“And spend Monday with me? Maybe you can show me all around this little town I’ll be living in soon.”
“Mm, Monday.” She tucked her cheek against his chest, and he thought sure she’d hear the galloping of his heart. He pulled back, hoping she’d tip her head back so he could kiss her.
She did, and the moment between them lengthened. Tad leaned down and pressed his lips to Sandy’s. She seemed to sigh against him, seemed to melt into his touch. Encouraged, Tad held on tighter and deepened the kiss.
Sandy woke on Christmas morning, her eyes snapping open as she remembered the way Tad’s lips molded to hers, the gentle way he held her close like she should be cherished, experienced.
She giggled and grinned, the giddy feeling in her gut intensifying as she relived the best kiss of her life. Sighing, she slipped out of bed and into the shower. When she exited her bedroom, fully ready for church, the sky had barely started to lighten.
Her heart dropped. It was only seven o’clock. What was she going to do for the next four hours? Tad surely wouldn’t be up and awake this early, and she’d gone to bed before Hank had come in. Her brother had never been one for church anyway, and he’d probably spend Christmas day with his fiancé.
Sandy set the coffee maker to brew and took her dark roast out to the balcony. She didn’t sip the coffee, just let the scent of it wrap around her, curled her fingers around the hot stoneware to keep them warm.
She watched the sunrise paint the landscape before her in beautiful shades of blue and gold. The shadows shortened, finally allowing the sun to take ownership of the day, and Sandy inhaled the possibilities of this day down into her soul.
“I knew I smelled coffee.” Tad poked his head out of the now-open French door. “Can I make myself a cup and join you?”
“Yeah,” she squeaked. “Yes. Sure.”
He grinned, which coated her insides with honey, and ducked back into the condo. He returned a minute later, stirring his brew.
“Can you grab the blanket from the couch?” she asked. “It’s chilly out here.”
“We can sit inside if you want.”
Inside, where it was actually warm. Inside, where Hank could overhear their conversation and maybe see Tad kiss her good morning.
“I’m fine out here. Just need that blanket.”
“Sure.” Tad set his mug on the tiny table and went to retrieve the blanket. He extended it toward her, and she pulled it. But he didn’t let go. She didn’t either. She tugged him closer, closer still, until his eyes drifted closed and he kissed her.
“Mm,” he said. “You taste like cream.”
“You taste like toothpaste.”
“Well, I didn’t want to share my morning breath.” He chuckled and sank into the chair on the other side of the table.
“So you were planning on kissing me, then?”
“Absolutely.” He offered her his hand, and she gladly slipped her icy fingers into his, a zip of energy racing along her skin.
She giggled. “Don’t let Hank hear you say that.”
“I already cleared things with Hank.”
Sandy almost choked on her drink. “You did what?”
“I told him I liked you.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, like any man would like her, want to date her.
And fine, yes. Sandy knew she was pretty, and plenty of men asked her out. It was maintaining that interest she couldn’t seem to accomplish. Sudden fear gripped her heart and squeezed. Had she kissed Tad too early? Shown her attraction to him too soon? She folded into herself and tucked the blanket around her tighter, trying not to lose herself to the worries. Tad was still here, after all.
They passed the hours with easy conversation, most of it revolving around Hank as a child and then Tad detailing his ideas for a boarding and breeding stable. When Sandy walked into church on Tad’s arm, no one so much as looked her way.
The gossips were used to Sandy showing up on the arm of a handsome man. Her friends encouraged her many and varied relationships. Usually.
Andy Larsen, the boutique owner, caught her eye and raised her eyebrows. A moment later, Sandy’s phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She knew who it was from and what Andy wanted to know.
Sandy loved Andy; they’d grown up together in Three Rivers and now each owned a small business in the heart of the town. She tapped out a reply. Tad Jorgensen. Hank’s friend from college. Former helicopter pilot.
She frowned at the last part of the text, then erased it. She managed to press send before the organ began playing and she stuffed her phone back into her pocket. Tad’s arm rested lightly across her back, the weight of it borne by the pew. His hand draped lazily down her shoulder, and she nestled a bit closer to him.
He smiled down at her before focusing back on the pulpit. The scent of him after a shower—all piney and minty and spicy—kept teasing Sandy’s nose and urging her to just get a tiny bit closer.
She managed to squash the wicked thought—she was in church, after all—and listen to what Pastor Scott had to say.
“Every decision is important,” he said. “But don’t spend so much time worryin’ about what to do that you don’t actually do anything.”
Sandy agreed. She’d had some experience there. The pancake house had been up for sale for six months—and survived two failed attempts to buy it—before she made the decision and came up with the cash.
“Some decisions allow future opportunities. And some will close some doors we don’t even know about yet. Know where you want to go, and make the decisions that will get you there.”
Sandy wondered if she was making the right choices. If she wanted to leave Three Rivers, she wasn’t. Tad’s arm suddenly weighed ten times more than it had a few seconds ago. If she followed the path with him, she’d never leave town.
You can travel, he’d said to her once.
And he was right.
She didn’t really want to leave Three Rivers. If she had, she wouldn’t have chosen to buy the pancake house. Or her condo.
