Blue Sky Cowboy Christmas

by Joanne Kennedy

  He turned to see Riley scooping snow from the top of the cab and packing it into a ball. Scooping a cold handful of his own, he tossed it her way, making sure it flattened harmlessly against the front of her coat.

  “Hey!” she yelled. “No harassing the help!”

  “You probably didn’t even notice that with all the clothes you’ve got on.”

  “Oh, I felt it.” Strands of her hair had escaped her cap to swirl around her laughing face. Tugging them aside, she shouted over the wind, “I felt it in my soul, and I’m deeply, deeply hurt.” The next snowball hit his chest dead center.

  Narrowing his eyes, Griff grabbed more snow, a generous handful, and stalked her, rocking with the motion of the truck, smiling an evil, thoughtful smile.

  With a girlie squeak, she danced to the other side of the hay bales.

  This isn’t safe. What if she falls? Those big wheels wouldn’t stop turning.

  With a quick move, he grabbed her sleeve and pulled her to him, intending to tell her to be careful, but she made a quick move and slipped snow into his collar that slid down his back, chilling his spine.

  It was cold, but he didn’t mind. He’d worked up a sweat, and he was sure she had, too. So surely she wouldn’t mind cooling off as well.

  He pulled her against him, laughing as she struggled, and put a handful of snow down the back of her neck. She laughed, leaning into him. There were way too many layers in the way, but that somehow made it easier to smile into her eyes and push her back against the remaining hay bales until they stood face-to-face and body to body.

  She looked up at him, laughing, and what could he do but kiss her?

  He’d kept that impulsive kiss in the kitchen light, but this time, when his lips touched hers, the wind suddenly dropped into a barely there breeze. Snow tumbled gently from the sky in the sudden hush, and it felt like Christmas, right there on the back of the truck. No lights needed, no presents, no shining star. Just Riley.

  Her lips were warm in spite of the cold and as delicate as the rest of her. He savored them as gently as he could, shifting his position so she wouldn’t know how much he meant this, how much he wanted her. But she made a sort of mew, and suddenly her arms were around his neck and her lips opened, letting him into her warmth, and he knew she meant it, too.

  He had no idea where the truck was at this point. Curtains of falling snow created a private space just for the two of them, and as they rocked on through the mist, he wondered if she was as surprised as him at the way this felt, the way they fit.

  They might never have stopped if the truck hadn’t hit a gopher hole and nearly bucked them off. Laughing, Riley put a hand to her mouth where they’d kissed a little too hard. Her lips looked swollen and pink, but she was okay. They stood there staring at each other, grinning like idiots as they rocked with the motion of the truck, neither knowing what to say.

  Finally, she cocked her head, regarding him for a moment with sparkling eyes. Then she shrugged and got back to work.

  So much for that. He scratched his head, watching her bend over a bale and cut the strings, focusing on the work as if nothing had happened.

  As he joined her, he wondered if she’d mention the kiss later or just pretend it never happened. He wondered if he’d get to kiss her again. If there’d be consequences.

  He sure as hell hoped so.

  They finished off the hay and he took her arm again, just to get her attention over the din so he could explain what they’d do next, but she turned, surprised, and gave him a look that nearly knocked him off the truck. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, her lips parted, and her complexion, normally pale, was rosy with vitality. He wondered if she thought he wanted to kiss her again.

  If she did, she’d be right. But as her eyes met his, he remembered to worry about what she might see. She had some idea of the darkness he held inside, but he worried it might cast a shadow over the glow she carried with her, and that would be wrong. She was a creature of light, a fairy princess, while he was an ogre, returned from the wars with a black and tarry soul. Ogres had no business kissing princesses.

  And soldiers had no business framing life in terms of fairy tales. There he was, thinking like a preteen girl again.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m going to move the truck, make another line with the straw on the way back. You need to warm up?”

  She shook her head quickly, like he was crazy. “Oh no, it’s more fun here.”

