He hooked his coat on a peg by the door and followed it with his hat. “Can’t say that they will.” He turned to gaze at her. “Are you out here by yourself?”
“Yes.” So he was single, apparently. “It just turned out that way.” She tried not to gawk, but damn, he was even better looking now than he had been in high school. His features were more chiseled, and the hint of a beard gave him a rugged look that stirred up butterflies in her stomach.
His glance swept the cabin’s living room and open kitchen. “No holiday decorations, I see.”
“Nope.” And he smelled good, too—the musky scent of a man who worked with animals. She hadn’t realized how much she liked that earthy aroma on a man.
“I’m going to take a wild guess that you’re not into this holiday any more than you were years ago when we had that conversation outside the school gym.”
“So you remember that.” She met his gaze. It wasn’t the conversation she was focusing on, but what had followed. The mouth she’d kissed long ago looked much the same except for some added smile lines bracketing his firm lips.
“Yeah, I do remember, in fact.” A telltale flicker in his green eyes contradicted his casual tone.
Her heart rate increased another notch. She’d bet money he was thinking about that kiss, too. “Well, you’re right. I still don’t much like Christmas. How about you?”
“Can’t say it’s my favorite time of year.”
She kept her attention on his face, but she was very aware of the snug fit of his Western shirt. The soft blue plaid revealed muscles honed by ranch work. “I’ll bet the Last Chance goes all out.”
He rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. Fifteen-foot tree in the living room, holly and pine boughs on the banister going upstairs, red velvet bows on everything that doesn’t move. They’ve even decorated the damned barn.”
She ignored a sharp pang of longing. Being surrounded by that kind of festive atmosphere would only make her sad. “You won’t find that here.”
“Good. Maybe it’s just as well we ended up together tonight.” He smiled. “We’re birds of a feather.”
Oh, yeah. She remembered that smile—the one that went from boyish to seductive in zero-point-five seconds. Heat spiraled through her system. Ten years ago she hadn’t allowed herself to be swept away by his animal magnetism. But tonight, after being dumped last week by the man she’d thought she’d eventually marry, all bets were off.
2
LACEY EVANS. WHENEVER he’d thought of her in the years since high school, which had been more times than he cared to admit, he’d pictured her with a stodgy but successful husband and a couple of cute kids. Once again she’d be totally out of reach, as she had been when they were in high school.
Instead, against all odds, he was standing in this cozy cabin with her. She didn’t seem to be attached to a guy, let alone have any kids. She hadn’t known he would show up, so the setting she’d created had nothing to do with him.
But she couldn’t have planned a more tempting scenario than a welcoming fire, a home-cooked meal and the prospect of spending time with a woman he’d wanted desperately when he was eighteen. Who needed Christmas?
The years had been good to her. Her honey-colored hair was slightly darker now, and she wore it shorter, too, an easy-care mop of caramel curls. Those curls were tousled by the stocking cap she’d pulled off, and he had the urge to comb her hair into place with his fingers.
Her blue eyes were no longer so wide and endearingly innocent. After she’d run from his kiss that night, her cheeks bright pink, he’d decided that he’d been French-kissing a virgin. But there was nothing virginal in her frank appraisal of him now. The glow in those amazing eyes told him that if he kissed her again, she wouldn’t run.
The possibility heated his blood, and suddenly, he wasn’t the least bit cold. She’d had that effect on him from the first day he’d glimpsed her walking down the hall at Jackson Hole High, her snug sweater and jeans showing off a sweetly curved figure. He’d thought he’d died and gone to heaven the one and only time he’d held her in his arms.
When she’d ended that unforgettable kiss, she’d returned his coat. He’d left it off in hopes cold air would deflate his penis enough for him to walk to his truck and drive home. The wait had seemed like hours.
He liked to think he had more control these days, but apparently not when it came to Lacey. She still favored snug jeans and close-fitting sweaters. Today’s sweater was green, which signaled full speed ahead to his eager package.
