"That's very sweet of you."
"I've been earning a lot of money from people here in town. I don't want to be greedy."
"No one would ever accuse you of that."
She shrugged, feeling greedy for wanting more time with Nate. More kisses.
"You're good with kids," he said.
"Lots of children came into the bakery where I worked. We kept a container of free cookies for the kids."
"You like them."
"Very much. I can't wait to be a mom." The words rushed out. "I mean, I can wait to have babies. But I would like a family. Not today or tomorrow. Someday."
Oh, no. She was rambling, talking about babies and family with a guy. She'd clinch the insanity title for sure.
"Those will be some lucky kids to have you as a mom."
Her heart sighed. He was so sweet. "Thanks. My brother feels like he's already done the kid thing with me and wants no part of it again. Do you want a family?"
"Half a dozen kids sounds about right."
"Six? Whoa. That's an intimidating number." She remembered what he'd said the first night of the storm. "The more the merrier."
"You really do have a good memory."
Nodding, she pictured little kids with light brown hair, hazel or brown eyes, a mix of her and Nate. Emotion clogged her throat. She swallowed. "If you want six kids, you'd better get started."
"The old biological clock hasn't started ticking yet. Plenty of time to find the right woman."
"Good luck." Rachel tried to sound flippant, but she wasn't sure she succeeded. "Or do you not need any?"
One corner of his mouth rose up, in a sexy slanted smile. "A little luck in this case might actually help."
"I have a lucky arrowhead you could borrow."
"Thanks. I'll let you know if I need it, but I'm hopeful I can pull this off on my own."
His words suggested something would be happening, something soon. She didn't know whether to be chock full of anticipation or scared to death.
But she might keep that good luck charm for herself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later that week, Nate carried a shoebox full of mistletoe into the house. Warm air, a chocolate-y scent, and a song about Christmas greeted him. The tug at his heart made him glance into the box of greenery tied with red satin ribbon.
Time to figure out exactly what was going on between him and Rachel. Being friends with a serious flirtatious undertone was not working for him. Nate hoped she was in the kitchen. He didn't want her to see his purchase until he was ready.
The other night at the church, he'd seen a different side of Rachel. One he'd glimpsed when he twisted his ankle, one that had now sent his world spinning like a top. Seeing her with the kids, passing out cookies and complimenting them on their costumes, made him picture her as a wife and mother.
His wife and the mother of his kids.
Imagining Rachel as that woman when they'd never dated or kissed for longer than a nanosecond worried him.
He'd never imagined Marissa as a mom. Spit-up wouldn't coordinate with her designer clothes. Not that they'd talked about having kids. Yet he'd proposed.
Unbelievable.
He needed to stop the ghost of relationships past—the ghost of Marissa most of all—from clouding his judgment. Ty, too, with him saying Nate wasn't good enough for Rachel.
He could love a woman, make her happy on the ranch, have children with her, love those children 'til the end of his days and pass on this ranch to them. That was his dream. He had to believe it would come true.
Right now those dreams centered around Rachel. His feelings for her kept growing stronger, until spiraling out of control the other night. For days he'd tried to ignore it. Tried and failed.
Maybe he was inflating how he felt about Rachel because he wanted a family. Maybe not. Today he would find out.
That was where the mistletoe came in.
Nate needed to know not only if his feelings were real but if Rachel's were, too. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her or scare her. A holiday kiss would be less threatening, more like her thank you one out in the snow. All he needed was for her to stand under the mistletoe and agree to a kiss. Once she did, he would turn that kiss into a real one and gauge her reaction.
He entered the main living space.
Empty. Good.
That would make... decorating... easier, quicker.
He set the box on the coffee table then retrieved a ladder and stapler.
If Rachel drew back from his kiss, he would accept that they were not meant to be and find a New Year's Eve date. If she wanted more from his kiss, they would figure out a way to deal with Ty and everything else.
