Christmas Cowboy: Will of Steel / Winter Roses

“They don’t seem to count for much in the modern world,” she replied.

“Have you ever really looked at the magazine rack, Jake?” he asked, surprised. “There are more magazines on handicrafts than there are on rock stars, and that’s saying something.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” She looked around. They were just coming into Billings. Ahead, she could see the awesome outline of the Rimrocks, where the airport was located, in the distance. “We’re here?” she exclaimed.

“It’s not so far from home,” he said lazily.

“Not at the speed you go, no,” she said impudently.

He laughed. “There wasn’t any traffic and we aren’t overly blessed with highway patrols at this hour of the night.”

“You catch speeders, and you’re local law enforcement,” she pointed out.

“I don’t catch them on the interstate unless they’re driving on it through my town,” he replied. “And it’s not so much the speed that gets them caught, either. It’s the way they’re driving. You can be safe at high speeds and dangerous at low ones. Weaving in and out of traffic, riding people’s bumpers, running stop signs, that sort of thing.”

“I saw this television program where an experienced traffic officer said that what scared him most was to see a driver with both hands white-knuckled and close together on the steering wheel.”

He nodded. “There are exceptions, but it usually means someone who’s insecure and afraid of the vehicle.”

“You aren’t.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been driving since I was twelve. Kids grow up early when they live on ranches. Have to learn how to operate machinery, like tractors and harvesters.”

“Our ranch doesn’t have a harvester.”

“That’s because our ranch can’t afford one,” he said, smiling. “But we can always borrow one from neighbors.”

“Small towns are such nice places,” she said dreamily. “I love it that people will loan you a piece of equipment that expensive just because they like you.”

“I imagine there are people in cities who would do the same, Jake, but there’s not much use for them there.”

She laughed. “No, I guess not.”

He turned the corner and pulled into a parking lot next to a long, low building. There was a neon sign that said Red’s Tavern.

“It’s a bar?” she asked.

“It’s a dance club. They do serve alcohol, but not on the dance floor.”

“Theodore, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a bar in my life.”

“Not to worry, they won’t force you to drink anything alcoholic,” he told her, tongue-in-cheek. “And if they tried, I’d have to call local law and have them arrested. You’re underage.”

“Local law?”

“I’m not sanctioned to arrest people outside my own jurisdiction,” he reminded her. “But you could make a citizen’s arrest. Anybody can if they see a crime being committed. It’s just that we don’t advise it. Could get you killed, depending on the circumstances.”

“I see what you mean.”

He got out and opened her door, lifting her gently down from the truck by the waist. He held her just in front of him for a minute, smiling into her soft eyes. “You’re as light as a feather,” he commented softly. “And you smell pretty.”

A shocked little laugh left her throat. “I smell pretty?”

“Yes. I remember my grandmother by her scent. She wore a light, flowery cologne. I recognize it if I smell it anywhere. She always smelled so good.”

Her hands rested lightly on his broad shoulders. He was very strong. She loved his strength, his size.

She smiled into his dark eyes. “You smell good, too. Spicy.”

He nuzzled her nose with his. “Thanks.”

She sighed and slid her arms around his neck. She tucked her face into his throat. “I feel so safe with you,” she said softly. “Like nothing could ever hurt me.”

“Now, Jake, that’s not the sort of thing a man likes to hear.”

She lifted her head, surprised. “Why?”

He pursed his lips. “We want to hear that we’re dangerous and exciting, that we stir you up and make you nervous.”

“You do?”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

She searched his eyes. “You don’t want me to feel comfortable with you?” she faltered.

“You don’t understand what I’m talking about, do you?” he wondered gently.

“No … not really. I’m sorry.”

It was early days yet, he reminded himself. It was disappointing that she wasn’t shaky when he touched her. But, then, she kept secrets. There must be a reason why she was so icy inside herself.

He set her down but he didn’t let her go. “Some things have to be learned,” he said.

“Learned.”

He framed her face with his big, warm hands. “Passion, for instance.”

She blinked.

It was like describing ice to a desert nomad. He smiled wistfully. “You haven’t ever been kissed in such a way that you’d die to have it happen again?”

She shook her head. Her eyes were wide and innocent, unknowing. She flushed a little and shifted restlessly.

“But you have been kissed in such a way that you’d rather undergo torture than have it happen again,” he said suddenly.

She caught her breath. He couldn’t know! He couldn’t!

His black eyes narrowed on her face. “Something happened to you, Jake. Something bad. It made you lock yourself away from the world. And it wasn’t your experience with the traveling auditor.”