“I forgot the height.” She felt superheated everywhere he touched her. To make matters worse, she had no desire to move. She wanted to stroke him just as he was stroking her. If this kept up, she’d need a fire extinguisher every time she was around him.
“Happens. You didn’t twist an ankle, did you?”
“No. I’m fine.” She pushed against his chest, but he didn’t budge. She realized in surprise that she had no way to move him back if he didn’t want to go. He was like a rock. “You can let me go now.”
“You sure?”
“I’m hungry.”
When he chuckled at her words, she felt the vibration up her hands, her arms, and into her own chest. Turned up the heat even more.
He leaned down so his lips were close to her ear. “Are you hungry for food or something else?”
“Food!”
He chuckled again, then let her go as he slowly stepped back. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“You promised lunch.”
“And I never break a promise.” As if they were back in the 1880s, he held out his elbow for her to grasp.
She hesitated, but how could she resist the allure of the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes?
“When in Rome, or in this case, Wildcat Bluff—”
She tucked her fingers around his elbow. He drew her in so close that the curve of her breast pressed against him.
They walked down the boardwalk as if they were a lady and gentleman out for an afternoon promenade. She could easily imagine that horses and buggies filled the streets instead of noisy vehicles. Somehow the past seemed more peaceful, more manageable, more refined than the present. Then she remembered that they were in a town that had catered to the wildest of the wild. Shoot-outs, brawls, and Rebel yells had probably filled the air.
“Have you been in Morning’s Glory?” Trey stopped in front of the store’s colorfully decorated window.
“Not yet. I just met her earlier today.”
“She’s quite the character.”
“In Wildcat Bluff, how can you tell?”
He laughed. “Guess you’ve got a point.”
“Great people.” She wiggled her fingers at the ginger cat that was taking a nap in the fake snow by the pointy-toed slippers of three elves dressed in red-and-green outfits with multiple strands of macramé necklaces around their necks. With their jaunty red hats with dangling white balls and overdone makeup with big red lips, the elves looked more naughty than nice as they waved at passersby with electronic arms tipped by white-gloved hands.
“Morning Glory does like to start a dialogue.” Trey pointed at the display.
Misty smiled. “What do you suppose she’d like us to discuss?”
“Let’s not even go there.”
“Angels?” She chuckled as she touched the angel hanging from the macramé necklace around her own neck.
Trey cocked an eyebrow as he glanced down at her with darkened eyes. “Now I could talk about angels—all night long.”
“Not me. I’d prefer to talk about—well, cowboys.”
She didn’t wait for his response or the gleam she knew she’d see in his eyes. Instead, she quickly turned and walked the few steps to the Chuckwagon Café. She focused on the carved wooden café sign painted in red and white that hung from hooks above the boardwalk. Red-and-white checked curtains filled the lower half of the windows. Someone had hand-painted colorful Christmas scenes on the upper half of the windows. Santa Claus and his gift-laden sleigh were pulled by brown-and-white painted ponies. Boisterous children wearing earmuffs and mittens tugged a green Christmas tree home from the forest.
“I wonder who painted these windows.” Misty pointed at the artwork. “It’s wonderful.”
“Morning Glory’d be my guess. She’s talented enough to do about anything creative.”
“I like her.” Misty fingered the harness hardware hanging around her neck. “Did you notice my necklace? She gave it to me.”
He picked up the angel, rubbed a thumb over the face, and glanced up at Misty. “Suits you.”
“You started this entire Christmas angel thing. I don’t think I’ll ever hear the last of it.”
He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I didn’t spread it far. Once something catches folks’ fancy, it’s hell and gone.”
“I’m sort of embarrassed about it.”
“Don’t be. We needed something or someone to give us hope. You were at the right place at the right time.”
“And you had the idea.”
He let go of the angel, then brushed a strand of hair back from her face, lingering suggestively on the soft shell of her ear. “For sure, you’re our Christmas angel.”
Chapter 15
Misty simply smiled at him, realizing that particular horse—or Christmas angel—had already left the barn and there was no bringing it back. She might as well make the best of the situation and use it to her advantage.
“You gotta admit it’s got a certain charm.” Trey tweaked her ear and grinned as he reached around her and pulled open the door to the Chuckwagon Café.
She stepped inside and heard sleigh bells jingle against the front door’s glass window as the door closed behind them. A group of local folks seated at two tables glanced up, nodded in greeting, and went back to their meals.