Studmuffin Santa Page 8

  Amber bites her lip. “We’ll never make it in time.” She looks up at me and nods. “Maybe Brandon’s plow truck could widen the walkways?”

  I shake my head and push up the sleeves of my jacket. “It’s too big,” I tell her. “But if you’ve got an extra shovel, I can work on that while you take care of the reindeer.”

  Jade looks miserable. “We can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t ask,” I point out. “I’m offering. Now are you going to get me a shovel, or should I take yours?”

  She looks like she might want to wrestle me for it, and I can’t say I’d mind. “I’ll pay you overtime,” she says. “I can’t possibly thank you enough, but at least I can pay you.”

  “You can pay me by letting me take you to dinner later. Now where’s that extra shovel?”

  Jade blinks at me, then turns and walks away. Presumably to get a shovel, though it’s anyone’s guess. When Jade is out of earshot, Amber leans close and lowers her voice. “Thanks for saving our asses today,” she whispers. “She’s not very good at taking help from anyone.”

  “She’s getting better at it,” I say. “She’s even agreed to let me keep an eye on things.”

  “For real?”

  I nod. “She doesn’t know that’s why you hired me, but—”

  “That’s not the only reason I hired you.” She smiles. “You’ve been good for business, Brandon. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  She studies me a moment, something resembling a smirk on her face. “You like her.”

  “Jade? Sure, she’s great. Smart and hard-working and—”

  “No, you like her like her.”

  “What is this, fourth grade?”

  Amber grins wider as Jade returns with the shovel. She hands it to me with a frown. “Seriously, thank you, Brandon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Let’s not find out.”

  Amber turns and heads off toward the reindeer barn, while I set to work shoveling. Jade works from the other end of the building, her movements slow and steady, but effective. It’s slow going for both of us, but by nine-fifteen, we have most of the major walkways cleared. I lose sight of her at one point, but I assume she’s gone to help Amber deal with the reindeer.

  I’m startled to hear her voice behind me. “Here, drink this.”

  I turn to see Jade holding out a cup in each hand. One looks like water, and the other is a mug of cocoa topped with whipped cream and red and green sprinkles. I lean my shovel up against the barn and reach for both of them. The water goes down in two gulps before I start on the cocoa.

  “Thanks.”

  “No, thank you,” she says. “Seriously, Brandon, you saved the day.”

  “Are the reindeer ready to roll?”

  “Yes, and the walkways are clear on both sides of the barn. Thank you.”

  “No problem.” I swig a sip of the cocoa. It’s rich and warm and burns all the way down. “I meant what I said about dinner,” I tell her.

  She rolls her eyes, and my heart curls into a ball at the sight of all that blue in motion. “The point is for me to repay you,” she says. “Not for you to buy me dinner.”

  “I didn’t say I was paying.” I wink at her. “Maybe I’ll order the lobster.”

  Her cheeks pinken a little, or maybe it’s just the exertion of all that shoveling. “Even that’s not enough.” She bites her lip, distracting the hell out of me. “I’d offer you a raise, but—”

  “You’re not technically my boss, remember?”

  She frowns. “I still make payroll decisions.”

  “I don’t want your money, Jade.”

  “What do you want?”

  Is it my imagination, or does her voice come out breathy and a little high?

  I lean close, so fixated on her mouth that I can’t think of anything else. I’m inches from her now, close enough to brush her lips with mine.

  So I take a risk and do it. I know it’s dumb, but I can’t help it. It’s the slightest contact, the softest skim of my lips on hers. But there’s the promise of more.

  That’s what I want more than anything.

  I draw back and see her pupils dilated, lips still parted and eager.

  “Tonight,” I tell her.

  “Dinner.” She nods like she’s confirming the appointment, and I smile in agreement.

  But dinner’s not what I’m hungry for. And I don’t know how long I can keep pretending otherwise.

  “Wow. It’s still coming down out there.” Jade turns away from the window to face me, her brow creased in concern.

