Cowboy, It's Cold Outside

by Lori Wilde

  “AIDS,” he said succinctly, emotionless. “HIV was more of a death sentence back then.”

  Paige bit her bottom lip. She knew the deep pain of watching a parent die of a lingering illness. Understood the feeling of helplessness and despair.

  “Her parents, my grandparents, were, of course, very disapproving of her lifestyle. They were simple country folk. They thought having big dreams was selfish and foolish, and given what happened to my mom, I suppose from their point of view they were right. But if she’d only had a little support. Someone who believed in her talent the way she believed in mine . . .”

  His back was to her as he fumbled with the lights. She heard the clog in his voice. Saw the tension draw across his shoulder blades. Felt her heart crack. Hurting for the boy he’d been. Admiring the man he’d become.

  Paige got up and reached through the top branch to take hold of the lights as he fed them up to her. She looked down at the same time he looked up through the branches of the tree. And they shared a weighted moment of deep caring and understanding.

  “I read on the Internet that you ran away from home when you were fifteen. Were things that bad with your grandparents?”

  “They were harsh. Judgmental. Set about trying to correct the mistakes they’d made with my mother.” He threaded more lights to her. “But in retrospect I can see I was a handful. I was used to my mother’s relaxed parenting style and resented their rules. I was ten when I went to live with them and already set in my ways.”

  She stood on a chair from the kitchen, wound the lights to the top of the tree, and when they finished, the tree winked brightly at them. Cash sat up from where he’d been stretched out underneath the tree. He looked different somehow. More relaxed.

  “What about your father?” she asked, climbing down off the chair.

  “You didn’t find out anything about him on the Internet?” One amused eyebrow hopped up on his forehead, teasing her.

  “The article I read said no one knows who he was.” She took ornaments from the box, started placing them on the tree. Fritzi had to sniff them all.

  Cash named a country-and-western musician so famous that Paige felt her jaw drop. “Really? Him?”

  “So my mother said. He refused to take a paternity test. I’m guessing partially because he was on wife number six and the marriage was already shaky when I went to him after I ran away. Dear old dad booted me out, told me to never darken his door again. I don’t know what the hell would have happened if I hadn’t run into Freddie Frank in a pancake house where I was counting my change to pay for my meal and coming up short.”

  “Freddie Frank? The country crooner?”

  “Yep. He’s from the same small town I was from. He and my mom knew each other since they ran in the same circles, played some of the same gigs, but they weren’t particularly close. Freddie even did some cowhand work for my grandfather but that was long before I was born. At the time I ran into him, Freddie’s career had just started to take off, but he was still humble enough to eat at the same old pancake restaurant he’d always gone to. It was two in the morning and he’d just finished a performance.”

  “And he recognized you after all this time?”

  “No, but he recognized my mother’s guitar that I had named after her.”

  “The one that got stolen?”

  “Yes. Anyway, Freddie paid for my breakfast and took me home. His wife, Maxi, insisted I move in with them. Freddie mentored me, introduced me to the right people. He made my career.”

  “Do you still keep in touch with him?”

  Cash shrugged. “We had a falling-out.”

  “Over what?”

  “You know. Differences of opinion.”

  She wanted to ask him for more details, but he hardened his chin and she could tell it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. “So true love wasn’t in the cards for either of your parents?”

  “It’s hard to have a successful career and a stable relationship. Stardom requires so much of you. Takes so much away from the people you love. It’s easier not to get too invested in the first place.”

  “Which is why you don’t really do Christmas,” she said softly. “Christmas is all about family ties and tradition, something you haven’t had much of.”

  He looked startled, ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re right. But you’ve had a raw deal too. Why do you love Christmas so much?”

  “Why,” she said. “Because it makes me feel happy. It was my father’s favorite time of the year. He was a regular Clark Griswold. I mean, look at this.” She waved at the ornaments. “These are all from my childhood.”

