“Got cold out there, did it?” Sage asked. “Your babies didn’t even miss you. They slept the whole time you were out.”
She followed Noel. “See, I told you. I’m a good babysitter. If they would have whined, I would have rocked them back to sleep.”
The back door opened with force and Creed came in stomping his feet and clapping his hands. “Damn, it’s cold out there.”
“Weatherman says it’s going down to single digits by night and for us to brace up for another norther. Did you bring all this with you from Ringgold, Texas? We haven’t had a storm like this since I was born and when you arrive, boom! Look what you caused.”
“No, ma’am. Where I come from, we get excited about two inches of snow. It gets cold but it don’t last forever. And please keep that idea to yourself about me causing this. The other farmers will take me out behind a mesquite thicket and stone me to death if I’m the culprit who caused a blizzard.”
The dryer beeped again and she started toward the kitchen.
Creed held up his palms. “Let me. Whatever it is, I’ll get it out and fold it just to get something warm in my hands.”
She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Honey, I’d put frostbite on your pretty skin if I touched you right now. You ever lick an old metal ice tray?”
She nodded.
“Well, that’s what would happen if I kissed you. We’d be joined at the lips until the spring thaw. Go on back to your painting. I like the way the mistletoe came out. Looks like I could reach right in there and pick it out of the picture.”
Sage picked up her brushes. It wouldn’t be so bad to be joined at the lips until the spring thaw. If his kisses could set her ablaze in the middle of a Texas norther, what would they create in July or August? Her heart wasn’t in painting, so she cleaned her brush and put her palette in a plastic container with an airtight lid to keep the paints from drying out.
When he brought the load of towels to the table, she picked up an armful of white clothes—T-shirts, thermal undershirts, and underwear—and carried them into the pantry. She switched a second bunch of towels to the dryer and stuffed the washer full one more time. He had almost finished folding the towels when she got back.
“You can keep on painting, Sage. I know how to do laundry. I promise I won’t put red socks in with the white clothes,” he said.
“I need to think about it for a while, and besides, it’s time to start the tortilla soup. How much did you get done on the doghouse?”
“Floor is in. Studs are up and the siding is going on. It’ll be a fine log cabin. Noel says she likes it,” Creed said.
“Is the door going to be a gaping hole?”
“I’m a better carpenter than that,” Creed answered. “It’ll have one of those doggy doors that they can push in from the outside or out from the inside.”
“Why are you building it so well? It’s just a doghouse,” she said.
“Shhh…you’ll hurt her feelings. If she’s going to be thrown out of the big house, she needs to feel like she’s getting a good deal. And besides, we haven’t had an argument yet.”
“What does us arguing have to do with her house?”
His eyes twinkled in mischief. “Not a thing.”
Sage racked her brain for what could be so funny, but not a single thing surfaced.
“Explain please,” she said.
“For a kiss. My lips are warmed up and yours look hot.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed up close to him, and kissed him right there in the brightly lit kitchen. She nipped at his lower lip and slid her tongue into his mouth. When she could feel the effects pressing against her belly she stepped back.
“Now explain, please,” she said.
“When we have our first big argument and I’m relegated to the doghouse I intend to make sure it’s cozy and big enough for me,” he teased without taking his hands from her waist.
She took a step forward and leaned in for a second kiss. “You are a very smart man, Creed Riley.”
The kiss sent shock waves down to their toes and warmed the very floor where they stood.
“Does that mean you’d put me in the doghouse if you got mad?”
She looked up into his sexy green eyes and said, “And nail the door shut.”
He led her to the sofa and pulled her down onto his lap. “Maybe we’d better talk about what could bring on such a thing.”
Her cell phone rang before she could list all the things that would put him in the doghouse. She picked it up from the end table and answered it without leaving his lap.
“Sure. Can you stay for dinner?”
Creed shook his head.
“Tortilla soup. Hey, for Aunt Bill’s Candy, I’ll gladly go Internet shopping with you, kiddo.”
“April?” he asked when she laid the phone back down.
“Yes, it was. She’s coming over right after lunch and bringing some of Hilda’s famous Aunt Bill’s Candy. We are going Internet shopping for dresses for the Christmas party.”
“You’re not wearing my red and black flannel shirt to the party? I’m hurt and so is it. It thought it was your favorite item of clothing.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “I save that for things more important than parties.”
She didn’t tell him that she’d hated to put it in the pile with his other dirty shirts because washing it would erase the smell of his shaving lotion. Or that she’d slept in it again the night before.
Chapter 13
The enormous grandfather rock formation hid the small family cemetery. The only way to get to it was by four-wheeler, by foot, or that afternoon,
