Kiss Me in Christmas

by Debbie Mason

  And there she was, the girl he remembered.

  Chapter Six

  Chloe woke up to a barnyard serenade: a cow mooing and chickens clucking. She thought she was having a bad dream until she remembered where she was. She pulled the pillow over her head. Why on earth had she let Easton convince her to stay? She could be sleeping peacefully in a comfortable bed instead of a lumpy mattress on the floor. It was a rhetorical question. She knew exactly why she stayed.

  If she didn’t, she had a strong feeling Easton would have withdrawn his support for her plan. And without him, she wouldn’t be able to convince her sister she was making a mistake. She needed Easton to remind Cat he was her perfect match—a match made in heaven. Oh, Chloe patted her chest, a little emotional at the thought of her father and Easton’s mother cheering her on from up above. She wouldn’t let them down.

  Which meant she had to get up and help Easton with his chores. Ugh. She pulled the pillow from her head and rolled over to scowl at the ceiling. She’d grown up on a ranch and despised it. The horses frightened her while the smell of manure offended her delicate sensibilities. At least she hadn’t been expected to do chores; her heart issues exempted her from strenuous activity. Something she’d have to remind Easton of. Though he’d probably demand a doctor’s note.

  She couldn’t believe he was happy living this far from town. And living off the land…What was that all about? She chewed on her thumbnail, wondering if he was having trouble adjusting to civilian life after his experiences in Afghanistan. It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to have difficulties upon their return home. After reading American Sniper, she felt she had some insight into Easton’s psyche. And living in a shack because his medical expenses weren’t covered? As an American citizen who enjoyed her freedom because of the sacrifices made by Easton and others like him, Chloe was outraged at his shabby treatment and planned to write a letter to the Department of Veteran Affairs. She’d do that first thing…she sighed…right after she finished her chores.

  Chloe pulled her purse across the battered floorboards and retrieved her compact. She had to look at least somewhat presentable before seeing Easton. She opened the pink case, looked in the mirror, and released a horrified shriek.

  The curtain slid across the rod. Easton looked down at her with an eyebrow raised. “I take it the mouse had friends. Where are they?”

  His mouth moved, but whatever he said was drowned out by the theme song from the Princess Bride. His wet hair was slicked back from his beard-stubbled face, a white towel slung around his powerful neck while a droplet of water traveled down his sigh-inducing pecs and over the glorious slabs of his muscled abdomen to a thin line of dark hair. As that lucky little drop of water disappeared beneath unbuttoned jeans riding low on his hips, she bit the inside of her cheek to contain a moan.

  She’d thought he was beautiful in high school. But even the gorgeous boy he’d once been couldn’t compare to the stunning perfection of the man he’d become. Chloe pushed away the memory of the one glorious night she’d laid naked in his arms with the reminder that he was Cat’s.

  “Chloe, where’s the mice?”

  She blinked and jolted upright at his question. “There’s another mouse?”

  He sighed. “You screamed. I thought that’s why.”

  “No, it’s my hair.” She scowled at him because that was better than fantasizing about him. “I told you my hair wasn’t completely dry last night, and you made me go to bed anyway.” She held up a hunk of her frizzed-out mane. “Are you happy now? It’ll take me at least three hours to untangle the knots.” A smug smile touched her lips. “Looks like I won’t be able to help with your chores after all. That’ll teach you not to listen to me, won’t it?”

  She’d been surprised when he’d ordered her to bed after they’d finished off the can of tomato soup she’d heated. When he’d set her on the counter, he seemed…different. His eyes were warm, his expression soft instead of hard and irritated. It reminded her of how he’d looked at her before everything changed. But then he’d gone back to responding to her attempts at conversation with those annoying grunts. He’d refused to let her massage his leg, too, which, she had to admit, she was secretly glad about.

  “I bet I can get your tangles out in under ten minutes. Give me your brush.” He wiggled his fingers at her.

  She raised a protective hand to her head. “Thank you, but no.”

  His lips twitched, then he walked to the closet. He tossed her a ball cap.

