Cowboy Christmas Blues

She’d talked to Parker about that dream before. He’d told her—couched in concern, because his sharpest words were always wrapped in something soft, so that it took days to fully realize they’d had the power to cut her—that he didn’t think it was the right move for her. That she was far too wishy-washy and she wouldn’t want to be anyone’s boss and she’d hate being in charge actually and on and on.

But she was pulling it off. Without him. Happily.

The business was going well, her professional life nicely improved. But there was the little matter of her confidence in herself as a woman. And fulfilling a long-held fantasy.

It was then she realized that she was standing there staring at Cooper while she engaged in a complex internal monologue.

“Hi,” she said.

It was a far cry from a saucy opening line or a casual how have you been? Which would have been better. But oh, well.

“Hi,” he returned, that voice rough like gravel and even sexier than she remembered.

“I’ve seen you in here a lot lately,” she said, stumbling over her words.

“Yeah,” he said, looking a little surprised. “I’m in town visiting my parents.” He lifted his hand and pushed his cowboy hat back slightly, leaning up against the jukebox, directly across from her. The planes and angles of his face had gotten more chiseled in the past eight years, too. His jaw sharper, covered in golden whiskers, the hollows in his cheeks more pronounced. But his blue eyes were the same.

“Not here to stay, then?” She had assumed as much, but part of her had hoped.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “No,” he said. “My job keeps me on the road most of the year, so I don’t really have a permanent residence. Suits me just fine.”

She should have known that the rumors she’d heard were accurate. The telephone game in Gold Valley was pretty unerring.

“That sounds exhausting,” she said.

“I like it,” he said. “Get a chance to see a lot of new places. Meet a lot of new people.”

“I suppose,” she returned. “But you must get lonely.”

A slow smile curved his lips upward, the kind of smile that Cooper Mason had certainly never directed her way before. “I’m never lonely.”

“Oh,” she said, the breath pushing out of her lungs, her stomach tightening.

Of course he wasn’t lonely. She imagined all he had to do was direct that smile to any woman he encountered in any bar in any town, and she would turn her panties right over to him.

Suddenly, her mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

All she needed was to get a drink in her and do something dumb. She was on edge enough as it was, and while she knew that most people liked to use alcohol as a social lubricant, she felt like she needed to keep herself from getting too socially lubricated. She wanted to keep herself from being an idiot as well as a long shot.

“Are you waiting for someone else?”

“I was waiting for you,” she said, the words far too honest, far too sharp, scraping her throat dry on the way out.

His smile widened. “I think I might have been waiting for you, too.”

Oh. My.

He was waiting. For her. For her. Annabelle, who he’d always seen as a kid. But not now.

He did see her as a woman now. And he wanted her. And oh, holy night, she wanted him, too.

She knew it then. She knew it in her soul. That her Christmas present to herself—Cooper Mason—was about to get given to her.

It was working. It was happening.

Screw you, Parker.

“Sounds like we were waiting for each other then,” she said, cringing internally, because she was really bad at this flirtatious back-and-forth.

“You want to get out of here?”

Well, that was quick. Granted, they weren’t strangers. She knew Cooper, had known him for her entire life, even though she hadn’t talked to him in eight years. She knew that he was a good guy. Knew that he wouldn’t hurt her or anything like that. She trusted him.

Still, it was moving a little too smoothly. She hadn’t anticipated him being right into it right away.

“We haven’t even kissed yet,” she pointed out.

Her heart was thundering so hard she could hardly hear his response, because her brain was simply echoing with the rhythmic sound of her pulse.

“I can fix that,” he responded.

He braced one hand on the top of the jukebox, and curved his arm around her waist.

A man hadn’t touched her in over a year, not since her breakup. And she had only ever kissed two men in her entire life. So, having Cooper stand so close to her, his large hand resting on her waist... It was a lot to process. A lot to take in.

And then, before she could think any deeper, Cooper brought his lips down on hers.

His whiskers were rough, his mouth firm, and the whole thing a sensual assault that left her scarcely able to breathe.

This was it. This was what she wanted. This was need that went beyond settling. This wasn’t just a kiss because she wanted a guy’s kiss. This was a kiss because she wanted to kiss this particular man. In this particular moment.

She wasn’t with him because she was afraid of being by herself. Because she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to do better. This had nothing to do with a relationship, with hoping for marriage one day.

No.

This was about desire. Real, deep desire. About a lifelong fantasy, not just vague general needs for sex or closeness.

And that fantasy was finally about to be fulfilled.

CHAPTER TWO (#ubd3a9b6e-2ee1-5b16-9897-ad835c31f6fe)

HIS JUKEBOX GIRL didn’t say anything when he hurried her out of the bar after their kiss. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, her lips swollen. She was obviously as into the connection between them as he was.

He didn’t usually do totally anonymous hookups. But it was Christmas, and he hated Christmas in Gold Valley, which made it difficult to breathe.