Winter in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance)

by Anderson, Cindy Roland

  “Come on, son. I see that look in your eyes, and I’ve caught you watching her at church a time or two.”

  It was all Sam could do to drop Cat off at home yesterday with no more than a wave. They hadn’t talked much, since the snowmobile was loud, which suited Sam just fine. He was getting used to having the pressure of dating off his shoulders. It was certainly much easier to drive through town without worrying about who he was going to ask to the sledding party in February or if he could get someone to partner up and chaperone the high school dance.

  Of course, being married would have the same affect but that took a lot more effort. Sam shrugged. “She’s pretty. But I’m on a break.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  “Well, unsay it.” Dad picked up the magazine, getting in the final word.

  Sam tapped his foot. Unsay it. Pft.

  He got up and paced circles around the coffee table as his mind percolated the thought. If he could unsay he was on a break, Cat could unsay they were friends. Perhaps he could help her change her mind.

  Unsay it?

  Sam sat back down and picked up a magazine. He stared at the printed words, not seeing them.

  Unsay it.

  Now there was a thought.

  He vowed that the next chance he got, he was going to give it a try.

  Chapter 11

  Cat used the nail gun to secure the last shelf in place in the small closet. The space was hardly big enough for her to squeeze inside, but the storage space would make living in the bunkhouse for any period of time that much more enjoyable.

  Cat found that she appreciated Sam’s willingness to spend money improving the housing. He didn’t have to. The buildings would be occupied for four to six weeks out of the year and could pass muster as they were. But he cared about the people that came through Honey Fruit Orchard as if they were his extended family.

  “Cat,” called Grandpa from the front room.

  “In here!” she yelled.

  “Cat!”

  Cat set the nail gun on the shelf and ran out to find Grandpa on his backside, leaning against the wall and holding his left knee. “It froze up.” He sucked in through his teeth as he massaged his leg.

  Cat squatted next to him. She looked him up and down. “Can you stand?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She bit her tongue in worry. There was no way she could lift him off the ground. She was tough, but a two-hundred-plus-pound elderly man needed balance. “Maybe if I brace my back against the wall and get behind you.”

  Grandpa scowled.

  Yeah, dumb idea.

  “Call Chet.”

  “I’m already on it.” Cat had her phone in her hand. She hit send and waited impatiently for the phone to ring four times before going to voicemail. “He must be in the field.”

  Grandpa nodded. “He was going to ride the fence today.”

  A familiar sound bounced off the front of the building. Cat ran out to flag down Sam on the snowmobile. He waved as if she were just saying hi, did a double take, and flipped a U-turn to pull up alongside her. “Where’s your coat?” he yelled over the engine before cutting the power.

  Cat hugged herself. “I wasn’t cold until you said that!”

  “Sorry?” Sam furrowed his brow.

  “Grandpa’s knee locked up. I can’t get him off the floor.”

  Sam was off the machine and halfway to the bunkhouse before Cat finished speaking. She ran after him.

  “Edward, what were you doing?” Sam took Grandpa’s outstretched hand with his opposite one and used his right hand under Grandpa’s arm to lift him off the ground as if he weighed no more than a log for the fire.

  “I was just coming in to check on Cat. We’re ready to nail the shelves in the closet next door.” Grandpa leaned against the wall. He put his foot out in front of him and made an I-just-sucked-on-a-lemon face when he tried to put pressure on it. “No offense, Cat, but there are sometimes I wish a lady weren’t around.”

  “Grandpa, swear if you have to.”

  Grandpa shook his head. “Swearing won’t make it better. Believe me, I tried that before I called for you.”

  Cat’s phone rang. She answered, “Mercedes?” After explaining the situation, she hung up. “Chet just came in. He and Mercedes will be here in fifteen minutes to take you to the doctor. I’m calling right now to get you an appointment.”

  Grandpa scowled.

  “It still counts if you think the swear words,” Cat teased.

  “Nope. He gets credit for trying to hold them in,” Sam countered.

  “Says who?”