  “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “Wear it. You won’t get through your list of chores if you waste three hours fixing your hair.” He pulled out a red plaid shirt and black sweatpants and tossed them onto the bed, then he went to the dresser, adding a pair of work socks to the pile. “I’ve got rubber boots you can wear.”

  “You expect me to wear these?” She pointed an offended finger at the clothes, ignoring the nervous flutter in her stomach at his mention of a list and rubber boots.

  “Unless you’ve got a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers in your bags, I do.”

  “Of course I don’t.”

  “Didn’t think so. Come on, Scarlett.” He leaned over and pulled off her covers. “Time’s a wasting. I want breakfast before I head out.”

  “I’m not stopping you. Go and eat.”

  “Can’t eat until you make it.” He winked and headed for the main room.

  At the sight of his sculpted back, her ticked-off response sputtered in her throat. The wide expanse of golden skin and muscle were a work of art. She’d barely recovered from the sight when he returned with a bucket of steaming water. “Thought you’d prefer to wash up in here instead of the outdoor shower.”

  And poof, just like that, her anger totally disappeared. She smiled. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”

  A flicker of what looked to be surprise crossed his face, then he made a noncommittal sound in his throat and walked away.

  Chloe didn’t let his annoying grunt take away from his thoughtfulness. To her, his considerate act was a sign they were on the right track. But some of her pleasure dissipated once she’d washed and gotten dressed. It left her completely when she walked through the curtains and Easton looked up from his laptop and laughed.

  She scowled at him. “I need something to hold up the pants.” She let them go to make her point. They puddled at her feet.

  He blinked and stopped laughing.

  She stepped out of the legs and bent over to pick them up. She tossed him the sweatpants. His red plaid shirt fell to her knees; she didn’t need to wear them. He tossed the pants back. “Put them on. You’ll be feeding the animals.”

  “You can feed them.” She draped the sweat pants over a chair.

  “’Fraid not.” He closed his computer, then stood up and walked to the refrigerator. Pulling a piece of paper off the door, he handed it to her. “I have to head into town for a job.” He returned to the table and shoved his computer in a leather messenger bag, then hefted the strap over his shoulder. On his way to the door, he flicked the brim of her ball cap. “I’ll get breakfast at the diner. I’ll see you around five. I took out a roast for dinner. There should be some potatoes in the bottom cupboard.”

  She’d stopped listening to him at see you around five. She’d made the mistake of looking at the list. “Is this a joke? It better be because I can’t do all this. I’m not a man, you know. I’m a woman with a heart condition in case you’ve forgotten.”

  He snorted. “You’ve just set the women’s movement back a decade, Scarlett.” He opened the door. “Don’t forget to put the roast in the oven at three. I’ll be hungry when I get home.”

  “And you think I’m setting the women’s movement back?”

  “It’s called a partnership. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “Well, yes…Oh”—she brightened—“you’ll be with Cat. We need to talk about this before you leave. Come up with something really romantic to sweep her—”<
br />
  “Your sister isn’t exactly a hearts-and-flowers kind of girl. Trust me, I know better than you do how to win her over. I’ve done it before.”

  Chloe rubbed her chest. The sudden ache that blossomed under her ribcage was somewhat worrisome. No, she reassured herself, the hurtful twinge had nothing to do with Easton romancing her sister. Chloe was just concerned that he’d mess it up. “You were sixteen,” she reminded him a little testily.

  “Fifteen. And now I have seventeen years’ worth of experience to draw from. She won’t be able to resist me.”

  A pang of concern stabbed her in the heart. She hadn’t given any thought to Easton’s experience with other women. A miscalculation on her part. All you had do was look at the man and know he had tons. Women probably dropped their panties at one quirk of his dark, arrogant eyebrow or one sexy, come-hither smile. They wouldn’t care if he was broke and lived in a shack and had a damaged leg. She cleared her throat. “You’re not dating someone now, are you?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m not.”

  She gaped at him. “Of course it’s my business! We’re talking about you marrying my sister!”