  “I guess that’s the difference. I don’t have many happy memories of Christmas.”

  “That’s sad.”

  A stoic shrug yoked his shoulder. He added a tiny manger scene to the tree, spun it on the branch with his thumb. “I don’t think about it that much.”

  She bit her bottom lip to keep from telling him that she wanted nothing more than to make all the rest of his Christmases merry and bright. That she could love him until the end of her days if he’d let her.

  That thought terrified her.

  Because it was true.

  She was in love with a man who didn’t know the first thing about how to make a long-term relationship work. Not that she was any big expert on that score either.

  It didn’t matter that she’d only known him for two weeks. She felt what she felt. Her feelings for Cash were huge and glorious and growing every day. Heck, the way he was looking at her, every minute.

  But she’d fallen for Randy equally fast. Dangerous territory.

  Except this was different.

  Her feelings for Randy had been a heady rush of excitement. He showed her off like she was a trophy and that had fed her ego. She’d mistaken the thrill of attention for love. She knew now what love wasn’t.

  Love wasn’t butterflies in the stomach, although Cash gave her plenty of those. That was only chemistry.

  Love was not convenient. It could show up when you least expected it or wanted it.

  Love was not deceptive. It didn’t cheat or lie or steal your identity.

  What she felt for Cash was respect and consideration. She was willing to have her life complicated by his needs and struggles without impatience or anger. She didn’t care about his money or fame. If it all went away tomorrow, she would still love him.

  She loved his kindness and his ready smile. She loved the way he nudged her out of her comfort zone and helped her reclaim her playful side. She loved the silly texts he sent and how he thought of her on a cold morning and sent a driver to pick her up. She loved how he’d understood Joe and Gabi’s protectiveness toward her and accepted it. She loved how he’d been so gentle with Grammie and sang to her so sweetly. She loved how he smelled, loved the sound of his voice.

  It was a crazy wonderful feeling. And she loved him, even if he never loved her back.

  “Paige?” he said.

  “Huh?” She blinked. Realized she’d been standing there with a ballerina ornament in her hand, staring off into space.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Um . . . just searching for the perfect spot for this.”

  “How about next to the guitar. My favorite thing next to yours.” He pointed to an ornament hanging near the top, and knelt to dig more decorations from the box.

  She went up on tiptoes to hang the ballerina beside the guitar. Music and dance. The two went together like ice cream and sprinkles. She cast a sideways glance at him. He had his head turned up to watch her, an appreciative expression in his eyes.

  He liked her. She knew that. He wanted her. But could he love her?

  Unable to answer a question that big, she bent to pick up a long strand of candy cane garland to distract herself.

  Fritzi took the slithering garland as an invitation to play and snatched the other end up in his teeth and trotted in the opposite direction. The garland pulled tight across Cash’s back as he lea
ned over the box.

  “Fritzi. Come back here.” She tugged on the garland.

  The little scamp was surprisingly strong. He loved tug-of-war. The poodle dug in, jerked hard.

  The garland gave way, snapping in the middle. The momentum knocked Paige off balance and she went tumbling . . .

  Right on top of Cash.

  Full body contact.

  The touch of his skin against hers instantly set her ablaze. Holy bobcats! What sparks! What power! Chemistry might not be love, but it should not be underestimated. They had something.

  Kindling. The makings of a big beautiful bonfire.

  “Whoa there. Hey.” Cash chuckled and shifted so that she fell off his back and into his arms.

  “Are you all right?” She peered up into those enigmatic gray eyes, hitched in a breath.

  “Are you all right?” His smile was as genuine as a top-grade diamond, full of sparkle and clarity. The dourness that had settled about his mouth when they’d talked about Christmas had vanished.

  Her gaze buttoned onto that mouth, those angular lips. She recalled what he tasted like, yearned for another nibble. In the shine of twinkle lights, his gray eyes were magic. Mesmerizing and calm.