  “Says Jeremiah seventeen.”

  Cat narrowed her eyes. “I don’t mean to take issue with Jeremiah, but …”

  “Wanting to do good gives you partial credit.” Sam winked.

  Grandpa grinned. “I knew I liked this guy.” He patted Sam on the back.

  “Fine, you get a passing grade.” Cat put her arm under Grandpa’s. “I just heard Chet’s truck.”

  Sam mirrored her posture on the other side. His arm lay parallel to hers, the soft fabric of his heavy coat brushing against her skin. She blushed as she gave his arm a squeeze—just to say thank you, not to flirt.

  They managed to get Grandpa out the door and into Chet’s truck without any mishaps. Cat waved as they drove away. Mercedes had the doctor’s info. Someone had to stay behind, finish the job, and clean up.

  Cat patted her pockets and let out a groan. “Grandpa’s got the truck keys.”

  Sam waved towards his snowmobile. “No problem. I can give you a ride home.”

  “I should probably finish up that other closet so Grandpa doesn’t think he needs to come back tomorrow.” It was the last one on their list, and then the job was done.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing—you aren’t paying us so that you can do the work. If you want to come back in an hour, I should be packed up and ready to go.” An involuntary shiver overtook Cat. “Brrr.”

  Sam put his hand on the small of her back and guided her into the bunkhouse, shutting the door behind them. The gesture made Cat feel taken care of, allowing her fears about her grandpa to come to the surface. She tipped her chin up to keep from crying. Grandpa’s knee was hurt. It wasn’t his heart. He didn’t have a stroke. He was going to be fine. Yet Cat didn’t like the sense of vulnerability that came from finding him stuck on the floor.

  Sam put one arm around her shoulders. “He’ll be okay.”

  “I know. I just hate seeing him get older.” She smiled, but the effort felt weak on her part. “He’s always been the He-Man in the family and—” She bit her lip.

  Sam wrapped both arms around her and pulled her into his chest. She buried her face in his neck and breathed in the scent of him. He smelled like fabric softener and body wash—two smells she really enjoyed. Really, really enjoyed. Like, a lot. With hot fudge on top. “Thanks, Sam,” she whispered.

  He squeezed her tightly and then took a step back. “Let’s get that closet done.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. He was set on staying, and she found that she wasn’t all that set on sending him away because he was two-ways solid.

  The first way Sam was a solid guy was his strength, and she could use that when it came to lifting the shelves into the closet. Plus, that meant the view from her “office” was pretty nice—Sam had a great set of shoulders. She’d always liked guys with broad shoulders.

  The second way Sam was solid was in his ability to handle life. He’d been through some pretty tough times, gotten a bad rap here and there, and yet he was always friendly and kind to everyone. Solid. A good, solid man. The kind of man that made her feel better just having him around—at least until she heard how things worked out for Grandpa. She might need a hug again. A longer hug…

  “I have to nail the last section in here, and then we can move everything next door to do that closet.”

  “Sounds good.” Sam stripped off his coat and
hung it next to Cat’s on the set of hooks. She put in the six nails, and then they hauled the air compressor and nail gun next door.

  Grandpa had cut the shelves and laid them out on the floor. Sam picked up the closest shelf and tried to place it on the wood strip. It didn’t slide into place. “Uh, Cat? I think we have a problem.”

  Cat smiled. She stood in the closet doorway. “Let me see.” Sam pulled the shelf out and placed it in her hands. He was only inches away, and Cat had to tear her gaze from his cobalt eyes. “There should be a number here—ah.” She pointed to the upper right corner, where a number two was written in carpenter’s pencil. “And a matching number here.” She reached past Sam to point to the back right corner of the closet, where there was a number two. “See, they have to match up, and then the shelf should fit just right.”

  Sam hadn’t turned to look in the closet. He reached out and brushed a wisp of hair off her cheek.

  Cat froze, her arm still in the closet, bringing her body nearly flush with Sam’s.

  “I didn’t think to check fit,” admitted Sam, his eyes dropping to her lips.

