Chapter Three #2
“I’ve had your car towed to my mechanic.” He poured himself black coffee, allowing himself to taste the bitter cocoa and fruit undertones. “Carl—who towed your vehicle—said it wouldn’t start.”
“Oh no, I was afraid of that.” She scrunched her nose in dismay. “Because of the flash flood?”
“Most likely.” He was drawn to her, this bewitching and beautiful woman.
He dropped into the brocade chair on the other side of the fireplace.
“If Carl can make it here on his four-wheeler, he’ll bring your luggage.
Otherwise, you’ll have to make do with my sister’s clothes for a while longer.
” He’d offered them to her last night. “I’ll see if I can find some rain boots that fit you. ”
Esme’s delicate fingers moved like sultry smoke as she removed her thin phone from where it was tucked under her thigh. “I’ll put in a request for a rental car for when the rain lets up. Hopefully they’ll have something available.”
He stretched his legs out in front of him, powerful legs encased in denim. “You might as well save yourself the time.”
“Why?” She hesitated. “Is there a problem?”
“This time of year, with the holidays and all, rentals are all booked for weeks.” He flashed her his best bad-boy grin, even though he’d officially hung up his bad-boy ways. “I could lend you a vehicle.”
“That would be so helpful.” She placed her phone beside her on the armchair. “Thank you.”
He watched her through narrowed eyes, unable to resist. “I have an extra truck. It’s twenty-two years old, but runs great. Carl’s a super mechanic.”
She fidgeted with the end of her blond ponytail, rubbing the strands between her fingers, clearly caught off guard by his offer. “Oh, uh, yes, thank you.”
He narrowed his gaze, assessing the impossibly posh woman in front of him. “You’ve never driven one, have you?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Actually, I learned on an ancient stick-shift truck at Daddy’s ranch. A Ford so ancient I figured no one would notice if I added an extra dent or two.”
“Touché.” He lifted his mug, toasting in her direction.
She eyed him intuitively as the flames licked upward in the fireplace. “You were teasing me.”
“Perhaps.”
She raised a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Don’t tell your three potential brides that.”
A begrudging laugh barked free and before he could second guess himself, he said, “Maybe if the rain lets up this afternoon, we’ll get enough of a break to chop down a Christmas tree. That is, if you want to come along?”
“Sure,” she said, already launching to her feet. “As long as you don’t expect me to load it into the truck.”
She flashed him a sassy wink.
“You can just stand there and look pretty.” And the thing was, he meant it.
So much for keeping his distance. But something about this woman tempted him more than he wanted to admit.
Jesse’s flirtatious words still echoed in Esme’s ears two hours later. Steering the conversation toward her father and the club was tougher than she’d expected.
But she was determined to keep her cool. Slow and steady was her best option. And thanks to their current project sorting Christmas ornaments while waiting for a break in the rain to get a tree, she would have the time she needed.
Despite the rain, light beamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on two of the four walls of the great room. That, coupled with the cathedral ceilings, made the petal-white room feel impossibly airy.
Which was good considering all the boxes of Christmas ornaments that flanked the white love seat and leather couch. She’d moved the glass-and-wood table in order to create room for the bins Jesse had brought down from the attic, noting as he did so that these were only the tip of the iceberg.
To set the mood and to gain control, Esme queued up her favorite Christmas playlist from her phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth surround-sound system. A hazy, warbly ’50s-era carolers version of “Here We Come A-Wassailing” filled the room.
There.
The start of Christmas. And the real start of her mission.
They opened the first box of ornaments. Reaching into the box, she pulled out two silver bells, one with Jesse’s name engraved on it, the other with the name Janet etched on it. “Your sister, right?”
“Yes, we split the decorations between us. Somehow I must have missed giving her that one.” His brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side, inspecting the silver bells.
For a moment, she wondered if he’d pull out his phone and snap a picture to send to his sister.
But his hands made no move for the phone in his pocket.
“How long until you get to see her over Christmas?” A little prying, but curiosity filled her as she laid the ornaments down with care onto the sofa.
