Between Christmas and Romance Read online

  When a server approached our table to take our orders, I was lost in memories of riding along with my dad, both of us enthusiastically singing to the radio.

  “Carol? Did you decide what you’d like?” Tim asked, bringing me back to the present.

  “Um, yes.” We placed our orders and once the server left, we fell into an easy conversation about happenings in town and how things were going at the ranch.

  Ten minutes later, the server set a huge stack of pancakes in front of Tim along with another plate loaded with eggs, hash browns, and sausages. My eyes bulged at the sight of all that food.

  “Hungry?” I asked, giving him a teasing grin as the waitress set a plate in front of me.

  “As a matter of fact, I am.” He smeared butter on his pancakes, smothered them with syrup, and sat back with a look of anticipation on his face as he cut a bite.

  “Well?” I asked as I drizzled syrup on my French toast. “How are the pancakes?”

  He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Not as good as Nana’s or Aunt Charli’s, but still pretty tasty.” When he winked at me, I almost dropped the syrup pitcher.

  While he ate what appeared to be enough food for three people, I savored my French toast, crispy bacon, and two scrambled eggs. I washed it all down with a cup of Earl Grey tea.

  “I’ve noticed your preference for tea over coffee. Do you not drink coffee at all?” he asked, taking a drink from a cup of straight black coffee that was strong enough I couldn’t even swallow it without stirring in three packets of sugar and four of cream.

  I couldn’t exactly admit I’d been spoiled by the most decadent coffee money could buy from all around the globe, so I shook my head.

  “It has to be an awesome cup of coffee before I enjoy it. Your aunt’s coffee on Thanksgiving was perfect.” I raised my cup of tea. “I like tea because it takes little effort to make, comes in a variety of flavors, and is so comforting when I have time to curl up with a good book.”

  He eyed me as he dragged the last bite of pancake through the remaining pool of syrup on his plate. “If I had to guess, I’d say you curl up with a good book almost every day.”

  I shrugged, rather than admit he was right. Again. Did the Army train him in psychoanalysis or something?

  “Will Nancy be able to attend the tree lighting?” I asked, desperate to shift the conversation away from me.

  “No. Nana is mad at me because I told her it was a terrible idea. With snow on the ground and ice lurking around, I’m worried about her getting hurt. Aunt Charli agrees with me, but Nana has been pitching a full-fledged fit about not missing it.”

  “Maybe someone could record it for her,” I suggested, deciding I could be the one to do it. Originally, I planned to avoid the tree lighting ceremony but Joy had talked me into attending. I’d be there with my friends, participating in the annual event. I was looking forward to spending time with Ashley, Morgan, Faith, Emma, and Joy.

  Tim gave me a look that said he could convince me to go with him, so I glanced away. The noise in the restaurant increased as more people arrived, hungry for gossip and breakfast.

  Miles Wilson, owner of the feed store and resident town grump (although everyone knows he’s a softy under that crusty exterior) approached our table with his wild white hair giving him the appearance of a mad scientist. He kind of reminded me of Christopher Lloyd’s character in the Back to the Future movies.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked Tim, not even bothering with the niceties like “good morning” or “nice to see you.”

  “I need a load of feed,” Tim said, smiling at the older man. “I’ll be at the store when you open.”

  “Give me time to get my breakfast and I might even unlock the doors a few minutes early.” Mr. Wilson tossed me a speculative glance. “Although I don’t reckon you’re in a big rush.” He turned and sauntered off to his usual spot at the counter.

  Out of a nervous habit, I pushed the glasses up on my nose. Tim reached over and removed them. “Why do you wear those hideous things?”

  “Because…” I said, snatching them out of his hand and settling them back into place. “They aren’t hideous. I’ll have you know, they’re expensive and the style was one of the most popular last year.”

  He pulled them off again and set them on the table. “They are hideous because they hide your beautiful eyes.”

  What did you say to a comment like that? I had no idea, so I mumbled “thank you.”