  “It’s a must.”

  Sam’s hand moved to her cheek, his eyes moving between her gaze and her lips. “I think I’d better check it now.”

  Every fiber of her being understood that they’d stopped talking about shelves and started talking about their lips. Cat was pretty sure they’d be a good fit—the kind of fit that a girl never forgot. “That would probably be a good idea.”

  A quick smile splashed across Sam’s face. His fingers slid behind her neck and he pulled her in.

  Cat forgot to breathe. She forgot to think. She forgot about closets and nail guns and air compressors and grandpas with bum knees and just-married sisters and job offers. All that existed was this moment. Sam’s fingers brushing her skin. The fresh air smell in his clothes and the warmth building in the bottom of her belly. Her eyes dropped shut, and his lips pressed hers, causing her arms to reach for something solid.

  Fortunately for her, Sam was a solid guy. His other arm went behind her back, holding her up as she melted into his kiss. Turning her head, he deepened the moment, backing Cat against the closet door and taking both his hands to her face. Cat’s arms wound around his neck and she held on, enjoying every moment, every brush, every warm breath.

  Sam slowed the kiss and touched his forehead to hers.

  Cat still hadn’t opened her eyes. She sighed, happy to let the kiss linger between them. Sam didn’t seem in a hurry to move either.

  “Good fit,” she whispered.

  * * *

  Sam dropped his lips to her neck, leaving a warm trail of kisses. “I’d say.”

  Cat giggled.

  “I see why you enjoy carpentry.” He moved up to her jaw and then over to that sensitive spot behind her ear, relishing having her in his arms at last. Unsaying his New Year’s resolution was the easiest decision he’d made to date, and Cat had unsaid her only friends with that kiss. All in all, unsaying was his new favorite thing to do.

  “There’s just something about closet design.” Cat laughed and squirmed. “That tickles.”

  Sam laughed. “What? This?” He nuzzled her neck.

  “Sam!” she squealed. He loved it. He loved hearing her laugh and being the reason for it. Cat’s laughter warmed his heart. He tickled her side, and she jumped. “Sam!”

  Gathering her into his arms where she melded into him, fitting into all the right spots, he let his heart have full rein. “Catrina O’Shae, can I take you to dinner?”

  Cat nodded against his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

  He kissed her head. “Then we’d better get this done.”

  “Wait—tonight?” Her hand flew to her hair.

  “Sure.” Sam shrugged.

  “Sam, I’m a mess.” She tugged at her hoodie. “I need a shower and some time with a flat iron and—”

  Sam took both her hands in his to stop her fidgeting. “You look beautiful, and I’d take you to the fanciest place in Billings right now and have the prettiest girl in the state.”

  Flushing, Cat ducked her chin. “The things you say.”

  As much as Sam had enjoyed making Cat laugh, he found that there was a part of him, the deep-down part where loyalty and faith and love took root, that thrilled at making her blush. He had a feeling he’d spend the better part of the afternoon planning compliments that would bring color to her cheeks. He pressed a kiss to her temple and reached down for another shelf. Pointing at the number in the corner, he said, “One.”

  Cat pointed to the bottom shelf. “The match.”

  “I like matching things up.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows.

  Cat giggled.

  He held the shelf in place while Cat leaned against him and secured it with the nail gun. They worked quickly, and all too soon the closet was finished.

  As they were hauling the equipment out to Grandpa’s truck, Sam was thankful he’d thrown out his New Year’s resolution. There was no point in missing out on this much happiness—not when it came in a hoodie and jeans and tasted like sweet peaches.

  Chapter 12

  Cat kept a watchful eye on the clock as she got ready. Sam said he liked her with messy hair and in an old pair of jeans—well, he was about to find out what he was missing out on. Her long caramel hair hung down her back in soft waves. Since it had been flatter than a nail this afternoon, she added root volume spray and scrunched for a sexy bed head look. Not that she wanted to put ideas in Sam’s head, but taking his breath away—instead of the other way around—would be a bit satisfying.

