Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
O f course, Hallie blabbed to the rest of the family about Noelle dating Casey. Noelle wasn’t mad. They would have found out eventually. Especially when the townsfolk were all abuzz with the gossip.
Everyone took the news differently.
Like Hallie, the rest of her sisters were worried about her dating a man with commitment issues. Daddy grumbled about the possibility of having another Remington in the family. Mimi was delighted. Not only because he was a “charming rascal” as she put it, but also because he was a “helluva rancher.” And Mama had yet to say anything.
As for the townsfolk, some people thought it was a joke, something Noelle had hatched up to get back at Casey for all his teasing. And most of those people were single women who didn’t want to believe Casey Remington was off the market. But the rest of the townsfolk seemed thrilled that two of their favorites had ended up together. She’d overheard them calling it a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.
Not that she and Casey would ever be lovers . . . but the thought had crossed her mind.
If anyone had ever told her she’d be having sexual thoughts about Casey Remington, she would have laughed them off the face of the earth. But that was exactly what was happening. Every time she turned around, her mind was taking a trip down Casey Kissing Lane.
Probably because no man had ever kissed her like Casey. No man had ever made her feel like she didn’t have control over her own body. From the first moment their lips touched, he’d controlled her like a puppeteer, every deep pull of his mouth and brush of his tongue tugging sexual strings she hadn’t even known existed.
She knew it had to do with experience. Casey had probably kissed hundreds of women in his lifetime and the more you did something, the better you got at it. Noelle’s first few piecrusts had been tough and inedible. After baking hundreds, they now melted in your mouth.
Mouth melting was a good description of Casey’s kisses. Mouth melting and mind altering and body enflaming. She didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be just as good at sex. A true sex expert—a sexpert —who could teach an inexperienced woman everything she needed to know to never embarrass herself in the bedroom again.
It was a crazy thought.
She was not going to let Casey teach her anything.
And yet, he already had taught her one thing: a man can be the bane of your existence for most of your life, but all it took was the press of hungry lips for those feelings to change. Everything that used to annoy the heck out of her now turned her on. From the way his blond hair fell over his forehead as soon as he took off his hat to the way his Wranglers fit his butt.
And his hands . . . Casey had the best hands. They were tanned and strong, feeding into muscled forearms that made her stomach feel like a jiggly poached egg. When he’d brushed his calloused thumb over her lips, all she could think about was him using those hands to caress—
“The gingerbread men!” Mama hurried into the kitchen, pulling Noelle out of her sex daydreams. While Mama rushed to the oven and opened it, Noelle grabbed a mitt and pulled out the cookie sheet of charred, smoking gingerbread men.
“I’m so sorry, Mama,” she said.
Mama fanned smoke from her face. “Well, there’s no use crying over a few burnt men.” She glanced around at the counters that were covered with gingerbread cookies and the pieces of the gingerbread house Noelle planned to make. “It looks like we have plenty. A few less won’t make a difference.”
Now that Sheryl Ann was back, Noelle had been helping her mama get a head start on the Christmas baking. They always made plates or tins of baked goods that they took to holiday parties or delivered to folks on Christmas Eve. Since Mama had one arm in a cast, she needed all the help she could get to make sure those plates were filled with yummy holiday treats.
It looked like Noelle wasn’t being very helpful.
“But I’m a pastry chef. I should’ve known better than to daydream while I’m baking.” Noelle pulled out the trash can from beneath the sink and dumped the cookies before setting the hot tray on top of the stove. When she turned, her mama was watching her intently with eyes the same green as all the Holiday sisters.
“So I guess you really like Casey.”
Like was never a word that had applied to Casey and she still wasn’t sure it did. But what she did feel was a little too R-rated to explain to her mama.
“I know it’s weird,” she said. “Especially with how much we disliked each other, but he’s kind of grown on me.” A concerned look entered her mama’s eyes and Noelle quickly added, “But you don’t need to be worried. I know you think I’m as fickle about love as the rest of the family. And I admit that I have been a little confused about what constitutes love. But I don’t love Casey. We’re just hanging out over the holidays. That’s all.”
It was easy to read the relief on her mama’s face. “For the record, I don’t think you’re fickle about love, Noelle Carol. I think you have a big heart that loves easily. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She hesitated. “But there’s a big difference in loving someone and being in love with someone. Sometimes you don’t know the difference until it’s too late and someone gets hurt.”
Noelle wished her mama had told her this a long time ago. Before she had hurt her fair share of men . . . and Kenny had hurt her.
“Which is why I’m gonna be a lot more careful, Mama,” she said. “No more jumping headfirst into love for me.”
