Make promises they both knew he couldn't keep.
They needed to get back to the house, pronto.
Chapter 6
Prince's vitals looked stable, the color still good in his gums. Because he'd moved his bowels and had stopped trying to bite at his stomach, Mallory felt comfortable leaving him in the stall with the baby-monitor camera watching.
It was after midnight, and by all rights she should be exhausted. She'd been up at five a.m. to get all her ranch chores completed and prepare for the party.
She was tired, but she didn't want to miss a second with Maverick. She followed him to the truck and got in.
Relief and joy began to fade as she watched him.
He seemed distinctly uncomfortable as he sat behind the wheel, waiting for the defrost to warm up the windshield enough that they could see out of it.
He hadn't looked at her since that kiss. Kisses.
He'd been so passionate, had held her so closely. She'd hoped...
Well, she still wasn't some fainting miss.
"Do you regret kissing me?"
He finally glanced right at her, his expression slightly incredulous. Because she'd asked, or because he did?
His hands flexed on the wheel. He went back to staring out the white-covered windshield.
"No, I don't regret it."
Oh, thank goodness.
"But that doesn't mean we should do it again."
The joy bubbling up inside her like champagne bubbles popped. He didn't want a repeat. It was obvious he didn't want her. If he did, he'd have her sitting on the middle of the bench seat, not marooned over here. Tears caught in a knot in the back of her throat.
He slammed out of the truck, grabbing an ice scraper from the floorboards on his way. In minutes, he'd cleared the accumulated snow and ice from the windshield and gotten back in the truck.
He was covered in snow, but she felt colder than he looked.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
One quick glance at her, and he switched the heater from defrost to straight heat. It blew on her feet, but nothing was going to melt the ice inside of her.
She stared out her window. Realized he might be waiting on her.
"Do you need me to watch the road again?" she asked, watching his reflection in her window.
"No. Visibility is better."
He put the truck in reverse and carefully maneuvered a three-point turn so that the truck was pointed toward the house.
It was pitch dark out and the snow was still coming down. Visibility wasn't that much better. Obviously, he wanted to be rid of his troublesome problem. Cash's kid sister.
A minute passed in silence.
Then, "Tell me what happened with Howie."
Like she was going to respond to a demand like that? After he'd shut her down.
"Nothing happened," she said sweetly. To her window.
"You're lying."
She shrugged. "It's not your business."
She could practically hear him seething. "Does Cash know?"
"Not his business either." Jingle bells. She was a grown woman. She could handle her own problems.
He growled under his breath. "Just tell me what happened."
Arms still crossed over her middle, she turned toward him in the seat.
He glanced at her and back to the road. His hands gripped the wheel so hard she imagined his knuckles were white beneath the gloves. Something was off with him, something more than this conversation.
"You really want to know? I'll tell you. If you tell me about your knee injury."
He scowled. "You mean the knee I busted up playing high school football?"
"I mean the knee you busted up, what... three months ago?"
Color filled his cheeks. So she was right. Or close, at least.
He bared his teeth in what would never count for a smile. "Fine. I busted my ACL on a mission."
"How long ago?"
His hands fisted on the wheel. "Fifteen weeks. I had surgery to repair it, and my recovery is almost over. Like my leave. Satisfied?"
He slowed the truck, leaning forward to see through the crazy blowing snow.
"Not nearly. Why didn't you come home?"
He shot her a quick look, one that was almost a glare. "I scrapped my dad's tin can of a trailer the day after he died."
"I was talking about the Double Cross."
His lips opened in a real snarl this time. "The Double Cross isn't my home."
"Y—"
Before she could finish, the wheel spun in his hands.
He gave a wordless shout, and his right arm flew out to block her from hitting the dash as the truck spun out of control. The right front wheel slipped off the embankment and, too quickly, they slid into the ditch.
She braced, too late, as the crash seemed to happen in slow motion. Her shoulder banged against the door. She settled at an angle, the seat belt cutting into her shoulder.
Then the truck shut off, the motor still ticking.
Silence fell.
Maverick was such a screw-up.
Humiliation surged as he panted through the terror of what had just happened.
Mallory was silent beside him. He looked her over, head to toe. No obvious injuries.
But she was visibly shaken.
"Mal, I'm sorry—"
She turned to him, blinking. She breathed in. Exhaled. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"The truck…"
She shook her head, unbuckling her seat belt. "It's insured. Are you okay?"
His own seat belt was cutting into his waist. If he took it off, he'd slide down the tilted seat toward her.
She reached out. Touched his shoulder. His knee panged, but that wasn't anything new.
Minutes ago, he'd wanted as much distance between them as he could get.
But her touch, her concern...
The back of his nose burned because she was worried about him.
"I'm fine," he said roughly.
She jiggled her door handle. "Can you open your door? How far do you think we are from the house?"
"Too far for you to walk in that dress," he said.
