She had the hiccups the whole time he stacked the snowballs together. While he was on the tractor he took it back to the barn.
When he returned she was standing back, hands on her hips, head cocked to one side.
“Please don’t tell me that we have to build a lamb or make a whole nativity. I’m really getting cold,” he said.
“Poor Mrs. Frosty. She looks naked.”
Creed threw his arm around her shoulders. “Shhh, you’ll offend her. She’ll go shopping as soon as she can, but right now she’s thinking about Christmas presents for the kids.”
Sage laughed and patted the snow wife. “Welcome to Mistletoe, Texas, Miz Frosty. Hope you enjoy your stay.”
* * *
Sage couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
Maybe it was because she’d been cooped up in the house for three days and cutting out paper dolls would have been a great distraction.
Maybe it was the text message she’d gotten that morning from the gallery owner. She’d said that the mistletoe pictures breathed life and joy and she should bring eight to ten to next year’s showing. They were going to bill them as the Sage Presley Mistletoe Collection and start advertising two months before the showing.
Maybe it was Creed who brought out the little girl in her and made her laugh so much. Or perhaps it was a combination of all of the above after being snowed in for so long.
Her nose was numb by the time the snow family had arms of twigs, buttons for eyes, and carrots for noses. She’d found old scarves and hats, plus a purse with a sequined Christmas tree on the outside for Mrs. Frosty. But still there was something missing, and Creed’s nose testified to the fact that he really was cold.
She pointed at him and smiled.
“What?” Creed asked.
“Your nose is red. Is your middle name Rudolph?”
“Well, darlin’, so is yours, and no, my middle name is not Rudolph. Can we go inside? I’ll even make the hot chocolate and we can get warm by the fire.”
“Not just yet. Something is still missing.” She clapped her hands when she thought of what they needed for their new little icy family decorating the yard. “I know! Mistletoe. Frosty needs mistletoe hanging from his fingers. His beautiful wife will want a kiss when she comes home from the church social Christmas party.”
“Well, this place seems to grow that stuff with no problem. Let’s go hunt some up. I’ll back the tractor out again and we’ll take a trip over the river and through the woods.” He grabbed her hand and jogged to the barn.
“And back to Grandma’s house!” She kept pace with him the whole way.
“And back to my house, not Grandma’s house,” he said.
“Not until Christmas,” she told him.
He didn’t argue, which made her wonder if he was having second thoughts after living through a Texas-sized snowstorm.
“I thought you were cold,” she changed the subject.
“I am, but you want mistletoe and you’ll have mistletoe. Besides, I saw a big chunk of it not far out into the pasture. We could walk there, but it’ll be faster on the tractor.”
He motioned toward the snowy white field lying before them. “It seems like sacrilege to mess up something that pretty.”
“Virgin snow is always beautiful, but you’ll probably turn the cattle back out of the feedlot before long and they’ll mess it up and look, there it is. In that scrub oak tree and not too high up. There it is.”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what I was talking about and I’ll use the tractor seat to reach that first limb. What do I get if I bring it all down and don’t lose a bit of it?”
“A kiss. That’s what mistletoe is all about, isn’t it?”
He drove the tractor close to the base of the tree, stood on the seat, and grabbed the lowest limb. He threw a leg over it and was soon climbing to the top like a monkey. The way he moved from limb to limb made her gasp. He unzipped his coveralls and reached for the perfect ball of mistletoe, tucked it inside, and zipped up. Coming back down the tree took longer than going up.
“You sure are taking your own good time,” she yelled up.
“Can’t lose a single leaf or I don’t get my prize,” he hollered back.
When he reached the bottom, he unzipped, carefully pulled it out, and handed it to her. “I believe that is perfect, madam. It just needs a red ribbon tied around the top.”
He sat down in the driver’s seat, drew her even closer, and brushed a sweet kiss across her lips.
“Paid in full,” he said.
Sage didn’t think it was paid in full at all. She didn’t want a kiss that left her aching for more. She wanted one that melted her insides and turned her legs to jelly.
* * *
The house smelled like a mixture of turpentine, burning logs, breakfast bacon, and wet dog when they went inside. Creed warmed a pot of beef stew, and Sage sliced thick slabs of bread from a loaf she’d pulled from the freezer that morning.
It was Thursday, which meant he’d only known Sage four days, but it felt as if they’d known each other since childhood. He could still taste her kisses on his lips and wondered if this was the way his friend Rye had felt when he tumbled ass over belt buckle in love.
Creed used the glass in the kitchen door to check his reflection. No, he wasn’t love drunk. He didn’t have that crazy look in his eyes that Rye had had all those years ago. It was simply being cooped up in the house with a beautiful woman that made things all haywire. Either that or she was working an angle to get him to leave.
If
