She couldn’t argue with his logic. With a minimum of effort, they quickly had the tree twinkling in colors from base to tip.
“It’s a beautiful sight just as it is,” she said, as they stepped back to admire their work.
“Sure is,” Cleetus said beside her. Something in his voice made her shift her gaze, to find him staring down at her instead of the tree. Heat filled her cheeks once more.
Lord, the man could set her blood afire with a few words or a simple look.
“Do we hang the ornaments now?” Her voice was a little shaky.
Giving her a wink, he stepped back. “Yep. Go get the box.”
With more joy in her heart, she retrieved his gift box of ornaments they’d dropped off before heading out to buy the tree. They spent the next half hour hanging ornaments and arguing good-naturedly over where they should go. Cleetus deferred to her choices more often, and hung the ornaments on the high-up branches per her directions.
After they’d hung all the ornaments, Cleetus built a fire in the fireplace, while she made them hot chocolate. They snuggled together on the couch, now facing both the tree and the hearth, the room cozy and festive, lit only with the fire and the colorful twinkling lights.
“I love how beautiful it looks” Sylvie leaned her head against Cleetus’ arm. “I’d be tempted to leave it up all year long.”
“Nice idea, but I wouldn’t recommend it. At some point it’s going to dry out. Then it becomes a fire hazard.”
“Will it do that before Christmas?” she asked, suddenly worried about her first tree.
“Shouldn’t. We cut it fresh, and the solution we made out of water and lemon-lime pop should keep it fed and fresh for the next few weeks. Just remember to check the level in the tree stand and refill it every few days.”
“I can do that.” She set her empty mug on the coffee table and relaxed against him once more. This time he stretched his arm over the back of the couch so she was snug against this side. “I like this.”
“I do, too.” His voice was huskier than normal.
Turning slightly, she gazed into his face, the heat of the fire mirrored in his eyes. She stroked her hand over his face, the whiskers of his five o’clock shadow scratching her hand. Slowly, he lowered his head to claim her lips with his. It started out tender, slow and gentle, but when she touched her tongue to his, heat ignited between them. With a groan, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in tighter.
With a moan of her own, she wiggled to free her arm tucked into his side and press it up on his chest. The beat of his heart beneath her hand revved up her own pulse. She wanted more. Shifting her body, she half-leaned, half-crawled into his lap.
One arm holding her tight against him, he slid his other hand up and down her back, his fingers sliding under the hem of her sweater. The warmth of his callused, work-worn hand against her skin heated her all over. His normal restraint and patience clearly strained in the way he held her close and devoured her mouth with his.
When his fingers teased her ribs then the underside of her breast, Sylvie moaned with pleasure. Then he rubbed his thumb across the front of her bra, stroking her nipple, taut with need.
“Yes,” she whispered against his lips, pulling back to stare into the heat of his eyes for a second. Then she swooped in to kiss him deeper. Sliding her hands around her neck, she tried to bring him closer. It took her a moment to realize he was resisting, slowly trying to ease her away from him.
“Sylvie,” he said, when he broke apart from the kiss, her own passion mirrored in his deep voice.
She tried to pull him back down.
“Sylvie, sweetie, we have to stop.” He unlocked her hands from around his neck to hold them between them.
“Why?” She blinked, her own need still itching through her, and the heat of embarrassment flooding her face. Never in her life had she thrown herself at anyone, and now he was turning her offer down. His erection pressed hard into her hip. Clearly, she hadn’t been mistaken in his interest. “I thought you wanted me.”
“I do, sweetie, believe me, I do.” He punctuated his words with another quick, soft kiss. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”
“Then why?”
“It’s not you. It’s just…” His words faded off, and he closed his eyes. In the firelight, she read the frustration and pain on his features.
“What is it?” She gripped his hands tightly with hers. “Please tell me, Cleetus.”
“It’s just…I’ve never…” His face grew red.
Dawning hit her. Cleetus was a virgin. And wasn’t that the sweetest thing ever?
“Oh, sweetie.” She used the endearment he always had for her. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s okay. Is there a reason you’ve never…been with a woman?”
He let his head drop forward until their foreheads met. “You’re the first girl, er, woman I’ve ever dated.”
If her heart could’ve filled with more love for this giant of a man it would probably burst after that confession.
“And you never, um…” Awkwardness made her hesitate. How did you ask the man in your life about prostitutes without making him feel belittled? She swallowed hard and did like she always had, met the problem head-on. “Well, I know my brothers liked to visit with the prostitutes in the next town on occasion.”
Opening his eyes, he stared into hers. “No. My dad talked with me a long time ago. He said, a man should respect the woman he has sex with. Treat her gently and always use a condom. But mostly, he should know her and care for her. It’s what makes it special.”
Okay, now she loved his dad, too.
Cleetus lifted the corner of his lips. “Until you, I’ve never thought anyone was special like that.”
She returned his smile. “I think you’re special like that, too. And I think your father’s right. Without caring for the other person, it’s sort of common.”
“You’ve had sex before?” he asked, curious, not censuring.