Satisfied that she could live a happy life in Three Rivers, she stood and joined in singing the last hymn. Tad stayed in his seat, but she could feel his eyes trained on her. Glancing at him, she noticed he didn’t sing at all.
She bent down. “You don’t sing?”
“Nobody wants to hear me sing.”
Sandy reached for his hands and pulled him up. “I do.”
“No, Sandy, really.”
“Come on.” She gave him her best smile. “It’s Christmas.”
He returned it with a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He opened his mouth, but he didn’t sing. Instead, he mouthed the words, ignoring her when she protested. The song ended, and he sat back down, pulling her close as she settled into place beside him.
“I want to hear you sing,” she whispered.
“Maybe later.”
Later didn’t come during the rest of the service as the choir took over with songs about the Savior’s birth. When they returned to her condo, they found it empty. A note sat on the counter: Gone to mom’s. Be back late again.
“So Hank’s out,” she said, tossing the note in the trash. “I told you I don’t actually cook. Everywhere will be closed for Christmas. But I have some stuff we can probably make into something edible. You game?”
A mischievous twinkle entered his eye. “So it’s just me and you, all day, alone?” He came around the peninsula and crowded into the kitchen. “What a great Christmas gift.”
“Tad,” she warned.
“What?” He slid his hands around her waist and traced his lips along her neck. “I just want to kiss you again.”
Sandy had a hard time keeping herself upright, what with the fireworks popping in her bloodstream. “One kiss. Then we figure out the food situation. I’m starving.”
“One kiss,” he murmured moments before he touched his mouth to hers.
Time could’ve dripped away. Or fallen like a raging river down a mountainside. Sandy had no idea i
f he’d kissed her once or a hundred times by the time he pulled away. All she knew was that she was falling hard, and fast, and though she should be screaming and searching for a handhold, she really wanted to take another leap.
Monday morning found her at the pancake house ten minutes before it opened. The coffee was hot. The grills steaming. The wait staff and hostess standing by. Sandy sat at her favored table with Gail. They’d exchanged hellos and spoken of the restaurant for a few minutes. Nothing had been said about Tad, though Sandy’s mind circled him constantly.
“So I’ll be out the rest of the week,” Sandy finally said. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
“Absolutely sure,” Gail said, the same way she had the previous three times. She stood and collected the coffee cups from the table. “Go have fun with your new man.”
“He’s not my new man,” Sandy said, the idea sending cold fear through her veins. “He’s just an old friend. We’re getting to know each other again.”
“I’ll bet.” Gail smiled and took the mugs into the kitchen. Sighing, but satisfied with her decision—and what doors it could open for her—Sandy headed home. She expected Tad might be awake, but the light in his bedroom remained off.
She entered the condo thinking she might slip back to bed for a couple of hours. But Hank sat on the couch facing the front door. Arms crossed, eyebrows drawn, he watched her enter and close the door.
“You’re up early,” she said, kicking off her shoes and shrugging out of her jacket.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
She curled herself into the couch. “All right. What’s up?”
“Tell me about Tad.”
Sandy groaned and got up. She headed into the kitchen to make more coffee. This conversation definitely required copious amounts of liquid caffeine. “I thought you were going to ask me if I liked Willow or something.”
“This is more important.”
“It is?” She practically slammed the lid to her coffee maker, and she winced. The machine cost too much to treat so poorly. “She’s going to be my sister-in-law. The only other woman. I’ll have to go on, like, girls’ trips with her and stuff.”
Hank grunted. “So do you like her?”
“Besides, you already know Tad. You guys get along great. There’s no issue there.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything.” She added milk to her coffee and blew on it to cool it down.
“Are you guys dating?”
“I don’t know. We…hang out. Talk. It’s nice.”
“You hang out and talk.” He sounded like she’d just told him she and Tad had started a knitting club together.
“Yes, Hank, we hang out and talk. I don’t appreciate your tone.”
“My tone?” He stood and faced her. “Look, I know what ‘hang out and talk’ means to a man. There’s more to it than that.”
“Is there?” Sandy sipped her coffee. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not a man.”
Hank growled. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure I don’t.” Sandy glared at her brother. Why was he being so overprotective? He’d never cared who she dated before. Never.
She’d also never tried to date one of his friends.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m an adult,” Sandy reminded him. “And I know what I’m doing.” In fact, she was making conscious decisions about her life. “But I would like to know what ‘hang out and talk’ means to a man….”
A smile cracked Hank’s stony exterior. “He told me he liked you.”
“He told me the same thing.” The heat in Sandy’s face could’ve come from the coffee. But she knew it didn’t. It came because she liked Tad too. Maybe more than she should. Maybe more than was smart.
“You like him too?”
“Yes.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“Oh, okay. He did.” Hank ran his hands through his hair.
“I don’t know why you’re freaking out about this.” Concern spiked in Sandy. What about Tad had Hank worried? Should Sandy be worried too?
“He lives in Las Vegas,” Hank said. “You own a pancake house in Three Rivers.”
Confusion needled Sandy. “He’s moving here, Hank. He quit his job in Vegas.”
“He what?”
