Page 22 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
As if giving a demonstration, Maybelle bounced over to the shaggy dog and bumped into him, clearly trying to get him to play. The dog, however, was too busy sniffing at Camille’s boots to do more than give the goat an absent wave of his tail in response.
Shifting the box to her hip, Camille offered her hand to the dog and then scratched his neck. He leaned in to her and groaned in appreciation.
“Let me get that,” Steve said, dismounting with relaxed ease—impressive, since his horse’s back was almost taller than she was. As he led his horse across the lot, she noticed something.
“You ride English?” she asked. That didn’t really fit the Colorado cowboy image she always had of the Springfield men. The girl appeared to be sitting in a jumping saddle as well.
Steve gave a half shrug as he patted his horse’s neck. “I go back and forth. Freddy here goes better in English tack.”
“He used to only ride Western,” the girl said, hopping off her pony. “I wanted to learn how to jump, but the other kids I used to ride with made fun of me, since they all rode Western, so I told my dad I was thinking about quitting. He told me he’d start taking lessons with me if I stuck with it. When my dad started riding English, all the other kids shut up about it, because no one would dare to make fun of him.” She grinned at Camille. “Since he’s really big.”
Camille glanced at Steve—who appeared just a little more flushed now than he had a minute earlier—and then back at his daughter. “I think you have a very kind dad.”
“Yeah, I like him,” the girl said, making Camille laugh.
“Can you please take Freddy back to the barn with you?” Steve asked. He was definitely redder than could be attributed to just the cold air.
“Sure.” The girl hopped back onto her pony, and Steve handed her Freddy’s reins before taking Camille’s box. Although it was nice not to be holding the heavy weight, Camille missed having it as a barrier. She felt a little exposed without it. “You can’t leave until I get back to the store, though,” the girl said to Camille. “I have lots of questions for you.”
Leaving Camille wondering what sort of questions she had and if she should be worried about the upcoming interrogation, the girl turned her pony toward the barn, Freddy walking politely next to them. The goat and dog took off ahead, running toward the barn.
“That was Maya,” Steve said, bringing her attention back to him.
“She’s not shy,” Camille said. “I wish I’d been more like that at…ten?”
“Yeah, she’s ten, and you’re right… There’s not a shy bone in her body.” He held the box in one arm and waved her ahead of him toward the gift-shop entrance with the other. As she walked in front of him toward the door, Camille felt a flash of self-consciousness, knowing that he was watching her. The thought made her move a bit stiffly, and she was grateful for the bulky winter coat that helped to hide her awkwardness.
The problem, she decided, was that Steve had been occupying her thoughts too much. It made her feel like everything she said and each gesture she made might give away that she was a tiny bit obsessed with him, and she had no idea how he felt about her. His poker face was too unreadable for her peace of mind.
She opened the door, and he caught it over her head, holding it for her.
Things like that, she thought,are making it worse. He’d always been polite, with ingrained gentlemanly manners. She was worried that she was seeing more in those simple acts than he intended. The problem was that she didn’t know how to discover if he was interested in her as more than just a childhood acquaintance turned art vendor. Ryan was obvious to the point of aggravation, but at least Camille knew where she stood with him. She didn’tlikewhere they stood, but there was no room for misinterpretation, unlike with his brother.
For just a moment, she wished they were back in junior high, when the whole thing could’ve been settled by a simple passing of notes, but then she immediately retracted her wish. The negatives of junior high had been much more numerous than the positives for her. She liked being an adult much better than being a teenager. There was no way she’d ever want to go back to that misery.
“Hey, Camille!” Will greeted her, his face lighting up with a smile.
“Hi, Will.” Relieved to be pulled from her rather depressing thoughts, she moved to the register, noticing with relief that the shop was fairly empty, with just a small family browsing. She’d hoped that Sunday morning would be quieter than Saturday. “You’re working again?”
“I had last Sunday off to go to an Avs game, so I wanted to get more hours in before Christmas. I’m saving for a car.”
“A car?” She eyed him more closely. Although she wasn’t the best at guessing kids’ ages, she didn’t think he looked sixteen. “Already?”
“I’ll be able to get my license in one year, three months, and three weeks,” he said, and she tried not to smile. “Zoe and Dad said they’d help me fix a car up, so we can work on it here until I turn sixteen. I can already legally drive on the ranch property.”
“What are you thinking about getting?”
His face brightened even more, but before he could tell her, a couple of kids ran over to the register with some candy canes, so he turned to help them.
“What’d you bring us this time?” Steve asked, setting the box carefully on the floor between the front counter and Camille’s feet. As he straightened, she expected him to take a step back and put some distance between them, but instead he stayed close enough for her to smell his distinctive scent of peppermint and horse and clean outdoors.
“Uh…I brought some pieces of…um, animals? Just different sculptures of…things?” Her thoughts were completely taken up by his nearness and the way he tipped his head down toward her. As close as he was, it felt like he surrounded her, enveloping her in a bubble of safety and warmth. Her mind blanked, and she was unable to think of a single piece that she’d worked so hard on over the past week. Scrambling for words, she settled for saying, “I’ll show you.”
Crouching, she tugged open the folded-over cardboard flaps and pulled out a smaller box containing one of the angels Ryan had requested. She looked up, meaning to hand the piece to Steve, but she realized that he’d squatted down next to her. When she raised her head, their faces were just inches apart.
Camille froze. This close, she could see the greenish-brown of his irises and the way his pupils dilated as she stared. Her gaze dropped lower, taking in the fullness of his lower lip, the way his mouth had dropped open the slightest bit, and how his flannel-covered chest beneath his unzipped coat expanded with each breath—faster than she expected. As Camille moved her gaze back to his, she realized that she was breathing just as quickly, her heart pounding hard, as if she’d run all the way from her house to the ranch.
“Let’s see the new stuff!” Will’s cheerful voice broke through her daze, and she stood abruptly, moving so quickly that she lost her balance. Reaching out, she caught Steve’s shoulder, holding on to it as she steadied. When she realized that she’d just grabbed him, she could feel her face warm, and she knew she was most likely turning bright red. He straightened up more slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, and there was the smallest hint of a teasing grin on his face.