  Her sweater dress hugged all the right spots, and the wide leather belt accentuated her waistline. The matching knee-high leather boots had a small heel. Nothing that would make her unsteady on her feet if he decided to kiss her again, but just enough to bring Sam into easy kissing distance—a thought that sent little thrills through her body.

  Loping down the stairs, she stepped through the wood arch and into the living room. Grandpa had his knee propped up in his recliner. Surgery had gone from a “something in the future” to a “let’s talk scheduling” thing today. Grandpa wasn’t happy about it. He liked his freedom. The doc had assured him that, after the surgery and rehab, he could return to his regular activities.

  Grandpa was being grumpy about it all.

  Chet sat on one end of the couch with his arm across the back cushion, and Mercedes leaned against his chest, her feet tucked up behind her. Chet twirled a piece of Mercedes’ hair between his fingers as they watched an old John Wayne western. He glanced back and saw her standing in the doorway. “You look nice, Cat.”

  Mercedes pushed off his chest and took in Cat’s outfit and voluminous hair. “Wowza, girl!”

  Cat laughed. That was exactly what she was going for—she only hoped Sam had the same reaction. “Thanks.”

  She kissed Grandpa on his bald spot. “You be good.”

  He harrumphed his reply, which Cat took for an I love you too. She’d be grumpy too if the doc had put a large needle into her knee that afternoon. Fortunately for her, she’d been on the receiving end of something much more wonderful than medical prodding and poking.

  Usually, her daydreams included her book boyfriends and their romantic administrations. She’d disappear into her imagination for a few minutes here and there to try out different scenarios. When the right one came together, she’d write furiously. Today, Sam’s kisses continually played through her mind, making her sigh. Creating romance was a lot of fun when Sam was involved.

  Leaning over, she gave Grandpa a hug. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For my New Year’s resolution.”

  The pain and crankiness ran out of the lines on his face as he brightened. One of the things she loved about watching Grandpa’s face was the way it could change in an instant. When he smiled, his eyebrows went up, wrinkling his forehead but allowing light to fill his eyes. His cheeks lifted, and his ears dropped a quarter of an in
ch.

  “You deserve it, darlin’.”

  Cat kissed his cheek. The doorbell rang, and she found herself in a race with Chet to open it. Chet beat her, his hand landing on the knob first. Darn these boots. Cat pulled back and stuck out her tongue.

  With a wicked grin, Chet pulled the door open. “Evening, Sam.”

  Cat pushed up to her tiptoes to see over Chet’s shoulder. Sam looked gorgeous in his black felt cowboy hat, button-up emerald green shirt, and holding a bouquet of pink daisies and roses.

  “Evening, Chet,” Sam replied.

  Cat smacked Chet’s shoulder, but he didn’t move. She kept a smile on her face. It was sweet of Chet to take on the role of big brother. But she was a big girl. And, he was blocking her view.

  “You here for Cat?”

  Like he didn’t know.

  “Yep.” Sam winked at her, and Cat relaxed.

  “Where are you two headed tonight?”

  “Hey, Chet.” Cat tapped him on the shoulder. “If you’re going to interrogate Sam, could you at least do it inside the house? You’re letting all the heat out.”

  “Shut the door!” yelled Grandpa and Mercedes from the front room. The January air crept over the distressed barn wood flooring and must have snaked into the living room.

  Chet sighed and motioned Sam in, shutting the door behind him. Sam handed the flowers to Cat, his cheeks flushing almost as pink as the daisies. Cat leaned in and smelled the sweet blossoms. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

  “They reminded me of you. Janet at the flower shop said pink roses are a symbol of grace and elegance.” Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  Cat’s heart did a jig. Sam said the darnedest things—all sweet and sugary—as if they just rolled off his tongue. “I love them. Thank you.”

  Chet folded his arms. He really was a dear, and Cat appreciated his obvious concern on her behalf, but it was time for him to go away. She reached for her coat. “Thanks for staying with Grandpa tonight,” she said in a low voice. Grandpa hated the idea of a babysitter.