  I ease myself out of the Santa throne and join her on the other side of the barn. “That’s another foot at least,” I tell her. “Think we’re safe shutting down early?”

  “I don’t see how we can’t,” she said. “Not even Studmuffin Santa is enough to make people want to brave roads like this.”

  A twinge of frustration pinches at my chest. If no one’s getting in, no one’s getting out, either, which means the odds of us making it into town for dinner tonight are slim.

  Disappointment must register on my face, because she offers a halfhearted smile. “We can do dinner some other time,” she says. “Or I could probably throw something together here. It won’t be lobster, but—”

  “Sold,” I say, willing to eat out of the garbage disposal if it means even another hour with Jade.

  She smiles and tosses her ponytail over one shoulder. “I’m not the best cook, but I make a decent shrimp scampi. There’s even a guest room if you can’t make it out tonight.”

  “Thanks.” I wonder if she’s forgotten about the plow blade on the front of my truck, and the fact that I could probably make it back to the ranch if another eight feet fell. If Jade invites me to stay, I’m staying.

  “Hey, guys.” Amber marches in, stomping snow from her boots. “Have you seen Zak?”

  “He went to put the camera gear in his truck,” Jade says. “Though I’m not sure he’ll be able to drive home.”

  “I pulled down the snowshoes from the attic,” she says. “We’re heading over to his mom’s place for her birthday dinner. It’s just a couple miles away, and it’ll be fun.”

  Jade frowns. “I don’t want you snowshoeing home alone in the dark. This is cougar country, Amber.”

  “His brother can bring me home in their plow truck,” she assures us. “Or I’ll stay in his mom’s guest room. Don’t worry.”

  “I can go get you, too,” I offer. “If you’re really in a jam.”

  Amber smiles. “See?” she says to Jade. “All taken care of. And I’ve got all the reindeer fed and bunked down for the night. You okay to finish tidying up in here?”

  “No problem,” Jade says. “Go on, have fun.”

  She swats her younger sister on the butt, earning a squeal from Amber as she hustles out the door with two pairs of snowshoes in hand.

  “I’ll go change out of the Santa suit,” I tell Jade. “Then I can help with the rest of the cleanup.”

  “There’s not much to do,” she says. “It was so slow today that I got almost everything done already.”

  “In that case, I’ll be quick.”

  I head into the bathroom to get rid of the Santa costume, folding it carefully into my gym bag while Jade clatters around in the barn. I step out of the restroom to find Jade waiting for me.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she says, and leads me out the door.

  Our breath is thick and foggy as we pick our way across the snow-covered path from the barn to the house.

  “Is Amber safe out there?”

  “Yeah, she’s crazy-athletic,” Jade says. “Always was. Went to college on a soccer scholarship.”

  “I wasn’t worried about her fitness as much as cougars.”

  Jade shrugs. “She’s got bear spray and a .357 snub nose for protection. You have to out here.”

  “Jeez. You two really are pioneer women.”

  Jade grins
and sweeps her flashlight beam over the glittery field of snow. “That’s the idea.”

  I kick through a snowdrift and study the house as we approach. It has a wide wraparound porch and old-fashioned lamp posts glowing on either side of the walkway. “So is Amber back with her ex?” I ask.

  “Nah,” she says, reaching out to knock a thick column of snow off a fencepost. “But she’s stayed close with his family. His mom’s been like a surrogate mother to her since ours left for Hawaii.”

  “Is she dating that PI guy instead?”

  Jade turns and looks at me, her honey hair glowing with moonlight as she tilts her head to one side. “I don’t know. My sister has lots of men fawning over her. Why, you want to ask her out?”

  “Your sister?” I shake my head and consider telling her about Sean. That’s the real reason for my interest.

  But that’s not my secret to share, and besides, I know how Jade feels about the resort people. She probably wouldn’t want one dating her sister.

  “Not my type,” I tell her honestly.

  “What is your type?”

  She looks at me as she reaches out to unlock the door, and I hold her gaze and smile. “The type who makes out with me in barns and pickups and then feeds me scampi.”

