Creed raised his voice. “Do you know anything about the gas pump? Is there enough in the tank to keep the generator running? I haven’t had to put any in the tractor or my truck since I got here, but the gauge is broken so I don’t know how much is in reserve.”
“Gauge has been broken for years. The gas company checks the pumps on the tenth of the month. The weather kept them from getting here but now that the plows have cleared the roads they should be here any day. Do y’all keep diesel and gas pumps on your property in Ringgold?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Farmers and ranchers don’t like to stop working and drive twenty miles to get a tank full of fuel for a tractor or a pickup. And thank you for the quilt. It’s warming my toes right up. I don’t think any of them are going to fall off from frostbite.”
“Next time wear warm socks,” she said. “You were going to tell me a story about the mistletoe, remember?”
“In the early days when folks hung up the kissing plant or a kissing ball, each time a feller kissed a girl he had to pick off a berry. When the berries were all gone then the kissing was finished for that season,” he said.
“Us tall, gangly, cosmetically challenged girls had best claim a spot under it pretty early then because when the berries got scarce, the good-lookin’ cowboys would be more particular, right?”
“Sage Presley, there isn’t one thing awkward or gangly about you. Cosmetically challenged, my ass. You are the most beautiful woman this old cowboy ever clapped his eyes upon. And believe me, if you ever got stuck under the mistletoe, cowboys would be pushing each other out of the way. Hell, there might even be pistols drawn and bloodshed just trying to get to you.”
She shook out a second quilt and covered herself with it when she sat down. “And where would you be in all that pushin’ and shovin’?”
“I’m the one with one arm holdin’ you close, the other one pickin’ berries as fast as I can, and my lips on yours. When they’re all gone then the other cowboys can go home,” he teased.
Creed, with his hard muscles and his dreamy green eyes, had said she wasn’t cosmetically challenged but that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Had he not seen many women or was she really that special?
“Sounds like we’d best take advantage of the oven being hot and make a pan of biscuits to go with some sausage gravy for breakfast,” he said. “And then you mentioned us making more cookies today?”
The man was so frustrating that she could have thrown him out into the cold to freeze his toes the rest of the way off. One minute they were discussing things that made her heart thump; the next minute his mind was on food. The vibes that were making her jumpy as a virgin bride couldn’t have affected him at all or he wouldn’t be talking about cookies.
She stood up too fast, got tangled up in the quilt, and fell headlong toward the fireplace. Strong arms caught her and whipped her around away from the fire.
Creed’s deep voice said, “Whoa, darlin’. That ain’t no way to get warmed up.”
She hung on to him like he was a rock in the midst of a whirling tornado.
“That was scary,” she panted.
When he didn’t answer, she looked up. She barely had time to shut her eyes before his warm mouth wiped out any thought of food, cookies, or even Grand. Then he scooped her up and settled her back on the sofa.
She didn’t care if he was carrying her outside to roll her in the snow. As long as he kept kissing her, she’d be warm and safe. Forget that idea about a quilt to snuggle under. With the heat his kisses generated they damn sure didn’t need anything else to keep them warm.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all morning. You are so damn sexy,” he whispered between lingering kisses that grew hotter and hotter.
She unfastened three buttons on his soft red and black plaid flannel shirt and slipped her hands inside. He wasn’t wearing the usual thermal undershirt so her hands landed on hard muscles, hot skin, and taut nipples; oh yeah, he had felt the vibes, all right.
“Your hands are like silk,” he said.
“Touching your skin makes them hotter’n the devil’s pitchfork,” she mumbled.
His warm breath created scorching waves up and down her whole body when he said, “Oh, honey, you don’t even know what hot is.”
Her pulse quickened and her heart raced with pure old sexual desire.
He unzipped her coveralls, reached inside, and unfastened her bra. She shifted when his hand moved from her back to the front to give him easier access to her breast. His sudden intake of breath said that he liked the way it filled his hand as much as she did.
His lips strung a trail of slow, steamy kisses down her long, slender neck and ended at the breast. She shouldn’t be doing this. It would only lead to the point of no return, and then she’d feel even guiltier after sex with Creed.
“You taste like heaven,” he said.
“How many times have you tasted heaven?” she gasped.
“Darlin’, a man only gets one taste of heaven in a lifetime.”
She didn’t care if she never found her way back. She wanted to be his one taste even if it meant a heartache when he drove away from the ranch. Her arms went around his neck and she grabbed a fist full of dark hair. She felt as if she were driving down into the canyon on ice with no brakes.
“I could
