Home For Christmas (A Copper Mountain Christmas) (13 page)

She shook the snow off her gloves. "I appreciate how much you've done for me. I like spending time with you. I kissed you as a kind of… thanks."

"A thank you kiss."

She glanced up at him. Her big, beautiful hazel eyes sent his pulse sprinting. "To show my gratitude. In case you're getting tired of my baking."

He grinned. "I'm going to have to do more things you'll be grateful for. Though thank you kisses usually come on the cheek, not the lips."

"It was the moment. I was happy. The opportunity presented itself." A satisfied smile curved her lips. "I went for it."

"What? Like a dare with yourself?"

"Kinda, yeah. You're very cute."

Her cheeks burned bright pink.

Okay, she might be grateful, but she
was
into him, too.

Good. Except he didn't know what that meant to her. "And…?"

She looked at the horses. Wet her lips again. "You've been a good friend. Made things easier for me."

She was so nervous. Had her experience with men been so bad a peck was all she could risk?

Sinking back on his heels, he knew the answer.

A kiss was all she was willing to chance. Nate didn't blame her. He'd heard about every guy she'd had a crush on or dated, scumbags one and all. No wonder she didn't trust her judgment or him. He wanted to help her so she could.

If Rachel would give him the chance…

"We should go." She hopped back to the snowmobile like a frightened rabbit, using the footsteps they'd made to speed her movement and prevent needing another rescue.

He had his sign. She wanted him.

But on her terms, if at all.

Damn. He was in deep trouble.

Things hadn't changed now that he knew she was attracted to him. But something inside him had. Forget being her friend or having a fling. He wanted her to be a larger part of his life.

Nate couldn't expect her to feel the same, not this soon, after what she'd been through. If he pushed Rachel, she would claim they were friends. Affectionate, thankful friends. But just friends.

There was Ty to consider, too. He didn't think Nate deserved Rachel, and a part of him agreed. But he couldn't walk away without out at least seeing if there could be something there? Could he?

Three days later, Rachel still couldn't believe she'd kissed Nate. Standing in the church's hall with him at her side and a cast of children dressed in their costumes for the Christmas Eve Nativity pageant on a makeshift stage, the moment replayed in her mind. Over and over again, in astonishing detail considering the kiss lasted a second, maybe two.

Why did you kiss me?

She hadn't dared tell Nate the truth. That after missing her chance to let him know how she felt when they were in the barn, she'd wanted to take a risk instead of playing it safe. She'd wanted to be brave.

Instead, she'd been stupid.

Rachel cringed inwardly for the hundredth time for risking potential disaster. Up until that moment, she'd decided to play it safe, despite her crush, and keep Nate in the friend zone. He was a charming cowboy, a rancher and venture capitalist, who was acting as her business advisor. Having a fling with her brother's best friend then flying back to Phoenix like nothing happened would not be good for her. That much she knew. So what if her body responded to him or she seemed to be falling for him? Being friends seemed like the best—the only—option.

Until she blew it by kissing him.

The attraction was now out in the open, invisible, but as solid as a wall between them in everything they said to each other. Another kiss would surely start something, but she didn't think that was a good idea, even though all she could think about was kissing Nate again.

She was caught in limbo, frustrated and unsure.

The children sang “Silent Night.” A sheep played with her tail. A camel yawned. A shepherd, wearing a blue robe and headpiece and holding a staff, burped. The kids stopped singing and giggled.

On the far side of the room, Annie, Nate's friend from the diner, painted elaborate large scenery panels that looked like they belonged in a Broadway play, not a children's Christmas play. Annie shook her head then returned to painting.

Nate leaned closer, his breath warm against her neck, sending pleasurable sensations up and down her spine. "That boy's dad was the same at his age. Though he was more into farting than burping."

Rachel covered her mouth to keep from laughing. The kids were distracted enough.

"Let's try that again," Betty Anderson, the thirty-something play director who also worked at the high school, said. "This time without the sound effects."

"Good luck with that." Nate’s mischievous look made her wonder what
he
was he had been like as a kid. She'd bet he was a handful. And cute. Just like his kids would be.

Betty clapped at the end of the song. "Everyone worked so hard tonight. You get a treat. Miss Murphy has a special gingerbread cookie for each of you. Make sure you see her before you head out. And no one leaves this room without a parent."

"Yes, Ms. Anderson," the children said in unison then ran toward Rachel like ants attacking a leftover piece of pie during a picnic.

Too bad she was the pie.

"Slow down." Nate stepped in front of her, his arms out toward the bouncing kids. "If you want a cookie, you'll need to get in line."

The children quieted and did as they were told. Cookies had a magical quality. A little help from a cowboy didn't hurt.

One by one, the kids approached to receive their cookies. Each gingerbread angel was wrapped in a cellophane bag, tied with a ribbon and candy cane. She'd included a label with a line from the play's script.

A little boy approached. Rachel handed him a cookie. "Merry Christmas."

"Nice job up there, Evan." Nate gave the boy a high five. "Tell your dad I said hi."

The kid nodded.