  Her cheeks go bright pink, and she turns away to pull open the front door. “God, you’re such a flirt.”

  It’s true, maybe. I suppose I have that reputation. But I’m not just flirting with Jade. This isn’t a game to me, like some teenage dalliance. I’m not sure how to get that across to her.

  I step into the foyer and look around to see a set of stairs leading up and one headed down. I’ve always loved split level homes, and this one feels extra cozy with a bank of family photos on one wall and an overflowing wrought iron coat rack parked beside an antique oak bench.

  Jade sits down to pry off her boots, and I do likewise, conscious of her hip bumping mine. “Is this the house you grew up in?”

  “Yeah. There’s a pillar downstairs where our mom used to mark our height every year on the first day of school. We can’t bear to paint over it.”

  “Do you see your folks very often?”

  She sets her boots aside and massages her foot, which is clad in a pink and orange polka-dotted sock. It’s more whimsical than I would have expected, and I find myself absurdly wondering what sort of panties she wears.

  “Our folks were here in June to see some of the newborn calves,” she says. “And Amber and I got to visit them in Hawaii last November.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  She nods and lifts her other foot to massage the ball of it. “Yes, but living here helps. Being in the house where they raised us. It’s a little dated, but we’ve been pouring all our money into reindeer stuff. Fixing up barns and paying for feed, not to mention the weddings.”

  “Weddings?” I don’t know why the word startles me so much. “Who’s getting married?”

  She laughs, which makes me wonder if I sounded a little too alarmed. “Lots of people,” she says. “I hope, anyway. That’s what we’re trying to do in the off-season. Old fashioned country weddings.”

  “That sounds cool,” I say. “I know my cousins are planning something like that at Ponderosa Ranch.”

  The second I utter the words, I can tell it’s the wrong thing to say. Jade’s expression darkens, and she starts up the stairs in sock feet. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”

  I stand up and follow Jade up the battered hardwood staircase and into a brightly lit kitchen. Copper pots dangle from a rack that hangs over a cement-block island. I run my hand over the smooth surface while she starts pulling things out of the fridge.

  “I love this,” I say. “I’ve never seen a concrete counter.”

  “Thanks. Amber and I did it ourselves after watching a couple YouTube videos.”

  I stare at her, not even bothering to hide my amazement. I sit down on one of her barstools and watch as she lines up ingredients on the counter. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” She plunks a bag of frozen shrimp on the counter and starts unwrapping a stick of butter.

  “Is there anything you’re not insanely good at?”

  She looks up with a wary expression. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re smart—I mean, you’re running your own business and you went to veterinary school. You’re obviously good at home improvement stuff, plus you can cook—”

  “Not well.”

  “I burn tap water, so it’s relative.” I spot a bowl of almonds on the counter and grab a handful, hoping they’re not reindeer food or something.

  “I roasted those with rosemary and olive oil,” Jade says. “I saw it in a Martha Stewart thing online, and it looked pretty easy.”

  “See?” I pop a few almonds in my mouth and chew. “You said you’re not much of a cook, but you’ve obviously got mad kitchen skills. Plus, you’re funny, you’re kind, you’re beautiful. It’s like you have everything going for you, so I figure you must have a fault of some kind.”

  “Buddy, you have no idea.” She shakes her head and stretches up to grab a copper colander from the rack overhead. I should probably offer to help, but I’m enjoying the swath of bare stomach as her sweater hikes up. Her skin is creamy and soft-looking, and I’m struck by the urge to bury my face in her belly button.

  Jade lowers herself back down to her heels and dumps some frozen shrimp in the colander before running it under the tap to thaw them. I grab another couple almonds.

  “I can’t pronounce the word ‘specifically,’” she says, hair framing her face as she looks down into the sink. “Not without sounding it out really, really slowly.”

  “What?”

  “You asked what I’m not good at, and that’s one thing,” she says. “If I just say it without thinking, it comes out sounding like ‘su-spiff-a-klee.’”

