My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #1)(35)

A fierce gust of hail-laden wind ripped the doorknob out of his hand, slamming the door inward against the wall, and shoving Travis backward so hard that he almost lost his balance.

Righting himself, he wrestled the door closed. Maggie rushed forward to help him hold it while he fastened the latch. As it clicked into place, she stood between him and the door. “You can’t go out there now,” she said.

“Is that an invitation, Maggie?” His expression was unreadable.

“You know storms like this don’t last long. It won’t hurt you to wait till the worst of it passes.” She was talking too fast, the words coming in bursts.

There was a flicker of hesitation. Then, as if making up his mind, he stripped his arms out of the coat and let it drop to the floor. Turning toward Maggie, he laid his hands on her shoulders and held her at arms’ length. His slate gray eyes drilled into hers.

“No more games, Maggie,” he said. “Is it yes or no?”

A quiver passed through her body. “Yes . . .” Her hands slid up his chest as she whispered her reply. “And no more games.”

His kiss stole her breath and sent heat spiraling through her body. Pulse throbbing, she pulled him down to her, deepening the contact, teasing him with her tongue. He responded with a growl of need, his body pressing hers, his hands moving up her bare back to find the clasp of her bra.

Then, abruptly, he stopped and eased her gently away from him. “I think we’re headed for trouble, Maggie,” he muttered in a husky voice. “There will be better times for this.”

Maggie nodded and forced herself to take slow breaths. Travis was right. With so many things unsettled between them, falling into bed too soon would only create more complications. If this was meant to be, they’d have all the time in the world later on.

The storm was still howling outside. Wind rattled the windows. Hail hammered the panes like buckshot. Moving away from her, Travis picked up the remote and switched on the small TV that stood next to the fireplace. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Maybe we can get some news about the storm.”

He found a local news channel, lowered himself to the sofa, and laid an arm along the back. “Come here,” he said, with a nod to the empty space beside him.

As the weather update came on the screen, Maggie settled against him with a contented sigh, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder. It felt right, being with him like this, as if they’d been close forever. She tried to pay attention, but in the warm room, nestled against the man who made her feel happy, relaxed, and exquisitely comfortable, sleep crept up on her. She stifled a yawn and felt his arm tighten around her.

The drone of the TV announcer’s voice faded as her eyelids drooped, grew heavy, and finally closed.

*

Travis stirred and opened his eyes. The lamp was on in the room, but the fire had burned down to coals. Aside from the TV, broadcasting an infomercial, the night was eerily still.

He could no longer hear the storm.

When he tried to move, he discovered that his left arm was numb and weighted in place. Maggie was nestled in the curve of it, still fast asleep.

Lord, what time is it? Blinking himself awake, he focused his gaze on the mantel clock above the fireplace. It was 1:15 AM.

He sat up straight and shifted his arm. Maggie opened her eyes, looking muzzy and adorable. “Hullo,” she murmured.

He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he said. “It’s after one in the morning. I’ve got to get out of here before your neighbors start gossiping.”

“Is it still storming?” She pushed herself up and brushed her tousled hair back from her face.

“I haven’t looked, but I can’t hear it anymore. Whatever the weather’s like out there, I need to get going.”

She rose unsteadily to her feet. “Let me make you some coffee.”

“We’d better not take the time.” Travis picked up his coat, then paused to take her in his arms. “Things are bound to be crazy until after the holidays. If you don’t hear from me—”

“I know.” She touched his cheek. “I won’t take it personally. And things will be pretty crazy for me, too. We might have to put you and me off until after Christmas.”

“In that case, I’d like to reserve you for New Year’s Eve, if you’re free. We can dress up and go out on the town—”

“Or stay right here and snuggle,” she said. “I think I might like that even better.”

“Your choice. Got to go now.” He kissed her quick and hard, tearing himself away before temptation could keep him there any longer. Spending the rest of the night with her would be heaven. But it wasn’t going to happen now.

He pulled on his coat and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. The air was cold and still, the sky clear. But the hailstorm had left a thin layer of white on the ground. The roads would be slippery going home. At least he had decent tires, and there shouldn’t be much traffic at this hour.

The surrounding houses were all dark. Good. The last thing he wanted was to have some nosy neighborhood gossip causing trouble for Maggie. Nobody would believe how chaste their evening had been. Hell, Conner would have a field day with it. But he would just have to grin and bear his friend’s teasing.

He had to brush the hail off the truck, but once he was inside, it started right up. The road was like an ice rink, but as a patrolman, he’d driven under all sorts of conditions. Getting home shouldn’t be a problem.