My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 1)

“So what’s the backup plan?” he asked. “Do you have one?”

“Not a good one. But the parade’s got to have a Santa. So if I have to, I’ll wear the suit myself.”

His eyes twinkled. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Maybe so. But the kids would know the difference. They deserve better. They deserve a real Santa in a real sleigh, like they’ve always had. But I know better than to ask Hank again. Even if he says yes, he’s bound to change his mind when he finds out about the trees—”

She stopped herself, realizing she’d just admitted to knowing his plan. “Sorry,” she said.

“Did you snoop?” He raised an eyebrow, half amused.

“No, for what it’s worth. I was fighting temptation and winning. Then somebody in the county office told me. Hank’s bound to be livid about your competing with him.”

“This is America. Competition is allowed. If he chooses to be mad, that’s his problem.”

“And mine,” Maggie said. “I can’t blame you and Conner for taking advantage of an opportunity. But you’ve just changed Christmas for the whole town.”

“Maybe it’ll be a good change. We’ve got some great plans in the works.” He gazed at Maggie’s downcast face. “I guess I’d better go.” He stood, brushing the crumbs off his jeans. “Thanks for the cookies and milk. Are you going to tell anybody about the trees?”

“I’ve known for days, but I haven’t told a soul, and I don’t intend to. That’s your business.” She rose to see him out. Heaven knows, it wasn’t what she wanted. But things had become awkward, and she could think of no excuse to keep him there.

“Thanks for understanding,” he said. “At least you know why it wouldn’t have done any good for me to square things with Hank.”

“Yes, I know.”

He was reaching for his coat. She checked the impulse to fling herself into his arms and beg him not to leave. Twice he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her. Twice he’d met the wall of her fear—the fear of being hurt again. Travis was a proud man. He would not risk a third rejection.

Please don’t go! The words rushed to her lips, but something held them back. She stood silent and helpless as he shrugged on his coat. “Good night, Maggie, and good luck,” he said, and opened the front door.

A fierce gust of hail-laden wind ripped the doorknob out of his hand, slamming the door inward against the wall, and shoving Travis backward so hard that he almost lost his balance.

Righting himself, he wrestled the door closed. Maggie rushed forward to help him hold it while he fastened the latch. As it clicked into place, she stood between him and the door. “You can’t go out there now,” she said.

“Is that an invitation, Maggie?” His expression was unreadable.

“You know storms like this don’t last long. It won’t hurt you to wait till the worst of it passes.” She was talking too fast, the words coming in bursts.

There was a flicker of hesitation. Then, as if making up his mind, he stripped his arms out of the coat and let it drop to the floor. Turning toward Maggie, he laid his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length. His slate gray eyes drilled into hers.

“No more games, Maggie,” he said. “Is it yes or no?”

A quiver passed through her body. “Yes . . .” Her hands slid up his chest as she whispered her reply. “And no more games.”

His kiss stole her breath and sent heat spiraling through her body. Pulse throbbing, she pulled him down to her, deepening the contact, teasing him with her tongue. He responded with a growl of need, his body pressing hers, his hands moving up her bare back to find the clasp of her bra.

Then, abruptly, he stopped and eased her gently away from him. “I think we’re headed for trouble, Maggie,” he muttered in a husky voice. “There will be better times for this.”

Maggie nodded and forced herself to take slow breaths. Travis was right. With so many things unsettled between them, falling into bed too soon would only create more complications. If this was meant to be, they’d have all the time in the world later on.

The storm was still howling outside. Wind rattled the windows. Hail hammered the panes like buckshot. Moving away from her, Travis picked up the remote and switched on the small TV that stood next to the fireplace. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Maybe we can get some news about the storm.”

He found a local news channel, lowered himself to the sofa, and laid an arm along the back. “Come here,” he said, with a nod to the empty space beside him.

As the weather update came on the screen, Maggie settled against him with a contented sigh, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. It felt right, being with him like this, as if they’d been close forever. She tried t

o pay attention, but in the warm room, nestled against the man who made her feel happy, relaxed, and exquisitely comfortable, sleep crept up on her. She stifled a yawn and felt his arm tighten around her.

The drone of the TV announcer’s voice faded as her eyelids drooped, grew heavy, and finally closed.