"Sounds like fun."
He grabbed a backpack off a hook and held it open. "Put your stuff inside."
She did.
He put the pack on her back then handed her a helmet.
"Put this on and follow me." Outside the barn, Nate climbed onto a black snowmobile. "Get on the back."
Excitement buzzed through her. She'd never been on a snowmobile before. Or so close to Nate. She straddled the seat.
"Scoot closer to me," he said.
Rachel did, her thighs pressed against Nate, her arms wrapped around his waist. Her pulse skittered. The thick outerwear they wore provided a layer of cushion between them, but that didn't change the intimacy of the seating arrangement.
The engine roared to life, the snowmobile vibrating beneath her, making her want to clench her legs tight around Nate's hips, to get as close as possible. If only all these clothes weren't in the way... She swallowed.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
"Hold on."
No worries there. She wasn't about to let go.
Rachel had proved she was a chicken, sending them off into the cold when they could have stayed at the barn and kept each other warm, because she was afraid.
Afraid of Nate. Afraid of falling in love. Afraid of being hurt again.
Pathetic.
CHAPTER SEVEN
With Rachel on the back of the snowmobile, pressed up against Nate like his shadow, making his body buzz, he decided he had a new favorite way to get around the ranch. Arrow wouldn't be happy.
Thanks to the thoughtful and tasty scones Rachel had baked and given to everyone at the cabins, well, today was the closest to heaven Nate had been in a while. A brief escape from his self-imposed friend purgatory.
Not that Nate minded much.
He enjoyed hanging out with Rachel. He hadn't needed to milk his ankle as an excuse with the storm keeping them inside. She liked to talk, ask questions, talk some more. One more day of snow and he'd thought she would pull out a bottle of sparkly polish and paint their fingernails.
Okay, not really.
But pretty damn close, and he wouldn't have minded painting her toenails. She treated him like a girlfriend, and he was taking her lead, being her friend, supporting her, being a decent guy. Something Ty needed to see him be.
Being Rachel's friend didn't suck.
Sure, Nate wanted to get physical. Wanted it more than his next breath on some days. But talking was underrated.
Still, being her bud wasn't easy. He felt closer to Rachel in two weeks than he had to Marissa in two years. Marissa would talk about work or a call from her mother, a dress she loved, or a friend who was dating a jerk. Nate was expected to listen—and he did, kind of—until she was finished and moved on to the next topic. She never asked him for more than to stop by her place on the way home from work so she could change before dinner.
Not that he'd offered more. He hadn't included her in his Montana past until he'd had to return to the ranch.
Maybe that was why Marissa couldn't understand the importance of the Bar V5, of keeping his family legacy, of making sure his parents could live out their final days in their house, the only home his dad had ever known. And why had Nate been so surprised to tell Rachel how he felt when he lost his first horse and when he learned of his father's dementia.
She'd asked, and he answered. It wasn't hard.
Cue the chick flick.
Nate drove the snowmobile over a slight rise, to take the scenic way back to the house. Rachel would get a mini tour of the Bar V5 and he'd enjoy having her arms around him for a few more minutes before stepping back into friend mode. If not for the riot that would ensue if she didn't cook lunch, he would keep her out here all day, wind on their faces, her body spooning his.
Not exactly friend-like motives.
So sue him.
He might not have this chance again. Ty hadn't seemed to mind. The guy had thanked Nate for bringing Rachel and her scones to the cabin and keeping his sister entertained. Nate would make the most of this opportunity.
Rachel pointed to the herd of horses in the pasture, coats thick from the cold and the breeze in their manes.
He stopped near the fence then turned off the ignition.
She climbed off, removed her helmet and made her way to the fence. The horses ran toward them, kicking up snow. "They look like they're having so much fun out there."
"With no guests at the ranch, winter is their season to play."
"So carefree." She sighed. "They don't worry, do they? Must be nice."
