Robyn Carr - 'Tis the Season - Under the Christmas Tree / Midnight Confessions / Backward Glance

“Annie, you just have to try me out—I’m going to be very gentlemanly about it. Come on, don’t make me beg.”

She grinned at him. “Beg,” she said. “I think that’s what it’s going to take.”

He got an evil look in his eye and said, “Come here.” He snaked his fingers under her belt and tugged, pulling her down into the soft sofa cushions. “Let’s put a little flush on your cheeks.”

* * *

The next night Annie took eight lengths of ribbon in eight different colors to Nate’s house. They tied the ribbons around the puppies’ necks, so they could be identifiable. They weighed them, made a chart, had dinner—and Nathaniel was more than happy to put a flush on her cheeks again.

Night after night, she fed Ahab right after work so she’d be free to—ahem—help with the puppies. And talk and play and kiss. The kissing quickly became her favorite part. Greedy for that, she trusted Pam to hold the shop open two nights a week and a half day on Monday. In exchange for that, Annie insisted Pam take a little comp time to get her own Christmas baking and shopping done; she came in late a few days to compensate.

There was more contributing to that flush of happiness on Annie’s cheeks than just the kissing. Minor though it might seem, getting to know him when he had his shirt pulled out of his jeans and his boots off seemed so much more than casual. Of course her boots were off, also, and while they necked, their feet intertwined and they wiggled their toes. They wiggled against each other, too. It was delicious.

When they were feeding or cleaning up after puppies, preparing a meal together, they were also getting to know each other. Annie had never really thought about it before, but that was what courtship was all about—figuring out if you had enough in common after the spark of desire to sustain a real relationship.

Nathaniel had wanted to work with Thoroughbreds since he was a kid. He owned a couple of retired racehorses, good for riding. “One good stud can set you up for a great side business,” he said. The initial investment, however, could be major. “In the next year or two, I’m going to invest. See what I can do.”

“Why not show horses?” she asked.

“That’s good, too, but I like the races.”

“I love horses,” she said. “You knew that. But did you know this? I’ve competed in dressage events all over the state. When I was younger, of course. Eventually it became too expensive for me. The best training was never in my neighborhood and the biggest competitions, including for the Olympics, were out of my reach. But if I could ever do anything, I would teach beginner dressage. Maybe even intermediate.”

She told him she had thought about inviting him out to the farm to meet her parents and horses, but realized he already knew them. He knew them before he knew her, in fact. So she invited him to see her little Fortuna house and she made him dinner there. “I don’t have a great make-out couch, however,” she warned him.

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” he said. “I needed that couch to get you going, but now that you’re all warmed up, we can do it anywhere. The floor, the chair, against the wall, the car...”

“I was so right about you. You’re just arrogant.”

He was also sentimental. Nathaniel was charmed by her two-bedroom house with a detached garage. The decorating was not prissy like a little dollhouse, but dominated by strong colors and leather furniture. The best part was, she had it completely decorated for Christmas, a garland over the hearth, lights up on the outside eaves. She had drizzled glitter on her huge poinsettia, had a Christmas cactus as big as a hydrangea bush, lots of what his mother had always called gewgaws. Ribbons, candles, potpourris, a Santa collection and, of course, a tree. A real tree, decorated to match the house—in burgundy, green, cream and gold. “And you’re not even spending Christmas at home,” he said.

“But I live here,” she reminded him.

“It just doesn’t make sense for me to put up decorations,” he said. “Mother left a ton of them in the garage cabinets, but I’m leaving before Christmas. And I didn’t think anyone would be around to see them.”

“I do it for myself,” she said. “I’m having holidays, too. I’ll spend nights here since it gets so crowded at the farm. In years past, I’ve been known to loan the house to one of the brothers and sisters-in-law and kids and just take the couch. Brad brings an RV, which the teenage boys pretty much commandeer. During summer visits, the kids stake out the barn and front porch.”

“Sounds like fun. I think I would have liked that, growing up,” he said. “When they all get here, will you let me meet them? Or re-meet them? I haven’t seen the boys since junior high.”

“Sure, but you have to be prepared.”

“For what?”

“They’re going to treat you like you’re my boyfriend.”

He smiled and pulled her against him. “What makes you think I’d have a problem with that?”

“I don’t think we’re in that place,” she informed him. “I think we just eat, talk, take care of puppies and kiss.”

“Annie,” he said as if disappointed. “What do you think a boyfriend is?”

“Um, I never really...”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, your day at the farm with your folks,” he said. “Get done with whatever it is you do by early afternoon. Come for a ride with me. Let me show you my spread—it’s so peaceful in the snow. Bring a change of clothes so you can freshen up before we have dinner.”

“I can do that,” she said. “I’d like that.”

* * *

Annie had seen herself as plain and sturdy, until she’d been under the lips and hands of Nathaniel Jensen, because he was so much more than she’d ever reckoned with. Handsome, smart, funny, compassionate, independent, strong, sexy—the list was endless. And he made her feel like so much more than a solid, dependable farm girl. When he kissed her, dared to touch her a bit more intimately than she invited, pulled his hands back when she said not yet, she felt sexy and pretty and adored. This was a man she looked forward to exploring, and she was taking him in slowly, with such pleasure.

So she told Rose she had a date to go riding with the vet and was, of course, excitedly excused from Sunday baking and dinner at the farm. “Please don’t get all worked up,” Annie told her mother. “This isn’t anything special. We’ve become friends on account of those puppies.”

“Right,” Rose said. “Still, could you wear a little color to bring out your hair and eyes?”

“I said, take it easy,” Annie stressed. “And don’t mention it to anyone. I don’t want to be the talk of the county the way that skinny Hollywood woman was.”

But Annie wasn’t taking it lightly—she was almost sizzling with pleasure. And she tried dressing up a little more. For riding, she wore her best jeans, newest boots and oldest denim jacket over a red turtleneck sweater. She added a black scarf. She brought along attractive slacks and high-heeled boots with a silk blouse and her best suede blazer to wear for dinner afterward. They talked about horses while they rode two of Nate’s favorite mounts, a couple of valuable, albeit retired, Thoroughbreds, disciplined and with just the right amount of spirit. The conversation about breeding, training, racing and showing horses was so stimulating she could almost forget for a while that she was trying not to fall in love with him.

“I’m not around horse people enough anymore,” she said. “When I was riding in competition as a girl, that was enough to keep me occupied twenty-four hours a day. No wonder I didn’t have fun in college—I wasn’t riding.”

“You’re good on a horse,” he said. “You should ride every day. So should I—it’s the best part of what I do.”