The Cowboy's Christmas Proposition Read online

  He looked a little sheepish. “Noelle and I were down in the barn getting the animals settled before the storm.”

  Okay, maybe, that was a good excuse but... “You didn’t answer your cell, either.”

  “Ah...” He shrugged and turned on his very lethal good-ol’-boy smile, complete with dimple. “Left it up here at the house—”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she interrupted. “You should call Chance.”

  “Chance my attorney or Chance my cousin?”

  “Aren’t they one and the same?”

  “Yes...and no.” He chuckled. “If I’m in trouble, he’s my attorney. If everything is copacetic, he’s my cousin.”

  “You people think you have it all figured out, don’t you?” Quin was frozen to the bone, frustrated and angry—as much with herself as with Deacon. “Your inability to remember to stick your phone in your pocket necessitated me driving out here. In a storm. To make sure you weren’t dead or something.” Why had she added that last bit? This was why she should have turned around and left as soon as she saw that he and the baby were fine.

  Deacon looked her over and tilted his head toward the massive stone fireplace, where a fire was burning cheerily. “Go sit on the hearth and get warm. I’ll put Noelle in her crib and get you some coffee. Then you can tell me why you were worried about us.”

  Quin opened her mouth to argue but he was already halfway to the kitchen. She was still shivering so she moved closer to the fire. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

  Deacon returned carrying a large, steaming mug. She accepted it and took an experimental taste. Just the right temperature, just sweet enough with a hint of vanilla cream. How did the guy remember that?

  The heat radiating from the fireplace felt good on her back as she swallowed several long sips. She found herself oddly relaxed. The place smelled of cinnamon and pine, though there was no sign of a Christmas tree or other holiday accoutrements.

  Quin was falling under his spell again. She had to stop this. “Christmas is less than a week away. Not doing the decorating thing?” She sounded snippy. That was good. No sexy, kissy thoughts about this man. Staying irritated. That was the key.

  “Decorating?”

  “Never mind. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can get back to regular duty. This is my last day before vacation.”

  “Big plans?”

  “Yes. I’m flying to Aspen for a ski vacation.”

  “With your boyfriend?”

  “I don’t have one. Not that it’s any of your business.” The man had kissed her and he was just now getting around to asking if she was attached?

  “So...you’re spending Christmas in a hotel?”

  “Again, not your business.”

  “Fine. Sorry for being curious. Have fun, but I think you’ll be surprised how lonely it can be.”

  “Lonely? The resort is booked full. Hard to be lonely with a lot of people around.”

  “Hmmm. Of course. All those families and couples. Fun times.”

  “You don’t have a clue. Maybe I booked a singles package,” she snapped.

  He nodded sagely and made that hmmm sound in his throat again.

  “Look, I’m not here to discuss my private life.”

  Deacon raised his arms in symbolic surrender. “Sorry. I thought we were friends.”

  “We can’t be friends. This is my job.”

  “Are you always so blunt?”

  “I’m a cop. It’s part of the job description.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You still didn’t answer my question about Christmas.” And she was prolonging this conversation why? Because she couldn’t help the insane curiosity teasing her brain.

  “I’ll do a tree but we always gather at Mom’s. The whole clan. Big ranch breakfast then stockings and presents. We eat a massive turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and promptly fall into food comas.” He sipped his coffee, one hip leaning against the back of the huge leather chair. “I’m not always home, though. In the early years, we were usually on the road. I’ve spent more than a few Christmases in a hotel room. Trust me, being home is way better.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered. Her parents and their on-again-off-again marriage were a hot mess. Holidays spent with her four brothers in and out of the foster-care system didn’t engender fond memories. Even now, as adults, they weren’t very close. And just that quickly, her temper was back.

  Quin needed to wrap this up and hit the road before she said or did something totally inappropriate. Like kiss that smug smile off Deacon’s face. Wait. No. She had no desire to get that close to him, with his shaggy hair hanging in his eyes just begging her fingers to brush it away, and those lips curling on one side, teasing her. She shook her head and defaulted to gulping down the rest of her coffee. She’d been there, done that, and wasn’t about to do it again.

