The Lawman's Christmas Proposal

by Barbara White Daille

“Oh-h, yes. But you shouldn’t have.” Really shouldn’t have.

  “If I hadn’t, your grandfather would have.”

  Was that why she had gone along? To play the gracious mother-in-law bestowing gifts? But she had never acted that way before.

  Confused, Andi nodded. “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll love our stay. I’ll see about it right after the wedding—”

  “Oh, no,” Ginnie said. “I was able to get a reservation for tomorrow night.”

  * * *

  “EVERYTHING’S A MESS,” Andi hissed to Mitch, her voice louder than she had anticipated in the empty banquet hall.

  All morning, she and Jane and Tina had trained the Hitching Post’s crew of waitresses who would serve at the wedding.

  After lunch, the three of them had gone over new arrangements to accommodate the bride’s revised seating chart and other changes. When Mitch appeared in the doorway, Jane and Tina had left.

  This was the first time all day she and Mitch had had more than a few moments alone.

  He came close, too close, and smoothed her hair as if she were a horse he was trying to calm. His touch had just the opposite effect, making her excited and bitterly disappointed at the same time.

  Events were moving much too quickly, and in just a few hours, her determination to see this farce through had begun to buckle under the strain.

  “Ginnie did make a reservation for us.” Quickly, she explained. “We can’t accept.”

  “We’ve got to, Andi. The whole point of this is to convince her you’re making changes in your life.”

  “But we’d be taking her gift under false pretenses.”

  “You should have expected something like this.”

  “I didn’t. I thought she would wish us well and then leave and that would be it until I could go back home after the holidays to talk with her. I didn’t think beyond that point.”

  “This idea will work,” he assured her, “if you can just calm down and see it through.”

  “I thought I could, but it seems too dishonest—it is too dishonest. You might be comfortable with all this role-playing, but I’m not.”

  “All the more reason for us to go to Santa Fe. It will give you a break.”

  “I can’t leave tomorrow. I’ve got too much still to do for this wedding, and it’s only a week away.”

  “Tina said you’re ahead of schedule.”

  “Anything could come up between now and then.”

  “And if it does, at the rate you’re going, you won’t be in any shape to handle it.”

  He took her hand, the way he had this morning just before he’d kissed her. Warmth flowed through her from the memory, from the heat of his fingers against hers, from the sudden slow burn of desire.

  Why was she arguing against their trip when all she wanted was to be with him?

  The yearning triggered by that question alone told her what she didn’t want to acknowledge. They might as well end this farce now, because a “temporary engagement” to Mitch for “a limited time” would never be enough for her. And no matter what she longed for, they couldn’t have more than that.

  “Look,” he said, “I won’t say anything to my family yet, and by the time we get back, this will all be over. But we’ve got to go through with it for now to convince Ginnie.”

  “I don’t know. She seems to be accepting our news, but something doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “Even more reason to keep up the pretense until she leaves. So we’ll stay the night in Santa Fe, you’ll get a break from the role-playing, and then once she’s gone tomorrow, we’ll come back home and tell your family the engagement is off.”

  “How will we explain to everyone else who might have found out?”

  “We don’t need to explain. It’s none of their business.”

  “Mitch, you’ve been gone from Cowboy Creek way too long if you think we can get away with that.”

  He shrugged. “Then we’ll say we had an argument and discovered we’re incompatible.”

  “Due to irreconcilable differences?”

  “That’ll work. We’ll admit our quick engagement was too quick, we didn’t know enough about each other, and we’ve now realized it’s better for us to go our separate ways.”

  She tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. He’d come up with that scenario so easily, tossing it out as though it was only another one of his many cover stories—which, she had to remind herself—was exactly what he meant it to be. “And when Ginnie finds out, then what?”

  “Then you’ll have made your point. Her reaction to our engagement shows she’ll be ready to accept that.”

  She couldn’t keep from worrying there was something wrong about Ginnie’s apparent acceptance. Maybe she was only hiding her pain. Maybe she believed refusing to accept their “engagement” would put her grandchildren out of her reach.

  But Ginnie had already booked the room, which meant they couldn’t back out.

  And once again, she couldn’t fault Mitch’s arguments. They made sense. This would prove she was ready to move on.

  Except for the fact that she wasn’t ready to move on from him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They arrived in Santa Fe in midmorning the next day, too soon after breakfast to have lunch and too early to check into their room. Mitch would have been happy to find an air-conditioned restaurant or bar and an even cooler drink, but Andi wanted to walk. She felt the need to unwind from the added stress of the past couple of days, he’d bet. She might also be wondering—as he was—how many beds they would find in the room they would share tonight. Sure, they had agreed to be “betrothed without benefits.” But they hadn’t let Ginnie in on the news, and she had made the reservation.

  He tried not to think that far ahead.

  They spent a few hours exploring the streets of Santa Fe and going in and out of shops to avoid the heat. Well, he wanted to avoid the heat. Andi went to window-shop.