“Like I said, my family wasn’t tight-knit,” he said, not that it answered her question. “My parents didn’t get along. They’re gone now.” His face hardened, tight lines pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m sorry for your loss. My mother died ten years ago and I still miss her dreadfully.” She fidgeted with the thin bracelet her mother had given her so long ago.
Her mom—Tamara—had been a kind and loving mother. Esme knew her parents hadn’t married out of romance, and seeing their unhappiness only made her all the more determined not to settle for less than a fully committed heart.
The loss of her mom made Esme cling all the harder to the rest of her family.
She couldn’t imagine what she would do without them.
Her dad and her siblings meant the world to her.
Christmases were big, boisterous events for them.
Sometimes it had been a challenge to get Roarke to join in, but she and her sisters had worked to wear him down.
She had high hopes for him this year, now that he’d found happiness with his new love, Annabel.
“That’s got to be tough for you and your sister, having lost both parents.
I can see how maybe it would have brought you two closer to each other. ”
She pulled out an ornament tucked in protective paper. Glitter twinkled as she removed the wrapping to reveal a reindeer towing a sleigh.
“Janet’s great, and I do love her, of course. It about killed me to think I might lose her when her appendix burst. But she’s well now, thank God.” A sigh racked him and he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“That had to be so scary.” She stopped unpacking ornaments, searching his face, cradling the sleigh in her hand. “You’ll have a lot to celebrate together over Christmas, with her recovery.”
He ran his fingers through his blond hair, then rubbed along the back of his neck. “It’s unlikely we’ll see each other. We don’t have much in common. She’s a lot younger than I am, and, well, we just have our own lives now.”
Jesse looked away and pulled out a snow globe, full of glitter around a tree, a nutcracker and a ballerina. A wistful shadow played across his face.
His thumb stroking the smooth glass, he flipped over the trinket and wound it up. “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” played as a snowstorm enveloped the little scene.
Biting her lip, she couldn’t help but be moved by such a glimpse of nostalgia in this rough-and-tumble man. She stood, reaching a hand to touch his shoulder, then stopping short. “But perhaps the ornaments remind you of happy memories?”
“Yeah, they do.” He set the globe on the mantel. “And I look forward to making memories with my own kids one day.”
Well, that was sure a splash of cold water, reminding her of his plans. She pulled a smile and tugged at the hem of the pink sweater. “Your sister has nice taste in clothes.”
He angled his head. “Are you being sarcastic, Ms. Prada?”
“It’s not office wear, but it’s fun for ranch work, soft and cheerful.”
“That’s nice you can appreciate a less flashy style.”
“I’m not a snob.” She handed him a longhorn ornament.
“Really?” He took the decoration, their fingers brushing.
Her skin tingled even after he’d pulled away. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
The snow globe stopped playing just as the song drifting through the speakers subsided. For a moment, silence filled the great room.
Desire danced in the air, an electricity between them as he moved closer to her. “Would it soften the sting to your ego if I told you how hot you look no matter what you’re wearing?”
Music started on her phone again, orchestral carols stroking the air.
She closed her hand into a fist, trying to will away the lingering sensation of that simple touch. “And what about those three bridal prospects of yours, one of whom will give you babies to make Christmas memories with?”
He canted back, nodding tightly. “You’re right. It’s totally inappropriate of me. I mean it when I say I want to be a family man, and all that entails.”
“The epitome of a Texas Cattleman’s Club fella.”
“Yes, exactly that.” His gaze held hers, setting her skin on fire with just the stroke of his eyes on her face.
Even knowing it was unwise and there were so many reasons they were wrong for each other, she still felt herself sway toward him.
His hand lifted slowly, reaching out to tuck her ponytail back over her shoulder.
Then his fingers slid to cup the back of her head.
Goose bumps of awareness spread over her and she wanted this moment, this connection. Just one kiss.
With luck, it wouldn’t even be a very good kiss and she could refocus on her plans to repair her father’s reputation. So giving in to temptation was the right thing to do. Or at least that’s what she could tell herself as she angled forward the rest of the way for her lips to meet his.
And damn, it was very far from being a bad kiss.