Tucker decided, in the name of his own self-respect, to show some restraint. Although he wasn’t proud of it, he’d engaged in some meaningless sex over the years. When life was one big party, a guy didn’t much care who he slept with if the woman was willing and warm.
But Lacey was different. She wasn’t just some girl he’d met in a cowboy bar. Yeah, he wanted her, but he didn’t have to act on that urge. Instead, he could distract himself by concentrating on a different kind of hunger.
He glanced over at the stove, the source of mouth-watering aromas. “I don’t know much about cooking, but is there any chance that stew is ready to eat?”
She smiled. “Yep. Your timing is excellent.”
“Dumb luck.” But he’d had quite a bit of luck lately, especially landing the job at the Last Chance. He was beginning to wonder if Houdini’s escape had been an example of good luck disguised as potential disaster. “What can I do to help?”
“Not a thing. If you want to wash up, there’s soap and towels in the bathroom.” She gestured toward a short hall. “First door on your left.”
“Thanks. Good plan.” He probably smelled of horse. Some women liked that, but he didn’t know if Lacey did or not. He headed down the hall, his boots clicking on the hardwood floor of the cabin.
The bathroom was plain—white fixtures and a tub with a white shower curtain. Tucker caught a glimpse of himself in the medicine cabinet mirror and winced. Hat hair, red nose, five-o’clock shadow. He must have imagined that glint of interest in her eyes. What woman would be attracted to that?
Rolling back his sleeves, he turned on the water and picked up the soap. He couldn’t do anything about the five-o’clock shadow, but soap and warm water would make him feel more presentable. Then he noticed that the soap was embedded with an image of Santa Claus.
The cabin’s owners might have left it, but the lack of frills everywhere else made that unlikely. Probably somebody had given it to Lacey and she was practical enough to make use of it. He could help her with that.
He lathered up, scrubbing his face and hands until they tingled. The soap smelled like candy canes. He hadn’t thought of those in a while. His mom used to buy a lot of them to decorate the tree because they were affordable.
His dad had thought the whole tree thing was a waste of money, but his mom had insisted on having one every year. She and Tucker had strung popcorn and made chains of construction paper. That had all ended when she died.
No point in dredging up those memories, though, especially when he was with a woman who also ignored the holiday except for some soap she was trying to use up. He splashed cold water on his face, grabbed a towel and dried off. Then he finger-combed his hair as best he could.
He walked back into the kitchen, where a loaf of what looked like homemade bread sat on a cutting board in the middle of the table. Lacey was dishing stew into a couple of generously sized bowls. The light caught in her caramel curls as she glanced up and smiled at him.
His breath stalled at the beauty of the scene, at the beauty of her, all flushed from the heat of the stove. Or maybe her extra color had something to do with him being there. That was a happy prospect.
“This looks wonderful. Thank you.” Then he had a thought. “Listen, if you feed me now, are you going to have enough supplies for your stay?”
“Oh, yeah.” She laughed as she opened the refrigerator, which was stuffed. “I read the weather reports and decided to be prepared for anything. As I said, I can probably help feed your horse if it comes to that.”
“He’s not exactly my horse. I just work there. But I’m relieved to know you stocked up.”
“The good news is I’m loaded with provisions. The bad news is the provisions are everything I like, but you may not like the same things.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m grateful for whatever you’re willing to share.”
Her quick glance in his direction told him that she’d taken that in a way he hadn’t meant. God, he hoped he hadn’t offended her. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
She became very busy ladling out the stew. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, we had that one silly moment together after the winter formal, but I’m not at all your type.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s obvious.” She set the bowls down on the table with brisk efficiency. “You went out with the party girls, whereas I was—”
“Too good for me.”
“What?” She looked up in obvious surprise.
“You heard me. I was the bad boy with the souped-up truck and mediocre grades. You were an honor student with goals and a curfew.”