A simple plan that should work.
Nate set up the ladder where he thought people—okay, one particular person—might stand. He'd purchased an extra spool of ribbon so the mistletoe could hang down from the vaulted ceiling. He would also hang sprigs in a couple of doorways to be on the safe side.
Risky? Definitely.
But Nate needed to see if he had any chance with Rachel before these feelings got any worse and made him do something stupid. Something he might regret.
He hoped she agreed to the kiss.
Rachel refusing was a distinct possibility. One he didn't want to happen. If it did, Nate would walk away, head held high. He would try to find the shutoff switch for the happily ever after highlight reel running through his brain.
Yes, his kissing Rachel plan made perfect sense. He climbed the ladder and went to work.
Half an hour later, Nate looked over his handwork from ground level. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling extended on long ribbons, like bait attached to a fishing line. Sprigs graced the tops of three doorways.
"Very festive." Rachel stood in the one place he hadn't hung mistletoe. "Though I don't think I've ever seen so much mistletoe in one room."
"I like green and red."
She moved into the great room. Stopped. A sprig dangled overhead.
Damn. He was brilliant.
Too easy. He could have managed with much less mistletoe than he'd hung.
"I hope no one has mono," she said.
"I don't." Nate moved closer, each step calculated, not quite a jungle cat stalking prey, but he was full purpose. "Good thing, since you're standing under the mistletoe."
Panic flickered across her face. "Do you think this is a good idea?"
Elation soared. Anticipation surged. If she didn't want to kiss him, she would have retreated to the kitchen. But she was still standing here, looking at him, waiting.
Score.
"A kiss under the mistletoe. It's tradition. Nothing's going to happen from a holiday kiss."
She glanced at the doorway to the kitchen. "Make it fast. My timer's about to buzz."
"One quick kiss coming up."
Nate crossed his fingers when he said quick. He pressed his lips against hers, not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind.
Soft and sweet, the way he remembered from before. Totally delicious.
He moved his mouth over hers, soaking up her warmth. He'd always had a fondness for vanilla and cinnamon, not to mention gingerbread. But Rachel was now his favorite flavor, the perfect blend of sugar and spice. Boy, was it nice.
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. The ends of her hair tickled his hand.
She arched against him, her breasts pressing against his chest.
He sifted his fingers through the strands of her hair. His tongue tangled with hers.
Rachel's arms looped around him.
He didn't know how much closer he could get to her, but he wanted to try. He wanted more of her kiss, more of her. He pressed harder against her lips, his blood simmering.
She brought her hands down, her palms splayed on his chest, breaking the kiss. She backed away from him.
Her lips look swollen. Her neck and face flushed. Her ragged breathing matched his own. "That's wasn't, and I quote, 'one quick kiss.'"
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No, it wasn't. But he had his answer. In spades. "Blame the mistletoe."
"Is that what you're going with?"
She didn't sound upset. The telltale worry lines above her nose hadn't appeared. But he was having a hard time thinking straight. "You bet."
Rachel looked up. "Thank you, mistletoe."
"Hey." He used his finger to bring her chin down. "How about thanking the guy who hung the mistletoe and just kissed you?"
Amusement twinkled in her eyes. "You said blame the mistletoe."
"I was wrong." In more ways than he could count. The mistletoe had proved something. Whatever he felt was oh-so-real. One kiss was never going to be enough. "The mistletoe was only the catalyst. Blame me."
"I may have to, since I asked Santa to bring me the wrong thing... towels."
"What do you want now?"
"More kisses." Her words floated in the air, as if gift wrapped and attached to a helium balloon.
"Towels are going to pale in comparison," he said.
"I know." She wet her swollen lips. "And here I had such high hopes for a perfect Christmas."
"How about I give you one of your presents early?"
"I don't see any gifts under the tree for me."
"Trust me, this is exactly what you want."
Oh, wow. Wow. Wow. Wow.
