They hadn’t moved any farther than just outside the stable. Ace stood unquestioningly calm while Dani sat in his saddle and Peyton sat just behind, his arms around her waist holding the horse’s reins.
“I think so?”
He laughed again. “Is that a question or an answer?”
Dani really wasn’t sure. When she was on her bike, she was the one in control. When she was on a run, guess who was in control? Her again. And whether she was sitting behind the desk at the sheriff’s office, responding to a call, or writing up an out-of-towner for a speeding ticket, Deputy Daniela Garcia held the reins. Now she was at the mercy of a four-legged creature and a man who made her pulse race every time he touched her.
“Um. An answer, I guess,” she amended, looking straight ahead.
Peyton leaned forward, his chest against her back, and pressed his warm lips to her cold cheek.
“Here we go,” he whispered, his breath sending a shiver through her whole body.
Whether he noticed or not, she had no clue, because seconds later, Peyton made a clicking noise with his mouth, and Ace began to trot.
They weren’t going fast, but her stomach leaped into her throat anyway.
She held the reins with Peyton because she needed something to hold on to, even if he was the one guiding the horse.
At first she couldn’t speak. But after a couple of minutes, she didn’t want to.
She’d seen Meadow Valley’s rolling hills from the side of the road on her bike, and they were beautiful. She’d always thought so. But now they were riding through the hills, with land on either side of them as far as she could see, the main streets of their small town disappearing behind them. How had she lived here all her life and never done this?
Peyton must have noticed her shoulders relax because from behind her, he yelled, “Ya!” And Ace’s safe little trot turned into a gallop.
She sucked in a sharp breath as one of Peyton’s arms snaked around her torso, as if he knew she’d need more reassurance that she was, in fact, safe.
“Still okay?” he called out as they whipped through the wind.
She nodded and let go of the reins with her left hand so she could wrap her arm over his, the one like a safety belt across her stomach.
She tilted her head back and saw a flock of geese flying in a V-formation overhead. When she straightened, she spotted a copse of trees in the distance, seemingly at the top of a hill.
Maybe the wind added an extra bite to the chilled air, but the sun shone like it was the middle of July, and the view was nothing like she’d ever seen.
They were climbing the final hill now, the one that was fenced in by the trees, and Dani wondered if this was it, if this—Meadow Valley uncultivated and untouched and her right in the heart of it—was what he’d wanted to show her.
But then they made it to the top of the hill.
“Whoa, Ace,” Peyton said in a low voice, and their four-legged companion slowed to a stop so they were looking down on a small forest of evergreens. But the sun was hitting something on one of the trees that reflected back at her, almost blinding her.
“What the…?” she asked, shielding her eyes with her forearm.
“We need to get closer,” Peyton said. Then he hopped off Ace’s back like they were no higher off the ground than a kitchen chair.
He held his arms out for her, and she took them willingly, letting him lower her to the ground.
“Stay,” he told Ace in the same deep voice he’d used to slow the horse down.
“He won’t take off?” Dani asked, and Peyton shook his head.
“Sam and Ben Callahan have him trained real good. Took him out on my own earlier today to test the waters and make sure he’d respond to me as well as he did for them.”
Not only had this man promised her safety, but he’d made sure the words he’d spoken were true.
She wanted to kiss him, but he’d already threaded his gloved fingers through hers and was tugging her toward the perimeter of wild Christmas trees.
Christmas trees!
She saw it now, what had blinded her when she was on Ace’s back. She saw them. Sparkling, light-reflecting ornaments on several of the trees. There a mirrored glass snowflake sent the sun bouncing back to the hill. Here was an angel, twisting and turning in the breeze.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, her breath catching on the last syllable of the word. “But I don’t understand.”
She turned to face Peyton but found him staring straight ahead at the trees.
“When I was learning to ride as a kid, my mom and I ended up out here one day not too long after Thanksgiving. We could never fit too big of a tree in the house because of low ceilings, so when I saw these, I kind of lost my mind.” He laughed.
“How old were you?” she asked.
“Seven,” he said. “Maybe eight? I asked my mom if we could decorate one of these since they were so much bigger and better than anything we’d ever had. She got a permit from the Sheriff’s Department that said we could decorate the trees anytime after Thanksgiving as long as we cleaned them up by the third of January. The permit said something about keeping the trees and animals safe, not compromising the integrity of the branches. Stuff like that. Some other folks out this way and those who could get here by horseback started joining in, and it’s sort of been a thing ever since.”
“You started this,” she said, her throat tight. She wrapped her arms around his waist and stared up at him. “You started this beautiful tradition filled with Christmas spirit, and I called you a grinch. I am so sorry, Coop. For all that you lost.”
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, thankful that he kissed her back, that he didn’t retreat when things got hard like she had earlier in the week, the second she doubted his intentions with her were any less than true.
“I came here this morning with Ace to see if the tradition had continued after I left. After they left. I came to see if I could even stand to look at it without them.”