  He rubbed a finger along his chin. “All right, relax. I haven’t dated anyone in”—he cocked his head—“five months.”

  “Five months? Who were you dating five months ago? Does she live in Christmas?”

  “Jesus, Chloe, what are you, a cop? She’s a surgeon I met in Virginia. Long-distance thing wasn’t working out. Satisfied? Can I go now?”

  She nodded, absorbing what he’d just told her. There’d been a part of her that thought he’d never gotten over Cat. She supposed it was silly to think he’d been pining after her sister all these years. Maybe she was projecting. It had taken her a long time to get over Easton.

  “Here’s the boots. I stuffed the toes for you so they should fit. Be careful around Bessie. She’s—”

  “You stuffed the toes for me?”

  “Yeah, stay with me here. Don’t turn your back on Bessie. She’ll—”

  She frowned. “Who’s Bessie?”

  His broad shoulders raised on an irritated sigh. “The cow. Bessie’s the cow.”

  * * *

  Bessie was not a cow. She was the devil in disguise. Only moments ago, she’d head-butted Chloe into a steaming pile of manure. She was lucky she managed to stay upright. Chloe clung to the rail, sticking her foot out of the pen to wipe the cow poop off her boot. A wet snorting sound drew her attention. She glanced to her left. Bessie pawed the ground. Chloe shrieked, threw the bucket in the cow’s direction, and ran. She’d buy Easton a lifetime supply of milk. Same went for eggs, she thought, inspecting the red peck marks on her hand as she slammed the gate shut. Easton should have told her to wear gloves.

  Bessie charged the gate. Chloe held her breath as the wood creaked and shuddered. Thank goodness it held. She looked around for something to wedge across the latch. The last thing she needed was for Bessie to escape. Easton had been gone less than an hour, and Chloe was already exhausted. She’d never be able to catch the animal. It was obvious last night that he loved Bessie and his chickens. He’d never forgive her if she lost his precious cow. Though in her opinion, he could have provided them with a better home. The pens were haphazardly built. They were as run-down as the shack.

  She felt bad comparing Easton’s home to a shack, but it was true. He deserved better. He’d served his country with valor and had been grievously injured. It wasn’t right. His country had failed him. Chloe’s shoulders slumped, and so had she. She hadn’t accomplished anything on her list. And even if she did manage to clean the house as he directed—she thought it was a little much that he wanted her to do the windows—it wouldn’t matter. It was a disaster.

  Scanning the list once more, she looked for at least one thing she could accomplish before five. Clean the outhouse? Was he insane? She’d be lucky if she crossed off three chores on his twenty-item list by the end of the day. She imagined Easton’s disappointment when he came home. She seemed to be good at disappointing people these days. She crumpled the list and walked dejectedly to the front of the shack…cabin.

  The least she could do was write a letter to the VA on Easton’s behalf. Thinking of how long it would take to wade through the red tape, she sighed. By the time Easton got the money to repair his home…Chloe stopped walking; she had money. She could fix the cabin for him. She could hire people, lots of people, and get every single item on his list accomplished and then some. But there was one problem with the plan; he had his pride.

  As she thought of a way around that sticky little point, she came up with the perfect solution. She was living with him and, spoiled diva that she was, her accommodations needed to meet her demanding expectations. Easton would totally buy it. Which was kind of depressing, but she wouldn’t think about that now. She had no time to lose.

  She ran into what would soon be his fab new space and grabbed a pen, smoothing out the old list on the counter to start a new one. Ten minutes later, she was ready to make her calls. Not only was she going to help Easton, she’d hire as many veterans as she could find. She could barely contain her excitement. It would be just like an episode from Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. She looked down at herself. She couldn’t let anyone see her looking like this. She had an image to uphold after all.

  An hour later, the calls were made. Her twenty-man crew were on their way. New furniture and appliances would arrive at two. Food at three. Her hair was fab. Makeup perfect. But as she waited on the gravel road for the trucks to arrive, Chloe realized she’d forgotten one thing.

  She texted Easton: What’s your favorite color?