  Because if she surrendered to the need building in her, she wouldn’t leave. And even worse, she’d forget that this man was someone she didn’t like.

  Her phone pinged with a text, saving her from falling further down that rabbit hole. Quin retrieved it from her coat pocket and read the message. The pick-up order had been delayed until after Christmas.

  “You must be charmed,” she said, reading him the text. So what if her sarcasm came out to play. The stars always aligned for people like Deacon, and if she had his luck, she’d go to Thunder River Casino and make a fortune. She headed toward the kitchen to deposit her mug. Time to hit the road.

  “It’s really coming down out there. Why don’t you stay until there’s a break in the weather? I was just about to make breakfast. Stay. Eat with me.”

  He’d walked up behind her, catching her unaware. Which freaked her out a little. She was very proud of her situational awareness, and the fact that he could sneak up on her was unsettling. She glanced out the huge window over the sink and blanched. The ground—what she could see of it through the snow now blowing horizontally—was covered in white swirls.

  “I can’t. I have to get back to Oklahoma City.”

  Deacon crowded her up against the counter. Why did he have to smell so good? Like almond, sage and lemon. The mug clattered in the huge farmhouse sink behind her, and her phone landed on the granite counter.

  “I’m a really good cook.” He seduced her with the dimple again. “Mom made sure all us boys could look after ourselves.”

  Quin snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

  “I even know how to sew. Do laundry. Pick up after myself. Put the toilet seat down.” He winked and her insides melted. He was a rich jerk but a charming one. Still, she had plans, and her duty to do. Standing here wondering if he would try to kiss her again was not on her agenda.

  “Good for you. I’ve made sure you and the baby were breathing. I need to hit the road.” Squaring her shoulders, she announced, “The CPS caseworker will do welfare checks from here on out.” She ducked past him and hustled toward the door. Deacon still managed to beat her and open it for her, ever the gentleman. He gave her a piercing look but said nothing about her announcement.

  A blast of frigid wind lashed her face, and she hesitated. Snow had built up on her windshield and she’d have to brush it away before driving. Squaring her shoulders, she dove into the teeth of the storm.

  “Get in the car and get it started,” Deacon yelled above the howling wind. “Get warm. I’ll get the windows.”

  She was already shivering so didn’t pause to argue. He donned a heavy sheepskin jacket and was pulling on gloves. The cruiser started—thankfully. As soon as the temperature gauge climbed above C, she hit the heater and defroster full-blast.

  Deacon didn’t just clear her windshield, he knocked the snow off all the windows and stomped down the snow in front of her tires. Then he stood back and saluted. She rolled her eyes but gave him a wave as she put the car in gear and slowly pulled out.

  Once she turned onto the section line road, she was fighting snowdrifts. The road ran directly
east and west while the wind came from due north. The windshield wipers barely kept up and she caught herself hunching over the steering wheel to peer through the windshield.

  Quin wasn’t sure when she realized there were ruts in the road. They were too wide for her cruiser but she could put one set of wheels into the tire track and follow it. She concentrated on staying in the rut.

  Something dark and huge loomed up in front her. Out of reflex, Quin hit the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left. Her actions sent the car into a dizzying spin. She fought the centrifugal gravity created by the out-of-control vehicle. The car came to an abrupt stop. She slammed her head against the window and tried to breathe around the air bag as the car engine sputtered and died.

  The bag eventually deflated and Quin took stock of her situation. She could sum it up in one word: bad. She reached for the radio and got nothing but static. Same with the MDT, the mobile data terminal. Her phone was in her pocket. No worries. She’d call Dispatch and they could send a wrecker for her. Except her phone wasn’t in her coat pocket. Or any of her pockets. She unhooked the shoulder harness and banged her shoulder on the driver’s-side door. That’s when she realized the car was tilted at a crazy angle.

