CHAPTER TEN
Sam watched as his daughter bounded back down the stairs in black slacks and a tailored red blouse. She’d only been gone twenty minutes, and with Emma back, coming in and out of the living room with more champagne and munchies, he’d no time to follow up on his plan. No opportunity opened up within which he could explain his behavior, nor express his feelings to Casey.
He’d already filled Natalie in. As father and daughter, and the years spent without his ex-wife on the scene, they were too close for him not to. Plus, with both women in the house for the holidays, he couldn’t have kept his feelings for Casey from his daughter. To his delight, Natalie was happy he might have at last found someone.
As the evening went on, Emma brought sandwiches and Christmas cookies to the living room, while Natalie unwrapped ornaments, sharing with some of the unveilings tidbits about their origins into the Wagner household.
At some point, Sam noted Casey’s demeanor had shifted from uptight to relaxed. He even got close enough to help her with an ornament. Their hands brushed, making his heart race. She felt the same, he was sure of it. He told himself to be patient about getting Casey alone.
But after two hours of decorating, laughing, and drinking champagne, Casey and Natalie headed up the stairs together with his daughter yammering about plans for the week leading up to Christmas.
Not quite the evening he’d hoped for with his houseguest, but at least Casey now agreed to stay through Christmas. It gave him time. Sam even thought to speak with her one more time tonight, but the women were sitting on a window seat, giggling like teenagers when he’d headed to his room to shower off pine sap and dust from ornament packaging.
He needed some shut-eye anyway. After all, he had a ranch to run.
***
Casey had been adamant she was leaving the next morning, and she’d been so sure Sam was going to kiss her the moment before Natalie flew into the living room. Because of those few minutes under his spell, she gave in to Natalie’s pleading that she stay.
Besides, where would she go?
Thankfully, her best friend had reached her earlier yesterday morning. The young man she shot was recovering, the paper had written an article about Casey being a solid cop. Exonerated, Casey could go home. But she didn’t want to, and now she’d had a little too much champagne and her eyes were heavy. Needing sleep, she said good night to Natalie, agreeing they’d meet at breakfast. However, the ache that began with the cowboy’s almost embrace hadn’t diminished. With a hand on the door to her room, she noticed his door ajar down the hall.
Okay then.
Debating go or stay, she knocked back the last of the liquid in her flute, realizing she’d lost count of how many glasses she’d imbibed. And why care? Alcohol-fueled courage pushed Casey to Sam’s room. She lifted a hand to knock just as the door swung open, and Sam, exiting with some obvious purpose, slammed into her.
He didn’t back away.
She could hardly breathe.
Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could feel it through her dress against his naked chest. She gulped at the fact he was shirtless, but almost burst out laughing at the flannel Santa pajama bottoms tied just below his belly button.
Casey loved him. Six days. Time didn’t matter; she couldn’t measure her emotions against the hours in a day. She was in love with Sam Wagner. Flashes of events tripped and raced around synapses, pulling up memories of each small moment. “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean to walk in on you unannounced.”
He tipped her chin up the way he had the first time they met. “I’m not sorry, ma’am.”
She tugged back a little, pretending she wanted to get away, but his gaze held her rapt, and she leaned into him, instead. A smile played at the edges of his mouth
Casey didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes until a calloused finger again pushed loose hair off her face. “You smell good, Casey.” He purred her name. “But I think I like it more when you smell like my barn.”
“Well, I have been mucking stalls for a week. Horse just gets under your skin, I guess.” She paused, waiting, hoping for an explanation of his behavior.
“I need to explain something, Ms. Pickett.”
“Like you said this morning, you had your reasons for shutting me out.”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“I was scared, shaking in my boots. I couldn’t rationalize the how of my feelings. I mean, it was zero to sixty in all of three days.” He kissed her forehead, and it felt like fireflies were lighting up her insides.
“Okay. So?”
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Nope.”
Sam ran first one index finger, and then the other along the slender spaghetti straps of her dress. “It’s not much of a dress. And it hugs every bit of you.” He continued to run his fingers up and down the straps, skin against skin. Casey was losing it. Nothing in her past prepared her for the explosion of sensations the simple motion was causing. “But then you know that, right?”
She studied his face, the shadow caused by the bedroom light on behind them making it hard to read his expression. “We’re being honest, right?”
“Well, that’s a good way to start a relationship. So they say anyway.”
She stopped breathing. He was so close, he’d used the “R” word. It took super strength just to nod her head up and down, and whisper. “Truth. Yes.”
