Henry straightened. “I can, too!” he said with importance.
Brian scrambled off Hart’s lap and headed for Nash, doing his best to push his cousin out of the way in the process. “I want to see!” Brian declared.
“Well, okay then.” Nash put out a hand to each child. “Let’s go see. You think you fellas are old enough to see into the bed of my pickup truck, if I lift you up?”
“Yes,” Henry and Brian shouted in unison.
Out the door they went. When they reached the tailgate, Nash bent down to take a boy in each arm and lifted them high. Their quarrel forgotten, they leaned over to look into the bed of his truck, where four unwrapped, fresh-cut pines, of varying sizes, lay.
“Wow,” the cousins said in unison.
Nash let them study the trees. “Think we should get them out, to see just how tall they are?”
The boys nodded.
Nash handed off Brian to Callie, and Henry to Hart. “Okay then,” he said with comically exaggerated importance. “Everyone stand back...”
The next few minutes were spent admiring the trees from all angles and selecting which one would go into the bunkhouse retreat and which would go to the ranch house.
By the time they secured each in the stands Callie had already purchased, the boys were filled with wonder.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Callie said, as she walked him back to his truck, while the others all returned to the ranch house.
Nash tipped his head at her. “Happy to be of service,” he drawled.
Callie’s eyes drifted to his mouth. Flushing, she sucked in a breath and returned her gaze to his. “What do I owe you for the trees?”
That was easy. “Dinner—tonight.”
Her slender shoulders stiffened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He studied the mutinous expression on her pretty face. “Why not?” he prodded, enjoying the display of temper.
Aqua-blue eyes narrowed. “Because.”
He stepped close enough to inhale the flowery scent of her hair and skin. “We might end up kissing again?”
Scoffing, Callie folded her arms in front of her, tightening the cashmere fabric of her sweater over the rounded softness of her breasts. “That’s not going to happen.”
He moved even closer. “Mmm-hmm,” he said huskily. It took everything he had not to touch her again. Haul her into his arms. And...
“And what if I promise not to kiss you again?” he asked. “At least tonight?”
A pulse throbbed in her throat. “Meaning?”
“I only like to think about things like that short term.”
“Well, I don’t like to think about them at all!”
He’d been able to tell that it had been a while. A long while. “So noted,” he said dryly. Besides it wasn’t a vow which would necessarily be hard to keep if she continued to have as many chaperones as she had inside her home at that moment.
“Seems like your son could use the distraction,” he persuaded.
He had her there...and she knew it.
Callie blew out a gusty sigh. “Fine,” she conceded. “But don’t expect anything other than leftovers.”
Leftovers sounded a heck of a lot better than she knew.
“What time?” he asked, before she could change her mind.
Another breath, so deep it lifted—then lowered—the soft swell of her breasts.
Not that he was noticing, he told himself firmly.
She bit her lip, as she considered. “Seven-thirty?”
Nash shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
And then, before he was tempted to forgo all reason and kiss her again, he turned and walked away.
Nash was surprised to see only Callie’s SUV parked in front of her ranch house when he arrived Friday evening. And even more surprised to see the way she was outfitted when she opened the door to him.
“Ah,” he couldn’t resist teasing, “you dressed up just for me.”
Callie flushed. Clearly she had meant her attire to send a message that this evening meant nothing to her. And he had to admit, on that score, she had done a fine job.
She was definitely dressed to un-impress—in old jeans and a loose-fitting blue chambray shirt, washed so many times it was soft and thin as silk, socks and moccasins, all her makeup scrubbed off.
Looking around the foyer, he realized that everyone else appeared to be gone. She had massive to-do lists spread out on the coffee table, as well as photos of her late husband and wedding pictures prominently displayed on the mantel.
Which was even more amusing, Nash noted, since none of that had been there earlier in the day.
He shrugged out of his shearling jacket and hung it on the coatrack, then followed her into the kitchen. The scent of sage dressing, turkey and cranberries wafted through the air.
“Brian asleep?”
Callie nodded, clearly disappointed about that, too. “I had hoped he would be up, but he is so overtired, it’s probably for the best.”
“And your in-laws?”
Another tight officious smile. “They’re off to spend the weekend at the holiday craft show in San Antonio.” She gestured for him to have a seat at a table set for two.
She went to the oven and pulled out casserole dishes. Turkey smothered in gravy. Potatoes and stuffing. Some sort of vegetable medley that hadn’t been on the table the evening before. Warm cranberry and apple compote. A loaf of what appeared to be homemade bread. And butter.
When she had everything at the table, she sat down, too. “Rock and Doris have a wholesale Texana souvenir business. Basically they sell or make anything and everything that has to do with the history and culture of Texas. They trade with businesses all over the state, so even though they are based in my hometown, they are on the road a lot.”
Nash heaped food on his plate, then dug in. “I gather they supported your decision to start your own business and move away from Laramie?”
“They did.”
Her food was every bit as good the second time around. “Are your parents as understanding?”
“No,” Callie admitted. “They wanted me to stay closer to home. But I still see them a fair amount, since they’re both doctors, and attend a lot of medical education seminars in San Antonio.”
“How do they feel about the prospect of you getting married again?”
She kept her eyes on his a disconcertingly long time, then lifted her chin. “We haven’t really talked about it.”
“And yet your in-laws want you to take another leap of faith, as soon as possible it would seem.”
“What can I say?” Her silver Christmas star earrings jangled as she tilted her head slightly to one side. “They’re hopelessly romantic. My late husband was the same.”
“And you...?”
“Used to be a romantic fool,” she said. The enticing curves of her breasts pressed against her blouse