Nate's lips moved over Rachel's. His kiss was going at the top of Rachel's Christmas list from now on. The man knew how to kiss, sending sparkly tingles to places inside she'd forgotten about. Her toes were going to take a while to uncurl. She'd been kissed well before, but Nate's kiss... totally hot and better tasting than ganache.
Had she said wow?
Mistletoe was her new favorite holiday decoration. She would have to hang some in the kitchen. All over the house. And keep the green stuff hanging until Easter. Or Thanksgiving.
She heard a moan, a sexy sound.
Was that her?
If so, she wanted more. If not, she wanted him to kiss her until she sounded like that.
Rachel deepened the kiss.
Nate took the not-so-subtle hint. His lips pressed against hers, moving with a skill and precision that must have taken years to perfect. Rachel cared less about the women he'd kissed before. She was the one reaping the benefits now.
His hands held her close, one against her back, the other on her butt. She arched against him with unfamiliar eagerness. She didn't just want more kisses. She wanted all of him.
Slowly, molasses-being-poured-into-batter slow, Nate drew the kiss to an end. Desire gleamed in his eyes. "What do you think of your gift?"
"Best Christmas present ever."
"You think?"
She nodded. "Maybe we should try it again. To make sure."
Rachel took the lead this time. She kissed him, not tentative, like she'd been outside by the horses, but with deep need she didn't understand. She pressed her body against him and let her tongue explore his mouth.
Hunger and heat.
Talk about a turn-on.
Her hands ran up and down his back, feeling the muscles beneath her fingertips and palm. He did the same, touching her with his lips and hands until she felt mushy inside.
"What the hell is going on?" Ty yelled.
No. No. No. The fury in her brother's voice made Rachel jump back.
Nate raised his hands, palms out. "Mistletoe."
Ty's nostril's flared. She knew that look. At least he hadn't punched Nate. Not yet, anyway.
Rachel pointed to the ceiling, wanting to diffuse the situation. Ty probably couldn't fathom the idea of her making out with a guy, let alone wanting to have sex. "Just a kiss under the mistletoe. A holiday tradition. That's all."
A vein ticked at Ty's jaw. "Looks like more to me."
Rachel shrugged. "I like kissing."
Nate nodded. "No harm intended."
"Where did all the mistletoe come from?" Ty asked.
"Getting ready for having people over on Christmas. Thought the place needed more decorations. Hanging mistletoe is easy plus livens things up a bit."
Ty's watchful gaze slid from Nate to Rachel. "Be careful where you two stand from now on."
"I will."
Her brother sounded worried, but she he didn't think Nate was trying to take advantage of her. Okay, he'd planted mistletoe all over the house. But that was because he wanted more kisses. She couldn't be upset when she'd wanted more, too.
Rachel noticed where her brother was standing. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You'd better be careful, too."
The timer buzzed.
She'd never been so happy to hear that sound before. "I need to finish up dinner. You two clean up in here."
Part of her felt bad for letting Nate take all the heat, but the two men were friends.
What was the worst thing that could happen?
Nate watched Rachel disappear into the kitchen. Three, two, one...
"What in the hell are you thinking?" Ty picked up the ladder. "Let me guess, your little head was in charge instead of your brain."
"It was the mistletoe."
Ty glared. "You liked kissing her."
"I like kissing in general." Nate picked up the stapler and ribbon, not wanting to upset his friend with the truth. That he planned to keep kissing Rachel.
"So my sister was the only available pair of lips around?"
"Unless you count yours."
Ty shook his head. "You need to find yourself a woman."
Nate had found her. Rachel's smile, her eyes and the sound of her laughter captivated him as much as her hot kisses. "I've been trying."
"Try harder." Nate walked to the front door carrying the ladder. "I don't care if you're standing under twenty pounds of mistletoe, do not kiss Rachel again."
"Not even if it keeps her in Montana?"