She nodded and lowered her eyes, a little ashamed of her one experience. “Once. All the girls in my town were losing their virginity as fast as they could in high school. I didn’t want them to make fun of me, so I convinced myself I should have sex with one of the boys I knew from the choir.”
“Did he hurt you?” The hesitation in his question warmed her heart.
“No.” She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. “But I didn’t think it was fun, and I’m pretty sure he got more out of it than I did. At least he wore protection. Some of my friends ended up pregnant from having sex just once.”
A quiet settled over them.
“So, just once, huh?” The teasing sound in his voice pulled her gaze back up to see the humor in his eyes.
She blushed. “Yes, just once.”
“That memorable, huh?”
Shaking her head, she tried to push her way out of his lap that she’d somehow managed to be sitting on, only to find his arms holding her firmly in place. She relaxed. Shrugging her shoulders, she felt foolish for telling him about it. “It wasn’t something I wanted to repeat.”
“Ever?” he asked, and all the teasing was gone.
“Not with him.” She stared at the opening of his Henley shirt and toyed with the top button. “I kind of figured out what your daddy told you. Sex without your heart involved was pretty pathetic.”
He slipped a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking into his intense eyes. “So, if your heart were in it, you’d like to try making love again?”
Slowly, she smiled. “I don’t think I ever made love.”
He claimed her kiss in a soft, tender one, letting their tongues meet briefly. Before it could bloom into the wonderful heated need, he pulled back. “When we have sex you can bet we will be making love, sweet Sylvie.”
“When?” she asked, confused. Wasn’t he planning on it tonight?
Gently, he stroked his hands over her face then down her arm to her hips. With a little lift, he set her o
ff his lap and stood. “You are so special to me. When I make love to you I want it to be just as special, not some heated, quick mating on your couch.”
She struggled to her feet, standing mere inches from him. “When will that be?”
He grinned down at her. “I’ll let you know. But now I think I should head home.”
Wishing he’d stay, but thrilled he was planning on making their first time together something memorable, she walked him to the door. He donned his coat and hat, kissing her once more before stepping out on the porch.
“Don’t forget we have the tree lighting service in the town square on Friday night,” he said, as soft flakes of snow fell on him.
“I won’t. I’ve never been to a town’s official kick-off to the season.”
“You’ll have a great time. I’ll pick you up in the morning. No use in you walking in this snow.”
Even though she only lived a few blocks from the main street of Westen and her job at The Dye Right Salon, she was happy not to have to trudge through the cold and snow early in the morning.
“I’ll be ready by eight. I have an early set with Mrs. Munroe.”
“See you then. Lock the door,” he reminded her, standing on the porch as if he meant to stay there all night if she didn’t.
“Yes, sir.” She gave a little salute, but she did as he asked, closing the door and turning the deadbolt with a loud thunk.
Peeking out her front window, she watched him stride through the snow to his truck like a Viking stalking his prey. The man was so careful with her and everyone he came into contact with, yet she suspected if someone he cared about were threatened, the offender would be awakening that giant’s wrath.
She shook her head. She was silly to think Cleetus would ever be more than the gentle giant he was. Probably came from her love of action movies and romance novels.
CLOSE TO SANTA’S HEART
CHAPTER SEVEN
Just before dawn on Thursday, Wes slid onto the farthest stool from the front door at the Peaches ’N Cream’s counter. His month of night shift duty was nearly over—thank God. The only good thing about working nights was breakfast as soon as the café opened every day. Pete had a way with bacon, eggs, and pancakes that had him craving them throughout the night. Then, there was the coffee. He wasn’t sure what Lorna put in her brew, but it sure beat the hell out of the sludge at the sheriff’s office.
As if on cue, Lorna appeared in front of him, mug in one hand and a pot of her morning wake-you-up-caffeine in the other.
“Things okay last night?” She flipped the mug up in front of him and filled it a half inch from the rim.
He took a drink of the coffee to fortify his brain for the inquisition to come.
When he’d first come to Westen, he’d thought all Lorna’s questions were a way of staying on top of the gossip. Quickly, he learned it was her big heart making sure her friends, neighbors, and customers were doing okay. If someone was in need, a family member or neighbor checked in on them or a gift basket of food arrived on their door step. Someone in trouble? The sheriff or the social workers came by to check on them. A farmer needed a new barn? The community came together to help build one. All with a little shove or a whisper in the right ear by Lorna.
Westen might have an elected council and mayor, but the real power in town stood across the counter from him with a T-shirt blazoned with her café’s logo across the chest, hair dyed the color of a yellow crayon, and an arched-brow look that said she was waiting for his report.
“Honestly, Lorna. Quiet night in town. Guess the snow kept most of the troublemakers at home. Even the Wagon Wheel closed down early.”
“Good,” she said, satisfied with his assessment. “With all these new folks coming to town, you never know what’s gonna happen.”
He took another drink of coffee to keep from pointing out that the two near-catastrophes that had hit the town in the past year were both caused by long-time residents. Lorna was very protective of her town and its inhabitants. No use in angering the keeper of the coffee. Instead, he nodded toward the pair of teens rolling up silverware in napkins for the day’s table service. “Got those two working pretty early today.”
