Between Christmas and Romance

by Shanna Hatfield

  Slightly disoriented by his rugged and undeniable masculinity, I took a moment to study his strong chin, wide mouth with lips any one of my friends would have labeled as sexy, and straight nose. Eyes the color of warm chocolate observed me with curiosity. Much to my dismay, my mouth began to water. I can’t help it if I adore chocolate.

  “Miss,” he said, touching a finger to the brim of his hat. It was like watching a scene from one of my favorite John Wayne movies. “Could I please speak to the manager?”

  What could this cowboy possibly need that required a conversation with the manager?

  I shoved aside the desire to reach out and run my hand over his jaw. Instead, I yanked on my business owner persona. “I’m Carol Bennett, owner and manager of Rudolph’s Reads.” The hand I held out toward him remained unclaimed. His gaze raked over me from the messy bun on top of my head, across my unflattering glasses, over my long burgundy cardigan, loose cream dress, and black fur-flecked tights right down to my ballerina-style shoes that I’d picked up in Italy two years ago.

  “Carol Burnett? Like the red-headed comedian?” He smiled, flashing white teeth, although the front two were slightly crooked. It was nice to know he was human with something flawed because up to that moment, he’d seemed too perfect to be real. “You know any song and dance routines?”

  His hand engulfed mine as he shook it. The rough calluses on his palm created the strangest tingling sensation on my skin. It was almost like a static electricity shock, but far more electric and strangely exciting.

  Distracted by my reaction to his touch, it took me a moment to realize he’d misheard my name. Although I was a Carol Burnett fan, I certainly didn’t appreciate being teased by this man. Song and dance routine, indeed.

  Insult and indignation warred within me as I tried not to glower at the dolt who’d worn spurs into my store. Good heavens! Would they scratch the hardwood floor? I certainly hoped not. A sudden urge to make him stand on the mat just inside the door nearly overcame me, but I tamped it down.

  “Bennett, not Burnett. My name is Carol Bennett.” I spoke loudly, slowly, and clearly, as though trying to communicate with a nearly deaf human who conversed in an entirely different language.

  “Got it,” he said, rocking back on one hip. The position drew my attention to his solid legs, thighs thick and straining against the denim of his jeans.

  With a mental shake, I realized I was starting to think like a heroine in one of the western romance novels I liked to read. And that would never do, at least not where this man was concerned. I didn’t know what it was about him that irked me so, but something did. There was something about this man that just made me want to shove him out the door.

  And it couldn’t all be blamed on the Carol Burnett comment.

  “Don’t I know you?” He studied my face again. The intense perusal made me want to fidget or, at the very least, turn away and busy myself shelving books. In the back of the store. Far away from the good-looking cowboy.

  Eyes locked on mine, he leaned toward me. “You sure look familiar.”

  Flashing red warning lights began blasting in my head. Time to deflect and distract.

  I laughed, one of those insincere, fake laughs that always cue people that you’re either wildly uncomfortable, nearly hysterical, or hiding something. In my case, it would have been all three.

  With a shrug, I headed toward the island in the middle of the store. “I don’t recall seeing you around town before. Did you recently move to Christmas Mountain or are you visiting someone in the area?”

  “I live about fifteen miles out of town on a ranch with my grandmother. Been there since my grandpa passed away,” he said, keeping step beside me. “Nana is quite a fan of Rudolph’s Reads and sent me in to pick up some books she ordered. Truth be told, I’d rather be just about anywhere else.” To emphasize his point, he glanced around like he might catch some horrible, highly contagious disease from the air in my store.

  The red lights ceased flashing and I wracked my brain, trying to think who this man’s grandmother might be. Certainly not one of my regular customers. Was there a cranky, wasp-tongued woman who’d recently ordered books that I couldn’t remember? Maybe one of my employees waited on her while I was making a deposit at the bank or running errands.

  “Her name?” I asked as I made my way behind the counter, ready to tap in a search on my computer.

  “Nancy Wright.”