  Two minutes later, he responded: This is Easton, not Esther.

  Her: Ha-ha! Just answer the question.

  Him: Black.

  Her: Are u depressed?

  Him: Pink.

  Her: Yay!! Bye. Oh, are u making progress with Cat???

  Five minutes later: Easton?

  Him: Have u cleaned the outhouse yet?

  She didn’t bother replying. And since he obviously wasn’t making any headway with her sister, Chloe decided to give him some help and called Mr. Hardy at the Mountain Co-op. Disconnecting after ordering a gift guaranteed to win Easton some brownie points with Cat, Chloe smiled.

  It was good to be rich.

  * * *

  Easton sprawled in a chair at the Chronicle. His sister-in-law Vivi Westfield, owner and publisher of the paper, looked at him over her computer monitor. “Not that I mind, but do you plan on hiding out here every day until Chloe heads back to LA?”

  “I’m not hiding out. Just thought it would be more convenient working from here since it’s my brother’s favorite hangout.” These days, Chance was reluctant to let Vivi out of his sight. She was almost eight months pregnant. His brother had lost his first wife and their baby girl in a car accident six years ago and was understandably overprotective of Vivi.

  “Umhm,” she said, glancing at her husband, who leaned back in his chair, resting his scuffed brown cowboy boots on the edge of Vivi’s desk with a grin on his face.

  Through the window behind his brother, Easton caught a glimpse of a familiar black SUV pulling in. “Ah, Chance, here comes Cat.”

  Chance dropped his booted feet on the floor and twisted in the chair. “She doesn’t look pissed. Maybe she doesn’t know.”

  “What did you do now?” Vivi asked her husband.

  “It wasn’t my idea. It was E’s.”

  “Nice. Good to know you have my back, big brother.” When Vivi arched a dark eyebrow at Easton, he sighed. “We didn’t tell her we were doing the walk-through of the Martinez place today. Not that…Hey, Cat,” he greeted her when she opened the door.

  “Hey, yourself,” she said with a grin. “Vivi, Chance.”

  Okay, that was good. She didn’t seem upset. She walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Happy to see you, too,” he said, a little surprised at her greeting. />
  “Don’t play coy.” She swatted his shoulder. “I know what you did.”

  “And you’re not mad?”

  “Mad? I can’t wait to get to the practice range. But honestly, it’s way too generous. The problems Grayson and I are having aren’t your fault, Easton.”

  “Ah, Cat, I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

  “The Sig Sauer P320 you ordered for me. Mr. Hardy from the Mountain Co-op called to tell me that it’ll be delivered in a couple of days.” She cast a self-conscious glance at Chance and Vivi, and cleared her throat. “Your note was very, um, sweet.”

  His confusion over the gun was cleared up by the mention of a note. “Chloe,” he muttered.

  “What…” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t buy me the gun or send me the note, did you?”

  “No, your sister did.”

  Chance snorted. “Looks like you should have made a longer list, E.”

  “What list?” Cat asked.

  “My little brother here thought leaving Chloe with a list of chores to do would keep her out of trouble.”

  Cat laughed. “You should know my sister isn’t exactly a domestic goddess. She doesn’t do chores.”

  “She made me soup last night,” Easton said, feeling a bit defensive on Chloe’s behalf.

  His brother, Vivi, and Cat shared a look. One that made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t have a chance to call them on it because Hailey from the Rocky Mountain Diner walked in.

  “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late with the copy for our column, Vivi. Computer issues, and we were swamped today.” She handed Vivi a piece of paper and pointed a finger at Easton. “You owe me, buddy.”

  “For what?” And why did he have the uneasy feeling he wasn’t going to like her answer?

  “You’ll be eating real well for the next month or two.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Chloe. She had me make up a freezer order of your favorite dishes. We were all hopping today, including Grace. She sent something like ten dozen cupcakes out to your place earlier this afternoon. We sent the same amount of sandwiches. I’ve never been Chloe’s biggest fan, but it’s great the way she’s supporting local businesses.”