Mama patted her cheek. “Nice to hear, baby girl. It makes me feel better about asking you to help out Cloe and Rome.”
“Of course I’ll help out. I was planning on heading over for a visit as soon as I finished with these cookies.”
Mama sighed. “I’m afraid they need more than a short visit. As you know, sweet Autumn Grace has her days and nights mixed up and no one in the house is getting much sleep. Mimi and I have cooked casseroles for them and gone over and done what we can.” She held up her cast in the sling. “Which isn’t much with this thing. I can’t even pick the little darlin’ up. And Cloe and Rome need more than just casseroles and the occasional helping hand. They need full-time help.”
Noelle stared at her mother. “Full-time? You want me to sleep over there?” An image of her and Casey tangled up in sheets popped into her head and she quickly pushed it back out as her mama spoke.
“Of course not. You don’t need to sleep there. Just go over every day and help your sister out as much as you can. She was in tears when I talked to her last night because she hasn’t had time to put up a tree or do holiday baking. She so wants to make her and Rome’s first Christmas special.”
Noelle could understand that. Holidays were important to her family. Darla had always gone all out for every holiday with decorations, food, and celebrating. It made sense Cloe would want the same for her new family.
“I would have asked your sisters,” Mama continued. “But Belle and Liberty are busy planning all their holiday events and Hallie has the ranch and Sweetie is much too pregnant—poor thing’s feet have swelled to the size of soccer balls. I just thought, since you were no longer feuding with Casey, you wouldn’t mind—”
Noelle cut her off. “I don’t mind, Mama.” She smiled brightly. “I’m going to give those Remingtons the best Holiday Christmas they’ve ever seen!”
An hour later, she was driving down the long drive that led to the Remingtons’ house. Casey hadn’t been kidding when he said Rome had decorated the outside. Every tree and fence post she passed was covered with strings of lights. Noelle couldn’t wait to see how it looked at night.
The Remington Ranch was much larger than the Holiday Ranch, but the two-story house wasn’t as country charming as the one Noelle had grown up in. Nor was the rustic wood barn that sat to the left of the house. The Holidays’ barn was painted a bright red and Noelle’s tummy always got a warm, cozy feeling whenever she returned home and saw the top of the roof peeking over the trees like a cheerful wave.
If Noelle ever had a barn, it would be red and every Christmas she would make her husband hang a big ol’ wreath with a huge red bow over the hayloft.
Speaking of wreaths, as she pulled up in front of the house, she noticed that the front door didn’t have one. And that just wouldn’t do. Especially for a Holiday. When she got home tonight, she would get out her mama’s glue gun, some pretty ribbon from Mimi’s sewing containers, some old ornaments from the attic, and make her sister the best wreath ever.
The thought had her smiling as she parked and grabbed the container of gingerbread cookies she’d brought the Remingtons. But her smile faded when she got out of her car and saw Sam coming out of the barn.
Noelle had never spoken more than a few words to the man, even after Cloe had married Rome. Like her daddy, Sam was the strong, silent type and she’d always been a little afraid of him. That fear intensified when he saw her and looked like he’d just bitten into a rotten pecan.
“I guess you’re here to see Casey.”
Noelle forced a smile. “Actually, I’m here to help out.”
His frown deepened. “With what?”
“With anything that needs to be done.”
“Thank you, but we don’t need any—” He sniffed the air. “What is that smell?”
Noelle held up the container. “Gingerbread cookies. Fresh from the oven. It’s my mama’s family recipe. And I don’t like to brag, but they’re the best gingerbread cookies this side of the Pecos.”
A wistful look passed over his face. “I know. I’ve tasted your mama’s gingerbread.”
She wasn’t surprised, seeing as how her mama made Christmas plates for everyone in town. “Then I’m glad I brought some to share.”
He hesitated for only a second before he nodded and turned for the porch. She followed behind him, noting his dusty clothes and exhausted gait. He wasn’t as tall as his sons, but Casey had inherited his wavy hair that curled up on the back of his neck. He held the door open for her and she stepped inside, hoping to see Casey’s, Cloe’s, or Rome’s welcoming smiles. But no one seemed to be around. So she waited for Sam to hang his hat on the rack by the door and followed him into the living room.
A living room that looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
Someone had started decorating the huge fresh tree by the fireplace and stopped right in the middle. Boxes of decorations and strings of lights were scattered all over the floor . . . along with lots of other clutter—a baby swing draped with dirty burp cloths, two piles of laundry, a breast pump, pacifiers, coffee mugs, half-empty bottles of water, plates with old food, and a stack of books on infant care.
It looked like Mama was right.
The Remingtons did need full-time help.
