A Snow Country Christmas (The Carsons of Mustang Creek #4)(14)
Had to love that cat. He was spoiled since she worked at home, but they were definite roomies.
“I think someone believes you’ve been out past your curfew,” Mick said with a laugh. “He probably scared Santa Claus half to death while we were gone when Santa tried to put presents under the tree.”
“Jangles wouldn’t hurt a fly. He just looks fearsome.” She’d invite him in, but it really was late, and he still had to drive to the resort.
“I won’t argue that point.” Mick studied her for a moment, as if reading her mind. “I had a very nice evening. Thanks again for the burgers and ice cream, and for introducing me to Big Jake. See you later today.”
He walked her to the door and then everything changed. “By the way, nice kiss earlier but I think maybe we could go it one better.” His dark eyes really could smolder, and she’d thought that was just a creative myth.
It was irrefutable that his kiss was more memorable than her brief impulsive peck back in the cabin. He was really good at it too, but then again, he was probably good at just about everything.
However, he seemed almost more off balance than she was when he finally let her go. He left without a word, getting swiftly into his rental car and backing out of the driveway, and she was almost amused as she watched him drive off. Raine went inside and sat down on the couch, Jangles immediately snuggling close. She remembered the piece of paper that she’d absently picked up in the cabin, and retrieved it from her pocket, wondering what it would say.
It was the end of a chapter.
The old man tentatively approved of the greenhorn, though he wasn’t sure city folks were quite his type. Maybe he had real promise.
Raine laughed and scratched under the cat’s chin. “You see,” she whispered, “I knew Grandpa liked him.”
5
FOR GIFTS, RYDER had been easy. Mick had once been a teenaged boy, so he had a fair idea of what they liked, but times changed. He’d opted for a gift card to a very popular online store.
Daisy had been more of a challenge.
He really knew nothing about a girl her age, and his childless sister-in-law was no help. In the end, he’d asked his mother’s opinion.
“A purse,” she announced promptly. “I have plenty of friends with granddaughters, not that I have any yet, so I will ask what brands are popular right now.”
He ignored the implied criticism. “I’d appreciate it, but I can’t pick out a purse.”
“Sure you can. You have wonderful taste.”
Well, he had asked, he thought as the call ended. The idea was better than nothing, which was all he’d had before. So he’d gone into the closest trendy store and asked the young clerk if she was Daisy’s age what she might want. Directly she went to a rack, selected a purse he would never have picked out in a million years, and handed it over. “She’ll faint over this,” she informed him. “If we hadn’t gotten a shipment in today we wouldn’t have it on the shelf.”
He took her word for it and had it gift-wrapped, along with some nail polish the knowledgeable clerk promised with a dimpled smile was popular with girls Daisy’s age. For Blythe, a small Victorian tabletop greenhouse because she was the ultimate gardener, and for Harry, who always had a cup around as far as he could tell, a genuine English antique tea set. Grace and Luce were getting robes his sister-in-law swore by, since she claimed they were just the right weight, yet warm and cozy, and the Carson men were getting handmade leather gloves.
Raine had taken some thought. He wasn’t trying to impress her; he was trying to show he was thoughtful enough to understand what she might like. In the end he’d stumbled upon the perfect gift—or he hoped it was, anyway. He’d found an obscure but original print of the infamous Sirens luring sailors to their demise when he was recently in Athens, the color faded because he had no idea how to date it. But the detail was so beautiful he thought she’d love it. He’d had it framed, and after seeing her house, he was sure it would fit right in. He’d liked her imaginative décor.
Packing up the gifts he’d had shipped to the hotel, Mick got in the rental car, checked his phone one last time, and shut it off. It was Christmas Day. London was hours different, his mother was in New York so he’d call her later, and no one else needed to talk to him in Wyoming.
The resort really was quiet, but Mick noticed the bar was full as he walked past, and there were a lot of skis in the lobby propped against the wall and a fire going in the giant stone fireplace. It made him reflect on how the season was celebrated, and if one person wanted to sit by a fire and another wanted to brave the slopes because the powder was perfect, that was the quintessential to-each-his-own. Both of those sounded pretty good to him, depending on the company. The Alps at Christmas that year he was sixteen had been an experience, but he preferred this homey atmosphere hands down.
He was very much looking forward to the company he would be in today.
The Carson ranch looked festive as he pulled up, the veranda of the big house decorated with twinkling lights and a garland, and there were two small trees complete with ornaments on either side of the doors. The row of cars spoke of a gathering in progress.
It was overcast and a few flakes floated down, landing on his shoulders and hair as he walked up the steps. Blythe answered the door, her smile gracious. “Mick, Merry Christmas. It’s so good to see you.”