Home for Christmas

by Melissa McClone

  He rubbed his chin. Stubble pricked his fingers.

  Someone had made themselves at home, but who? Ty grilled. He could smoke a mean brisket. But bake? Not likely. The other wranglers usually stuck to the bunkhouse. Maybe elves had decided to pay a visit.

  Nate circled the island for a closer look.

  White icing held together rectangular and square pieces of gingerbread in various stages of construction. Houses, cottages, even a barn.

  On the far counter, miniature white lights illuminated the insides and hung along the eaves of three houses. Christmas trees made from star shaped cookies were strung with lights, too.

  Charming and creative.

  He wanted a taste.

  A small piece of gingerbread, the size of a window cutout, and a few others sat on a paper towel. Scraps to be tossed? No one would miss one. He popped a square into his mouth.

  Flavors exploded with just the right mixture of spices and sweetness. Oh, yeah. Whoever baked this knew what they were doing. Wanting more, he reached for another piece. His hand froze. He did a double take.

  One of the gingerbread houses looked like the Crawford House. Same Victorian architecture. Similar gables and bay windows. A hint of the whimsical.

  Cha-ching.

  Mrs. Annabeth Collier, formerly Crawford, one of Marietta's First Families, would pay top dollar for a custom gingerbread house. Rather her daughter Chelsea's billionaire boyfriend Jasper Flint would. And not only them.

  Nate wanted one of the Bar V5.

  People around here went all out for the holidays. These houses would go over big. He didn't know how much one cost to make or the profit margin, but with the right marketing...

  "Hello." The feminine voice wrapped around him, warm and welcoming as the scent of gingerbread baking. "Can I help you?"

  He turned toward the sweet-as-molasses sound.

  A twenty-something woman stood in the laundry room doorway. Blonde hair piled haphazardly on top of her head. Strands stuck out of the messy bun. A puzzled expression complete with two little creases above her nose made him want to see a smile on her pretty face. Clear complexion, straight nose, full lips and warm hazel eyes.

  His pulse rate kicked up a notch, maybe two. Okay, five.

  Nate recognized, but he couldn't quite place the color of her eyes. But the way the color changed from light brown to green to a golden hue captivated him.

  She wore a simple purple long-sleeved turtleneck, but streaks of white across her chest—flour perhaps?—distracted him, made him want to volunteer for cleanup duty. Faded jeans hugged her hips and thighs until flaring slightly at her calves. Long legs and curvy in all the right places.

  Cute candy cane striped sock-covered toes peeked out the bottom. The pattern amused and intrigued him. Part of an elf's costume or holiday attire?

  Either way, Christmas had come early.

  He'd been good this year and deserved a reward from Santa. Hot gingerbread baked by a hot woman was making him hot. The only improvement to his wonderful gift would be if she was naked and wearing a red ribbon. Though he could live without the ribbon.

  His heart raced, as if trying to catch his horse Arrow when the stallion had escaped from the pasture. Sweat dampened the back of his neck. Had someone turned up the heat?

  Her mouth twitched. She looked like she was waiting for something.

  Oh, yeah. Him. "Hi."

  Clever, Vaughn. Impressive show of eloquence with a two-letter word. He would try again. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm good. I don't need any help."

  His mouth twisted. He felt tongue-tied like a teenager talking to his first crush.

  "Are you a ranch hand?" She studied him. "Or Nate?"

  "Nate." She knew his name, but he didn't have a clue who she was or why she was walking around like she owned the place. He should probably care more than he did. But she was pretty and her cooking smelled delicious and most importantly, she wasn't holding a cell phone or pointing a gun or, he double-checked her left hand, wearing a wedding ring. "And you're..."

  "I was rinsing out my apron in the laundry room," she said at the same time. A charming pink spread across her face. "Sorry, I'm Rachel."

  "Rachel." A lovely name to go with a beautiful woman. A woman he wanted to get to know better. Intimately. Before New Year's Eve. "Nice to meet you."

  "You, too." She walked toward him, a subtle sway to her hips he found mesmerizing. "Ty's told me so much about you."

  "Ty?"

