Page 44 of Special Delivery Cowboy
Our families had gathered for Christmas Eve dinner just a few hours ago—both sets of parents, siblings, the whole crew packed around the big dining table. Carol had made her famous prime rib. Mom had brought three pies. The house had been full of laughter and love and the kind of chaos that came from two families who genuinely enjoyed each other.
"Emily just texted – she and Greg are settled back at the hotel. Cole crashed in the guest room." He moved behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. The familiar weight of him eased something in my chest. "Your folks and Josh made it back to their hotel about twenty minutes ago. Dad texted that Mom fell asleep in the car before they even hit the main road."
I leaned back against him, breathing in leather and that cedar scent from the ranch that clung to everything he owned. "Good dinner?"
"Best one yet." His breath warmed my neck. "Though I thought Mom was going to cry again when Emily showed off her belly. That's the third time today."
"Your mom's allowed to be excited. First grandbaby." I smiled, remembering Carol's face when Emily had announced the pregnancy over Thanksgiving. Pure joy, the kind that made my chest ache with happiness. Emily was six months along now, her belly round and obvious, glowing with that pregnancyradiance everyone talked about. "Besides, Emily's eating it up. Did you see her at dinner, letting everyone feel the baby kick while she held court at the head of the table?"
"Pretty sure that baby's going to come out spoiled by every single person in both our families." He pulled me tighter against him. "Speaking of families getting along—I think our dads are planning a fishing trip."
"I heard." I'd spotted the two of them in the corner earlier, talking about fly fishing and spring runoff like they'd been friends for decades instead of months. "My mom and yours are already planning a joint birthday party for the baby. They've got a Pinterest board."
"It's not even born yet."
"Details." I turned in his arms, sliding my hands up his chest. The snap buttons on his shirt were cool under my fingers. "Also, your sister cornered me in the kitchen and asked if I'd be her birth partner when she goes into labor."
His eyes went soft. "What'd you say?"
"I said yes, obviously. Though I warned her I might pass out."
"You won't pass out."
"I passed out during a root canal demonstration in my first year of dental assisting school, TJ. I absolutely might pass out."
He kissed me—slow and sweet, tasting like pumpkin pie and the coffee we'd been drinking all evening. When he pulled back, his gaze had turned hungry, that look I recognized.
"Cookies first," I said, even though my insides fluttered. "Seduction later."
"Who said anything about seduction?"
"Your face. Your face is saying things about seduction."
"My face is very subtle."
"Your face is about as subtle as Twinkle begging for turkey." I patted his chest and stepped back, grinning. "Come on.Let's exchange gifts before I get all distracted and we end up christening the kitchen counter."
"That's an option?"
"No. Your mother might visit tomorrow. I can never look her in the eye again if we do that."
"Fair point." But he was smiling as he followed me into the living room, one hand catching mine, fingers lacing together.
The living room was exactly how I'd imagined ranch Christmas would look. Fire crackling in that massive stone fireplace, throwing orange light across the leather furniture. Nine-foot Douglas fir in the corner—the one TJ and I had cut down together three weeks ago, him wielding the chainsaw while I took approximately seven hundred photos. White lights wound through the branches, mixed with ornaments from both our stashes. A few new ones too: the "Our First Christmas" one Melody had sent last year with a note that said "You're welcome for the stripper," the tiny pair of cowboy boots I'd bought as a joke that TJ had insisted we hang up.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, snow fell in fat, lazy flakes. Not a blizzard like last year—just enough to make the ranch look like a Christmas card, coating the barn roof and fence posts in fresh white.
Twinkle claimed her spot on the rug in front of the fire, circling twice before collapsing with a dramatic sigh. Guard dog duties complete for the evening, apparently.
I'd changed after everyone left—traded my nice sweater and jeans for my favorite lounge pants (gray, covered in tiny reindeer) and one of TJ's old ranch shirts that hung to mid-thigh.
"Okay." I settled on the couch, tucking my legs under me. "I'm going first because I'm impatient and you know it."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, ma'am."
I handed him the first box, watching his face as he unwrapped it. He was careful about it—unlike me, who attacked wrapping paper like it had personally offended me. The box opened to reveal leather work gloves, the expensive kind lined with fleece that would actually hold up to Montana winters and ranch work.
TJ pulled one out, turning it over in his hands. "Tinsley, these are—"