An angel with shimmery wings and a gold halo took a cookie then, rewarded Rachel with a front-teeth-missing grin. "Such great costumes."

"Thank you," a woman with dark brown hair and twinkling brown eyes stepped forward with two children, a boy and a girl, who looked to be the same age. "I had no idea what was involved when I said yes to making costumes but it's been fun. I'm Harley Diekerhoff."

So this was Harley. Pretty. A looker, as Nate had called her. Around his age.

"The costumes are great," Nate said. "This is baker extraordinaire Rachel Murphy."

Rachel shook the woman's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here. Brock bought one of your do-it-yourself kits. Mack, Molly." Harley gestured to the twins. "All of us had fun decorating the gingerbread house."

Both kids nodded, their gazes locked on the bags of cookie in Rachel's hands, like puppies wanting a treat.

"Thanks. Glad you had fun." Rachel handed cookies to the kids. "Merry Christmas, Mack and Molly."

For the next fifteen minutes, a steady stream of kids stopped by, each wanting a cookie and to show off their costumes to new people. Rachel oohed and awed over each one, genuinely impressed with Harley's designs. Nate knew everyone by name, and he introduced her as Ty Murphy's sister or the gingerbread baker.

Exactly what she was. So why did she yearn to be something more to Nate?

They had nothing in common. She wasn't up for a fling. She would be returning to Phoenix after Christmas. Pining over a kiss and wanting more made no sense.

Nate showed her the empty box. "The kids are gone and so are the gingerbread angels. A good thing I got my fill at the Bar V5."

"You're going to have a mouthful of cavities if you keep eating so many sweets."

"You're going to have a ton of more orders after this great marketing idea," he said. "You catch on so fast."

"I'm not doing this to market my gingerbread. I didn't put my name on the tags or anywhere."

"You spent hours making the cookies and packaging them."

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. When I bumped into Annie, while I was delivering products, she told me about painting sets for the performance. She described how hard the kids have been practicing, trying to memorize their lines and get their parts right. I thought cookies would be a nice treat. Nothing more."

"That's very sweet of you."

"I've been earning a lot of money from people here in town. I don't want to be greedy."

"No one would ever accuse you of that."

She shrugged, feeling greedy for wanting more time with Nate. More kisses.

"You're good with kids," he said.

"Lots of children came into the bakery where I worked. We kept a container of free cookies for the kids."

"You like them."

"Very much. I can't wait to be a mom." The words rushed out. "I mean, I can wait to have babies. But I would like a family. Not today or tomorrow. Someday."

Oh, no. She was rambling, talking about babies and family with a guy. She'd clinch the insanity title for sure.

"Those will be some lucky kids to have you as a mom."

Her heart sighed. He was so sweet. "Thanks. My brother feels like he's already done the kid thing with me and wants no part of it again. Do you want a family?"

"Half a dozen kids sounds about right."

"Six? Whoa. That's an intimidating number." She remembered what he'd said the first night of the storm. "The more the merrier."

"You really do have a good memory."

Nodding, she pictured little kids with light brown hair, hazel or brown eyes, a mix of her and Nate. Emotion clogged her throat. She swallowed. "If you want six kids, you'd better get started."

"The old biological clock hasn't started ticking yet. Plenty of time to find the right woman."

"Good luck." Rachel tried to sound flippant, but she wasn't sure she succeeded. "Or do you not need any?"

One corner of his mouth rose up, in a sexy slanted smile. "A little luck in this case might actually help."

"I have a lucky arrowhead you could borrow."

"Thanks. I'll let you know if I need it, but I'm hopeful I can pull this off on my own."

His words suggested something would be happening, something soon. She didn't know whether to be chock full of anticipation or scared to death.

But she might keep that good luck charm for herself.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Later that week, Nate carried a shoebox full of mistletoe into the house. Warm air, a chocolate-y scent, and a song about Christmas greeted him. The tug at his heart made him glanced into the box of greenery tied with red satin ribbon.

Time to figure out exactly what was going on between him and Rachel. Being friends with a serious flirtatious undertone was not working for him. Nate hoped she was in the kitchen. He didn't want her to see his purchase until he was ready.

The other night at the church, he'd seen a different side of Rachel. One he'd glimpsed when he twisted his ankle, one that had now sent his world spinning like a top. Seeing her with the kids, passing out cookies and complimenting them on their costumes, made him picture her as a wife and mother.

His wife and the mother of his kids.

Imagining Rachel as that woman when they'd never dated or kissed for longer than a nanosecond worried him.

He'd never imagined Marissa as a mom. Spit-up wouldn't coordinate with her designer clothes. Not that they'd talked about having kids. Yet he'd proposed.

Unbelievable.

He needed to stop the ghost of relationships past—the ghost of Marissa most of all—from clouding his judgment. Ty, too, with him saying Nate wasn't good enough for Rachel.

He could love a woman, make her happy on the ranch, have children with her, love those children 'til the end of his days and pass on this ranch to them. That was his dream. He had to believe it would come true.

Right now those dreams centered around Rachel. His feelings for her kept growing stronger, until spiraling out of control the other night. For days he'd tried to ignore it. Tried and failed.