  Running her hand over the floor, she couldn’t locate her phone. Then she remembered. She’d set it down on the kitchen counter at Deke’s. And in her fit of self-preservation, she’d walked off without it. She was stuck in the middle of nowhere in the blizzard of the century with no way to call for help.

  Quin breathed through her initial panic. Her head was pounding but she was a trained professional. She’d been following tracks made by a tractor or road grader or something. They’d come back. Find her. If her car wasn’t buried in a snowdrift by then. How far had she driven? A mile? Two? She’d been driving slowly so she couldn’t be too far from Deke’s. She’d just have to walk back to his house. The idea grated on her but she had little choice. She had gloves. A warm hat. She was tough. She could do this.

  Squirming so she could reach around the MDT mounted between the seats, she snagged the passenger door handle and shoved. Nothing happened. Moving into a better position, she pushed again, using both hands. Still nothing.

  After ten minutes, Quin considered using her pocketknife to hack away the air bag so she could wrap up in it. She could see her breath and her fingers were going numb.

  “Quin!”

  Was someone shouting?

  “Quin! Are you in there?” Someone pounded on the passenger door. No, not just someone—Deke.

  “Deke! I’m here. I’m here!”

  Metal groaned and then the door opened a crack.

  “Thank God. Hang on, darlin’. I’ll have you out in a flash.”

  He had something in his hands, like a long crowbar, and he forced the passenger door to open wider. He leaned in and offered her his gloved hands.

  “Grab hold, Quin. I’ll pull you out.”

  A small, feminist part of her rebelled, but her teeth were chattering too hard to speak. She grabbed his hands. He lifted her like she weighed nothing. Then she was in his arms and he was carrying her to a beast of a four-wheel-drive pickup. Depositing her in the passenger seat, he slammed the door shut and hustled around to climb in the driver’s side.

  “Wh-wh-what are y-you d-doing here?”

  “Rescuing you, obviously.”

  Damn his dimple, but he was bundling her into a blanket and the heater was blowing.

  “You forgot your phone. Soon as I realized it, I grabbed up Noelle and headed out. I figured to catch up to you before you hit the highway. Appears I did.”

  “You dragged the baby out in this? What if you wrecked? That’s just plain stupid!”

  He stared at Quin, dimple and eye twinkles gone. “I’m more prepared for this weather than you, Trooper.”

  She bristled at the emphasis on her title. She was prepared. Sort of. She had a kit in the trunk—which she couldn’t reach after sliding off the road. In her defense, every meteorologist in the state had missed the sudden arrival and escalation in the power of the storm.

  He continued, “For your information, she’s in this flannel sack thing and wrapped in a Pendleton blanket with the heater running full-blast. Fast asleep, I might add. I also have extra blankets, water, food, a candle—you did know that a big candle will heat a cab this size, right? I wasn’t about to leave her at home alone. That’s what stupid people do and I’m not stupid, despite what you continue to believe.”

  Okay, he had a point there. Leaving the baby alone would have been worse than dragging her outside and this huge truck seemed more than capable of tackling even the highest snowdrifts.

  “Where would you be if I hadn’t come along? It’s not like this road is well-traveled in good weather. An Oklahoma blue norther with a side of blizzard? Most sane folks are snug at home riding out the storm. Which is where we’re headed. Home.”

  Fourteen

  The tracks his truck had made on the way to find Quin were quickly filling in as Deke drove back to the house. Turning around had been an exercise in caution and he’d almost given up, deciding it might be easier to just back up the mile they had to go. But he persevered. By the time they reached his place, Quin had stopped shivering, but she had a nasty knot on her head and he was worried.

  He nosed the big vehicle in as close to the back door as he could. This area provided more shelter from the storm, as it was on the south side of the house. He squeezed Quin’s arm to get her attention. She gazed at him, her eyes a little glassy. Not good. He’d have to check her for signs of concussion once they got inside.

  “I’m going to take Noelle in, then I’ll come back to get you. I’ll leave the truck running for the heat. Okay?”