  She nodded. "Thanks for letting me use your kitchen."

  Yesterday's forgotten conversation rushed back, bunching Nate's muscles. He rubbed the back of his neck. He knew exactly why her hazel eyes looked familiar.

  "You're Ty's sister." So much for an early Christmas present. Nate should have known finding a beautiful blonde cooking in his kitchen was too good to be true. "You're older than I thought you'd be."

  The corners of Rachel's mouth curved upward in an almost smile. "Ty thinks I'm still a kid with ponytails crushing on boy bands."

  I don't. But Nate couldn't say that about his friend's sister when said friend was as protective of her as a new foal's momma. "Ty's a good guy."

  "The best."

  Nate's gaze held hers a moment too long. He looked away so she wouldn't think he might be interested in her.

  Not going to cross that line, even if he were tempted. He was, but Ty meant too much to Nate for him to do something stupid like put a move on Rachel.

  He motioned to the gingerbread houses. "Nice work."

  She stood on the opposite side of the island. "Thanks."

  "Are they gifts?"

  The lines above her nose deepened. She picked up a bag full of white icing. "No."

  "Planning to sell them?"

  "Does it matter?"

  A little defensive. He wondered why. "Just curious."

  About the gingerbread, he reminded himself.

  "I made a house for Ty. A friend of his saw it. She ordered one. Then another friend ordered another, and well, here I am."

  "Nice way to earn extra cash."

  Another nod. "We'll see how many more orders I get."

  "I want one."

  "Yours is on me. A thank you."

  Not only pretty, but sweet. "Thanks."

  "I'm the one who should thank you for letting me use this awesome kitchen."

  "No worries. You're Ty's sister. That makes you family."

  Family didn't date or lust after each other or imagine if she had a beauty mark like the one to the right of her mouth anywhere else on her body.

  She adjusted the silver tip on the pastry bag. "That's nice of you to say."

  "It's the truth. Your brother is a big reason the Bar V5 has been so successful." Ty's dedication over the years made Nate want to help Rachel. "Do you have a marketing plan yet?"

  She held the icing bag in front of her, tip pointed at him like a weapon. "Why do you want to know?"

  Her suspicious tone matched her stiff posture. Nate had no idea what was wrong, but time for damage control. "I was a venture capitalist before I came home and took over the ranch. I still invest if I see an opportunity."

  She pressed her lips together. "No opportunity here."

  "If you decide you want help—"

  "I'm good. But thanks again for letting me use your kitchen. I'll be sure to clean up my mess before I leave with Ty this afternoon." She angled her shoulders away from Nate. "I'd better get back to work and leave you to yours."

  Rachel didn't want his expertise. Fine. But Nate didn't like being dismissed in his own kitchen when he would rather stay and find out why she acted like he was a villain in a black hat when all he did was offer his help. She was off-limits by virtue of being Ty's sister, but that didn't mean Nate couldn't find out more about her.

  Nah.

  Sticking around and getting to know her any better would be a bad idea. He didn't want to piss off Ty. Might as well get to work. "Have fun baking."

  Though having another t
aste of her gingerbread couldn't hurt. Not much anyway. Nate wondered if she would be willing to share...

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rachel leaned against the island counter, watching Nate Vaughn's retreating backside, relieved to see him go. Forget about wanting a nice guy in her life, even flirting was too strenuous for her bruised heart. She only wished she hadn't noticed how nicely Nate's jeans fit or how his leather jacket showed off wide shoulders or how the duffel bag he carried made her wonder where he'd spent last night.

  None of those things should matter.

  Not to her.

  He might be show-off sexy with that razor stubble on his handsome face and an I'd-like-to-get-to-know-you-better smile, but she didn't need his business help or advice. She didn't want anything from him. Well, except the use of his kitchen.

  Nate glanced over his shoulder, meeting her gaze straight on.

  Busted for staring. Heat rose up her neck. Good thing she was flushed from the heat in the kitchen. Maybe her blush wouldn't give her away.

  His lips curved into a wry grin.

  Too late. Her face burned hotter. "Forget something?"

  "If it's not too much trouble, save a piece of gingerbread for me."