  “Dandy as candy.” Okay, that sounded completely uncool. But who could be cool when the man you were crazy about was looking at you like were the icing on his cake?

  “That Fritzi,” Cash said. “Gotta watch out for him.”

  At the sound of his name, Fritzi jumped in between them, licking Cash’s chin and wagging his tail in Paige’s face.

  “Attention hog,” Cash accused, and rubbed the poodle’s belly.

  Paige squirmed out of Cash’s lap. “Let’s get the project finished. It’s almost midnight.”

  “The Brazos Queen should be coming by again.” He gently put Fritzi on the floor and hopped up. “Would you consider another dance?”

  “Let’s get this tree done and we’ll see.”

  They finished draping the garland and Paige found the tree topper angel.

  “Pink?” Cash said. “Really?”

  “It’s the only tree topper I have left. I used the other three on my trees.”

  “It’s an affront to my masculinity,” he teased.

  “Who’s going to see it besides you and me?” She handed him the angel.

  “Point taken.” He examined the angel. “Hey, look, she’s got cinnamon freckles, just like you.”

  “So now you like her?”

  “Changed my mind about the pink. Every time I look at her I’ll think about you in your pink underwear—”

  “Oh, you!” She swatted him and he tickled her and they both laughed and Fritzi jumped around the room like a mad thing and it was a deadly romantic moment.

  He looked into her eyes and the laughter died, replaced by smoldering hot embers of desire just as the Brazos Queen sailed by the houseboat blasting “Sleigh Ride” by The Ronettes.

  “May I have this dance?” He held out his hand.

  “Not exactly a waltz.”

  “How about a ring-around-the-rosy dance?”

  Laughing again, she slapped her hands into his. “Take it away, Colton.”

  They danced like gleeful first graders, holding hands and dancing in a circle. Fritzi wasn’t to be left out. He spun around chasing his tail so fast he ended up staggering sideways like a drunk. Cash and Paige wriggled and jiggled and shook their booties as the Brazos Queen serenaded them for the second Friday night in a row. She could get used to this routine.

  Except this wasn’t routine. This was special. This was Christmas. Soon the holiday would be over and Cash would be gone.

  And she’d be stuck with this big old lump of love she didn’t know what to do with.

  The song ended and they split apart, breathless and perspiring. She yawned, exaggerated it.

  “You ready for bed?” Cash asked.

  Grinning, she said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “One of these days we’re going to do this somewhere romantic,” Cash said once they were naked and in his bed.

  “What’s more romantic than a houseboat?” She snuggled against his chest.

  “A five-star hotel in Paris.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.” Paige thrilled to the farfetched idea that she could find herself in Paris living it up at a five-star hotel, the stuff of dreams, the kind of dreams that had fooled her about Randy. Cash wasn’t Randy. She knew that. But Paige couldn’t help wondering if she was simply being a fool of a different color.

  “I’m just so damn happy to be here. I missed the hell out of you,” he said, and kissed her, and her doubts melted to liquid.

  Things started out slowly, a leisurely reintroduction to each other’s bodies, but then quickly sped up. They couldn’t get enough of each other.

  “I don’t have to work tomorrow morning,” she whispered. “We can stay awake until dawn.”

  “Challenge accepted.” He branded hot kisses down her bare belly, launching them into their carnal adventure of homecoming and renewal. He was back and things were deeper, richer, between them than ever before.

  It was a whole new way of saying hello. Paige savored each kiss, every brush of his fingers, the sights and sounds and tastes of his body.

  How special their lovemaking was, how beautiful. It was a brilliant journey of discovery and novelty, a landscape of dips and curves, hills and valleys. Soft sighs and guttural moans. Arched backs and writhing hips.

  They ebbed and flowed, in union, unison. Two bodies joined as one—mixing, melding, merging.

  Last time had been fun, but this time there was a lot more going on. There were nuances and shifts in perceptions. Shadows and lights. Secrets told. Vulnerabilities revealed.

