Her jacket lay in a heap on the snow. Thanks to the light of day, he had a better view of her than he’d had last night and so he took in the fit of her jeans and turtleneck shirt. No secrets today, he realized, relishing the full feminine curves her clothing revealed. Suddenly, Ryan felt the strongest urge to walk up behind Dani and press his body close.
He closed his eyes and imagined slipping his hands under her shirt and bra so he could cup his fingers around her bare breasts. Her skin would feel smooth as silk, he guessed, and her nipples soft…until he teased them to tautness, that is. Moving those same hands down her midriff in further exploration, he’d naturally encounter the barrier of her jeans. But what kind of barrier was a zipper or a snap to a man on fire?
“Hey, over there! Are you sleepwalking or what?”
With a guilty jolt, Ryan came to life and found that Dani had spotted him hiding behind the sapling just a few feet away. He felt his face glow crimson and could only hope that she didn’t notice the other physical evidence of his shocking, ill-timed fantasy, which now tested the buttons of his fly.
“Actually,” he said as he walked over to her, “I came out here for the same reason you did—to find a Christmas tree.”
“Were you going to pick it like a daisy?” She directed her gaze to his empty hands.
“Of course not. I heard someone out here and guessed it might be you. Naturally, I came to help.”
“So help,” she said, handing him the ax.
Immediately, Ryan tested the edge of the blade. “I could probably gnaw that tree down faster than this blade will ever cut it.”
Dani sighed. “The grinder is in the shed. Sharpening this ax can be your very first task as my temporary ranch hand.”
“Actually, making the coffee was my first task,” he retorted, adding, “Why don’t you go in and have a cup? You look as if you could use it.” In truth, her cheeks glowed scarlet with cold, and he noticed that her teeth had begun to chatter. Scooping up her jacket, probably shed for ease of movement, he held it out so she could slip into it.
Dani did, then gave him a smile. “I’m not the most wonderful cook in the world, but I’m pretty good with pancakes. Is that okay for breakfast?”
“Cook anything you like,” Ryan said. “We’ll never complain.”
They walked together as far as the toolshed, both silent. She did not stop since the door had been left ajar, but nodded a goodbye as Ryan veered off to duck into the building. He found the grinder, mounted on a sturdy wooden worktable, without any trouble.
While Ryan sharpened the ax blade, he tried to analyze the reasons for what had happened in the woods, from the sudden onset of his lustful fantasy, to its embarrassing physical result. Such an analysis proved next to impossible since Dani wasn’t the sort of woman who normally turned him on. As a rule, he preferred taller females, probably because of his own six-three height. Critical body parts—private parts—fit together best when the woman stood nearly heads even. Besides that, he favored brunettes, though, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had much luck with them so far.
Maybe it was time for a blonde.
Time for a blonde? Ryan nearly dropped the ax. It wasn’t time for a blonde. It wasn’t time for any woman. He had a son now, an impressionable son who needed food and clothing, a son whose upbringing would require dedication and full concentration. The last thing Ryan needed was the distraction of some female. Not that Dani could ever really distract him. She couldn’t. Clearly, the problem was him. Deprived of the pleasures of sex for too long now, his libido was just a little trigger-happy.
Trigger-happy.
Ryan laughed aloud at that unfortunate metaphor. So his libido was trigger-happy, huh? Well, something told him he’d damn well better keep it holstered lest it get him kicked off Dani’s ranch. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of Pike’s Peak, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that a man—maybe even a cowboy—had put it there.
When the blade of the ax felt sharp to Ryan’s touch, he switched off the grinder and turned to head back outdoors, but paused first, giving the room a cursory examination. He saw a mess—clutter that could only result from years of neglect. Ryan, who despised a disorderly workroom such as this one, placed the cleaning of it high on a mental list of tasks he intended to accomplish over the next few days.
Just before he stepped through the door, he spied a basket, one of the kind so often sold at craft fairs for use as decoration. Ryan paused again, then impulsively scooped up the basket, which looked fairly new, by its handle. He could make use of it to remedy a situation that had bothered him all night.
Ax and basket in hand, he walked back to the pine tree Dani had picked out and quickly chopped it down. He left the tree where it lay for a few minutes while he searched for pinecones, easily visible in the sparse snow beneath some of the larger pine trees several yards away. There were plenty to choose from, ranging from small to huge. Ryan picked up quite a few and put them into Dani’s basket, which looked pretty dusty now that he had it out in good light.
Ryan tried to remember if he’d seen an outside water spigot. He couldn’t, and had almost decided he’d have to carry the basket indoors, thus spoiling what he’d intended to be a surprise, when he heard the unmistakable trickle of water. He froze, straining to hear the sound again. When he heard it a second later, Ryan followed it into the woods, where he soon stumbled onto a spring.
He wished for his camera to capture forever the beauty of the winter scene—snowbanks, trickling stream, gnarled tree roots at his feet, a canopy of tangled bare limbs over his head. Enchanted, Ryan knelt and dipped his hand into the ice-cold water, then raised it to his lips so he could sip. He grinned. Delicious!
Next, he proceeded to wipe down the basket with his hands, which were now red and rough from the cold. When it passed inspection, he set it down so he could gather some of the colorful pebbles lying all around. They were smooth and round, thanks to time and water flow. He laid them inside the basket with the pinecones.
He gathered other natural artifacts, all of which he tucked into the basket. In his mind’s eye, he arranged and rearranged everything. By the time he walked back to get the tree, he had a good idea what he wanted to do.
Leaving the basket sitting behind a wooden chair on the side porch and placing the tree near the door, Ryan stomped the snow off his boots and stepped into the kitchen. On the floor just inside the door, a Christmas-tree stand waited.
“Finally!” Dani exclaimed from where she stood frying bacon at the stove. Her smile said she wasn’t scolding, just impatient to get started decorating the tree.
Ryan noted that Sawyer had risen and dressed and was now helping Dani by setting the table. The boy did a good job, arranging the colorful plates on coordinating place mats and placing napkins and silverware to the side while she instructed.
“Actually,” Dani said, “I don’t know why I’m so anxious about the tree. We can’t decorate it until after breakfast, and that won’t be ready for another ten minutes.”
“Then I think I’ll go ahead and get the tree set up in the living room,” Ryan told her, lifting the stand and heading outside. Several minutes after, he reentered the house via the front door and proceeded to situate the tree in the stand. That accomplished, he stepped back to examine it. Dani had chosen well, he realized, noting the symmetry of the branches.
“It’s ready!” she called out.
Ryan returned to the kitchen and washed his hands, then joined them at the small, wooden kitchen table. Dani held out one hand to him across the food. The other she held out to Sawyer, seated to her right, an action that baffled Ryan until he remembered the old custom of joining hands to return grace. Somewhat awkwardly, he took her hand and extended his other one to Sawyer. Taking his cue from his dad, Sawyer