  By the time she finished baking, she would have platefuls of ends and cutouts. "No problem, as long as you don't mind the scraps."

  "Don't mind at all. My hungry stomach won't know the difference."

  She expected him to turn back. Walk away. Let her work.

  Nate continued staring. He must want another look at the gingerbread houses. Except... she wet her lips... he was looking at her.

  The hunger in his eyes made Rachel's blood simmer. His gaze ran the length of her slowly, appreciatively, like he wanted a taste of her.

  Her heart thudded.

  Something stirred inside Rachel. Excitement, yes. But also possibility.

  He made her feel like an unexpected, but welcomed, guest at a cocktail party. That her flour-stained clothes were as appealing as a little black dress.

  Did she dare let herself have some fun? Something missing from her life for a long time.

  Self-preservation told her to look away. Run away would be better.

  Safer.

  She might not have dated many men, but she knew that look from the last cowboy who had broken her heart after Ty had broken his nose. Nate might be a great guy according to her brother, but she needed to keep her distance. She knew better than to think she could handle a man like Nate Vaughn.

  Rachel cleared her dry throat. "Is there, um, anything else?"

  "No."

  He didn't look away. Or move.

  She was transfixed herself.

  Which made zero sense.

  His dark chocolate eyes would not be good for her heart. His interest in her gingerbread would not be good for her peace of mind. His being a cowboy would make Ty go ballistic.

  Rachel stared into a plastic container full of gumdrops. Green, red, yellow, purple and white. She imagined using the candies on the Bramble House B&B gingerbread replica she was designing, but Nate's sexy smile kept flashing in her mind, doing odd things to her tummy. Reminding her that people wanting to help was the reason her bakery belonged to someone else.

  Footsteps sounded.

  Rachel listened until the steps faded. She shot a glance at the doorway leading to the living area. Gone. She exhaled.

  No one, especially a good-looking cowboy with an investment background, was going to play her for a fool.

  Do you have a marketing plan? If you want any help or ideas...

  She grimaced. She'd lost years of hard work thanks to America's favorite television baker, Pamela Darby, and her crook of a husband, Grayson. They'd acted like surrogate parents. Rachel had eaten up the attention and praise, never once realizing they were using her for their own gain until it was too late. She would not be taken advantage of again. She would focus on what needed to be done and forget everything else.

  Including yummy Nate Vaughn.

  After a quick shower and shave, Nate headed to the barn. A small staff worked year round to help with the cattle, horses and maintenance. Men he trusted to do the job whether he was here or not. His female wrangler, Charlie, short for Charlotte, had gone to Colorado for the winter. Ty hadn't said whether she was returning in the spring.

  Nate zipped his coat and lowered his hat to shield himself from the cold wind. No snowfall last night meant no shoveling the paths or plowing the driveway this morning, but he'd bet the creek and ponds froze over and would need to be opened. Again.

  A dog barked, a sharp sound he knew well.

  Dusty, an Australian Cattle dog, ran toward Nate. The dog, who belonged to his late father, rarely left Ty's side.

  "Morning." Ty rounded a corner, carrying a pickaxe and wearing heavy, insulated outwear. A thin layer of ice covered his waterproof boots.

  "Been busy?"

  "Broke through the ice at the creek. There's plenty of water for the herd now. I told Zack to check the creek in a few hours if the temperature doesn't rise."

  Zack Harris was a wrangler, who also taught shooting in the summer. He was a veteran with multiple deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Nate fell in step with Ty. "You get the work done before I think to ask."

  "I'm the foreman. That's my job."

  "You do it well. Too bad my father hadn't listen to you."

  Ty's ready smile vanished. His serious face, reserved for sick animals and wayward sisters, appeared. "Your dad was a fine man. Stubborn as a mule, God rest his soul, Ralph Vaughn did what he thought best for the Bar V5. But I'm thankful you've listened to me. Or at least pretended to hear me."

  "I hear you." Nate would not repeat his father's mistakes. If not for Ty, his dad would have lost the ranch and Nate would have never known until it was too late. "And I owe you."

