A Snow Country Christmas

“Once you taste Bad Billy’s Lemon Drop Ice Cream, you’ll be hooked for life.” She wasn’t kidding. “There’s a reason I don’t dare keep it on hand all the time. That would be a desire to keep my girlish figure.”

He gave her a slow once-over as he rose, plate in hand. “There’s nothing I’d change, trust me. Let me help with the cleanup.”

She’d argue, but had a feeling Mick Branson didn’t lose verbal battles very often, maybe ever. He was the epitome of cool, calm and collected, with a good dose of masculine confidence thrown in. It was telling that she wasn’t sure how to handle his obvious interest, because she’d decided a long time ago to just live her life as she wished and that her untraditional approach was a healthy outlook on life, at least for her. She’d sat down with her daughter and explained that the reason she’d never married Slater was that they were too fundamentally different for it to work out, and Daisy seemed to accept that, perhaps because she saw how much her parents loved her and respected each other.

But no one was more different from her than Mick Branson, so Raine had to question why, when their fingers brushed as she handed him the ice cream scoop so he could do the honors, there was an electric flicker of awareness between them.

He wasn’t her type.

She was definitely not his type. She wasn’t sure what his type might be, but she imagined a cool, polished blonde who’d feel right at home in pearls and a stylish black dress. Someone who’d fit in at corporate functions and with the Hollywood set.

Mick interrupted her musings as he scooped out the creamy lemon mixture into the two Victorian glasses she’d inherited from her grandmother. “Daisy is a great kid from what I’ve seen. Spunky and self-confident.”

She smiled. “That she is. It’s hard to believe she’s half-grown already. I don’t know where the time goes.”

He concentrated on scooping. “Have you ever thought about having more children?”

Raine’s expression must have reflected her surprise at the unexpected question. He caught her gaze and for a moment she found herself trapped in those dark eyes. “I just meant you’re a wonderful mother, according to Slater. You’re young, so it just occurred to me. Plus I talked to Grace this morning and she told me her news, and also about Luce.” He looked not exactly embarrassed but maybe off balance. “I didn’t mean to get so personal so quickly. I officially recant.”

Raine wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “I don’t mind the question, but turnabout is fair play. So what about you? Kids?” He was, she’d guess, around forty or so. There wasn’t a fleck of gray in that carefully tousled dark hair, but Slater had once remarked that he and Mick were about the same age.

“Do I have any kids? No. Do I want them? Maybe.”

“I feel like I don’t know that much about you. You’ve done a good job of keeping your private life, well...private.”

“Checking up on me?” He didn’t seem to mind—quite the opposite. “I keep it that way as much as possible.”

“I might have checked a little when you first showed up in Mustang Creek, but Slater likes you, so I trust you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be wasting BB’s Lemon Drop on you.”

“In that case, I hope to prove worthy of the ice cream. Sounds like a high bar.”

At least he had a sense of humor. She was discovering she liked that about him.

There were quite a lot of things she liked about him. Too many.

“It’s an honor, trust me. I don’t just give it away all the time.”

Without a blink, he returned smoothly, “I didn’t think you did.”

Raine couldn’t help but give him the look. “I thought I banned the sexual innuendos.”

“Hey, you can take that remark any way you wish.”

A man like him didn’t look boyish often, but his unrepentant expression was pretty close. And those eyes...

“Just for that, I’m going to make you watch my favorite Christmas movie, unless you have other pressing plans.”

“I’m all yours.” He deftly wielded the ice cream scoop. “In case you’re wondering—and I’m going to guess you are—my brother and his wife are in London for the holidays this year, my mother is in New York with friends, and since I have a little surprise for Slater, I decided Mustang Creek might not be a bad place to spend Christmas this year. I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s your favorite Christmas movie? Please tell me there isn’t a lot of singing and dancing.”

“Relax. There’s none. I usually watch Big Jake. You know, John Wayne.” She took two long-handled spoons from a drawer. “Not only is it a great movie, but it has sentimental value. My father loved it. I remember sitting on the couch watching it with him after my mother went to bed. Unlike you, she liked the movies with the singing and dancing and he needed a good dose of the Old West afterward. I was allowed to stay up as long as I wanted on Christmas Eve. I still do that.”

“You are a big girl, so you can do whatever you want.”

She was just going to ignore that. He was deliberately provoking her. “I always have done what I want. Make a note of it. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“That sounds good. It’ll keep me awake for the drive back to the resort later.”

The reminder that their evening would come to an end caused an odd sinking in her stomach, one she immediately chided herself for. After all, it wasn’t like she planned to invite him to spend the night, no matter how attractive she found him. The softly falling snow outside might be adding to the ambiance of the evening, but her guarded heart was resistant to even the most romantic of trappings.

She believed in love. In loving your child, your family, and of course, she’d thought she was in love with Slater what felt like a million years ago, but that just hadn’t worked out.

It would have been easy to accept his proposal once he knew she was pregnant, to settle into a comfortable life as a Carson, but she’d known from the start that neither of their hearts would have been in it. They were friends—she genuinely liked the father of her child and was grateful for the good relationship they shared—but that wasn’t the same as love.

For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why it was Mick Branson who apparently inspired more than friendly feelings in her. She couldn’t have picked a man more different from her if she’d tried.

Not in a million years was she Hollywood. Not in a million years was he Mustang Creek.

Though when he settled next to her on the roomy couch, ice cream in hand, he seemed comfortable enough despite the designer slacks and tailored shirt. He took a bite and gave her an incredulous look from those oh-so-sexy dark eyes. “You have to be kidding me.”

“I told you. Billy is a burly, tattooed culinary angel.”

“I might kiss him the next time I see him.” Mick dug back in.

“And he might take exception to that.” She took a spoonful from her own dish. The ice cream was smooth, creamy yet tart, and everything she remembered. Billy only made it once a year and she always put in an order early. Picking up the remote, she pushed a button to cue up the movie. “Here we go. The Duke.”

“Pure Christmas magic in the form of an old western—sounds great to me. But I guess now would be the time to confess I’ve never actually seen it. Did you say Big Jake?”

“What?” She stared. “Never? That’s...incomprehensible.”

He shrugged. “If you met my family, well, let’s just say John Wayne was not on their radar. I’m sure they would enjoy it, don’t get me wrong, but they just wouldn’t think of it. I believe I was dragged to a Broadway play as a child before I ever watched a cartoon.”

That explained quite a lot. “Is that why you do what you do?”

“It might be. Why are you an artist? I doubt I’m going to get a straight-up answer. There probably isn’t one.”

She had to concede that one, so she changed the subject. “I can’t believe you already ate all of that ice cream.” He’d inhaled it. “Haven’t you heard of an ice cream headache?”

“I’ve never had one, but for that stuff, I’d take my chances.” He got up to go into the kitchen and she heard him rinse the bowl and considerately put it in the dishwasher.

Considerate? Oh no. That was trouble right there.

Mick Branson was larger than life in some ways. So was Slater, so maybe that accounted for the chemistry simmering between her and Mick. She was attracted to charismatic men.

She savored each spoonful as the opening movie scene unfolded, feeling oddly comfortable. Even though he wasn’t a stranger, they’d never spent time alone together before this evening, so the ease between them surprised her.

Everything about the way Mick acted said he was interested and she wasn’t positive she was ready for someone like him intruding on the life she’d so carefully built for herself and her daughter.

His life was all about reading signals. Meetings, the stock market, international affairs, how the media was cooperating...