  Quin blinked several times as if trying to remember where she was. “Oh. Yeah. That makes sense. I’ll just get out and come with you.”

  “No, darlin’. Just stay in the truck. The snow’s deep even if we’re out of the wind. If you slip or anything, I can’t help you while I’m carrying the baby. Just sit tight. Okay?”

  “Okay. Yes. That makes sense.”

  She was repeating herself and his worry ratcheted up a notch. He had another electronic key in the house in case Quin managed to lock the doors while he was moving Noelle inside. The baby yawned as he got her, still wrapped and strapped into the carrier, out of the car-seat base. He slammed the truck door and waded through the growing snowdrifts to the service door. He set the baby carrier down in the mudroom and trudged back to the truck. When he opened the passenger side door, Quin all but fell into his arms. He got her hitched up into a princess carry and bumped the door with his hip to close it.

  He slipped and almost went down but found his balance before he dumped either of them in the snow. Inside the house, Deke set Quin on her feet, made sure she was steady and turned to click the remote start key fob to turn off the truck. He had to sweep out a small pile of snow to shut the door. With the door latched against the wind, Deacon stripped off his gloves and coat and hung them on the wall rack in the mudroom. Luckily, he’d already fed and watered the horses. They’d be able to weather the storm. Matt had rounded up the small herd of cattle and secured them in a secondary barn before holing up in his own house.

  “C’mon, darlin’. Let’s get you warm, ’kay? And I want to take a look at your head.”

  “My head?” Quin reached up with trembling fingers, but he snagged her hand before she touched the bump.

  “Yeah, don’t think you want to touch it, sweetheart. You’ve got a whale of a lump on your forehead. Do you remember what happened?”

  She squinted her eyes as she thought. “Uh-huh. I was following a track. The snow was so thick I was watching the road right at the end of my hood. I looked up and there was something big blocking the way. I...” Color crept up her cheeks. “I made a rookie mistake. I hit the brakes and jerked the wheel.”

  “I didn’t see anything in the road.” He shook his head as she started to argue. “Hon, you were in the
bar ditch for a while before I got there. Whatever that vehicle was, the driver probably never even knew you were behind him. C’mon. Get out of your coat. I’ll take a look at your head.”

  An hour later, Quin was soaking in the whirlpool tub in the master bedroom, Noelle was in her automatic swing cooing happily and Deke had fielded phone calls from every female member of his extended family. Diapers. Check. Food and formula. Check. Backup generator. Check. Weather report: blizzard conditions, lots of snow. Check. Sexy woman naked in his tub. Double check. Eventually, she’d have to call her supervisor to explain the situation. She wasn’t going anywhere until the storm blew itself out.

  He made a fresh pot of coffee, then headed to his closet. Quin couldn’t wear her uniform the whole time she was here. And as much as he’d appreciate the view of her in the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door—a robe he’d never worn—Quin would need real clothes. He found a selection of sweats, tees and jeans that might fit and laid them out on the bed. The idea of Quin wearing his clothes was a real turn-on, not that he needed any encouragement in that department.

  The bathroom door opened a crack, and Deke caught a glimpse of Quin’s face. “Feeling warmer now?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  “You found the robe on the door?”

  “Yes.”

  “I laid out some clothes for you to try on. Weather guys say we’re stuck for at least forty-eight hours. Considering where I live, it’ll probably be longer before a plow can get through.” He wasn’t about to mention the bulldozer stored in his equipment barn.

  “No. Just nooo.” The bathroom door closed and a thunk followed.

  Deke rushed to the door and tried the handle. It turned but wouldn’t open. “Quin? Are you okay in there?”

  “No. I’m supposed to get on a plane tomorrow. I have reservations. Colorado. Skiing. Luxury resort. Remember?”

  Deke worked to keep the laughter out of his voice as he said, “Hon? There won’t be any planes in or out of Will Rogers Airport and Colorado is getting hammered by this same weather system.”