His eyes shone, and all she wanted to do was take his pain and make it hers instead. But she couldn’t. So she squeezed him tighter, closer.
“And it sucked,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “But somehow I knew it would be better—that I might see it differently—with you.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I love this town, Dani. And I have missed it. I didn’t leave because I hated small-town life. I left because I wanted to do something big. I wanted to make a difference, and I didn’t know how to do that here without it getting swallowed up by the rest of the world. And while I still don’t have all the answers, I know one thing for certain—that I would not have made it where we are standing right now without someone by my side. Without you.”
Dani’s cheeks burned, and her eyes stung from either the cold or the threat of tears. She tried to convince herself it was the former.
Her love of all things Christmas had been her refuge when her parents split and when she’d anonymously asked her crush to the winter dance. Well, it wasn’t completely anonymous. As a dreamy-eyed freshman, she’d remembered selling her mom’s famous peppermint meringue drops to a ridiculously gorgeous junior everyone called Coop. “These are amazing,” he’d said. “Did you make them?”
She’d lied and told him yes, vowing to learn how to make them herself should the occasion arise for her to impress him again. And then, in an attempt to fill the void left by her parents’ divorce, she’d gone out on a limb and sent a Christmas Graham filled with peppermint meringue drops to her longtime crush, only to watch him assume it was from someone else.
Dani’s deep dive into all things Christmas had been a crutch back then. Today it felt as if it was morphing into something new. Different. Better.
Maybe we can make a new memory. For both of us.
Peyton’s words echoed in her head, and she believed them.
“If I’d known, I would have brought an ornament,” she finally said.
He smiled and stuck a hand into the
pocket of his vest, retrieving a small ceramic Grinch figurine.
Dani threw her hand over her mouth and burst into laughter. “Where did you get that?” she asked. “The town’s cleared out of all decorations.”
He held the small creature between his thumb and forefinger and squinted into the sun as he stared at it.
“Found an old box of holiday stuff in the attic. Even though I deny it to this day, my parents swore up and down that Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas—the old version from the sixties—was my favorite holiday movie when I was a kid.”
“Mayor Grinch,” she said, incredulous.
He shrugged. “Guess you knew the real me after all.”
He kissed her, and it felt like something shifted between them. It felt like—she wasn’t scared anymore. Not of getting back into Ace’s saddle. Not of whether or not the Sheriff’s Department would “win” the lights parade. Not of opening her heart to someone who might leave.
“Want to hang it?” he asked, dangling the figurine by a silver ribbon.
She nodded, and together they made their way to a tree that looked like it could handle hanging with the Grinch for the next week. They put him next to an ornament of a stack of presents, fitting for the fictional character who liked to steal others’ gifts until he learned the true meaning of Christmas.
In the shade of the trees, the temperature dropped, and Dani shivered.
“I think we need to get you somewhere warm, Deputy,” Peyton said, wrapping his arms around her.
Even through the layers of jackets and clothes, she still felt the heat of him against her and wanted more of it. So much more of it.
“What did you have in mind, Mr. Mayor?”
He pursed his lips like he was deep in thought, then smiled softly.
“The fireplace works back at the house. And I do believe I still owe you a cup of tea after making you spill yours last night.”
“You had me at fireplace,” she said. “But I won’t kick a hot cup of tea out of bed.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks burned. “Not that I’d have tea in bed or that I’d kick it out because it would spill. I just—I wasn’t insinuating…” That I want to go to bed with you.
Except she sort of was. No, she absolutely was.
“Dani?” he said, laughing softly. Not at her. She could tell that much.
“Coop?”
He kissed her, his lips lighting her up from the inside. She knew without a doubt that if she were put on display for the parade, right here and now, she’d win. Hands down. The most spectacular demonstration of light.
Not that it was a competition.
Except it was.
Without another word, she led him back to Ace, who was waiting patiently, and let him help her into the saddle before he climbed up behind her—her big-city mayor, who, even after fifteen years, was still a small-town cowboy at heart.
Chapter Nine
Peyton filled the electric teakettle with water and plugged it in. Dani sat on the kitchen barstool while he got the fire going in the living room—the only part of the first floor he’d consider remotely finished even if the only furniture was his favorite recliner he’d brought back from Chicago and the floor rug he’d picked up at a discount home store in an outlet mall a couple of hours south.
He smiled to himself as the logs in the fireplace crackled and the golden flames licked their way up toward the chimney.
He’d come home to figure his life out. To restore the home his parents left to be closer to him. He’d come home to honor them. He’d come home to escape his own failure. He hadn’t come here looking for a reason to stay.
But now there was a deputy sheriff in his kitchen, one he hadn’t stopped thinking about since she wrenched his arm behind his back on a morning run went wrong. Dani Garcia found such joy in this time of year that it had started to rub off on him. If she hadn’t seen the urn—if he hadn’t told her about his parents, he never would have taken her to the evergreens. Hell, he wouldn’t have gone himself. But somehow he knew if she was there, he could get through it.