  "A paycheck, a room, and a place for my animals are all I need."

  Ty put the cattle and horses above everything else, including his own comfort. Nate had moved a cot into the office in the barn when he learned Ty would sleep there if an animal were sick or injured. Ty could have his own cabin or a house at the ranch, but he chose a room in the bunkhouse with the wranglers instead.

  He shot Nate a sideward glance. "How did the date go?"

  "Bad. A text-a-holic."

  "You weren't home when we got here."

  Nate shoved his gloved hands in his pockets. He wasn't about to lie to his friend. "I stayed in a motel. Alone. Too many beers. Slept through my alarm. Got home later than planned."

  "Sorry, bud."

  "Yeah, but learned my lesson." The barn doors were open and the four-wheel drive tractor gone. "I'm only dating women I meet in person. Even if their pics look hot."

  "Sometimes the hotter the woman, the less interested she is in kids. I'll put up with a lot of crap for that combo."

  "This one was nothing but trouble." Not that hot, either. Rachel was more attractive. Nate adjusted his hat, as if the action could turn off that part of his brain thinking about Ty's sister. "Not the good kind of trouble."

  "There's only one thing to say when this happens."

  "What's that?"

  "Next."

  Nate laughed. Good advice. Except the next woman he would consider dating was the one woman he didn't dare ask out—Rachel. Mixing business with pleasure would not be a good idea. He would keep looking. New Year's Eve was still a few weeks away.

  Ty entered the barn with Dusty trotting next to him.

  Nate followed. The smell of hay and manure and tradition hung in the air. Gingerbread might smell like Christmas, but these were the scents of his childhood, of home.

  An old black cat named Onyx rubbed against his boot.

  Nate scratched behind the cat's ear. "Sure hope this cold spell ends."

  "Me, too." Ty suspended the pickaxe between two hooks. "The horses are huddled in the pasture like an ice age is coming. But they'll be running through the snow as soon as the temperature warms up."

&
nbsp; Cold weather brought challenges to the ranch, especially when feeding and watering animals. Nate checked the barn cats' water bowl. Full and not frozen. "Bet the cattle were hungry this morning."

  "Lined up waiting for the hay to hit the ground." Ty tossed a dog treat and Dusty caught it mid-air. "They know exactly when it's feeding time. Just like this old guy."

  As if on cue, the dog barked.

  Ty's grin widened. "Damn dog's smarter than me."

  "You said it, not me."

  Ty's eyes, the same color as Rachel's, brightened. He gave the dog a pat on the head. "See, even the boss agrees with me."

  Dusty's tail wagged furiously.

  Nate observed more similarities between the Murphy siblings. Same chin. Same forehead. Same head tilt. Maybe if Rachel smiled as readily as her brother, Nate would have guessed they were related. "I met your sister."

  "She's a great kid."

  "Not really a kid." Behind a wheelbarrow, yellow eyes stared at him. One of the newer feral cats he'd received from the rescue shelter in Bozeman. He reached in his jacket pocket and tossed cat treats to Onyx. Then he threw pieces farther away. One by one, cats dashed out to grab one. "The way you talk about Rachel makes her sound so young. Eighteen or nineteen."

  "Twenty-six isn't old."

  "I hope not, for our sake." Ty was thirty-four. Nate thirty-three. "I had a taste of her gingerbread. Addictive."

  "She's got the touch. Just like my mom had. Though Rachel can cook, too. Wait until you taste the stew she's making us for lunch."

  "Lunch?"

  "I never cook when she's around."

  "Your choice or hers?"

  "Laugh it up, funny guy, but you'll see. The entire crew will be throwing bribes her way so she'll take over the kitchen for good."

  "Sounds great."

  Ty nodded. "Times like these that make my investment in culinary school worthwhile."

  "High outlay for the limited benefit you receive."

  He shrugged. "Worth every penny. You'll agree after you eat lunch. And I'm not kidding about the bribes. I hate having her so far away. But every time I bring up the idea of her moving north, she reminds me I'm the one who left. Says I should come back to Arizona."

  Nate's ribcage tightened like a belt. "You can't be considering leaving."