Ty stopped. Cursed. "You said you'd do anything to keep me at the ranch, but flirting with my sister, making her like you, was never part of the plan."
"Whoa, cowboy. That's not what I'm doing."
"Sure about that?"
"Yes," Nate said firmly. "Rachel's a wonderful woman. Talented, smart, pretty. A guy would have to be crazy not to want to go out with her."
"A guy like you."
Nate straightened. "She could do worse."
"Look, I get that you love the Bar V5 and want the best for her. Me, too. But at what cost? Your dad told me about the time you brought a horse about to foal to a science fair."
"I won."
Ty's brows furrowed. "Three women fainted."
"Not the judges. Plus the prize money bought me another colt."
"Thank you for illustrating my point."
"Nothing wrong with winning."
"I saw you in action when you turned the Bar V5 around. No one believed you could do it, including me," Ty admitted. "I see what you've done with Rachel's gingerbread business, too."
"So what's the problem?"
"You want to win so badly, you're blind. You might not think kissing Rachel has anything to do with Operation: Hansel & Gretel, but I can't be sure about that. I don't want Rachel's heart to get caught up in your drive to succeed." Ty's jaw tensed. "Touch my sister again and I will hurt you. Bad."
And leave the Bar V5.
The words were unspoken, but implied.
"No one is leaving." Not Ty. Not Rachel. Nate knew his friend was speaking out of genuine concern for his sister, with a heart full of worry. Nate wasn't about to hurt Rachel. All he needed was more time to figure this out. "I've gotten to know your sister this week."
"Sure as hell better not be in the biblical sense."
That wasn't worth a response. "Today I figured out the best way to keep Rachel in Montana."
"How?"
"By giving her what she wants most for Christmas." Nate wasn't talking towels or more kisses, but when she'd talked about presents, he knew what would keep Rachel in Montana. That made the gift perfect for Ty, too. "I'll take care of everything tomorrow. Trust me, y
ou'll be able to pack her stuff up in Phoenix and be back here in time for New Year's."
That way she'd be kissing Nate when the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve.
Ty led the way to the shed. "Promise me it doesn't have anything to do with kissing or the exchange of bodily fluids."
"Promise."
"Okay, then." Ty looked over at him. "Do you think the Broncos will beat the Seahawks on Sunday?"
After dinner, Rachel retreated to her room. She assumed her brother and Nate had worked things out, given she saw no split lips, bloody noses or black eyes. A big relief.
She put on her pajamas and slid into bed with a cookbook. Staring at ingredients and cooking techniques was better than analyzing every second of kissing Nate earlier.
A knock sounded on her door.
Rachel's heart leaped. She placed her book on the bed. A few kisses could change everything. She wasn't falling for him. She'd fallen. Hard.
Anticipation hummed through her. She brushed her fingers through her hair then pinched her cheeks to give them color. "Come in."
Ty entered.
She ignored the rush of disappointment and kept her smile in place. "Hi."
He sat on the edge of the bed. "New cookbook?"
She nodded. "Like to check out the competition."
A beat passed. And another. "He won't touch you again."
Rachel didn't need Ty to tell her who he was. "I'm an adult. You don't have to watch out for me. I can take care of myself."
"What about the Darbys?"
That hurt. But Rachel wasn't about to cower or cry like she'd done in the past. Nate had made her see she was stronger than that. She raised her chin.
"I made a mistake." She'd been playing it safe, but that hadn't kept her from getting hurt. Maybe it was time to try something new and take a chance. "But Nate's not like that. You said so yourself."
"I was talking about getting business advice from him, not having a vacation fling."
"We kissed. That's a far cry from a fling. Though whether I have sex with anyone is none of your business."
A pained expression crossed his face. "Rach..."
"You told me you trusted Nate. You must. You work for him."
"I don't really work for him," Ty said. "We're more like partners. All the Bar V5 livestock, except a couple horses, belong to me."
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