  Jumping off the flatbed, he clambered up into the cab, shoving the dog aside as the truck rolled on. Removing the bungee cord, he steered into a tighter circle before tying down the steering wheel again.

  Exiting the cab, he headed for the bumper to find Riley already there, holding out her hand. He took it without wondering how a slight, slender woman was going to hoist his bulk up onto the truck, and a half second later, she’d tumbled off the flatbed and into his arms.

  * * *

  Riley heard Griff hit the snow with a soft whump, and a second later, she landed on top of him. She couldn’t help letting out a scream as he grunted with the impact.

  He was lucky she was wearing her puffy coat. She landed like a giant marshmallow and bounced.

  “You okay?” She tried to look concerned, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

  His grin was like a cautionary flag, warning her he was thinking dangerous thoughts about snowballs or kisses or—or her.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  She tried to rise, but he held her tight. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “What?” She gave him her best wide-eyed innocent look. “Jump off the truck and knock you down? Would I do something like that?”

  “I think you would.” He rolled them over so the length of his body was pressed against hers, and oh, it felt good. He looked good, too, but she couldn’t fully appreciate him since her muskrat hat had fallen over one eye. She wanted to tip it up, but she’d somehow lost the use of her arms. Fortunately, Griff did it for her, apparently so he could see her better. Why was he looking at her like that? He looked so serious.

  He was going to kiss her again, but kissing was fun, right? Not serious. Sure, she wanted to rub herself against him like a cat, and the butterflies in her nether regions were applauding the idea so hard she went warm all over, but they were just friends.

  With his hips pressed to hers, she could feel him growing hard. There was tension in his face, his forehead wrinkled as if he found her puzzling, and she wondered if he could see the shadows of the butterflies’ beating wings in her eyes.

  She was pretty puzzled herself. For example, why was she even thinking of kissing him again? But then again, why didn’t he go ahead and do it already?

  “All right,” she said. “I did do it on purpose.” She jutted her chin. “And I’m not sorry.”

  Chapter 17

  Riley watched Griff’s face transform with a slow smile, as if he knew she’d been picturing them rolling in the snow, kissing with all the hunger they’d built up on the truck. Her thoughts hadn’t gone any farther than kissing, because she couldn’t figure out what would happen next. It was cold, and there were cows. Hardly an ideal place for whatever it was those butterflies wanted.

  She should make it a joke. With that in mind, she scooped up another fistful of snow and dropped it down the back of his coat.

  “Hey!”

  He pressed down with his hips, pinning her to the ground. Twisting as if trying to escape, she hiked up her pelvis and felt the ridge that pressed hard against his zipper. All the butterflies fainted at once, and she closed her eyes, savoring the heat that flowed from his arousal, letting it spiral up to hijack her brain. It swirled like a warm fog, making her feel deliciously helpless.

  She closed her eyes and heard him gasp as he moved against her, his palms pressing into the snow. She was no longer in charge of her own body; the fog was in cont
rol, and it made her move against him in return as the heat rose more, more, even more.

  She opened her eyes and his gaze slammed into her, the meeting of their minds as intimate and heated as the joining of their bodies. There was something in his expression that was almost predatory, and it took her breath away. He moved again, longer, harder, and she let her bold, careless self take over, her body daring him to do it again, again, again.

  He did, and she almost lost herself completely, right there in the cold snow, in spite of all the layers of clothing between them.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he lifted his head as if struggling against his own version of that warm, swirling fog. Riley closed hers, too, clutching his sleeves in her fists and biting her lower lip.

  When they opened their eyes again, it was as if a spell had been broken. Griff was Griff, and Riley was Riley. She wondered how they’d return to their casual friendship now that they’d discovered this secret force between them. She worried there’d be no more kissing on the truck, no more teamwork. No more joking and teasing.

  Now you’ve ruined everything.

  She was just sitting up when Griff made a quick, feral move and shoved a handful of snow down her shirt. Down the front.