She rubbed both hands over her face. Reached into one coat pocket. Then the other. "I must’ve left my cell in the barn."
"I've got mine." He dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen lit, and he dialed Cash's number from memory.
Cash didn't answer. It rang to voicemail.
He pulled the phone from his ear and dialed again.
He glanced at Mallory as it rang in his ear. "He's not answering."
"It's been hours. You don't still think the party is going...?"
He shrugged, jiggling the phone loose from his face. He steadied it with his shoulder. "It's your party. How late did you expect it to go?"
She frowned. "No one expected this massive snowfall."
Cash didn't answer a second time. This time when the phone kicked over to voicemail, Maverick left one. "It's me. Mallory and I ran off the road on the way back from the barn. We could use a lift back to the house. Call me back." He hung up. "What about the caterer?"
"Her number is in my phone," Mallory said with a frown. "I can walk. It can't be more than a quarter mile."
"If we manage to stay on the road in this storm. And slogging through this snow will take longer than usual. You aren't even wearing pants."
She frowned. "So... what do we do?"
"Wait a bit. See if Cash wakes up and sees his voicemail."
Gravity was doing its best to push him down onto her, and his knee was taking the brunt of his weight as he worked to keep from sliding on top of her.
"Why don't you just slide down here and quit hurting your knee," she said, her brow creasing as she looked out her window. "I promise not to maul you," she added softly.
He was a screw-up in more ways than one.
But his knee couldn't bear his weight at this awkward angle for much longer.
"Why don't we switch places?"
he suggested.
It was even more awkward to try not to brush up against her in the confined space, with the truck at an angle and nothing solid to grab onto except the steering wheel. Finally, he managed to get his tookus in the passenger seat. She perched awkwardly on his thigh, bracing herself against the dash to try and hold herself away from him.
This wasn't gonna work.
He slid his arm around her waist and dragged her into a seated position across his lap.
"We'll be warmer this way," he mumbled.
Even though she hadn't protested.
Having her this close was torture as his mind threw him memories of her kisses, her taste.
He needed a distraction.
"What about Howie," he said in a slightly-strangled voice. "You promised to tell me what happened."
She shrugged, her shoulder nudging his pec. "He was interested. I wasn't. He pushed. I said no."
On his knee, his hand tightened to his fist even though he hadn't consciously made the thought. "What does that mean, he pushed?" Had the jerk touched her?
"He got a little forceful with his invitation. So I got a little forceful with my no. I broke his nose."
That was something, at least. Maverick wanted to do much worse.
"Why didn't you tell Cash?"
"I did. And the police. He said it was a mistake, and I dropped the charges. He hasn't bothered me since."
He wracked his adrenaline-slow brain to the conversation they'd been having before the crash. She hadn't outright said she hadn't told Cash. Just let him assume.
So she could quiz him about his knee.
And then ask him why he hadn't come home.
That thought was too dangerous to explore.
She was warm and sleepy, her head lolling against his shoulder now.
If he didn't keep her talking, he was going to do something he'd regret—like kiss her again.
"Are you sure that holding on to the ranch is what you really want to do?"
She'd been settling in against him, but now he felt her go completely still. "Why do you think I can't manage it myself?"
"I didn't say that."
She shifted, putting an elbow in his gut, making him "oof!"
"Sorry." He wasn't sure she meant it.
"You've said it several times tonight," she said softly.
He wished he could see her face.
"You didn't think I could take care of my neighbor in the ballroom. Didn't think I could drive down to the barn in a snowstorm."
"I drove off the road," he pointed out.
She didn't respond, only stared to the distance.
He was botching this. "Look... do you really think your parents would want you to throw away your plans to be a vet just to run the ranch?"
She shifted slightly, turned her head so he had a clear view of her eyes. "Is that what you think?" She touched his forearm, let her head rest on his shoulder. "Maverick, the whole reason I was going to vet school was to bring that learning back to the Double Cross. I thought about just getting an ag degree, but Dad pushed me to do vet school."
His chin brushed her hair. "Really?"
"Really. The Double Cross is more than where I live, more than just the family business. The Double Cross is home."
Mallory was close enough to feel the fine tension radiating off Maverick.
The Double Cross isn't my home.
Where was Maverick's home?
What would it be like to feel moorless, no place anchoring you?
Thick clumps of snow barraged the truck, insulating them in a white blanket. The windshield was already almost covered.
She could've made it back home. Even under a foot of snow, she knew every inch of the ranch. It was a part of her.
But she also wanted to stay here with Maverick. Pretend he wanted to take care of her.
This might be her last chance to be this close to Maverick. He'd been clear that he didn't want anything—any kind of relationship—between them.
It can't happen again. No more kissing.
The hope she'd carried until tonight had fractured. She'd thought that the chemistry, the history between them meant something. Had been something he would want.
When he'd held her, the fervor of his kisses... She'd been so sure she was right.