  “What are you hiding from, Christmas Carol?” Tim questioned. He lifted my right hand and held it between his. The snap of electricity his touch always created was still there as it zipped up my arm.

  My heart felt like the syrup we’d both enjoyed for breakfast when he called me Christmas Carol. Dad used to call me that sometimes and I’d missed it. The holidays were a horrible time to feel alone and I’d felt that way ever since my dad passed away. Sure, I had friends, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing or no one could ever fill the void left by my father’s death, but I was starting to realize I needed more in my life than the bookstore, the cat, and old western marathons.

  Regardless, I wasn’t yet ready to spill my guts to Tim. I might never be ready for that to happen and this morning in a busy restaurant was certainly not the time nor place.

  Our harried server slapped the check on the table. Before I could pick it up to see what my share of breakfast totaled, Tim snatched it up.

  “I’ll pay for my meal,” I said, digging around in my purse for my wallet.

  “No, Carol. I invited you, it’s my treat. Besides, in case you haven’t yet figured it out, I’m kinda old-fashioned. If I go anywhere with a female, I pay for her meals, open her doors, that sort of thing. Nana would flail the skin right off me if I didn’t act like a gentleman.”

  Rather than argue and make a scene (which would have been a nightmare come true), I gathered my things, stood, and started to slip on my coat. Tim took it from me and held it while I jammed my arms into the sleeves.

  “Coat holding on that old-fashioned list, too?” I asked as he yanked on his coat, settled his cowboy hat on his head, and waited for me to walk ahead of him to the register.

  “As a matter of fact, it is.” He paid the bill, waved at Miles, then we stepped outside. Fingers of light spread across the morning sky and I took a deep breath. Among the usual scents, I could smell Tim’s masculine fragrance.

  Annoyed even my olfactory system seemed to be attuned to him, I rubbed my finger beneath my nose and started back toward my store. “Thank you for breakfast. I appreciate it,” I said as we walked across the street.

  “My pleasure. Oh, and don’t let me forget, Aunt Charli sent you something. It’s in the pickup.”

  I perked up. If Charli sent it, I assumed it was food. Even though I’d just eaten what I considered a big breakfast, my mouth watered at the thought of the tasty treat she may have sent with Tim.

  Then I looked over at him and my mouth watered for an entirely different reason. The morning light backlit him as he strolled down the street. His rugged profile made my heart kick into a thumping gait.

  “So, what did you do in the Army?” I asked, in need of a serious distraction from my attraction to the cowboy.

  “I led an infantry troop. Boots on the ground.”

  I had no idea what that meant. At my open look of curiosity, he appeared to consider what to say, then finally sighed in resignation. “The infantry are troops on the ground that engage with the enemy in close-range combat. We operate weapons and equipment to engage and destroy or capture the enemy. The infantry is responsible for defending our country against any threat by land.”

  “Oh,” I said, feeling ignorant. I admire people who serve in the military. I appreciate them far more than I’ll probably ever be able to express. Yet, when it comes right down to it, I really have no idea what they do other than keep us safe and make sacrifices greater than the average person could comprehend.

  I placed a hand on T
im’s arm. “Thank you for your service. I’m sure what you did had to be physically and mentally demanding.”

  He just nodded his head and kept walking.

  I don’t know why I kept pestering him to tell me more about his time in the Army, but something inside me wouldn’t let it rest. “If you didn’t have the responsibility of the ranch, would you go back?”

  He remained quiet so long, I concluded I’d pushed a little too far, but he finally shook his head. “No. Going back isn’t an option, ranch or not.”

  A hundred additional questions fluttered inside my head, but I decided to interrogate him further another day.

  “Let me get the stuff from Aunt Charli,” he said as we arrived back at the store.

  While I unlocked the door and hit the switch on a power strip to turn on the Christmas lights (thank you, Aiden, for making that task simple), Tim retrieved a big basket from the pickup and carried it into the store.