  Apparently, my jaw dropped open in shock because the man suddenly smirked and touched the bottom of my chin with the tip of his index finger, gently pushing upward. That simple touch sent an electric jolt through me that caused my mouth to snap shut with such force, my teeth rattled.

  “You’re lucky it’s past fly season or you’d have a mouth full.” His smirk grew even more annoying and cocky as he braced an elbow on the counter. “I reckon it’s hard to believe my sweet nana could be related to me.”

  Feigning innocence, I reached beneath the counter and brought up the stack of books Nancy had ordered two weeks ago. Not only was she a great customer, but she was a wonderful woman who always brought a little sunshine to my life when she stopped by the store.

  The last time she came in, she mentioned she planned to have hip replacement surgery and would be out of commission for a while. That’s why she wanted the books. However, I had no idea the surgery would happen before the holidays.

  “Did Nancy have surgery already? Is she doing well?” I asked, scanning the barcodes on the books and ringing up the total on the cash register.

  “Nana is doing fine. I brought her home from the hospital yesterday. I hadn’t even finished breakfast this morning before she started hounding me about coming into town to get her books. It’s a good thing I needed to run by the feed store anyway, so it isn’t a wasted trip. It’s a shame to come into town for no reason.”

  The fact his sweet grandmother wanted her books to read while she recuperated should have been plenty of reason for him to make a trip into Christmas Mountain. Did this man have any idea how utterly stupid and barbaric he sounded? A sudden vision of him roping some unfortunate woman and dragging her off like a primitive cavedweller made me work to subdue my smile as he paid for the books.

  I accepted the cash the cowboy handed to me and made change. Hardly anyone paid with cash these days. Regardless, I had the distinct idea Nancy’s grandson was anything but typical.

  Nancy had mentioned him on occasion, but I couldn’t recall his name. Jim? Tom? Maybe I should have paid more attention when she spoke about him. If I had my facts straight, he’d served in the Army, done a tour or two overseas where he saw combat, and came to Christmas Mountain to help run the ranch when Nancy’s beloved husband, Bill, passed away. From the scant information she’d shared, I had no idea he was close to my age. I’d envisioned him as nearing middle age, balding, maybe with a beer belly.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  With all the well-meaning friends and customers who’d tried to set me up on dates in the past year, I’m surprised Nancy hadn’t nudged me in that direction with her grandson. Had she told me he was incredibly handsome with enough swagger to make women swoon I wouldn’t have accepted it as true. Some things had to be witnessed in person to believe.

  I handed the bag of books to the man. When I did, our fingers brushed and it felt as though a charged jolt raced up my arm. It completely threatened to short circuit not only my stranger-danger vibe, but all my functioning brain cells.

  It was just my luck to find myself attracted to someone I didn’t particularly like. Honestly, I held no interest in pursuing a relationship with anyone right now, but especially not a cocky, too-handsome-for-his-own-good cowboy who kept staring at me in a way that made me feel vulnerable and exposed.

  Which is why I wondered what alien had overtaken my body when I delayed his departure.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” I blurted as he headed toward the door, spurs jangling in an admittedly pleasant way. I noted they weren’t touching
the floor and fears of damaged hardwood receded.

  With quick steps, I hurried around the counter, uncertain why I didn’t just let him leave and hope to goodness I’d never see him again.

  He stopped and turned back to me. “Burke. Tim Burke.”

  An unexpected vision of the big man toppling into the snow, like a falling tree, struck me as ridiculously funny. Unable to stop myself, I snorted with laughter.

  “Mind sharing the joke?” he asked in a frigid tone that would have turned water into ice in less than two seconds.

  “Actually, I do,” I said, struggling to curtail my humor at his expense.

  Tim sighed in disgust. “Tim Burke… timber. You made the connection and found yourself quite amusing.”

  He strode over until he stood so close, I could see flecks of gold floating in the brown of his eyes and a mole by his right ear. Heat rolled off him and threatened to consume me. Slowly, I backed away from him until I bumped into the counter.

