaten her up when she’d seen Mack holding someone else.
“Where are Holly and Ashleigh?”
“Ames took them to story hour at the library.”
Small towns were great. Everyone helped out. She nodded.
“Are we still going to the farm?” she asked, still unable to meet his gaze and focusing on the top button of his shirt instead.
“I was planning on it. Are you okay?” He took a step closer.
“Yes. I’m fine.” She didn’t exactly mean to whirl away, but she panicked a little when he came closer and did exactly that—whirled away.
“Doesn’t seem that way,” she heard him murmur as she didn’t quite power walk away.
Could he seriously not know that she was embarrassed about her last text and jealous about him being with Lark?
She didn’t know. She’d spent a lot of time around people, but mostly women and children at the church. Her father had not allowed her to date, and while she didn’t regret that, she supposed she really didn’t know as much about men as another woman her age might.
She tried to put him out of her mind as she checked the various things that were taking shape for the festival. The stage where local artists would have sixty minutes to play or sing carols, the parade starting line where the floats would gather and be judged, the small shack where the pancakes would be cooked, tables for the cookie decorating contests, an area to build snowmen, and the tracks laid down for the toddler train ride.
Looking around, she made a few notes of things that weren’t started and areas that could use a little more color and sparkle. She’d do the last-minute decorations, since she couldn’t ask anyone else to pull all-nighters to cover things that she’d neglected or forgotten. But she didn’t mind. That was part of what being in charge required.
As she walked by the pit they’d made for the bonfire on her trek back through the park, she noticed Lark’s bright pink hat next to Mack’s deep blue flannel. Lark was in deep conversation with him, waving her hands and gesturing like she was directing traffic at an accident scene.
Mack had his head down, listening. Maybe he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, or maybe he just felt her looking at him, because he looked up.
She looked away quickly and didn’t look back.
She didn’t really know where she was going in such a hurry but saw Cora over by the entrance to the park, with her baby bundled up in a stroller and her toddler with a thick coat and cute bunny hat on beside her. Her husband, Abner, was pulling something out of the back of his pickup.
“Angela!” Cora said, smiling and gesturing to her husband. “I have the banner I designed. I don’t think we’d better hang it today, but I wanted you to see it.”
“Oh, yes. I saw the picture on your phone at church, but I’d love to see how the banner turned out.”
“Better than I expected. This small company did an awesome job, and they were fast.” She took one end. Abner scooped the toddler up off the ground and grabbed the other end. They unwound it.
Angela backed up a few paces. “You’re right. Those colors are so clear. I love that design, and it looks even better in a bigger format.”
“That’s a great banner. Give me a call when you’re putting it up, I’ll give you a hand.” Mack’s voice came from over her shoulder.
She turned, even though she didn’t want to, and saw he was looking at Abner.
“Will do. Figured we’d do it next week. It’d be nice to have the advertising for anyone who comes through town, but the wind is so bad, I don’t want it to be ruined.”
“Yeah. Thought so.”
“We have a smaller one to go over Main Street, though, and I’d appreciate your help with that,” Abner said, helping Cora roll the banner back up.
“Sure. Right now?”
“If it suits.”
Mack’s hand touched her shoulder. Her instinct was to flinch at the sharp sparks that seemed to shoot up her neck and down her fingers, but she managed to calmly turn with her brows raised.
“Do I have time to do that before we head out to the farm?”
“Sure. I’ll pick the kids up at the library and get them a little snack.” The sensation of co-parenting with him was becoming familiar.
“What’s the age limit on the snack?” He wore shades, and she couldn’t see his eyes, but his lip curved up on one side.
“How much food is involved in the man’s definition of ‘snack?’”
“As much as the woman will give him.”
“If you want lunch, just say so.” She wanted to say that maybe Lark should be making him lunch, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t need to get nasty. They had a deal going on, and he was keeping his end of it by being here and helping her.
“I want lunch.”
“Did you not feed the girls lunch?”
“Kinda forgot about it.”
Yeah. Lark just threw it completely out of his mind.
No. She wouldn’t think like that. She laughed instead. “Okay. I’ll pick the girls up from the library, and we’ll go home. I might end up feeding them because they’re probably starved. It’s almost three.”
“And me?”
“I like it when you beg.” She gave him a saucy smile. He wasn’t committed to Lark, either, and there was no reason she couldn’t flirt if she wanted to.
His dimples came out. “The man is not begging.”
“You said you wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”
“Maybe the man is begging.”
“Thought so. It’s cute.” She almost winked before she sauntered off.
“Hey.”
She stopped and turned completely around, putting both hands on her hips. “You do this every time I walk away from you.”
“Maybe I just don’t like to see you walk away.”
She tried to keep her face from clouding up, but her smile slipped. It was one thing to flirt. It was another for her to be one of many he had on his string.
“What?” He stepped closer, peering into her eyes even though his shades still kept her from seeing his. “I was just going to ask you if there was something wrong earlier, and now you look like there’s something wrong again.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “You gonna tell me what’s going on? Is your ex bugging you?”
She pressed her lips together, trying to figure out if he were serious. She thought he was. Opening her mouth, she decided she’d just flat-out tell him.
“Hey, Mack! Today,” Abner yelled from across the street where he’d parked the bucket truck and was hefting a big ladder from off the back of it.
Mack didn’t move. He didn’t even look at his friend. “You gonna tell me?”
“Not now. You go ahead. On the ride to the
farm or maybe this evening. It’s not a big deal.” She’d just have to face the text she sent. Apologize for being out of line and for being jealous of Lark, and deal with the embarrassment. No problem. Putting it off sounded way better than rushing through it now.
His hand came up, and he touched her shoulder. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
She ignored the heat that warmed her stomach. “You don’t have to. I said I would.”
“This shouldn’t take long.” He seemed to search her eyes, and she looked straight into his shades, before turning and jogging over to help Abner with the ladder.
Angela hurried over to the library. She felt bad that the girls were probably starving. Hopefully they weren’t misbehaving, although she really couldn’t blame them if they were since they hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast.
She had to laugh. How did one forget about lunch? Especially someone like Mack who ate for two every time he sat at the table. Maybe that was why. Because he forgot to eat half the time?
The library was actually a converted garage that Rosaleen Bloom had just started that summer. People had gotten together and donated books, and it actually had quite a nice selection and a really great children’s section. Angela had been in at least twice a month to borrow books for her Sunday School class.
Pushing the heavy door open, Angela stepped in, closing it behind her and stomping the remnants of snow off her boots.
“Angela, hey.” Rosaleen’s face appeared from behind the large display of newish titles. “Story hour has been over for a bit, but your girls claimed they didn’t have lunch.” She had the wide-open, rosy-cheeked face of her Norwegian ancestors, and thankfully, she was smiling.
“I’m sorry about that.” It was tempting to shove the blame all on Mack. “I guess with everything that’s going on today with the festival and the diner, we totally forgot lunch.”
“Yeah. Boy. That never happens to me, but good for you. Totally wish I could forget to eat.” She grinned.
“Yeah. Poor girls.” Angela followed Rosaleen around to the reading table where Holly and Ashleigh happily munched on animal crackers and had juice boxes set within arm’s reach.
Cowboys Don't Stand Under the Mistletoe (Sweet Water Ranch Western Cowboy Romance Book 10) Page 7