  When he set it on the counter, a multitude of delicious scents wafted up from the red and white striped dishtowel tucked over the top. I pulled it back and got a peek of muffins, croissants, cookies, and even a resealable baggie full of fudge.

  Heaven. I was in heaven.

  Without a lick of restraint, I pulled out a piece of fudge and took a bite. Eyes closed, I savored the smooth, rich chocolate as it coated my tongue and left me in a state of holiday candy-induced euphoria.

  “So good,” I moaned, taking another bite.

  Tim chuckled and picked up Hemi as the cat wandered out from the back.

  “Do you think she’ll share, Hemi?” Tim asked, stroking the cat’s fur and earning purrs for his efforts. “What’s that?” he asked, holding the cat close to his ear. “According to Hemi, you will wallop anyone who gets between you and your chocolate. From the bruises I’ve gained since meeting you, I accept that as the truth.”

  I stopped indulging in the piece of fudge long enough to glance at Tim as he leaned back against the counter with my cat, looking like he belonged there. “Did I hurt you earlier?”

  The little I did know about rough, tough cowboys is they would never admit anyone inflicted pain, but especially not a girl.

  “Of course not,” he said, although his hand absently rubbed across his stomach.

  “I could be completely off base, but I bet you’ll have a bruise.”

  “I don’t make bets and it’s fine,” he said, continuing to pet Hemi. The cat’s purrs grew louder, if that was possible.

  Guilt over assaulting Tim, again, settled over me. As a peace offering, I held up the last bite of fudge. “This is an exception to the rule, because I don’t share my chocolate, but I’ll give you a bite.”

  “Nah. You eat it. Aunt Charli made so many treats, I need to start avoiding them or I’ll end up with a belly like Santa Claus before New Year’s.”

  That comment almost made me snort in disbelief. From what I’d seen, Tim was a long, long way from having to worry about a pot belly. How much fudge would it take to turn a virile young man with washboard abs into a jolly old elf? More than Charli had made, I’m sure.

  I popped the last bite in my mouth and wiped my hands on a tissue I pulled from a box I kept on the counter.

  Tim set Hemi down and moved in front of me so swiftly, his lips were pressed to mine before I knew what was happening.

  Not that I minded.

  My arms snaked around his neck and I returned his kiss. For the length of several racing heartbeats, he held me in his arms and kissed me more passionately than I’d ever been kissed in my life.

  When he pulled back, he wore that lopsided grin I was quickly coming to adore. He licked his lips as a devilish light twinkled in his amazing eyes. “Mmm. I think that was the best tasting chocolate I’ve ever had.”

  A blush warmed my cheeks and I started to step back, but the circle of his arms kept me from retreating.

  “Don’t run off, Carol. Not yet.”

  I turned my head and pressed my cheek against his chest. His heart pounded beneath my ear, matching the accelerated rhythm of mine. He smelled so good and felt so solid and safe, I wanted to stay there the rest of the day.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  Hemi jumped onto the counter and meowed, reminding me the entire world had not disappeared just because Tim Burke was holding me in his strong arms.

  “I better get on over to the feed store. Miles will give me a bad time as it is.” Tim picked up his hat that at some point in the last few minutes had landed on the floor. He dusted off the brim then settled it on his head, took my hand in his and kissed my fingers as we walked to the door.

  At least he walked to the door. The minute his lips touched the back of my hand, my legs had all the strength of soggy noodles. I had no idea how they carried me across the store.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Christmas Carol. Thanks for having breakfast with me.” He pecked my cheek and disappeared out the door.

  It took five minutes before I regained the ability to move and think simultaneously. What was I doing letting Tim Burke take me to breakfast and kiss me and completely turn my head?

  Nothing good could come of it.

  Chapter Seven

  Karen walked over to where I set out Victorian-replica snow globes next to a selection of leather-bound Charles Dickens books.

  “I had an idea,” she said, reaching for a box and carefully removing a snow globe with a pair of skaters nestled inside the sparkly liquid.

  I watched as she slowly turned the globe upside down, then right side up. Iridescent shards of glitter floated around the couple. “What’s your idea?”