  She shrieked, then laughed, struggling with the zipper on her coat as he scooped up another snowball’s worth. “Aaaah!” she screamed.

  “Good enough.” Grinning, he tossed the snow aside. “I just wanted to hear you scream.”

  “Aaaah!” she cried again.

  He laughed. “Was that a free bonus scream?”

  “Aaaah!” She needed to say something, do something, but she could only shriek. Finally, she squeezed out some words. “Behind you!”

  “You think I’m stupid?” He began scooping up snow again. “I’m not going to fall for that. I’m going to…”

  A strange expression crossed his face, probably because he felt hot breath on his neck—or smelled it, because Riley did. It smelled like hay. Old hay. Half-digested hay.

  A large, shaggy head loomed over his shoulder.

  “Mrrrrroooooah,” it said, enveloping them both in its warm, fetid breath.

  Griff turned and laid one hand on the cow’s broad forehead, shoving it away. “Moo yourself. We’re busy here.” He looked down at Riley and gave her a grin that made her insides squirm. “Now, where were we?”

  Snuffling, the cow backed off, but a few of its friends had gathered to see what was going on. They stood a few feet away, shifting from one foot to another, staring at Riley and Griff as if waiting for the next act of a play.

  “I thought you guys were eating.” Griff rubbed the back of his neck. “How are we supposed to have a snowball fight with so many umpires?” Scooping up more snow, he tossed it toward the cows. It hit the lead cow in the middle of its forehead.

  The cow blinked.

  “Shouldn’t we get up?” Riley tried to keep her voice from shaking. She wasn’t afraid of the cows—not under normal circumstances. But with a whole herd of them staring at her while she lay prostrate in the snow, she felt a little vulnerable.

  “I suppose.” Griff stood and held out his hand. She let him pull her to her feet.

  “Thanks.” After brushing off the snow on her pants, she shaded her eyes with one hand and peered through the mist and falling snow to see the truck rumbling along. It was almost to the end of the hay row. A couple bales of straw had apparently bounced off the bed, and a small circle of cattle stood around plucking out a meal.

  “I’ll get those.” She patted her pocket, where she’d put her folding knife. “We don’t want them to eat the strings.”

  “You’re a fast learner.” Griff followed, which was kind of a relief. She was being spunky, independent Riley again, but interrupting the cows’ meal didn’t seem like a great idea. She’d just as soon have backup. She was cold, and she was nervous about the cows.

  But at least those danged butterflies had quit their nonsense.

  * * *

  Griff and Riley pitched the rest of the straw off the flatbed as it rumbled toward the barn. Once it was empty, Riley sat on the back of the truck with her legs dangling over the edge. Glancing up at Griff, she pulled at the hem of his coat, motioning for him to join her.

  And why not? The truck was headed in the right direction, back to the barn. Why not just ride a while, if that was what his cowgirl fairy princess wanted to do?

  She’d taken off her hat and was brushing the snow from the mangy fur. Her hair flew in the wind, and snowflakes gathered in the strands around her face to make a sort of snowy halo.

  Cowboy fairy princess angel.

  Griff took the hat and finished the job for her, but he didn’t give it back. Instead, he stroked her hair back from her face and held it so the wind wouldn’t whip it into a tangled mess. He’d had a notion to pile it up inside her hat, but then she looked up at him, suddenly shy, and he realized they were close, so close. Again.

  There’d be no regret this time. Sometimes a man had to listen to his gut, and his gut was telling him he and Riley would be good together. Not just this afternoon for a roll between the sheets, but together together. He still wondered if he’d be good for her, with the issues he’d brought home from the war. But she took pride in being an independent woman who did what she wanted, so shouldn’t he let her decide?

  Nesting his fingers in her hair, he tilted her head back and told her, as clearly as a kiss could, all the thoughts he’d had while they fed the cattle. His thoughts about her spunk and courage. His thoughts about how she made everything, even hard work, fun. His thoughts about how she was the prettiest girl in Wynott, bar none. She kissed him back, and when they finally pulled away, it was time for him to tell her.

