Merry Cowboy Christmas (Lucky Penny Ranch #3)(27)

“Oh, so you like cowboys?” His eyes took on that dreamy I-would-love-to-take-you-to-bed look.

“I like to read about fictional cowboys. Real ones are a whole different story.” She paused and then went on. “Jud, do you think people or even places change in the course of time?”

He twisted the lid off the milk and took a few gulps. “Now, that’s an interesting change of subject. I was about to say that I’m fond of Jeffery Deaver and James Patterson and I did like Nicholas Sparks’s The Longest Ride. It’s about a cowboy. Now back to your question about change over the course of time. Water can turn to ice if it’s kept in the freezer long enough or it can change into steam if it’s boiled. According to the circumstances, things can change,” he said.

“You think you can turn the Lucky Penny’s reputation?”

“Absolutely. We’ve already started. In three generations, what they say about it will be urban legend. By the time I have grandkids, folks will be flocking to this area because of the Lucky Penny. It will raise the best beef cattle in the state and possibly be pumping enough oil to put Dry Creek back on the map. Main Street will be several blocks long and every store building will be full and the population will be ten times what it is now,” he said seriously.

“All the way up to five thousand?” A smile toyed at the edges of her mouth.

“Maybe more.” He nodded.

“Optimistic, aren’t you?”

“Beats the hell out of pessimism. What else you got on your mind tonight?”

She shrugged. “You think people can change. I was sure hoping that Truman could change. I hate the tension when he is at the table. Just knowing he’s in the house right here at Christmas puts a damper on the whole holiday. He’s worse than Scrooge. What was Mama thinking? They could have lived in the church. It’s got a kitchen, and when they redid the nursery they put a shower and a sofa bed in there in case visiting preachers needed a place to stay.”

“Maybe it’s time to turn ice into steam,” Jud answered. “And, yes, people can change. It’s got to do with whether they want to down deep in their hearts but nothing, not one single thing, is permanent on this earth. Not green grass or attitudes.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But Truman is frozen pretty solid. How do we even get him out of the ice tray?”

“What’d you do with the rest of the cookies?” Jud pushed the footrest down and stood and twisted his back, working out the kinks of the day.

He could stand in front of her and do nothing but move like that for an hour and she’d be content to watch the show. It was far sexier than any dance move she’d ever seen and the way his biceps flexed—well, that reminded her of the way his arms felt around her when they were kissing, and her imagination created images that made her blush.

“I put them in a container but I left some on the counter,” she answered.

“That’s a step in the right direction. Nothing starts to unfreeze a feller like good cookies. Let’s make it our Christmas mission to unthaw that old codger.”

She pushed up off the bed. “I’m not sure there’s enough Christmas magic to turn that old scrooge into anything but a bigger old scrooge.”

He held out his hand toward her. “We need a plan. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door. Never know what might be lurking out there in the shadows of the hall.”

She put her hand in his and he laced their fingers together. His calloused fingertips caused bursts of warmth throughout her whole body. Big hands like that would protect a woman as well as make love to her. She wished it were a quarter of a mile to her room instead of less than ten feet so she could examine all the feelings that his touch evoked.

“Thank you for the cookies and milk,” he whispered.

“You are so welcome. Thank you for the conversation.” She opened her door and let go of his hand.

“No good night kiss?” he asked.

“Jud, I—”

She didn’t get another word out because his lips were on hers, moving expertly and erasing every sane thought from her head.

“Good night, Fiona,” he breathed into her ear when the kiss ended.

“No, Jud! Not good night. We’ve got to talk about whatever this thing is that has sprung up between us.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He put a finger over her lips and she had to concentrate to keep from losing every shred of common sense in her body.

“One thing at a time, darlin’. Right now we’ve got to turn Scrooge into Santa Claus.”

Then he crossed the landing and shut his bedroom door behind him. For the second night in a row, she threw herself backward onto her bed and stared at the ceiling.



Truman didn’t look too happy for Jud to be joining him and Dora June for breakfast but he didn’t say anything other than to tell Dora June that he’d take three over easy eggs with his bacon and biscuits that morning.

“And you?” Dora June asked Jud.

“Same as Truman is having.” Jud poured himself a cup of coffee, topped off Truman’s, and then sat down at the table.

“What made you get up so early?” Dora June cracked three eggs into a big cast-iron skillet.

“Have a problem I need some help with and was hoping Truman might be willing to hear me out.”