Vicki Lewis Thompson - A Cowboy Under The Mistletoe

“I’m a stickler when it comes to contract law and not much else. By all means, use a fork.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

He shrugged. “I’m used to eating with chopsticks. It’s fun for me.”

“Then by all means, go for it.” She served herself a generous portion of each dish, plus a spoonful of brown rice. “Who taught you how to use them?”

“My mom.”

The abbreviated response told her not to ask any more questions. The short bio on the calendar had mentioned that he’d lost both parents at fourteen, so it had likely been an accident of some kind. She understood how one tragic moment could change someone’s life.

She and Ty didn’t know each other well enough to delve into those dark recesses. But his mother had taught him well. He could manipulate those chopsticks as if he’d been born with them in his hand.

He picked up a clump of rice and held it effortlessly in midair. “The new location seems to be doing great.”

Change of topic. That was fine with her. She nodded as she finished a bite of the excellent orange chicken. “It is. Ginny had high hopes that the town would be a good market, and it’s turned out that way.”

“I’m sure you had something to do with that.” He popped the rice into his mouth.

“I hope so. I’ve always loved coffee shops. They’ve been gathering places for centuries. I feel as if I’m carrying on an important tradition.”

“You definitely are. I’ve used Rangeland Roasters for meeting both clients and friends. It’s a no-pressure spot to hang out.”

“I know!” She warmed to her favorite subject. “I brought in some universal games like checkers and chess. My customers love them! And while they play, they drink coffee, so that means more revenue. Good for them and good for the shop.”

“Besides that, you make them feel at home. You remember names and drink orders.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

“For you, maybe. Some people have a really tough time recalling names and personal details. Their brains are busy with stuff like quantum physics.”

“Or contract law?” She knew he was smart, but she didn’t have a grasp on what kind of smart.

“Thinking about a case doesn’t keep me from remembering everyday things, especially if they’re written down somewhere or I have a clear picture in my head.”

“Photographic memory?”

“That’s what the tests say.”

That fascinated her. “Tell me how it works.”

“I can’t speak to how it works with others, but for me, if I need to remember something, I take a mental picture of it. That can be a page of case law or the items on this table.”

“Perfect recall.”

“If I concentrate, pretty much.”

“Amazing. What a talent.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Maybe, but I can’t take credit for it. I was born that way.” He hesitated. “So was my mom.”

She accepted that admission as the gift it was. He trusted her enough to tell her something personal. All things considered, this date was off to a great start. “That’s a nice legacy.”

“That’s what my foster mom said a long time ago. She was right, but then, she usually is. I guess you’ve met her.”

“Rosie? Oh, yeah. She pops in at least once a week. Usually she orders a Mocha Madness, but every once in a while she’ll have a Crazy for Caramel instead. She keeps telling me I need to get a liquor license so I can serve Baileys in her coffee.”

He laughed. “She does love that combo. By the way, she and Herb, plus a couple of my brothers and their girlfriends, are out dancing tonight. We’re invited, but I didn’t make any promises.”

“Oh!” Maybe she wouldn’t have him all to herself, after all. He’d come to Sheridan to visit his foster family and they were off having fun without him. “Of course we can. I’ll decorate my tree another time.”

“But you’d set aside tonight to do it. I’ll take a wild guess that the Friday after Thanksgiving is when you normally put up your tree.”

“It is, but—”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. I want to. I haven’t decorated a tree since I lived at Thunder Mountain.”

“You don’t put up one in your apartment?”

“I have a predecorated tree I haul out of the closet and plug into a timer.”

She gazed at him. “That sounds very...practical.”

“And boring?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But tell the truth and the whole truth. You were thinking it.”

She smiled. “Yes, your honor, I was. Okay, we’ll decorate the tree, but it won’t take long, and we can probably still meet your family afterward.”

He polished off his wine and picked up the bottle to refill their glasses. “Maybe. Let’s see how the evening goes.”

And just like that, her mind went right back to thoughts of kissing him. If they stayed here, she had a much better chance of that happening.

4

TY WOULD LOVE to dance with Whitney, but not tonight. They were still figuring out whether this relationship had possibilities and he wanted to give them time to do that before getting involved with his family.

He could see why Rosie would think Whitney was perfect for him, though. Her openness and sense of humor definitely appealed to him. Whether he was perfect for her was a whole other question. He had a few issues. Near as he could tell, she didn’t have any, or certainly not major ones.

Although he liked to think he’d handled his problems, his relationships never seemed to last very long. He knew he was picky, but still, he was a little surprised that he’d never come even close to proposing. Despite Rosie’s intuition, Whitney could end up being another of his dead-end affairs.

Physically, though, they were like a pile of kindling waiting for a match. He couldn’t speak for her, but he was trying to hold off. Although technically they’d known each other for almost a year, he wasn’t sure those short conversations at Rangeland Roasters counted for much. They’d been more like teasers.

Yeah, that was a good word for those interactions, and maybe that explained why they were both so eager to get on with it. He could see it in her eyes. A couple of times he’d held her gaze a little too long and had felt a really strong urge to kiss her. He had a feeling she’d be fine with that.

But no matter what did or didn’t happen between them, he’d be driving back to Cheyenne on Sunday. At first he’d considered that a negative, but now he could see the positive side of it. The attraction between them had built-in boundaries.

Considering how strong the chemistry was, boundaries might be a good thing. Driving back to Cheyenne would be like taking a recess during an intense trial. Nothing like a cooling-off period to allow those involved to reason more clearly.

He helped her clean up the kitchen, which was another test to see if he could keep his hands to himself. It was a compact kitchen and they weren’t small people. Each accidental—or maybe not so accidental—brush of their bodies jacked up his pulse.

By now he had a clear and detailed mental image of her and he knew they’d fit together like puzzle pieces. More than once he wondered how she saw this evening ending. She’d been the one to suggest spending it in her apartment.

But she was naturally friendly, so coming here might have been a spur-of-the-moment idea because her time was so limited and she’d planned to trim the tree. Just because they had the opportunity for more than a casual evening together didn’t mean they should act on it. They probably shouldn’t, in fact.

He couldn’t totally banish the thought, though. She smelled terrific, a spicy scent mixed with the aroma of the brewed coffee she’d spent her day serving. Whenever she moved past him in the kitchen he could almost taste that Peppermint Pleasure latte. He had a hunch she’d taste even better.