Page 35 of The Cowboy's Christmas Baby
“Why not? I’m introducing you to my parents. They’re anxious to meet you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry about this morning. I handled it poorly, as my dad was happy to tell me.”
“Your parents want to meet me?”
“They do. And I want you to meet them,” he added, because he didn’t want there to be any more confusion about that.
Tate pondered that for a moment and apparently saw nothing too dangerous. Another thing he really liked about her was that she had a hard time holding a grudge—at least, once she got it out of her system. She entertained him on so many levels. She was quick to laugh and find the humor in things. She was also loyal and funny and easily hurt. Thanks went to Dana for that last fresh bit of insight. The emotional G-force Tate generated was the mental equivalent of riding a bull. There was no mystery involved as to how he felt about that.
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have made that comment about the condoms,” she said.
“Hey, now who’s the heathen? Although you saved me from a conversation with my mother that I did not want to have, so no apology required.”
She nestled under his arm and laid her cheek on his chest. A deep sigh escaped her, as if she’d let go of a long list of worries and could finally relax. “Thank you.”
Miles didn’t bother asking what for. This was new territory for him. He didn’t want to push too hard and too soon for a relationship that went beyond sex. He wrapped both arms around her and rested his chin on her crown while they sat for a while and soaked up the peace, something Tate seemed in need of.
Chapter Twelve
Tate
Tate cleared aspot in the living room for the tree while Miles scavenged through the cupboards in search of food. He withdrew a box of macaroni and cheese and threw a tutting noise of disapproval her way.
“It’s like teenagers live here,” he said.
“You could always have dinner with your parents.”
“No, no… we’re good. I love macaroni and cheese.”
A warm glow spread through Tate. When Miles found out Maybe and Merry planned to decorate a tree, he’d insisted on coming along.“To make sure you get it right,”he’d said.
She was so happy to have him here. What a difference a few hours could make. This morning, she’d been a phone call away from telling him he could do to himself what she’d done to Santa. She didn’t know where things stood between them, but it was safe to assume more condoms would be required.
But she wondered where his parents’ infatuation with their new granddaughter left her job for the next week or so, since they planned to stay in Grand for the rodeo, and Miles would likely go home to Texas with them for Christmas now that he had nothing to hide.
She didn’t want to think too hard about what Christmas in Grand would be like without him to help make spirits bright, but regardless, the Shannahans were about to take their first steps toward forging new Christmas traditions. If she couldn’t stop Christmas from coming, then she’d see that it arrived on terms she could live with. Their parents wanted to stay in Florida, play bingo, and learn how to golf? Fine, but it wasn’t for Tate.
Maybe and Merry arrived as they were putting their supper dishes away.
Miles took one look at the sisters and turned to Tate. “When Mrs. Quinn said her daughters were identical twins, she wasn’t kidding.”
“Multiply these two by three,” Tate said. “They all look alike. This one is Maybe.” She pointed to the twin carrying a box overflowing with garland. “The other is Meredith. Everyone calls her Merry.” Merry carried a cookie tin wrapped with a red bow. “They aren’t hard to tell apart once you get to know them.” The twins might be identical in appearance, but personality-wise, they couldn’t be less alike.
Neither one could contain her surprise at the sight of Miles Decker doing dishes in the cramped trailer kitchen, however. He slung the damp cup towel over the oven’s door handle and went to shake hands.
“I hope you ladies don’t object to me crashing your party,” he said, flashing them the famous smile that had won over legions of bull-riding fans across the whole country. If the twins’ awed expressions were anything to go by, the damaged left cheek didn’t detract from his magnetic appeal for them any more than it had for Tate.
Maybe, the more outgoing sister, spoke for them. As usual.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” she said to Tate. “Traitor. We’re supposed to be friends. Wait until I meet Jordan Rowe and see if I give you the details.” She’d had an unapologetic crush on the rising country star since she’d first seen him on YouTube, and she sang his songs relentlessly. And hopelessly off-key. And usually with the wrong lyrics.
Ford’s arrival interrupted her before she could fully warm up.
Finding Maybe and Meredith in his home was business as usual as far as he was concerned. Miles’s presence raised his eyebrows but didn’t make him curious enough to ask questions. He untied his boots and left them in the tray by the door, right next to Maybe’s more stylish black ankle stilettos.
“Hannah gave me the night off. Private party tonight for the medical clinic,” he said to Tate, ignoring the guests, who were clearly Tate’s problem, not his. “Dallas is helping her out.”
The party was for Dallas’s staff, and he liked to wait on them himself. Tate thought it was a nice gesture, and so did his staff, because they loved working for him. Ford got paid regardless, so he liked it, too.
“Come help us decorate the tree,” Maybe said to him, because being ignored was so not her thing.