  He thought about her financial situation and knew it was on her mind, too, especially as they walked the aisles of a store filled with wood carvings. Twice, she looked back with regret at a small wooden donkey wearing a cockeyed sombrero.

  A moment later, she exclaimed over—and bought—a couple of parrots with colorful tail feathers, claiming they’d look good in a niche in the dining room wall of the Hitching Post. “Tina gave me a budget for the hotel. These can go on the expenses.”

  In a shop filled with Southwestern pottery and kitchenware, she let herself go wild.

  “For the banquet hall,” she said, holding up napkins and a tablecloth in some rough material the color of dry earth.

  “For a wedding?”

  “Why not? Considering the dude ranch setting, some brides might prefer Southwestern style instead of our more traditional place settings. We... I mean, Grandpa and Tina and Jane can provide both.” She’d corrected herself, as if making it clear her visit to Cowboy Creek was only temporary. “And they’ll cater other events, too, not just weddings.” Her eyes gleamed. “If I buy in bulk, maybe I can convince the owners to give me a good discount.”

  “Now you’re talking. Tina will be proud.”

  She laughed. The sound made his heart thump extra-hard. Her smile was the first genuinely carefree expression he’d seen on her face in days.

  “And look at this!”

  He looked. She held up a small brown rectangle with a large hole through the center. “What is it? A bracelet?”

  “No, it’s a napkin ring. Terra-cotta. Perfect for these napkins.”

  “Napkin rings and wooden parrots. You’re not too hard to please, are you?”

  “I think I am. I have very high standards.”

  “Oh, yeah?” That let him out. She fingered through the napkin rings, trying to find ones she could accept. Smiling, he shook his head. “You know, you really ought to stick around the Hitching Post. Jed could use your expertise.”

  “He’s got Jane and Tina. He doesn’t need me.”

  I need yo
u.

  He rubbed his chin and swallowed hard. The dryness of his throat made him wish they had stopped in for one of those cold drinks he’d wanted.

  She turned back to the napkin rings, and he went back to watching her.

  Wanting her.

  But like a fool, he had promised her no strings attached to this engagement. And so he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t touch her. That he would sleep on the couch or on the floor or in the bathtub if he had to, but he wouldn’t go near her—provided she even stayed in the room.

  All those promises had seemed like good ideas...at the time.

  “Looks like you’re going to be here awhile,” he said. “I’ll probably cramp your style while you’re chewing down the prices.”

  She laughed again, and his heart thumped in response.

  He had to think for a moment to recall what he’d planned to say. “I’m going to take a walk.”

  “Okay. If I’m done first I’ll wait outside for you.”

  “I won’t be long.” Just long enough to cool down some. Outside, it was still a balmy December in New Mexico, but the temperature couldn’t come close to his own body heat right now.

  He couldn’t resist reaching up to touch her hair, to skim his fingers down her cheek and brush his thumb near the corner of her mouth, still curved from her smile.

  He didn’t bother to fight the urge to kiss her. Seeing how nervous she was whenever he got close, he wouldn’t put it past her to walk away from him yet again tonight. To leave him alone in the room.

  Or try to.

  As teens, they’d had an attraction that wouldn’t quit. They still had, and neither of them could deny it. He didn’t know about Andi, but he wasn’t about to give up on them now. Forget those promises he’d made. Tonight, if he had his way, they damned sure were going to have the one thing they had never shared.

  He took his time, kissing her thoroughly, putting the seal on his silent vow.

  * * *

  WHEN MITCH HELD up the small pitcher of iced tea the waiter had left at their table, Andi nodded.

  On the patio of the restaurant at their inn, a clay fireplace banished the December chill. They sat far from the streetlights in a corner filled with shadows. The darkness around them was broken by a tall vine-covered trellis threaded with small white lights. An ornate black metal candleholder with four squat candles illuminated their table.

  Shadows danced against Mitch’s shirt, highlighting every move he made. The white broadcloth made his hair look as black as midnight. She fought the urge to reach up to run her fingers through it.

  They ate silently for a few minutes. She sipped her iced tea and toyed with the last few strands of cheese left from her Mexican lasagna.

  She had hoped the time here would bring them closer, and it had. They had talked all afternoon. They had talked all this evening. Light and inconsequential conversation that still helped them to pick up where they had left off years ago, to reminisce about the past, to catch up on events they had missed in each other’s lives.

  No, they hadn’t covered some of the most pressing topics, such as Mitch’s injury and the answer to what they would do for the rest of the night. But she still had hopes.

  “Did you enjoy your meal?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She had enjoyed the meal and the company and the sense of anticipation about what would happen next.

  She had also enjoyed his kiss. In fact, she had spent a large part of the evening analyzing it—or rather, trying to guess what his unexpected act at the store that afternoon really meant.

  So many contradictions.

  It was perfectly appropriate for a newly engaged man to give his beloved a kiss that rocked her to her toes. But their engagement was a fake. His kiss was lingering enough to satisfy her completely, yet it made her crave more. And it came with the feeling of a promise she knew he would never make.

  “Good food,” he said, “but not as tasty as my mom’s cooking. Or Paz’s.”