  In what probably seemed like a lifetime ago to her, Karen had a job for a marketing company in Seattle. Then she met the man who’d become her husband and moved to Montana to be a stay-at-home mother to two adorable little terrors. Karen was incredibly good at coming up with promotional ideas and marketing plans. I’d learned to pay attention whenever she had an idea to share.

  “We need a Santa.”

  “A Santa or the Santa?” I teased. “I’ve heard the jolly old elf can be hard to pin down this time of year.”

  She set the snow globe on the shelf with the others. “We need someone to pretend to be Santa Claus. I think it would be a great idea if we did a story time with Santa event, preferably this Saturday. We could give each child that attends a candy cane and…”

  “Fabulous idea,” I said, beaming at her. This is why I put up with her two hooligans when her mother-in-law drops them off at the store on her way to knitting club. Those two boys are like a demolition team, bent on destroying everything in their path. Honestly, I don’t know how Karen handles them, even if they are as cute as can be.

  “If we can find a Santa today and set a time for Saturday, we could get the word out around town,” Karen hastened to explain. “I thought it would be something fun and would be a nice community thing for the store to do.”

  “I agree and I know someone who’d make a great Santa.” I took my phone from my pocket and hesitated before I called Aspen Grove Ranch. This was probably not a message to leave with Nancy to pass on to Tim. If I wanted him to be our Santa, I should probably ask him directly because Nancy wouldn’t give him the option of refusing.

  “You aren’t going to call Miles Wilson, are you? His scowls would frighten the kids half to death.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not going to call Miles. I’m not calling anyone, but I am sending a text to our potential Saint Nick.”

  Karen tossed me a knowing look as she set another snow globe on the shelf. “If the Santa in question is that hunky cowboy you’ve been keeping company with recently, by all means, ask him.”

  My eyebrows shot upward. “I have not been keeping company with anyone. He’s Nancy Wright’s grandson, as I believe you well know.”

  “I do know that. I also know your eyes sparkle with excitement when anyone mentions Aspen Grove Ranch or Nancy, and you positively glow when that cowboy swaggers in here
.”

  “There is no sparkling or glowing happening. None at all.”

  Karen laughed. “Whatever you say, girl, but I’m telling you, that man has tickled your fancy.”

  Tickled my fancy? Hah! Karen couldn’t be more off base. I hardly gave Tim Burke a passing thought, unless you counted thinking about his dreamy smile, those gorgeous eyes, or the deep sound of his voice dozens of times a day as having your fancy tickled.

  Before I could change my mind, I tapped out a message to Tim and sent it.

  I hate to impose, but would you possibly have time to help me with something Saturday morning for a few hours?

  I shoved my phone back in my pocket, expecting to wait hours for a reply from him, but my phone chimed a few minutes later.

  Whatever you need, Carol, I’m happy to help. When and where?

  Despite my first impression of him, Tim truly was a wonderful guy. He hadn’t even asked for particulars before he offered his assistance. To me, that was what a true friend did. Jumped in to help with no questions asked. I knew Tim was busy and wasn’t overly fond of coming to town, so it meant even more to me that he’d readily volunteer his time.

  Here at the store. If you could arrive around 9:30 that would be perfect. Do you need specifics?

  His last message made me smile.

  Nope. See you Saturday, Christmas Carol.

  It wasn’t just that he called me Christmas Carol, but that he’d included a Christmas tree and heart emoji. Lest I obsess over what he meant by sending the heart, I instead informed Karen we had a Santa.

  “Yes!” she said, giving me a high-five. “I bet if you wanted to make a small fortune for the toys and clothes funds for the kids, you could have him wear only a pair of snug jeans, his cowboy boots, and Santa hat. If you sold tickets for ten bucks each to let big girls sit on his lap and have their picture taken, you’d have more takers than you could handle.”

  It was a good thing I wasn’t taking a sip of tea then because I would have choked on it. “Karen!”

  She just laughed and hurried off to help a customer.