Lorna glanced over at her daughter, Rachel, and Kyle, her new busboy. “Got to keep those two busy and out of trouble. Besides, after school today, they’re helping build sets for the elementary school’s Christmas pageant for the Yuletide Jubilee weekend.”
“Your idea?”
“Nope. Rachel’s. She loved being in the pageant as a little girl. This was her way to still be involved.”
“Let me guess, Kyle volunteered because she did.”
“Boy’s been mooning over her since the day I hired him,” Lorna said with a slight shake of her head. “He’s got a good heart. Just got to get his head thinking clearly.”
“Deke and Libby must think there’s potential there. They did give him a home with them.”
“That they did. Best thing for all of them.” She plunked a menu in front of him. “What are you having for breakfast this morning? Pete’s got breakfast casserole as the special.”
Of course he did. Thursdays were always breakfast casserole made with sausage, same as Belgian waffles on Monday, biscuits and gravy on Tuesdays, and Wednesdays were fried-egg sandwiches with bacon.
He grinned, shoving the menu back at her. “I’ll have the special and a double order of bacon.”
While he waited for his food, the café started to fill with customers. He nodded at a few truckers who were regulars when they were in town. Two middle-aged farmers sat on the other side of the long lunch counter, already arguing politics.
His food arrived and he dug in, savoring the spices in the casserole’s sausage and the crunchy saltiness of the bacon.
A beat-up SUV pulled up outside. Three men and a woman came in to take up one booth. The men looked to be related. A father and two sons. All big and strapping. The woman was small. Almost frail. She seemed to sink into the corner of the booth. Was she the wife and mother of the group?
“Lots of new folks here in town,” Lorna said, refilling his mug.
“They’ve been in here before?” He nodded to the quartet.
She pulled out a cloth and rubbed at a non-existent spot on the counter near him. “Came in the night before last for dinner. Asked about a place to stay. Said they were visiting family. I suggested the Westen Inn, but they wanted something cheaper.”
“Let me guess, you sent them out to the motel on the state highway?”
Lorna shrugged. “Something about them bothered me. Figured best to have them out of town.”
Wes’ internal alert pinged. If Lorna thought something was off about the foursome, perhaps he should keep a closer eye on them until they left town. He watched them out of his peripheral vision as he ate his meal. They ordered food, the men tucking into huge stacks of pancakes and eggs, the woman barely eating the bowl of oatmeal. Something about her seemed familiar. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“Want a mug to go?” Lorna cleared his plate and silverware.
“Always.” He picked up the check she’d laid on the table and chuckled. It already had the amount listed, minus the extra coffee.
“Speaking of new folks, how’s that waitress Hannah working out for you?” he asked, opening his wallet to pull out the money to cover his meal plus tip.
“Hannah’s a good worker. Shows up on time. Is learning the ropes. Kind of quiet though.”
He grinned as he stood, and pulled on his coat and gloves. “You don’t like quiet people much, do you?”
“Got used to you, didn’t I?” She laughed. “I don’t mind them. All it takes is time. Sooner or later, their secrets come out. I’m not sure, but I think our Hannah has lost someone close to her. She’s got a bit of that haunted look in her eyes sometimes.” Lorna waved at her friend, Doc Clint’s office nurse, Harriett, as she came in through the door. Right on time. She always had breakfast before she went to open the clinic. Lo
rna handed him the travel mug of coffee. “You be sure to bring that back tonight.”
Dismissed, Wes headed out into the cold winter morning. He glanced at the Jeep parked on the street near the café. Virginia plates. Thinking hard, he couldn’t quite place who had family in Virginia. Maybe he’d look the license number up when he got into work tonight.
* * * * *
A package leaned up against the front door of her house when Sylvie walked up that afternoon after work. Picking it up, she grinned over her shoulder at Cleetus. “Another gift?”
His brows drawn down in puzzlement, he shook his head. “This one’s not from me.”
Trepidation crept over as they opened her door and headed inside. She set it on the table, then removed her coat and gloves. It was the size of a box clothing would come in, wrapped in plain brown paper, and only her first name printed on the front.
“No postage. No addresses.” Cleetus looked it over from all angles. “Someone just dropped it off. Maybe Twylla?”
Sylvie bit her lip. “Why would she do that? She was with me all day at the salon.” She reached to pull off the paper wrapper.
“Wait,” he said, grasping her hand in his. “Let’s be sure it’s not a booby trap of some kind.”
She blinked, her heart suddenly leaping into her throat. “You think it might be a bomb or something?”
“I don’t know. I doubt it. Who would want to do that to you?” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight stilling the sudden shaking in her body. After a few moments, he leaned back and stared down into her eyes. “But after that house explosion last year, I’m a little more cautious these days. Let’s just take our time opening it. Okay?”
Letting go of her, he picked up the package, measuring its weight in his hands. “Doesn’t feel heavy enough to be a bomb. Maybe it was one of your clients dropping off an early Christmas present?”
Hope and relief hit her. “You could be right. Everyone at the shop and most of my customers know where I live.”
He set the package back on the table and pulled out his pocket knife, quickly slicing open the edges of the paper.
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 14