Vicki Lewis Thompson - A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe

Ty had been willing to help the cause, and his legal training had come in handy for the Kickstarter campaign that had raised the startup funds for the academy. Because the calendar had been his idea, he’d been talked into being the first pinup guy. He hadn’t factored in that a sixteen-month calendar meant he’d be decorating walls everywhere from September through December. He couldn’t wait for January first.

He’d taken his share of ribbing from the other lawyers in the firm. The guys thought he should be thrilled that he’d attracted so much female attention. Most of the women in the office now looked at him with a gleam in their eye, even the married ladies. It was embarrassing.

He should be over it by now. He should be used to walking into a public place and seeing himself hanging on the wall. He wasn’t.

He looked away from the calendar and met Whitney’s brown gaze. “Hi, there, Whitney! Great to see you again. How’s it going?” Maybe she’d just ignore the calendar issue.

“Good, real good.” She grinned and tilted her head toward the calendar. “And here I thought you were a straightlaced lawyer type.”

So she wasn’t going to ignore it. Well, he couldn’t blame her. He was on a beefcake calendar and most people found that intriguing, especially if they’d only known him as a white-collar professional. “I’m extremely straightlaced. And anal. You should see my sock drawer.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Trust me, it’s not.” Damn it all, each and every time this happened he felt vulnerable, and not only because he was half naked in the picture. Anyone who read the accompanying text would learn he’d been a foster boy at Thunder Mountain Ranch. He wasn’t ashamed of it, not at all, but still...the information was personal.

He hadn’t figured on that kind of exposure when he’d agreed to be the first poster boy for the academy. He’d been swept up in the emotional campaign to save Thunder Mountain Ranch so Rosie and Herb could live out their golden years there. They deserved that.

They’d been put in dire straits through no fault of their own, sort of like he’d been when his parents had died. He’d wanted to help make things right for them. He still did, but man, the calendar stint had been more than he’d bargained for.

Whitney’s expression softened. “Sorry to tease you about it. You’re probably sick of people doing that.”

“It’s okay. It’s for a good cause.”

“Absolutely. So what can I get for you? As I recall, you like black coffee, no embellishments.”

“Usually that’s true.” So she’d remembered his coffee order. Flattering. And he hadn’t imagined that tug of mutual attraction last summer, either. They liked each other. Even better, she’d liked him before the calendar had appeared.

He glanced behind him to see if he was holding up the line. Apparently he was at the end of it. “But today I want one of those Peppermint Pleasure lattes, instead.”

“Festive choice. Whipped cream?”

“No thanks. Don’t want to get too wild and crazy.”

“Your choice, but the whipped cream really makes it sing. We sprinkle candy cane chips on top to give the whipped cream some crunch.”

“Do you like it like that?”

She held his gaze. “Love it.”

Well , now . He suspected they’d moved beyond the subject of peppermint lattes. The room suddenly grew warmer. “Then I guess you’d better lather on the whipped cream and candy cane chips.”

“Good decision. For here or to go?”

“I’ll drink it here.”

The dark-haired girl standing beside Whitney picked up a cup. “So that’s a large Peppermint—”

“That’s okay, Meryl. I’ve got this.” Whitney neatly plucked the cup out of her hand. “Have a seat wherever you can find a space, Ty. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Thanks, but I haven’t paid yet.”

“Oh, right.” Her laugh was slightly breathless. “Meryl, can you please handle that for me?”

“Absolutely.” Meryl stepped to the cash register and took the bill he handed her. “So you’re really the guy on that calendar?”

“’Fraid so.”

“You should be proud of it. That’s an awesome picture, and the calendar’s for a great cause. I’d love to attend that academy, but I’m too old. I just turned twenty.”

“Maybe eventually they’ll open it up to adults.” He pocketed his change and added money to the tip jar. “You’re not the only one who’s expressed an interest. Maybe I should mention it while I’m at the ranch this weekend.”

“I wish you would. Sounds great for kids trying to figure out what they want to do with their lives. But if you could add a special session for those of us who are still trying to figure that out but don’t qualify, agewise, I’ll bet you’d get some takers.”

“Okay, I’ll ask.”

“Thanks. And you’re even cuter in person.” Then she blushed. “Did I just say that out loud?”

He smiled. What a sweetheart. “It’s okay.”

“At least you’re not all stuck-up about being on the calendar. Some guys would be.”

“Yeah, definitely,” said the other girl, who’d been filling the napkin dispenser and the cream pitcher. She looked to be about the same age as Meryl. She stared at him with an adoring expression. “They’d be all I’m so hot .”

“Not my style.” Another customer came up behind him and he moved out of the way. “Guess I’d better find a seat.” He quickly located an unoccupied table.

So this was the effect of media on a guy’s rep. Multiply this by a hundred different sexy impressions, and no wonder movie stars were mobbed. The photographer had created an image of him that didn’t exist, and yet women bought into it.

He didn’t roll out of bed and pull on jeans, boots and a hat before going out to take care of the horses. He hadn’t even done that when he’d lived at Thunder Mountain. Guys might have tackled the morning chores before shaving, assuming they’d had enough of a beard to worry about, but they’d always put on a shirt.

Okay, maybe a few times he’d repaired a fence or shoveled manure without a shirt on. When the job was especially hot and dirty, a cowboy might go bare-chested. But it was the exception to the rule.

Whitney brought over his latte topped with an expert swirl of whipped cream and lightly sprinkled with candy cane bits. “Now isn’t that pretty?”

“Sure is.” He lifted the cup. Cool, soft whipped cream tickled his upper lip as he got a mouthful of...paradise. Coffee, steamed milk and peppermint was a drink fit for the gods.

Licking away the whipped cream, he swept up a few crunchy pieces of candy cane. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Oh, yeah.”

“See what you’ve been missing?”

“Yep.” And he wasn’t talking about the latte. He looked up at her standing beside his table in her tan Rangeland Roasters shirt and a matching skirt that swished around her knees when she walked. In Cheyenne she’d worn slacks like everyone else. Maybe the skirt was another indication that she was the boss around here.

He decided to seize the day and worry about complications later. “Listen, I’m here until Sunday. Is there any time we might get together for...” He paused in confusion. His first move was always a coffee date but Whitney worked in a coffee shop.

She laughed softly. “Coffee?”

“No, I guess not. A different kind of drink, something involving alcohol.” He hesitated. “Unless you’re seeing someone?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

“Good.” Adrenaline rushed through his system, or maybe it was the caffeine. Either way, his heart beat faster.

“I take it you’re not with Theresa anymore?”