Baby steps, right? He wasn’t ready to let her all the way in. The restoration project had to be his alone. It was his home. His parents. His responsibility to put everything back the way it used to be as best he could. But he’d made it to the trees, and he hadn’t sulked once.
Peyton inhaled a steadying breath and let it go. He’d lost his parents and his job. He’d lost his way. And then he found Dani.
Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of his life actually going right.
The kettle whistled. He rose from where he was squatting in front of the fireplace and followed the sound back to the kitchen, to the woman who was unwrapping and dropping a bag of English breakfast tea into each of the mugs he’d set out on the island.
“I’ll get the milk and sugar,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
She wrinkled her nose. “Can’t we drink it as it was intended? Like we should all be drinking our coffee?”
He laughed. “Suit yourself. You can have yours however you want. I’m going to have it the right way.”
He moved past her to the refrigerator, and he heard her groan behind him.
“Fine. I’ll do it your way, cowboy. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
He grinned, even though his back was to her.
“Cowboy, huh?” he asked. It had been a long time since he’d thought of himself as anything other than a politician who was hopefully on the rise.
He grabbed the box of sugar packets and turned back to face her, a jug of milk in one hand and the sugar in the other.
“You don’t have to like it, Deputy,” he said with a wink. “But you will.”
He set the items down on the island, then pressed his lips against her neck.
She shivered, which only made him smile more.
“Yeehaw,” he whispered in her ear, and she shivered again. “Still cold?” he asked, straightening so his gaze met hers.
She shook her head. “At least not the kind of cold that requires tea to warm me up.”
Her coat was off, as was the fleece pullover she’d had on underneath. She stood there in her button-down flannel, jeans, and a pair of gray-and-white polka-dotted socks, and Peyton swore he’d never seen anyone sexier.
“Maybe you need a blanket?” he teased, and she shook her head again.
“No. That’s not it. I think I need to be closer to the fire,” she said, then spun on her heel, ignoring the two mugs of tea as she moved into the living room.
Peyton stood there, speechless, wondering if he’d misread the entire situation until he heard her yell, “You coming, cowboy? The fire can’t do the job all by itself.”
He found her kneeling on the rug in front of the fireplace, rubbing her hands together in the heat radiating from the flames.
When she turned to him her golden eyes were ablaze, and he knew three things. One: The tea would go cold. Two: He couldn’t care less if it did. And three: Deputy Daniela Garcia could ruin him if she wanted to, but he couldn’t imagine a better way to go.
He knelt beside her and leaned back so he was balancing on his heels.
“Well, hello there, Mr. Mayor,” she said with a grin. Then she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Had he mentioned how much he loved it when she did that?
“I’m not sure if there’s anything sexier than when you do that,” he said. “Except for maybe the whole motorcycle thing. And the running thing. And being a deputy sheriff thing.” He laughed. “I guess it’s really just a you thing, Deputy.”
She pressed her lips together, as if to keep herself from doing the thing again, but she was smiling too.
“Coop?” she said, resting her hands on his knees.
That—her calling him Coop—he loved even more.
“Dani,” he answered, covering her hands with his.
She raised one brow. “I’ve never been good at this—relationships. Letting people get close. I’m not sure if you can tell
, but I have some trust issues.”
His brows drew together. “I’m not your dad, Dani.”
“I know. I’m just—scared. If I admit how much I like you or how long…”
She stopped herself short, but Peyton wasn’t letting her off the hook.
“How long what?” he asked.
She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. “I wasn’t just some moony-eyed freshman who got one look at you and your megawatt politician grin and swooned. Teenaged Dani thought she’d fallen for you—for two whole years.”
Her cheeks were bright pink, and Peyton found it hard to take a full breath.
But then his eyes narrowed. “Are you teasing me, Deputy? Two years?” How could he have missed that?
She shook her head. “I admit I give you grief about a lot of things, but I don’t mess around when it comes to matters of the heart, especially my own. Ask Deputy Crawford. He still teases me about it. And if he finds out about this?” She groaned again. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”
Peyton couldn’t help but wonder, What if something had happened between them in high school? They might have been one of those couples everyone loved to hate—high school sweethearts who made it all the way. Or not. Peyton always had his sights set on something bigger than Meadow Valley. At least that was what he’d thought back then. He would have left, and she would have stayed. Meadow Valley was in Dani’s blood.
“Dani, if I’d have known then, if I wouldn’t have been such a clueless, self-absorbed kid—”
“Nope,” she said, interrupting him. “We’re not going there. Nopety, nope, nope. I’ve embarrassed myself enough. So can we please forget I said anything and focus on now? On us, right here, in front of this very romantic fire?”
She batted her lashes at him, and he laughed.
“Okay, Deputy. In the spirit of honesty, then,” he said, “I should probably come clean. I don’t think I have a crush on you anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her hands from beneath his, crossing her arms over her chest.
She wasn’t going to put up with his teasing, and he added that to the growing list of what he loved about her.
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