Sandy backpedaled, trying to think of what to say next. Tad obviously hadn’t been as forthcoming with Hank regarding his life plans and decisions. She didn’t want to be the one to tell his private matters.
“You’ll have to ask him about it.” Sandy sidestepped her brother. “I’m going back to bed for a while.”
“Me too.” Hank stomped in the other direction, slamming the door behind him. Sandy shook her head as she returned, much quieter, to her bedroom. Tad had said he’d spoken to Hank about her, about them.
So what was Hank’s problem?
Or did the problem belong to Sandy? She retreated to the mirror, searching, searching, searching for that fatal flaw that would end things with Tad, the way it had ended every other relationship.
She couldn’t find it. Frustrated, she fell back into bed, a prayer on her lips that she could find the flaw and rip it out of herself. Just this once, she begged. Please, Lord, just this once, let me be enough for someone.
Tad didn’t see Sandy or Hank when he emerged from the office where he slept. He’d planned to borrow Hank’s truck and spend the morning at the ranch, walking through Brynn’s facilities and drawing up plans to add on a boarding stable. He’d scheduled to meet with the owner of Three Rivers Ranch, as well as the founder of Courage Reins, an equine therapy program housed at the ranch.
Tad thought he might be able to use existing buildings for his breeding program, and he wanted advice from everyone willing to give it.
He helped himself to Sandy’s coffee supply, marveling at her one-cup-at-a-time machine and thinking he needed to invest in such a thing. He doctored his drink up with cream and sugar and turned. A box on the kitchen table caught his attention, especially because his name adorned the envelope leaning against it.
Tad set down his mug and reached for the box. He suspected it was a cowboy hat, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. After opening the card, he found Sandy’s handwriting.
A cowboy needs a hat. ~Sandy
He took out the dark brown hat, holding it gently by the crown. This was no cheap knockoff. This was pure fur felt, and Tad settled it on his head. The hat felt like it belonged there, and he wondered how he’d managed to walk around Texas for the past few days without it in place.
He’d noticed the cowboys here never took their hats off, not even for church. And now he knew why. He strode into the living room, where Sandy had a mirror hung on the wall. Tad admired the craftsmanship of the hat, the way it made him seem more mysterious, less open to scrutiny.
His pulse sped as he turned toward Sandy’s bedroom door. He wanted to thank her. He glanced at his hands like the perfect gift would appear and he could present her with it. He couldn’t even think of what she’d like.
Guilt tore through him with the power of a freight train. Here he was, kissing his best friend’s sister, and he didn’t even know what she’d like for a gift.
He couldn’t swallow. Air seemed like the wrong thing to breathe. Disbelief at his behavior made him doubt how he’d felt about Sandy. How he felt about moving to Three Rivers. How he felt about everything he’d done since arriving four days ago.
Leaving his coffee to cool on the table, he scrambled back to the office to grab his wallet and Hank’s keys, and then he got out of Sandy’s condo before he had to face her.
He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t want to see her. Shouldn’t he want to express his gratitude?
“That’s why,” he muttered to himself as he hurried toward Hank’s truck. He did want to express his gratitude—with a kiss. Lots of kisses. The truck roared to life, drowning out his guilty t
houghts.
The clear blue sky calmed him, pushed out some of the guilt at what he’d done, what he still wanted to do.
So he liked Sandy, and she just happened to be Hank’s sister. Was that so wrong?
He’d even talked to Hank about a relationship with Sandy. Tad didn’t know how to feel. Confused? Frustrated? Guilty?
Making a quick decision, he pulled to the side of the road and swiped on his phone. Are you awake? he sent to Sandy.
When she didn’t answer, he made another choice. He swung around and headed back to her condo. He marched up the stairs and back into the living room right as his phone sounded.
Sandy’s name popped up. Yeah, coming out.
Her bedroom door opened a moment later, and Sandy stood there, wearing a pink and white plaid sundress with a white sweater covering her shoulders. Her smile made his heart patter harder, and he threw every plaguing worry out the window.
“Thanks for the hat.”
“It looks nice on you.” She took a step closer, moving close enough to reach out and touch the brim. “Very handsome.”
“You didn’t need to buy me a hat.”
She fell back as if he’d struck her and ducked her head. “You don’t like it?”
“I like it fine.”
“I thought I heard someone leave already.”
“Yeah, that was me. Now I’m going to be late getting out the ranch.”
She fixed him with a cold glare that lasted for one, two breaths before she looked away. “Well, I won’t keep you.”
Tad didn’t know what to say. The words inside his brain wouldn’t order themselves to come out his mouth the right way.
“You can go,” she said. “And you don’t have to wear the hat if you don’t want to.” Sandy stepped toward her bedroom.
“Why wouldn’t—?” he started, but the door closed before he could finish. He didn’t understand what had just happened. He’d come back to tell her thanks, show her he cared about her and not just about kissing her. What had he said wrong?
Familiar insecurity bloomed inside him. He couldn’t handle a machine, make it do what he wanted. What made him think he could tame a woman? Especially one as beautiful and successful as Sandy.
Christmas in Three Rivers: Three Rivers Ranch Romance Novella Collection Page 10