  I laugh and watch her fill a big dutch oven with water. She tosses in a pinch of salt and cranks the heat beneath it before turning to grab a box of angel hair pasta from the cupboard.

  “What can I do to help?” I ask, nodding to the head of romaine sitting on the counter. “I’m a lousy cook, but I can toss a mean salad.”

  “Go for it,” she says. “And thanks.”

  I get to my feet and move around to the other side of the counter, grateful for the excuse to stand next to her. Jade’s hip bumps my thigh as she moves past me to grab a pair of oven mitts from the drawer beside me, and I resist the urge to lean into her.

  “So is that your one thing?” she asks. “The fact that you can’t cook, that’s what you’re bad at?”

  “Oh, there are tons of things I’m bad at,” I tell her as I slice into a thick tomato, spattering juice all over the cutting board. “I have the opposite of a green thumb. The red thumb of death? Whatever it is when you kill plants just by looking at them.”

  She laughs and starts throwing things into a saucepan. Butter and garlic and Dijon mustard and a few other things I had no idea went into scampi. She gives it a stir, then turns and reaches for a loaf of French bread.

  “I can’t imagine you’ve had much demand for nurturing houseplants in the Marines,” she says. “So that’s probably not a fatal flaw.”

  I shrug and begin slicing carrots, sending a tumble of little orange coins over the edge of the cutting board. “So what else are you bad at?” I ask. “Tell me some more things the Mighty Jade can’t do perfectly.”

  “Mighty Jade?” she snorts. “Okay, Wonder Boy. Let me think.”

  Steam rises from the pot of boiling water, and the whole kitchen is getting warm. Jade strips off her flannel overshirt, leaving her in a snug-fitting red thermal top with little buttons on the front. On most girls, it would look bland, but on Jade, it looks stunning. I ache to undo those buttons one by one. Maybe with my teeth.

  “I can’t exercise,” she says. “I hate the gym and running and weightlifting, which probably explains a lot about my formative years.” She gives me a sidelong glanc
e like she’s waiting for me to say something, and I remember what Stacey told Sean. I’m not dumb enough to bring that up, though, so I just nod.

  “Whatever you’re doing seems to work,” I tell her. “Not that you need any validation from me, but you’ve got a rockin’ bod.”

  She snorts. “Farm labor will do that.”

  I nod and scrape up chopped carrot with the side of my hand so I can toss it into the big blue bowl she just handed me. “I guess I’m the opposite,” I tell her. “I can’t not exercise. It’s not that I need to work out all the time to be all buff and macho. I do it because I’m kind of a basket case if I don’t. Handling anxiety—there’s another thing I’m bad at.”

  She smiles and checks the temperature on the stove, fiddling with one of the dials. “Let’s see,” she says. “There’s plenty of other stuff I suck at. I can’t get through Pride and Prejudice. Or most Jane Austen novels, really. I try and try, but I fall asleep before I even get to any good kissy stuff.”

  The word “kiss” coming from Jade’s perfect lips makes me want to shove aside this salad bowl and press her up against the counter. But I focus on chopping romaine instead, determined to keep my hands busy while my brain fishes for something else to share. Some other intimate detail to prolong this conversation so she’ll keep offering me delicious little details about herself.

  “I’m completely tone deaf,” I tell her. “But I really love music, and I love singing along. Or trying to sing along.”

  “Do you ever sing in front of people?”

  “Nope. Only in the shower.”

  “I’d love to see that.”

  Her expression goes from amusement to dismay as she realizes what she just said. Then she gets a funny look on her face, and I know she’s picturing it. I’m picturing it, too, imagining Jade standing naked under the spray, her breasts smooth and soapy as I help lather shampoo in her hair.

  The thought of singing while I do it kinda puts a damper on the fantasy, but still.

  “I can’t eat candy canes,” I blurt, desperate to tamp down the boner that’s threatening to embarrass me in the middle of the damn kitchen. “Or any peppermint candy.”

  “Are you allergic?”