  A disgruntled sigh rolled out of him as he frowned. “You aren’t the first one to think of that and you won’t be the last.”

  “I could say the same thing to you. Do you think you’re the only one to make the Carol Burnett joke?” I shot back, standing as straight as I could stretch my spine. How tall was this guy, anyway? He stood a good five or six inches above me, and that rarely happened. The fact he was built like a lumberjack renewed my mirth about his name. Lest I break into another round of laughter, I bit my lip and glanced away.

  I heard what could have been a derisive grunt as his spurs jingled, drawing my gaze back to him. He scowled at me and waggled a finger toward my head.

  “No one would mistake you for Carol Burnett, even a younger version of her. You’d need a sense of humor and red hair.” At the mention of hair, he stared at my face in a most disconcerting manner.

  Since my back was pressed against the counter, I had no place to escape him when he took a step closer. As I breathed in his masculine, decadent scent, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  Fear of another human in my personal space overrode interest and I gave him a mighty shove that should have sent him stumbling backward. It didn’t cause him to waver even a centimeter. Finally, he stepped back with a frustrated expression on his face. Then he trailed two steps behind me as I rushed over to the romance section and began straightening books that were already perfectly aligned on the shelves.

  I could feel his presence directly beside me as I moved from romance to fuss with the items I’d already placed in the Christmas display.

  “You are one prickly, jumpy, frosty woman. Do you assume all men are going to assault you or is it just me you so clearly don’t like or trust? If I had to make a guess, I’d say you went out into the big, wide world and found you weren’t the prettiest, smartest, most talented or adored female out there so you ran off with your tail between your legs. Nana said you grew up here. Guess Christmas Mountain makes a good place to hide from your failures.”

  Livid that he was partially right in his unwarranted assessment, I felt fury boil from my toes upward until my body vibrated with anger. My index finger poked into the canvas of the coat covering that granite-hard chest.

  “Let me tell you something, Mr. Burke. You don’t know me, don’t know anything about me, where I’ve been, or what I’ve been through. I’ll thank you to keep your comments to yourself. Besides, you are the most outspoken, opinionated, obnoxious man I’ve had the misfortune of meeting in a long while, and that is truly saying something.”

  With each poke of my finger, he backed another step toward the door.

  “Is that so?” he questioned when he stood on the mat in front of the door. The way he looked at me made me feel like he could see all the way down to my soul. It was unnerving.

  His hand reached for the doorknob as he shot me a knowing glance. “You hide here at the bookstore because you’re afraid of life, Miss Bennett. You hide behind your books, and your counter, with your messy hair, and clothes that would fit a woman four sizes bigger than you, not to mention those ridiculous glasses. I bet they aren’t even prescription glasses.” He shook his head, appearing disappointed. “Anyone with eyes in their head can see you’re beautiful, no matter how hard you work to conceal it. You better be careful or you’ll turn into one of those crazy old women whose only friends are the characters in the books she reads and the fourteen cats living in her apartment.”

  “I don’t have fourteen cats!” I shouted, which drew Hemi from wherever he’d been hiding. For good measure, the feline meowed then rubbed against Tim’s leg, purring enthusiastically. Normally, Hemi ignored most people, felt threatened by strangers, and preferred to stay in the storage room. Yet, here he was making friends with a man I’d quickly come to consider an enemy.

  “Traitor,” I whispered to the cat.

  Before I could pick him up, Tim scooped him into one big hand, gave the cat a few scratches that earned Hemi’s undying loyalty, and handed him to me.

  “Thanks for Nana’s books, Miss Burnett.” Tim emphasized the use of the wrong last name. I knew because of the devilish smile he wore when he opened the door.

  “You’re welcome, Timber.” I followed him outside, still holding the cat. “Don’t fall off any stumps out there. Watch out for swinging axes!” I knew I sounded deranged as I stood on the sidewalk, yelling after him as he walked down the street. “And tell your grandmother I hope she’s healing well.”

