Santa In Montana (Calder Saga 11)

There was a silky whisper of movement beside him as he slowed the pickup to a halt at the crossroads. He wasn’t sorry to see a semitruck approaching from the south, forcing him to wait to pull onto the highway until it passed. He used the pause to steal a glance at Jessy, comfortably ensconced on the cab’s passenger seat. The dimness of the dashboard’s lights gave a faint sheen to the satiny material of the dress she wore and hinted at the paleness of a shapely calf.

“You do have a gorgeous set of legs,” Laredo drawled the compliment. “And I’m glad you chose tonight to show them off.”

“You did say you were going to wear your Sunday hat,” Jessy reminded him, a smile in her voice. “Since you were making it a special occasion, I thought I should do the same.” She stroked a hand over the skirt’s smooth fabric. “And I have to say it feels good.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Laredo swung the pickup onto the highway and smiled to himself.

He suspected that most people—even longtime Triple C hands—would be surprised by Jessy’s statement. The Jessy they knew was strong and steady, sure of herself and always in command. Very few even guessed she had a feminine side or that part of her might want to be regarded as a woman and not the boss of the Triple C.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve taken you out to dinner, hasn’t it?” Laredo realized. Usually they ended up at the Boar’s Nest, the old line shack he’d fixed up to be a comfortable bachelor pad. It offered them total privacy, and most of the time that was all they wanted.

“We went out last fall,” she reminded him.

“Just the same, we should do it more often.”

“Maybe so, but life seems to get in the way a lot.” A quiet acceptance of that fact marked her voice.

“You’ve got that right.” His mouth crooked in a wry smile of agreement.

The dim glow of manmade lights grew visible a few miles ahead of them, offering the first sign of human habitation since they had left the ranch headquarters. Laredo slowed the pickup’s speed as they approached the town of Blue Moon.

It was little more than a wide spot in the road with most of its buildings vacant since the coal mining operation had shut down. On the west side of the road, the combination convenience store and gas station sat in a bright pool of lights, a semi parked beneath its canopy next to a diesel pump. Directly across the highway from it was a restaurant and bar that had gone by many names in the past, but now proclaimed itself to be KELLY’S BAR AND GRILL.

“Marsha finally got her new sign installed.” Laredo gestured in its direction.

“The lights are so bright, no one can complain about not seeing it.” Jessy winced slightly at the glare.

“Probably LEDs,” Laredo guessed and turned the pickup into the parking lot, which was already more than half full. “Looks like the Friday night crowd has already beat us here.”

“Unless you want to drive all the way to Miles City, where else are you going to go?” Jessy reasoned, reaching for the door handle the instant the pickup rolled to a stop.

The sharp cold of the winter night made itself felt as soon as she swung down from the pickup’s warm cab. Briefly Jessy wished she’d worn pants, then suppressed a shiver and moved briskly to link up with Laredo.

Together they struck out for the front entrance. Only when they reached the steps did Jessy slow her pace and run an assessing glance over the building with its lighted windows.

“I’m glad this place is back in the hands of a local again,” Jessy remarked in an idle, musing tone.

“I can’t say I miss the clatter of all those slot machines Donovan had in here. Still…his selection of—shall we call them waitresses?—was rather easy on the eye.” He grinned. “Or shouldn’t I have noticed them?”

“As long as all you did was notice them, why should I care,” Jessy returned smoothly.

Laredo laughed softly and opened the door for her.

A steady hum of voices greeted them when they walked in, punctuated by an occasional laugh or the crack of balls coming from the pool table area. Off to the side, a jukebox offered a country song with a two-step beat. Familiar faces were everywhere, some from the Triple C, others neighbors. Jessy recognized most of them; only those of the younger generation did she have trouble connecting to a name. She suspected it was merely one more sign she was getting older.

“Table or booth?” she asked Laredo, spotting a couple vacant ones of each.

“Booth,” he said and guided her to an end one that offered them a semblance of privacy.

When they reached the booth, Laredo helped her out of her heavy winter coat and tossed it onto the booth seat, then shrugged out of his own while Jessy slid into the booth. A little too late, she remembered to gather up the material of her dress as she did, revealing a fair amount of thigh in the process.

“Move over,” Laredo said and let his coat join hers on the opposite seat, then slid in next to her.

“We’re going to look like a pair of teenagers,” Jessy murmured, more self-conscious than actually embarrassed.

“When I’m with you, there are times when I feel like one,” Laredo admitted, a caressing quality in a low-pitched voice intended for her hearing only.

Just for a moment she was caught up by the loving look in his eyes. She almost forgot they were in a room full of people. Then someone hailed her from across the way, snapping the spell. Jessy waved a response and reached for the menu propped behind the paper napkin dispenser.