Page 38 of The Cowboy's Christmas
Quinn turned his attention to the foggy side window, then reached for the rag. “The snow is really coming down.”
“It’s supposed to blow over quickly,” she said. “There are supposed to be small flurries all day.” And thankfully the big tractor was back in commission so that the road could be plowed if it drifted shut.
By the time they reached the ranch, the flurry was indeed over, and the sun came out, glinting off the sheet of white that blanketed the driveway. When Savannah climbed down from the tractor, she estimated they’d gotten maybe two inches. Enough to make the ranch look like a Christmas card, but not enough to cause problems. No sooner had the thought entered her mind than her foot slipped on a slick patch.
Quinn held out a hand, but she caught his sleeve instead, nearly pulling him over as she regained her balance, her feet sliding this way and that.
“I’m good,” she said, dropping her hand from his coat as her boots hit gravel.
“Aunt Vannie!” The twins came racing out the back door dressed in snowsuits and boots. “Uncle Deke needs help!”
“What kind of help?”
“He made a mess,” Sophie explained in an awed tone.
Savannah exchanged a quick look with Quinn, then headed for the back door, two little girls and Quinn not far behind. When she stepped into the kitchen, she stopped dead. The kitchen looked like a scene out of a horror movie.Carrie, to be exact.
Tomato sauce covered the floor and had splashed up the cabinetry and the front of the stove, and there, holding the now empty gallon can of tomatoes was Deke, his clothing smeared with red gunk, looking like smoke was about to come out of his ears.
“I sent the girls outside so as not to add to their vocabulary,” he said.
Savannah opened her mouth, then closed it again as the girls peeked around her legs. She heard Quinn come to a stop, and it was almost as if she could feel the heat of his body even though he was several feet away.
“Okay.” There was nothing to be gained by asking what had happened. The deed was done, and the kitchen needed swamped out. She glanced over her shoulder at Quinn.
“How do you feel about making a snowman?” she asked, meeting his gaze significantly.
“I love to build snowmen,” he said, keeping his eyes on her as he spoke. He looked down at Sophie and Jessa as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Want to help?”
“Yes,” the girls said in a chorus. Deke was also nodding, and after Quinn had followed the girls to the yard, he let go with the expletives he’d been holding in.
“Wow,” Savannah said. “All this from one can?”
“It’s a big can,” Deke said, holding it up. “And it fell from a great height.”
Savannah automatically looked up, but he shook his head. “The counter. I knocked it off the counter after it was opened and it landed, bounced, landed again.”
At least there was no broken glass.
“Maybe you should have been in your recliner instead of cooking?”
“Maybe a guy needs to feel useful.”
“What were you doing that involved a gallon of whole tomatoes?”
He indicated the stockpot on the stove. “Making enough marinara sauce to freeze so we have it when we’re both working.”
Savannah pinched the bridge of her nose for a few seconds, then dropped her hand. “Right. That would be nice.” She let out a huff of breath and propped her hands on her hips as her gaze traveled over the kitchen, judging the best place to start. Outside the kitchen window Quinn was showing the girls how to pack a snowball, demonstrating technique as they tried their hand at snow packing.
The man was gorgeous.
Deke cleared his throat and Savannah jumped.
Caught.
She gave her uncle a look, as if she’d merely been watching her adorable nieces. “Right, then. Let’s get started.”
*
