Page 45 of The Cowboy's Christmas
“He also moved to Marietta in the eighth grade. His dad managed a ranch. We started dating when we were sixteen. I loved him. We grew up together, knew everything about one another. We…talked.”
“I can talk,” he said, then instantly wished he could pull the words back. For one thing, it was a lie. He didn’t talk easily, and it appeared from her disbelieving expression, Savannah knew that. But the thing that bothered him most about the unexpected statement was that it sounded like he was competing with her dead husband.
“I’m sure you can,” Savannah said, “under the right circumstances, and perhaps when it’s too late.”
He blinked at her. Hard to argue with that.
A gust of wind hit the side of the building, and they both glanced toward the door that had rattled, then back at each other. Savannah moistened her lips, then said, “I need to up my Christmas game. For the girls.”
Thankful that they were no longer talking about him, Quinn said, “I can help,” in a low voice that seemed almost too intimate in the small room.
“How?”
“Well, I can get a real Christmas tree to start. Jessa and Sophie showed me that…thing…in the woodshop.”
“That thing—”
“Is indefensible even by fake tree standards.”
“I’ll hose it off and it’ll be fine.”
“Oh yeah. Hosing and flocking go well together. This iswhyyou need help with Christmas.” Quinn met her gaze dead-on. “Or I can back off.” It was a challenge. One that went unanswered.
Savannah pushed off the counter and crossed the room to plug in the portable electric baseboard heater. “If you’re going to stay, we need to get this room above freezing.”
“I’m staying. So…do I back off about Christmas? Allow you to put up that mini-monstrosity when you could have an excellent evergreen instead?”
She turned back to him and regarded him for a moment, looking as if she was forming and discarding replies, unable to find the one she wanted.
“Well?” he asked softly.
“Here’s the deal,” she said in a no-nonsense tone. “You help with Christmas, and I’ll act as a sounding board when you talk the way you say you can.”
“I don’t know that I’ll have anything to say.”
“I don’t know that I won’t end up with a fake Christmas tree.”
He gave her a touché look, then glanced at the door when it rattled again. He needed to head to town to gather his gear and check out if he was going to get back at a decent hour and beat the drifts. He and Savannah would hash out this talking/Christmas stuff later. But he had one question.
“Why?”
She didn’t need him to elaborate. She understood what he was getting at.
“You’re all such good guys.”
That didn’t mean they had to have a relationship.
“Quinn?”
His name sounded different when she said it in that low voice. “Yes?”
“No pressure. You help me get the ranch ready for Christmas and if you want a sounding board, I’m here to listen.”
“Okay.”
“And if I have questions, I’m going to ask.”
“All right. My turn. Is anything off-limits?”