  “Very true. Living alone in LA, you must miss home cooking.”

  He shrugged. “As often as I work double shifts or undercover, I’m eating on the run no matter what. But yeah, I miss that. I miss a lot of things.” The flicker of candlelight reflected in his eyes made her breath catch. “Are you interested in any dessert?”

  Was she interested...?

  Now his every question, every word, every action seemed to hold a double meaning.

  She could order dessert to postpone the pleasure of discovering whatever would happen next.

  She could tell him the truth. It wasn’t dessert she was interested in, but him.

  She could take his question at face value and give him a straight answer.

  “I think I’ll pass,” she said.

  After he had signed their bill, he took her arm. Warmth from his hand tingled her skin. On their walk across the flagstone patio, the slight unevenness of the stones made her arm brush his side. The friction stimulated more heat.

  “You feel like taking a walk?” he asked.

  She felt like doing much more than that.

  “A short one, if that’s okay with you,” she said politely. “And then I’d like to go up to the room and call home. It’s too late for me to talk with Trey, but I can check in and see how the kids are doing.”

  “That sounds good.” He opened the gate leading to the sidewalk.

  The street was well lit, with merchants still open for business, trying to bring in customers in this last week before Christmas. She should have been back at the Hitching Post, helping with her own family’s business. But she couldn’t regret this time with Mitch.

  In silence, they walked to the end of the block and turned back. When he released her arm, she immediately felt the evening chill and a wave of disappointment. A second later, she realized he had only wanted to step around her to walk on the outside, closer to the street. The chivalrous gesture made her smile to herself. When he took her arm again, as if he didn’t want to let her go, the chill turned into a tremble of increasing anticipation.

  If this kept up, she wouldn’t be able to make the trip all the way to their room. She searched for something to calm herself.

  “I know you’re close to your family. Being away from them, you must miss out on a lot more than just home cooking.” His shrug told her nothing. “Why did you ever leave Cowboy Creek to begin with?”

  “You.”

  She gasped. Turning to look at him made her stumble. He reached out to prevent her from falling. The warmth and weight of his arm around her waist almost made her melt on the spot. For a second, his arm tightened, as if he wanted to pull her close. Instead, he released her and took a step back.

  She stared at him. “You left home because of me?”

  He nodded. “Once you were gone, it seemed like a good time for me to go, too.”

  A simple explanation. She had set an example for him, that was all. Why did she feel a twinge of disappointment?

  Back at the inn, he escorted her into the reception area, where earlier the Southwestern decor made her think fondly of the Hitching Post. Now she thought of the last trip she had taken through a hotel lobby and her solitary ride on the elevator.

  They went down a long hall papered in a floral pattern that made her feel they were walking down the aisle of the Hitching Post’s chapel.

  He unlocked the door to their room and ushered her inside. The bed, a king-size four-poster of knotty pine with black accents, dominated the room. The linens were bold turquoise, edged and shot through with silver. Other than the rest of the bedroom suite and a couple of chairs on either side of a small, square table, the bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. The only place they would have to sleep.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, just as politely as she had spoken earlier, “since you’re going to be on the phone, I’ll jump in the shower first.”

  “That’s fine.”

  They were on their best behavior, acting like brand-new roommates rather than forme
r sweethearts turned potential lovers. Maybe that bed would be only for sleeping, after all.

  He grabbed his overnight bag and closed the bathroom door behind him. She waited for the sound of running water before taking a deep breath and sinking onto the foot of the bed. Showering—his, then hers—would put them so many steps closer to the rest of the night.

  He had told her this engagement would be no strings attached. But they already had strings, past and present, tying them to each other.

  They had missed what seemed like two lifetimes in between.

  He had faced a tragedy in his life he wouldn’t talk about.

  She’d had a life of her own, a husband, children.

  She had loved Grant, truly and completely. Nothing could ever change that.

  But she had loved Mitch before then. And she loved him now.

  The day had fulfilled her hopes of bringing them closer. Whether it was close enough for Mitch to trust her, she didn’t know. Whether it offered enough for him to want her in his life, for him to decide she and her children meant more than anything to him, she didn’t know, either.

  Maybe they would be more than roommates. But maybe that would be only for tonight, and she would have only the memories of this one time to hold close to her heart.

  * * *

  THE INN HAD provided fluffy white toweling robes, his and hers. Mitch’s still hung on the back of the door. She took the other robe and slipped into it.

  He had come from the steamy bathroom with his hair slicked wet and a pair of thin cotton sweats riding low on his hips. She had mumbled something and made her own trip to the shower.

  Those low-riding sweats reminded her of the first time she had seen him in worn jeans, pitching hay in the barn. His hips were still slim, but the rest of him had bulked up and filled out.

  She stared at the door, then closed her robe and made a secure bow of the long tie around her waist. She didn’t have the nerve to leave the bathroom wearing only the nightgown she’d brought with her, but she knew this time, she would stay the night.

  She had left Mitch on the ranch years ago, left him alone at their hotel in Scottsdale. Whatever happened, she wasn’t leaving him now.