Noelle didn’t wait for Sam to decline it again. Without saying a word or asking for permission, she handed him the container of cookies and got to work collecting the dirty dishes and taking them to the kitchen. The kitchen was in the same shape as the living room. The baby bottles and nipples drying on a rack by the sink were about the only things clean.
Since Noelle had spent the last few years cleaning kitchens, it didn’t take her any time at all to get the dishes put in the dishwasher, the counters wiped off, the beautiful oak harvest table polished to a high shine, and the floor mopped. While the floor dried, she headed to the living room to straighten up. But Sam had already done it. The tree wasn’t decorated, but the boxes of decorations and lights had been neatly stacked next to it and the laundry was almost completely folded.
Noelle moved over to the couch to help, lifting a tiny little onesie from the remaining pile. “So where are Rome and Cloe? Did they take Autumn Grace into town?”
“I thought so, but then I found them upstairs sleeping. I guess Autumn kept them up again last night.” He smiled the first smile she’d ever seen from him. “That one is going to keep them on their toes. She reminds me of Casey. He hated sleep. Although he didn’t fuss like Autumn. He was the happiest baby I’ve ever seen. He just didn’t want to miss anything.” He shook his head. “He still doesn’t.”
She couldn’t argue. “He does enjoy life.”
His smile faded. “So what’s going on between you two? Casey is acting like it’s serious, but he’s never been serious about anything in his life. Which makes me suspicious.”
She swallowed hard. “Suspicious? What do you mean?”
“I find it curious he suddenly found a girlfriend the minute I started pressuring him to marry Melissa Matthews.”
Casey had mentioned his father’s matchmaking. He just hadn’t mentioned there had been a particular woman. She didn’t know why the news made her feel angry. It wasn’t like her and Casey’s relationship was real.
“Ellie?”
She turned to find Casey standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He’d removed his hat and his hair was sweaty and messy. In fact, all of him looked sweaty and messy. Which didn’t detract from his good looks one iota. The butterflies that filled her stomach felt real. Too real.
“She came to help,” Sam said.
Casey released his breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Thank God.” He walked right over and gave her a hug that made the butterflies even worse. He smelled like sweat, but also like fresh winter air and horses and leather. It was the most erotic scent she’d ever smelled in her life. When he released her, she wanted to dive back into his arms and bury her nose into his strong, corded neck and just inhale forever.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
All she could do was nod, then watch as he headed for the stairs and took them two at a time, his butt filling out the Wranglers to mouthwatering perfection. When he finally disappeared upstairs, she snapped out of her daze and glanced over to see Sam watching her with an intent gaze.
Rather than explain her ogling of his son, she quickly made her excuses. “I think I’ll get dinner started.”
Since the entire freezer was filled with the casseroles Mama and Mimi had brought over, it didn’t take much work to make supper. The only things she contributed were a chopped green salad with a red wine vinaigrette and some biscuits. She was just putting the biscuits into the oven when Casey walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t his slicked-back wet hair that made her knees feel like she’d run a marathon. Or his freshly shaved face. Nor was it the way the blue Henley shirt hugged his biceps and made his eyes pop.
It was the tiny little baby tucked against his chest.
“Look who’s up?” He kissed the dark peach fuzz-covered head. “It’s Autumn Polly Doodlebug.”
Noelle tried to ignore the way the sweet image melted the bones in her legs and moved toward them. “Aww, look at her.” She held out her hands. “Give her to her Auntie Elle.”
He drew back, his big hand cradling Autumn’s head. “Now don’t get demanding. There are rules and regulations that must be followed first. Did you wash your hands?”
“Of course. I always wash my hands numerous times while I’m cooking.” She went to take the baby, but he turned away.
“Do you have any sharp zippers or buttons on your shirt?”
“Does it look like I have any zippers or buttons?”
His gaze lowered to her T-shirt. Or more like her breasts. A long moment passed before he spoke. “It doesn’t appear so.”
“Just hand her over, Case,” she snapped.
His gaze lifted and she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Fine. You may hold her. Just support her head.”
“I know how to hold a baby.” She did. She had held a lot of babies in her life—just none that she had to take from a sizzling-hot cowboy who smelled like soap and shampoo . . . and baby lotion. He placed the baby on her chest and his knuckles brushed against her breast.
She couldn’t remember how many times she’d walked across carpet in her stocking feet and gotten shocked when she touched a doorknob. The feeling that zapped her was similar . . . and completely different. There was that instant shock, but it was followed by a warm, glowing feeling that settled deep and low in her stomach.
As she stood there with a warm bundle of baby pressed to her thumping heart and staring into Casey’s Grecian-ocean eyes, she knew.
She knew she was going to do another frivolous thing.