Page 58 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
His expression smoothed. “Most likely, one of the other firefighters found the sculpture and dropped it off. One of the kids probably put it in your room to surprise you.” He smiled as he rose, collecting her dishes along with his. The kids had scattered, and she was alone in the kitchen with him. “I’m sure they didn’t realize it wasn’t one you wanted to keep.”
That made sense, although Camille couldn’t seem to shake the discomfort she’d felt at seeing it so soon after waking from her nightmare. The kids wouldn’t know about her bad dreams, though, and she decided not to grill them about the sudden appearance of the demon horse. She didn’t want to make them feel bad for doing what they believed was a nice thing. Pushing her chair back, she stood, just now realizing that he’d cleaned up for her. “Oh, you didn’t need to do that. Thank you, though.”
“You’re welcome.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low tone that vibrated through her. “I like doing things for you.”
It was such a simple statement, but it set off a whole army of wild butterflies in her stomach. “Thank you.” She watched, her cheeks warming as he took another step closer, tipping his head down. His gaze dropped to her lips, and her body heated, thrilled at the prospect of another kiss.
“Dad! Have you seen my green leggings?” Steve and Camille took a synchronized step back as Maya charged through the kitchen toward the laundry room.
“They’re in the dryer,” Camille said, her voice sounding a little rough, even to her own ears. Steve’s gaze never left hers. “I washed them this morning, since you said you wanted to wear them today.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Leggings in hand, Maya rushed out of the laundry room, oblivious to the thick tension between the two adults.
Steve cupped Camille’s cheek, his thumb brushing against her heated skin. “Thank you for doing that.”
She shifted closer and then stepped back again quickly as Will entered the kitchen. Steve dropped his hand to his side.
“What’s up?” Will asked with a growing grin, his gaze flicking back and forth between Camille and Steve.
Clearing his throat, Steve turned to his son. “Do you have your history paper?”
“It’s in the printer.” Doing an about-face, Will headed out of the kitchen.
Camille wasn’t about to risk getting caught by the kids a third time, so she kept her distance from Steve. He gave her a secret smile that warmed everything inside her, only breaking their intimate gaze when Micah walked into the kitchen.
As she moved to help distribute the kids’ lunches, she found that she was grinning. Thanks to Steve, her morning had vastly improved after a nightmarish start.
* * *
Camille hesitated at the entrance of the elementary school auditorium.
“You okay?” Steve asked from his spot behind her. Will, Micah, and Zoe had already gone inside to find seats, but Camille could hear the voices of everyone inside, and it sounded like an awful lot of people. She’d known it would be. Borne didn’t have many social events, so even a school’s holiday concert drew almost everyone in town.
“Sure,” she said, even though she wasn’t sure at all. Maybe she should just go hide in the truck until the concert was over. She’d take the frigid boredom of two hours in the parking lot over the waiting crowd.
“Would it help or make it worse to hold hands?” Steve asked, his voice low, his mouth close to her ear—something that always made her shiver in a delighted way. They hadn’t touched since their first kiss the previous evening, and the idea of holding Steve’s warm, rough-skinned hand was so appealing that it would be worth braving the stares of the townspeople.
“It’d help,” she said, pulling off one of her new mittens and holding her hand out. If they were going to deal with all the stares and whispers, then she was going to get the full effect of holding Steve’s hand—skin to skin. His grin was huge as he wrapped his big hand around her smaller one. That instant feeling of safety enveloped her at his touch, and she felt her shoulders relax a little. She was right; holding his hand did indeed help. Now she just had to brave the townspeople’s stares.
The idea made her tense up again.
“Ready?” Steve asked. She couldn’t force out an affirmative answer. He seemed to realize that she’d frozen up at the thought of facing the crowd, since he gave her hand a warm squeeze before heading inside, towing her along with him. The auditorium was already packed, but it was too early for the majority of the people to have taken their seats. Instead, the adults and older children stood in pairs and groups, chattering, while the younger kids ran up and down the aisles.
Just as she’d expected, there was a ripple of interest as people noticed them, and then a louder wave of gleeful whispers as they saw Steve and Camille’s linked hands. A few people started to move their way, and Camille braced herself, knowing they’d soon be surrounded.
“Camille!” Zoe’s voice was a relief. Camille turned to see the girl approaching, a boy about her age in a wheelchair next to her. “This is Wyatt. Wyatt, you already know my dad, and this isCamille.”
Zoe put a heavy emphasis on her name as she and her friend exchanged glances, and Camille looked back and forth between them, wondering what the subtext was. She made a mental note to pry it out of Zoe later and gave the boy a nod. “Hi, Wyatt.”
“Wyatt,” Steve greeted. “Heard you and your mom are heading to Texas.”
Camille immediately looked at Zoe and saw her eyes start to shine with unshed tears, so she gave Steve’s hand a hard warning squeeze and stepped on his toes for good measure. He looked at her, confused, and she gave a slight tilt of her head toward Zoe. She felt him tense as he got the message.
“Yeah,” Wyatt said, not sounding excited about the move, although nowhere near tears. Camille was grateful for that, since two crying preteens was a little more than she felt she could handle. “Austin. We’re moving the day after Christmas.”
“Well, you’re welcome at the ranch anytime you want to visit,” Steve said, and Camille gave him a more gentle squeeze to let him know that was a pretty good save. She interpreted his return squeeze as a thank-you.
“Camille!” Swallowing the groan that wanted to escape, Camille turned toward an approaching Jodi Lin. She clung to Steve’s hand, suddenly so grateful for his presence that she ignored the fact that it was his fault—well, his daughter’s fault—that she was at the concert in the first place. “Good! I was hoping you’d come,” Jodi puffed, out of breath from her sprint across the auditorium. Camille figured she’d wanted to be the first one to get the latest gossip. “I am so sorry about your house burning down. When I heard what happened, I just…” She put her hand on her chest, as if trying to think of a way to express her sense of horror.
