A Cowboy For Christmas by Kristen James Read Free Book Online Page A

Speckle, or the other horses.
But Dancer watched her with knowing eyes.
    “ Hey, there.” She could
feel each beat of her heart. “Don’t kick me, too, okay?”
    She didn’t get behind him.
From the railing, she leaned and draped the blanket around
him.
    His noises sounded sad. She
stepped back and reached out with one hand. What had happened
today?
    When he nuzzled her hand,
she got the impression he knew who she was. Her heart grew heavy,
the same way it had when she’d first slept in Ben’s old
house.
    “ I’m Missy,” she said,
surprised that she didn’t feel strange for talking to a
horse.
    Dancer snorted. The truck
rumbled softly and grew louder. She patted him goodbye and went to
the entrance to watch Dale pull up and help Brent out. She waited
until Dale left before walking over.
    She pulled her coat closer
and rubbed her nose. If she wanted to stay, she’d have to get used
to the weather at some point.
    At Brent’s door, she
knocked and went in. He couldn’t get up and come to the door, after
all. Dale had left the hallway light on, and it shone into Brent’s
room.
    She sucked in a breath when
she saw him with his eyes closed in sleep. He’d rolled his head a
little to one side, and the light fell on him. She hadn’t noticed
his thick eyelashes before, or how full and pouty his mouth looked.
Add that to his movie-star cleft chin, and he had one handsome
face.
    What would it feel like to
cradle his face in her hand? He didn’t seem to have five o’clock
shadow, but the light wasn’t bright enough to tell.
    His blanket was pulled up
to mid chest, leaving his bare shoulders exposed. They were as nice
as she’d suspected. She’d like to run her hand down his neck to his
shoulder and feel his muscles. His hands lay on his stomach as it
rose and fell.
    She knew she shouldn’t, but
she started toward his bed. He looked unguarded, defenseless. Sweet
and sexy.
    Was she high on fresh
country air? Something had taken a hold of her since she came here.
It couldn’t be this man.
    The floor creaked when she
reached his bed. His eyes opened and blinked at her.
“Missy?”
    She blinked back for a
second. “Thought I’d check on you.” Blushing, she hoped he wouldn’t
ask why she’d snuck into his bedroom. “How bad is it?”
    His injury didn’t hurt his
appeal. She put her hands in her pockets, shifted her
weight. Hmm, interesting floor, isn’t
it?
    “ I’m on bed rest for a
month.” His voice was quiet and low. “I think you’re going to be
busy.”
    At that comment, she looked
back to his face. There wasn’t the normal lift in his voice or
gleam in his eyes to belie his seriousness. But he couldn’t mean
it, could he?
    She looked him over for a
long minute. “A month? I don’t believe a horse could put you in bed
that long.”
    He gave it up and smiled.
“A week maybe. Just some bruised ribs.”
    “ That’s a relief.” She sat
down on the edge, thought about jumping up, but tried to act like
she didn’t feel awkward sitting there.
    “ Is it?” he asked, his hand
sliding down and brushing hers.
    “ You brute!” She considered
the best way to get her hands around his neck, but she settled for
a soft nudge to his chest. She just couldn’t punch a man while he
was down. “You’ve thought the worst of me since I
arrived.”
    “ And you of me, haven’t
you?”
    She crossed her arms,
glancing off to the side in a big show. A guitar case leaned
against the wall in the shadows.
    “ You play?” The case was
too small for a guitar. “What is it, a banjo?”
    “ A violin, you snob.” He
wrapped an arm across himself when he laughed. Knowing he was in
pain ruined her show of indignation.
    “ You know, you’re beautiful
when you laugh . . . or get shy . . . or try to ride a horse and
find yourself out of control.” His fingers grazed the back of her
hand again. Suddenly she had no trouble calming down.
    “ Brent, don’t . . .” She
suspected he was teasing again, but she didn’t