The wistful tone in Rachel's voice didn't surprise him. She'd told him more details about what happened in Phoenix with Pamela Darby and the television cook's husband. Nate wasn't big on using violence to solve problems, but if he ever game across Grayson Darby in person, the crook was going down. "They only worry if we're late bringing dinner. Like we'd forget them with all their clomping and whinnying."
"But they don't worry about their work."
"No, they love it."
She leaned against the fence, resting her arms on the top rail. "The way you love the Bar V5, the animals and the people here. Worries, hard work and all."
It wasn't a question, but he decided to answer anyway. "I love everything about this place, from the twisted iron sign hanging on the gate to the Bar V5 brand on the animals. There's no place like the ranch anywhere. Totally worth every gray hair she's given me."
Rachel peeked under his hat, brushing her fingers through his hair. "I don't see any."
Her touch was light and playful, but a pulsing electric current rippled down his body. "They're...uh..."
"Oh, I see one."
"Really?"
She looked up with a gotcha-grin. "No, but I see how vain you are."
He had no comeback, but wanted to kiss the smile off her pretty face. Not fair he couldn't use the weapons in his arsenal to get even.
Two horses chased each other.
Rachel jumped onto the lowest rail of the fence and laughed, a sweet sound that lingered on the air. Dressed in casual clothes, she looked gorgeous splayed over the fence, arms waving at the horses to call them over.
The rapt delight on her face hit Nate like a horse's hoof to the gut.
She loved the outdoors. She could love the ranch.
She could love...
Idiot. He shook his head.
Rachel was on vacation, having a great time. Everyone did at the Bar V5. That was why they returned each year. To visit. Not to fall in love with the guy who couldn't leave the ranch for more than a few days without getting homesick.
If Ty was right, the best Nate could hope for was Rachel settling in Bozeman or Billings or Butte. Cities a hundred miles or so away, plenty close for Ty. He'd probably like having a place to crash in a bigger city.
Not nearly close enough for Nate.
He needed Rachel spooning him on his snowmobile at the Bar V5 every day. For the rest of their lives.
Nate blew out a puff of air. "We should get back to the house."
"You must have work to do."
"You do," he said. "Zack wanted me to make sure I got you back in time so you could make lunch."
She shook her head. "At least my cooking's appreciated here."
"No one wants to see you leave." Nate, especially.
"Their stomachs will miss me."
"I'll miss you."
Crap. Had he really said the words out loud? He rubbed his face.
"You'll miss my oatmeal raisin cookies."
"And a bunch of other stuff." A part of him wanted to cut through the friendship crap. To find out if she really thought baked goods were what mattered to him and if she knew that he was into her, as more than a friend. But he'd rather stay where he was than hear her say she only saw him as a friend. "I have a feeling Zack will cry when it comes time to say goodbye."
"I shouldn't laugh. You may be right. Poor guy. I'd better get busy with lunch so we don't have any former soldiers falling to pi
eces."
Nate motioned to the snowmobile. "Let's go."
She took a step away from the fence. Her foot sank into the snow, causing her to stumble forward.
Nate grabbed onto her, one hand on her arm, the other around her waist. "Careful."
He lifted her so she could pull her leg out of the snow. He set Rachel on the ground, not letting go, and stared into her eyes. "You okay?"
She nodded, her face so close to his he could see her individual eyelashes. Man, she had beautiful eyes. They changed colors again, more green than brown, with shades of gold.
Let her go. Step back. Get on the sled and go home.
The voice of reason shouted. Common sense screamed.
Nate didn't want to do either of those things, even if he knew he should.
Rachel's gaze didn't waver.
Her lips parted, soft and inviting. He wanted to skip the RSVP and join the party now. The tip of her pink tongue darted out, wet her lower lip then disappeared back into her mouth.
His insides clenched, twisted.
Damn, she was making this difficult.
