Page 28 of Special Delivery Cowboy
"Me too."
Mid-morning, I grabbed my coat. "Come on. We're going outside."
"In this weather?"
"Just for a minute. Twinkle needs a real snow experience."
We bundled up and ventured onto the deck. I carved out a sheltered spot near the door while TJ tried to keep Twinkle from eating everything white.
"Let's build her a snowman."
"You're serious?"
"A tiny one. Come on."
I packed snow into balls. Twinkle pounced on each one, sending snow flying, then looked confused when they fell apart.
"This is impossible," TJ said, laughing as she demolished our base for the third time.
"Okay, new plan." I made a small mound and stuck a carrot in it. "Snowman adjacent."
Twinkle immediately ate the carrot.
"Perfect," TJ deadpanned. "A deconstructed snowman."
I threw a snowball at him. He dodged, scooped up Twinkle before she could eat more snow, and we retreated inside—cold, wet, and laughing so hard we could barely breathe.
After we'd dried off and warmed up by the fire, inspiration struck.
"We're baking cookies."
"Now?"
"Right now. It's Christmas and I've been dying to bake."
In the kitchen, I pulled out flour, sugar, butter, eggs, vanilla, and food coloring. "Christmas sugar cookies. The kind you cut into shapes and decorate."
"Sounds fun."
I walked him through it—creaming butter and sugar, adding eggs, mixing in flour. He followed instructions well, even if he got flour everywhere.
"How did you get flour in your hair?"
"It's a gift."
While the dough chilled, TJ queued up holiday music on the laptop. A Bing Crosby song came through the speakers—"White Christmas.” He turned up the volume and held out his hand.
"Dance with me."
We swayed together in the kitchen, flour dusting our clothes, butter-and-vanilla scent in the air. He hummed along—slightly off-key—and I laughed against the broad span of his shoulders.
"You're a terrible singer."
"Never claimed otherwise."
"But you're a good dancer."
"Mom made me take lessons before my sister's wedding."