  He lifted a hand in the air, although I wasn’t sure if it was to dismiss me or acknowledge he’d heard my comments.

  “Argh!” Infuriated, exasperated, and more invigorated than I’d ever felt in my life, I returned inside and slammed the door. If I lived to be ninety, I hoped I never saw handsome, hunky Tim Burke again.

  Yet, despite all the snarky, barbed comments we’d tossed at each other during our brief conversation, the idea he thought I was beautiful played over and over in my head.

  Chapter Two

  “Just one more string of lights,” I said to Aiden, Josie, and the friends they’d brought along to help turn my bookstore into a winter wonderland. Or maybe it was Christmas central.

  At any rate, I was certain Santa would approve.

  After my encounter with Tim Burke that morning, I’d been so energized, I could hardly stand still. In between helping customers, I ditched my original decorating ideas and came up with a new plan. One that would add an undeniable “Wow!” factor to my store.

  By the time the kids arrived that afternoon, I’d already scoured the storage room and basement for any decorations and props we could use. A shot of excitement burst through me when I discovered two half-circle display shelves that graduated from wide at the bottom to narrow at the top. If I shoved them back-to-back, I was sure they could be used as a Christmas tree. Aiden and one of his friends carried them up from the basement while I sent Josie to the hardware store for paint. When they finished giving the shelves a new coat of paint, they sported a rich evergreen hue.

  As we waited for the paint to dry, we created a window display with books and an animated elf that climbed up a ladder. Josie came up with the idea to prop the ladder against a tall stack of books then we added fake snow and lights to the window along with a miniature tree and tiny wrapped packages.

  While the teens strung lights and draped garlands, I dug dusty silk poinsettias out of plastic storage tubs and cleaned them, setting them into pots wrapped with green foil and adorned with red and green plaid bows.

  All of the students stayed past closing time to help finish the displays, so I ordered pizza and had it delivered. They laughed and teased while they ate, reminding me of fun times I’d spent with my friends during our high school years.

  Once the last piece of pizza had been consumed, we turned our attention to the display shelves we set up at the back of the Christmas section. The kids ran around the store, gathering every holiday-themed book they could find then we set them on the shelves. Josie and the girls added small gift items tucked am
ong the books while the boys figured out how to attach a large crystal star to the top of the display. We draped white lights along the shelves then stepped back to survey our handiwork.

  “It’s beautiful,” Josie said, a look of awe on her face.

  “It looks really good,” Aiden said, grinning at me. “What else can we do?”

  I laughed and motioned toward the door. “Go home. You all have done far more than I dreamed we’d accomplish this evening. It’s late and I’m sure your folks will be wondering where you are.”

  The kids gathered their coats and backpacks. Before they could leave, I paid Aiden’s and Josie’s friends for their time.

  “You don’t have to pay us, Miss Bennett,” one of the boys said, trying to hand back the envelope I’d given him.

  “Yeah. It was cool to get to help.” Another boy held out his envelope. “Besides, you fed us pizza.”

  I shook my head. “You earned every penny of that. Truly, I appreciate the help. Now, get out of here.”

  Aiden pulled open the door and held it as the teens hurried out into the cold. “It was fun, Carol. See you tomorrow.”

  “I can’t thank you and Josie enough for bringing reinforcements. I’ll include a little gratitude in your next paycheck.”

  Aiden’s grin widened and Josie gave me a hug before they raced after their friends.

  I locked the door and made sure the open sign was turned to closed then surveyed the store. To get the full effect of the decorations, I turned off the lights and admired the Christmas lights twinkling among the books and along the ceiling.

  A squeal of excitement might have escaped before I could hold it back. Who am I kidding? I was so giddy, I probably looked like a hyped-on-sugar six-year-old as I danced around the store, singing “Holly, Jolly Christmas” at the top of my lungs.

  Hemi wandered out from his bed in the storage room to see what all the racket was about, took one look at me, and made his way upstairs, ready to go to the apartment. With one more glance at my store, and exuberant over how festive it appeared, I unplugged the lights and went upstairs.