Diana Palmer - Wyoming Rugged

He burst out laughing and then coughed.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” she said at once, wincing. “I shouldn’t have opened my mouth!”

He caught his breath. “Niki, you’re a breath of spring,” he said. “No, I don’t color it,” he added. “My father was from Greece. His hair was still black when he died, and he was in his sixties.” He didn’t tell her that his real father was from Greece. He didn’t know or care where his stepfather, the man who’d raised him, came from.

“I remember my grandfather...”

“What in the blazes are you doing in here?” Todd ground out when he saw Niki sitting on the bed beside Blair.

“Well, darn, caught in the act,” Niki groaned.

CHAPTER TWO

“I DID TRY to chase her out,” Blair told his friend ruefully. “She wouldn’t go.”

“I called Doctor Fred,” Niki told her dad. “Blair wasn’t getting better. By the second day, I’m usually bouncing off the walls. Doctor Fred called in some new meds, and I had Tex go pick them up in town.”

“You’ll get sick again,” her father said solemnly.

“I will not,” Niki replied. “I’m just off antibiotics myself. And it isn’t as if I’m kissing him or anything,” she added indignantly. “I’m only pouring medicine into him. Well, that and orange juice,” she added. She grinned at her father.

Blair, looking up at her, had a sudden stark urge to drag her down into his arms and see if her mouth was as soft and sweet as it looked. That shocked him into letting go of her hand. He must be losing his mind. Well, he was sick. If that was an excuse.

“I’m sorry to stick you with an invalid over the holidays,” Blair began.

Todd cut him off, chuckling. “Niki’s almost always sick at Christmas,” he replied. “We’re used to it.”

He frowned. “At Christmas?”

“Yes,” Todd said with a sigh. “Last year we made sure she wasn’t around anyone who had a cold. She got pneumonia anyway.”

Blair’s dark eyes narrowed. “You have a live fir tree downstairs.”

“Yes. We always do,” Niki said, smiling. “I love live trees. It’s in a ball, so that we can plant it after...”

“A live tree,” Blair persisted. “Some people are allergic to them.”

Niki and her father looked at each other in confusion.

“We had artificial trees until about three years ago,” Todd said. “You wanted a live tree like your girlfriend had at her home.”

Niki grimaced. “I started getting sick at Christmas three years ago. I never connected it.”

“I’ll have Tex come and take the live tree out,” Todd said. “We’ll get a pretty artificial one from the hardware store in town, and you can decorate it again.”

Niki laughed. “I guess I’ll have to.” She glanced at Blair. “Leave it to you to see the obvious, when both of us miss it.”

“Good for me,” he mused.

“I’ll go talk to Edna about that soup,” Niki said. She put the bottle of cough syrup on the bedside table and picked up the spoon. “Want some more juice?” she added.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. Thanks, Niki.”

She grinned and left the men to talk.

“I couldn’t stop her,” Blair said quietly. “She’s formidable when she makes up her mind. I didn’t encourage her to come in here.”

“I know that.” Todd dropped into the chair beside the bed. “Her mother, Martha, was just like that,” he told the younger man. “She’d go out of her way to help sick people. Niki worries.”

“Yes.”

Todd’s eyes narrowed. “I called Elise.”

Blair’s face closed up. “She can’t bear illness.”

Todd didn’t say a word. But his expression was eloquent.

Blair just shrugged.

“She reminded you of Bernice, didn’t she?” Todd asked, because he and Blair had been friends for a long time. He’d been the one they’d called when Blair was going out of his mind after the accident that left his mother first paralyzed, and soon after, dead.

Blair’s face grew hard. “Yes.”

Todd didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But I’ll make the best of it,” he added. “No woman is going to be perfect.”

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, Blair was feeling better. He sat up in bed to eat the food on the tray Edna brought him, and he was smiling when Niki peered in to check on him.

“I’m not going to die anytime soon,” he assured her with a grin.

She grinned back. “Okay. Nice to see that you’re better. I won’t have to worry Doctor Fred again.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “I don’t think I’m going to catch whatever you’ve got. I don’t even have a sore throat.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” he said. “I don’t want to be responsible for putting you back in bed again.”

“Thanks. But I’m good. Want some more orange juice?”

“Please.”

“I’ll be right back.”

* * *

SHE SAT WITH Blair from time to time while he recovered. Once, she brought in her iPad and presented him with a graphic novel from the Alien vs. Predator series, one they both enjoyed.

“This is cool,” he chuckled. “You can carry graphic novels around without having to lug a suitcase full of them.”

“I thought so, too. I’ve got a Calvin and Hobbes collection on there, as well. It’s one of my favorites.”

He nodded. “Mine, too. Thanks, Niki.”

“No problem.” She got up. “I have to help Edna and the two temporary cooks with the breads. We have a huge spread for Christmas dinner.”

“That’s on Thursday,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and today is Tuesday. We start baking breads today for the dressing, and cooking giblets for the gravy and making pies and cakes. It takes a while. We set the big fancy table in the dining room, and we have the cowboys and their wives come by, in shifts, to share it with us. That’s a tradition that dates back to my grandfather’s time here.”

“It seems like a nice one,” he commented.

She smiled. “They work very hard for us all year. It’s little enough to do. We have presents for them, and their children, under the tree. It’s usually a madhouse here on Christmas Day. I hope you’ll be up to it,” she added with a grin.

“I’ve never been involved in Christmas celebrations,” he commented.

“Not even when you were a child?” she asked, surprised.

“My...father was an agnostic,” he said, hating the memory of his stepfather. “We didn’t celebrate Christmas.”

She hesitated. “Was your mother like that, too?”

His face was hard. “She did what he told her to do. It was a different generation, honey. He was old-school. God bless her, she put up with a lot from him. But she missed him when he died.”

“I’m sure you did, too.”

“In my way.”

Eager to lighten the atmosphere, because his face was painfully somber, she said, “We have eggnog on Christmas Eve. I make it from scratch.”

He made a face.

She grimaced. “I see. You don’t like eggs, so you won’t like eggnog, right?”

“Right. I’ll just have my whiskey neat instead of polluting it with eggs,” he said, tongue in cheek.

She sighed. “Are you always such a demanding dinner guest?” she despaired.

He chuckled. His black eyes twinkled at her. “I like pretty much anything except things with egg in them. Just don’t forget the whiskey.”

She sighed. He was very handsome. She loved the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She loved the strong, chiseled lines of his wide mouth, the high cheekbones, the thick black wavy hair around his leonine face. His chest was a work of art in itself. She had to force herself not to look at it too much. It was broad and muscular, under a thick mat of curling black hair that ran down to the waistband of his silk pajamas. Apparently, he didn’t like jackets, because he never wore one with the bottoms. His arms were muscular, without being overly so. He would have delighted an artist.