  Tell her what?

  Before he could speak, he looked up to see the side of the barn looming up ahead. He had to leap from the truck so abruptly there was no time for words. Which was just as well, since he wasn’t good at words anyway.

  As the truck rumbled toward the side of the barn, he raced to the cab, leapt inside, and stopped it just in time. The sleeping Bruce looked up, annoyed, and Griff glanced at the rearview mirror to check on Riley, worried the sudden stop might have unseated her, but she was riding the truck like an oversized snowboard and looked just fine, which was quite an accomplishment in a puffy coat and astronaut boots.

  She shot him a grin and a thumbs-up, and he started to wonder if he’d read that kiss wrong. His hands were still shaking, while Riley seemed to have moved on to her next adventure. The girl knew how to live.

  Once he’d parked the truck, she jumped lightly to the ground and opened the passenger door to unload Bruce.

  “Lazy bum,” she said. “Sleeping on the job. I was almost attacked out there.” She thumped his ribs as he grinned up at her. “You would have let that big, shaggy guy molest me. You didn’t even bark.”

  Griff lifted his head from the straw he was sweeping off the flatbed. He needed a haircut, sure, but had she meant him to hear that description? Maybe he should apologize. He hadn’t meant to attack her. It had been a joint effort.

  Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she looked up at him, paused, and barked out that sudden, hoarse laugh of hers.

  “I’m talking about the cows.” She knelt and took the dog’s face between her hands. “Cows could be dangerous, okay? You can’t sleep through cow attacks.”

  She kissed the dog’s flat head and stood, brushing dog hair and straw off her jeans. She was probably waiting for Griff to say something, and he wanted to. He needed to say something that would make that kiss count, that would tell her he’d meant it, but he could only stare at her openmouthed like a shaggy old cow.

  She laughed again and looked away. “Come on,” she said. “We’re burning daylight.”

  “Uh, yeah.” Griff was so much better at kissing her than talking to her. “I need to go
check for strays. Dad didn’t give me a count, so I need to make sure no cattle are caught in drifts.” He waved toward the stalls. “I’ll take Jess’s horse. He’s a trouper in the snow.”

  She nodded and headed for the house with a careless wave, ever the practical, git-’er-done Riley.

  He should have invited her along. He could have let her ride Jess’s horse, and he could have taken one of his dad’s. They could have taken their time checking the drifts along the fences, and on horseback with a job to do, it would have been easier to talk.

  But it was even easier to run away.

  Chapter 18

  Riley unbuckled her tool belt and glanced at her watch. It was almost six o’clock.

  Dang. She hadn’t seen Griff since he rode out on Jess’s old horse, Buster. He’d claimed he had to hunt cows, but Riley remembered how he’d looked, standing on the flatbed staring at his father’s land. She’d expected him to take a while, but if he wasn’t back in the barn by now, she’d have to go look for him.

  She was reaching for her coat when Bruce let out a low woof. Glancing out the window, she saw a car pull into the drive.

  “Calm down, buddy,” she said as the car door opened. “It’s just…” She squinted. “It’s Fawn Swanson.”

  The butterflies folded their wings, their fluttery hopes dashed. Griff had mooned over Fawn for years. Even that night at the quarry, he’d been watching her, waiting for her to notice him. Riley was sure she’d been his second choice.

  She pasted on a smile as she opened the door. “Hey, Fawn. How are you?”

  “Good.” Fawn peered past her into the house. “Where’s Griff?”

  Riley shrugged. “I’m not sure. He went out riding earlier, and he’s not back yet.” Her smile turned genuine, thinking of Griff and the horses. “He’s really enjoying the horses.”

  “That’s very good news.” Fawn’s brow wrinkled, and her eyes took on a pious look. “I know he needs something to help him through this difficult time.”

  That was true. In a way, Riley had been thinking the same thing. So why was she so annoyed?