But this was his land. He wouldn't leave the Bar V5 because a woman he liked found it too remote. He needed to find a woman who loved this land as much as he did. Nothing Rachel had told him in all their days of sharing had come close. She'd admitted her heart would always be in Phoenix because of her parents. He removed his hands from around her waist. "Let's go."
Rachel rose up on her tiptoes, her lips coming toward him.
He leaned in closer, meeting her halfway.
She brushed her mouth across his.
Soft, warm, sweet...
And then gone.
Before he could process what was happening, before he could enjoy the kiss.
But his lips tingled, wanting more.
"Now we can go." Rachel didn't look up at him. She walked toward the sled, her steps careful, but quick over the snow.
He took off after her, lengthening his stride to catch up with her. "What was that?"
She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.
He touched her shoulder. "Why did you want to kiss?"
She shook the snow off her gloves. "I appreciate how much you've done for me. I like spending time with you. I kissed you as a kind of... thanks."
"A thank you kiss."
She glanced up at him. Her big, beautiful hazel eyes sent his pulse sprinting. "To show my gratitude. In case you're getting tired of my baking."
He grinned. "I'm going to have to do more things you'll be grateful for. Though thank you kisses usually come on the cheek, not the lips."
"It was the moment. I was happy. The opportunity presented itself." A satisfied smile curved her lips. "I went for it."
"What? Like a dare with yourself?"
"Kinda, yeah. You're very cute."
Her cheeks burned bright pink.
Okay, she might be grateful, but she was into him, too.
Good. Except he didn't know what that meant to her. "And...?"
She looked at the horses. Wet her lips again. "You've been a good friend. Made things easier for me."
She was so nervous. Had her experience with men been so bad a peck was all she could risk?
Sinking back on his heels, he knew the answer.
A kiss was all she was willing to chance. Nate didn't blame her. He'd heard about every guy she'd had a crush on or dated, scumbags one and all. No wonder she didn't trust her judgment or him. He wanted to help her so she could.
If Rachel would give him the chance...
"We should go." She hopped back to the snowmobile like a frightened rabbit, using the footsteps they'd made to speed her movement and prevent needing another rescue.
He had his sign. She wanted him.
But on her terms, if at all.
Damn. He was in deep trouble.
Things hadn't changed now that he knew she was attracted to him. But something inside him had. Forget being her friend or having a fling. He wanted her to be a larger part of his life.
Nate couldn't expect her to feel the same, not this soon, after what she'd been through. If he pushed Rachel, she would claim they were friends. Affectionate, thankful friends. But just friends.
There was Ty to consider, too. He didn't think Nate deserved Rachel, and a part of him agreed. But he couldn't walk away without out at least seeing if there could be something there? Could he?
Three days later, Rachel still couldn't believe she'd kissed Nate. Standing in the church's hall with him at her side and a cast of children dressed in their costumes for the Christmas Eve Nativity pageant on a makeshift stage, the moment replayed in her mind. Over and over again, in astonishing detail considering the kiss lasted a second, maybe two.
Why did you kiss me?
She hadn't dared tell Nate the truth. That after missing her chance to let him know how she felt when they were in the barn, she'd wanted to take a risk instead of playing it safe. She'd wanted to be brave.
Instead, she'd been stupid.
Rachel cringed inwardly for the hundredth time for risking potential disaster. Up until that moment, she'd decided to play it safe, despite her crush, and keep Nate in the friend zone. He was a charming cowboy, a rancher and venture capitalist, who was acting as her business advisor. Having a fling with her brother's best friend then flying back to Phoenix like nothing happened would not be good for her. That much she knew. So what if her body responded to him or she seemed to be falling for him? Being friends seemed like the best—the only—option.
Until she blew it by kissing him.
The attraction was now out in the open, invisible, but as solid as a wall between them in everything they said to each other. Another kiss would surely start something, but she didn't think that was a good idea, even though all she could think about was kissing Nate again.