  As his body moved inside hers he whispered in her ear. About his fears, of losing his talent, of failing to live up to his potential, of what he might be if he was no longer a musician.

  Touched that he could open up at such an intimate time, she confessed to her own doubts and insecurities. How gullible she’d been to trust Randy. How she doubted her own ability to make wise choices, her fear of making similar mistakes. The pride that kept her from accepting help from people, afraid that it would make her even more vulnerable.

  With each confession, each secret unfolded, they delved deeper and deeper into each other. Falling into a warm cocoon of acceptance.

  They made love for hours, coming and going, rising and drifting.

  He took her to places that stole her breath and warmed her heart. He carried her to the pinnacle and together they flew, free as eagles. He smashed her previous notions of the world and what was possible.

  Leaving her splintered, and intensely baffled, but at the exact moment brimming with an ecstatic glimpse of heaven on earth. It was as if she’d shed an old skin and emerged shiny and new.

  The past dissolved. All troubles washed away. The future shone with promise. But the now, oh this sweet now, was the crest of some great miracle.

  It was as if all the challenges of her old way of being had been nothing but a vehicle, bringing her here, to this point in time, to this man who embodied goodness and light.

  And when their release came, they soared together, clinging to each other and crying out, twin phoenixes rising from the ashes of their old selves.

  A blossoming. A blooming. A budding.

  Flowering. She was a flower opening to gentle spring rains.

  She thought of the students she’d once taught to dance. How their faces lit up when she put on music and showed them how to twirl and dance in time to the music. How they threw their entire beings into the process. Whirling and spinning with heart and energy, new and awkward and not caring in the least.

  Paige felt like that now, still in touch with her inner child, not yet trampled by life and other people’s expectations. Not skinned and scarred and scared to try, but daring and trusting and free. Utterly free.

  She wept because he had not been her first lover, because she
’d wasted her virginity on a con man.

  He brushed the tear from her cheek with his thumb, concern etched into his forehead. “What is it, Paige? Have I hurt you? What’s wrong?”

  “It was . . . you were . . . we were . . .” She hiccupped.

  “What?” He stroked her back.

  “There are no words.”

  “And that’s good?” He looked uncertain. Surprising since he was such a great lover.

  “That’s very good.” She laughed through the tears leaking from her eyes.

  “Happy tears?”

  “Happy tears.”

  He gathered her close and kissed her with passionate tenderness, an avalanche of kisses. Short and long. Hot and cool. Peppered and languid. Eyelids and nose. Ears and chin. Forehead and jaw and the hollow space at her neck.

  There in his arms, she knew without a doubt that she was in love with this man. She felt it in every part of her.

  Love so solid and sure. Far beyond those four simple letters. L-O-V-E.

  Her love was dense as summer foliage, wild and willful. Poetry. A book of verse. A romantic ode. A mile of sun-drenched, white sand beach. Ocean waves quiet and timeless. A mountain majestic and unmovable.

  It was all that and so very much more.

  He was her beloved.

  But was she his? Did he feel it too? Was she alone in this feeling? Did she dare tell him how she felt? Should she be the first to say it? Was it smarter to stay silent, keep hidden this light wave of love pulsing through every cell, oozing from every pore?

  He had trouble with relationships. He’d admitted as much. His career was his mistress, his soul mate, his true love.

  How could she compete with that?

  She couldn’t. Nor could she control how he felt. All she knew was that she loved him and it didn’t matter if he loved her back with the same intensity. Her love was unconditional. Unconditional love was not a loan that needed repayment. It was a gift. A blessing. And she gave it freely.

  She accepted him for who he was. She couldn’t change him. She loved him anyway. She expected nothing from him. She was just overjoyed that he was in the world.

  That didn’t mean that she would give her power over to him. That she would surrender control of her life. Randy had taught her those valuable lessons.