This was the man who as a kid had always made sure she got the last brownie off the plate.
Even now, the way he'd settled her close, was keeping her warm.
It didn't feel like nothing.
What if...?
What if he was afraid? He'd lived through a difficult childhood. Had survived a cruel father, an absent mother. His career with the military took him all over the world and put him in dangerous situations. Were his walls up to protect himself?
She'd never forgive herself if she didn't try.
But at the party earlier she'd tried a direct approach and had been shot down. In the barn, emotion had overtaken them both.
She needed a soft touch. The kind Mom had had.
His arm surrounded her body, his hand resting on his thigh. Slowly, she reached out and slid her hand beneath his. She waited for him to pull away, waited for a sigh that might mean he was humoring her.
But all she felt in his body was tension. He was strung tight as a wire.
So she linked their fingers.
And his fingers closed around hers.
She barely breathed, desperately not wanting to scare him off.
"Thank you for helping with Prince tonight," she said.
She felt the movement of his chest when he half-laughed.
"Yeah, you're welcome for getting you stranded in the snow."
"Don't," she said softly. "You made a difference. Prince recognized you. Maybe he fought to get to his feet because he didn't want to disappoint you."
His chin pressed against the top of her head. Or... had he pressed a kiss there?
"You always did think the horses could talk to you."
"They do." Maybe not with words, but even so. "Besides, we both know that if we were in real danger, you'd have figured out some way to get me home. You've got some plan cooking right now in case Cash doesn't show up in the next half hour."
He didn't answer that. He didn't have to. His thumb rubbed the outside of her hand in a slow movement.
She loved this man.
She'd been couching it in safe words. Chemistry. Attraction. Relationship.
But Maverick was one of the good ones. She'd been in love with him for years. It was why no one else could measure up.
And he deserved to know.
She turned her face up toward his.
"Maverick," she started.
But he cupped her jaw with his big hand. He shifted slightly, and she turned toward him.
His lips closed over hers.
His kiss was sweet, gentle.
Not lost in emotion, like the ones they'd shared in the barn.
Their hands were still clasped, and she allowed her opposite hand to and twine into the back of his hair.
She opened to him, wanting him to know everything she felt for him. And he didn't push her away. If anything, he held her closer. Oh, Mav.
Too quickly, he pulled back, brushing a gentle kiss against her temple.
She pressed her cheek against his chest, satisfied that his heart was pounding just as hard as hers was.
He hadn't let go of her hand.
She gathered up every piece of courage, the scattered remnants that had been obliterated by him pushing her away earlier in the evening—twice.
"Mav." She cleared her throat because her voice was so husky.
He squeezed her hand.
"I do have a Christmas gift for you."
He shook his head, his chin brushing her brow.
She needed to see his face when she spoke these words.
She shifted from his lap until she rested awkwardly on her knees next to him on the bench seat. She still had to lean against his shoulder for balance.
"You belong here on the Double Cross."
She saw the way his eyes darkened, the denial that sparked there, and rushed on.
"Isn't this where you buried that time capsule when you were eleven?"
He opened his mouth as if he might deny it, then snapped it closed again.
"Where you got dressed for prom?"
"The only reason I went to prom was because your brother dragged me."
She shrugged one shoulder. "What about where you learned to ride? Learned to bake cookies with my mom?"
His eyes had hardened, gone distant again, and he turned his chin slightly away, staring at the white windshield. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"The Double Cross is your home," she finished quietly.
He bared his teeth. Looked at her finally, his eyes flashing. "I don't have a home."
What a sad thing to believe. “Do you want one?” The question formed on her lips. But he wasn’t done.
"What do you think, that I'm going to come back during my occasional leave? Are you going to spend your whole life waiting on me? You think I won’t find someone a little more interesting than a farm girl?"
That was a cruel hit and he knew it. She couldn't help the tears that pricked her eyes.
But she also knew how much he'd been hurt in his childhood, how thick his shields must be.
"You don't have to be Maverick any more, you know," she said softly. "You could just be Sam. Because you belong here." With me.
In the face of his defiant denial, she couldn't quite get the words out.
And before she could gather the tatters of her courage again to make an even bigger declaration, bright lights swung over the windshield in an arc.
Cash had arrived.
Chapter 7
Cash's Dodge Ram 3500 was a quad cab, which meant that after Maverick tucked her in the passenger seat, he climbed in the back with ease.
Cash was distracted and edgy, still in his tuxedo, with a heavy coat thrown over it and his Stetson low. After he assured himself they both were all right, he didn't say much more.
It only took minutes to reach the ranch house. It was empty, the ballroom dim and quiet, the Christmas tree dark. The catering staff had done a quick clean of the kitchen.
By the time she'd taken a quick look at the iPad to check on Prince, Maverick had disappeared. She hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye.
Soldier Under the Mistletoe Page 5