She was caught in limbo, frustrated and unsure.
The children sang “Silent Night.” A sheep played with her tail. A camel yawned. A shepherd, wearing a blue robe and headpiece and holding a staff, burped. The kids stopped singing and giggled.
On the far side of the room, Annie, Nate's friend from the diner, painted elaborate large scenery panels that looked like they belonged in a Broadway play, not a children's Christmas play. Annie shook her head then returned to painting.
Nate leaned closer, his breath warm against her neck, sending pleasurable sensations up and down her spine. "That boy's dad was the same at his age. Though he was more into farting than burping."
Rachel covered her mouth to keep from laughing. The kids were distracted enough.
"Let's try that again," Betty Anderson, the thirty-something play director who also worked at the high school, said. "This time without the sound effects."
"Good luck with that." Nate’s mischievous look made her wonder what he was he had been like as a kid. She'd bet he was a handful. And cute. Just like his kids would be.
Betty clapped at the end of the song. "Everyone worked so hard tonight. You get a treat. Miss Murphy has a special gingerbread cookie for each of you. Make sure you see her before you head out. And no one leaves this room without a parent."
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," the children said in unison then ran toward Rachel like ants attacking a leftover piece of pie during a picnic.
Too bad she was the pie.
"Slow down." Nate stepped in front of her, his arms out toward the bouncing kids. "If you want a cookie, you'll need to get in line."
The children quieted and did as they were told. Cookies had a magical quality. A little help from a cowboy didn't hurt.
One by one, the kids approached to receive their cookies. Each gingerbread angel was wrapped in a cellophane bag, tied with a ribbon and candy cane. She'd included a label with a line from the play's script.
A little boy approached. Rachel handed him a cookie. "Merry Christmas."
"Nice job up there, Evan." Nate gave the boy a high five. "Tell your dad I said hi."
The kid nodded.
> An angel with shimmery wings and a gold halo took a cookie then, rewarded Rachel with a front-teeth-missing grin. "Such great costumes."
"Thank you," a woman with dark brown hair and twinkling brown eyes stepped forward with two children, a boy and a girl, who looked to be the same age. "I had no idea what was involved when I said yes to making costumes but it's been fun. I'm Harley Diekerhoff."
So this was Harley. Pretty. A looker, as Nate had called her. Around his age.
"The costumes are great," Nate said. "This is baker extraordinaire Rachel Murphy."
Rachel shook the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Same here. Brock bought one of your do-it-yourself kits. Mack, Molly." Harley gestured to the twins. "All of us had fun decorating the gingerbread house."
Both kids nodded, their gazes locked on the bags of cookie in Rachel's hands, like puppies wanting a treat.
"Thanks. Glad you had fun." Rachel handed cookies to the kids. "Merry Christmas, Mack and Molly."
For the next fifteen minutes, a steady stream of kids stopped by, each wanting a cookie and to show off their costumes to new people. Rachel oohed and awed over each one, genuinely impressed with Harley's designs. Nate knew everyone by name, and he introduced her as Ty Murphy's sister or the gingerbread baker.
Exactly what she was. So why did she yearn to be something more to Nate?
They had nothing in common. She wasn't up for a fling. She would be returning to Phoenix after Christmas. Pining over a kiss and wanting more made no sense.
Nate showed her the empty box. "The kids are gone and so are the gingerbread angels. A good thing I got my fill at the Bar V5."
"You're going to have a mouthful of cavities if you keep eating so many sweets."
"You're going to have a ton of more orders after this great marketing idea," he said. "You catch on so fast."
"I'm not doing this to market my gingerbread. I didn't put my name on the tags or anywhere."
"You spent hours making the cookies and packaging them."
She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. When I bumped into Annie, while I was delivering products, she told me about painting sets for the performance. She described how hard the kids have been practicing, trying to memorize their lines and get their parts right. I thought cookies would be a nice treat. Nothing more."
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