He stepped back, and the distance, though less than a foot, caused her to shiver. “I don’t want to move too fast for you, sweetheart.”
She wanted to say WTF aloud and jump him, the endearment increasing the pace of her already racing heart. Inhaling deeply, she collected herself and asked, “So what’s the 2WR brand stand for, anyway?”
“That’s out of nowhere. But it’s two Wagners, me and Natalie, so….”
She interrupted him. “Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Damn, but she was nervous.
“It does, but don’t try to dodge what’s happening here.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, ranch man.”
“You’ve come a long way, greenhorn.”
“More than you know, sir. Being homeless and all, I’m thinking of buying a piece of property—there’s that large parcel that abuts your property line you talked about. You have your eye on it, I think.”
“Yep.” He stepped into her again, cupping Casey’s face with both hands. She couldn’t look away. “Fact is, I already bought it.”
“You shit.”
“God, woman, you are so romantic. Anybody ever tell you that?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t look away. “How could you afford it? Emma says you run the ranch on a shoestring budget.”
“I do.” He grinned. “I like to see if I can do it without dipping into my millions.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
“Okay. Don’t believe me, at least I told you.”
She tried to picture the cowboy-rancher-drop-dead-gorgeous man standing inches from her as filthy rich. Was it possible? It didn’t matter, so she refocused on Sam. “So, you bought my piece of land.”
“Indeed. And maybe I bought it so you and I could work something out.”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe that’s another reason why I was off the ranch so many times in the last few days.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Bull—”
“As opposed to a steer, heifer, or cow, right?”
“I’m going to enjoy sparring with you for the next forty or so years, Pickett.”
Casey blanched. “Years?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She punched him, not hard, just to let him know “ma’am” was still not allowed.
“Sure, as partners. As in maybe we could ranch the land together. My experience, your hay pitching skills.” He raised one eyebrow and she saw the smile creep back.
“Oh, that sounds too much like you want a hired hand, Mr. Wagner—not a partner.”
“Maybe, but if it doesn’t work out, the sheriff’s looking for a new deputy.” He pulled her against him again, and Casey could feel the rumble of his laugh vibrate against her body. Her pulse raced, and the need for him settled deeper within.
Six days?
Her feelings for the alternately aggravating then endearing cowboy couldn’t be this strong, and yet…
“I don’t want you as a ranch hand, Casey.” It was almost a growl, deep, guttural. “I want you as a woman. I want you in my life.” He paused, his eyes flashing with obvious desire. “In fact, I’m thinking maybe it should be the 3WR brand.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as he added, “I’m falling for you, Detective.”
The awkward shyness she’d often felt around men lifted. It had been an affliction that made no sense given her career. She had a black belt, awards for firearms skills, she’d fought for her life hand to hand on multiple occasions, and there was a three-inch scar on her right thigh from a bullet. Experience that should have given her confidence, yet hadn’t.
Casey reached up and slipped first one, then the other strap of her dress from her shoulders, never skirting her cowboy’s gaze. “Sam. I’m going to lose it if you don’t k—”
His mouth found hers, gentle at first, then exploring. When he stopped, pulling back a little, a sudden pang of emptiness threatened.
The grin returned. “I seem to remember you called me taciturn, and that—” He traced a finger from her neck down to the top of the bodice of her dress. Heat seared her skin. “That, I am definitely not, ma’am.”
“Stop with the ‘ma’am’ cra—”
This kiss was deeper, and instead of just desire, she felt emotion. He rested his forehead against hers, and she knew she didn’t care if her car was toast. Flashes of being exhausted at the end of a day, playing Scrabble in the evening, drinking lemonade, a front porch swing, and old trucks danced across her brain like a rock skipping on top of a pond.
“I’m just going to say it, Casey. I’m not even falling anymore, I’m in love with you.” He lifted her into his arms, walked into the bedroom, and kicked the door shut with his foot, heading toward the bed. “Crazy, right?”
“Not so crazy.” She had nothing left to say.
“Ms. Detective Casey Pickett. Can I show you just how I feel?”
“Please, Mr. Sam Cowboy Wagner. Please do.”
She touched where his heart would be, thumping his chest with her index finger. It felt like she’d just come home after being away. A home for Christmas. “And I…” Another kiss overwhelmed her, so she finished the sentence in her head, I love you, Sam Wagner.
And so she did.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE
THE VOW
ELLE WRIGHT