Christmas in Cowboy Country by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

downward dogs and sun salutes for good measure. Yoga helped her flexibility—a lot of skiers did it. She quit when her leg began to twinge again.
    The way she’d stormed into the house last night had done that.
    Annie entered the kitchen still in pajamas. “What are we out of? Wish I’d known when I went to the supermarket.”
    â€œLots of things. It’s all right, honey. It’ll be more fun if we shop together.”
    Annie nodded in agreement. “Let me brush my teeth and get dressed.” She hadn’t been able to brush away the sensation of Marshall Stone’s amazing kisses last night. Maybe she’d have better luck this morning.
    Her mother sat down to review the receipt. “They do have good prices.”
    Tyrell brought over a cup of coffee for his wife, fixed the way she liked it. “You making a list?”
    â€œYup.” She slid over a piece of paper when he sat down next to her. “Add anything you like.”
    â€œDo they have those taco chips that I like? The extreme-cheese flavor?”
    â€œYes,” Annie confirmed.
    â€œGet two bags,” her father said. He wrote it down. “There’s a football game this weekend. Can’t watch football without taco chips. Gotta keep my strength up.”
    She and her mother didn’t talk much on the way to the supermarket, just drove along in companionable silence, until Lou got a call from Cilla.
    Annie listened absently to the flustered female voice describing the joys of life with two kids under six in the house and her mother’s soothing reassurances.
    She definitely wasn’t ready for that. But maybe one of her brothers was. No telling which one, though, and of course her sisters-in-law had fifty percent of the vote on that subject.
    But Annie wouldn’t mind a little niece or nephew. Not at all.
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    Annie pulled a cart from the rack at the supermarket and handed it off to her mother, pulling out a second one for herself. When they shopped together, they tore the list in half and started at opposite ends of the supermarket, meeting in the middle.
    Her mother held up the list. “Ready?”
    â€œThis is like a wishbone,” Annie said.
    â€œI folded it exactly through the middle. No one gets the short end.”
    Annie got the produce and dairy half. Her mother headed off to buy the dry staples that she needed.
    She dawdled over the stacks of colorful fruits and vegetables, patting a large, light orange pumpkin pie and hoisting it to see how heavy it was before putting it back. Seven or eight pounds, by her guess.
    She’d always wanted to make pumpkin pies from scratch. There were recipes in a wire rack above the heaped pumpkins. Annie took one and perused it, then replaced it in the rack. Five cans of puree would take care of all their pumpkin needs and be a lot less trouble.
    Someone bumped her cart. She glanced up, assuming it was a mistake. It was a mistake. A tall, ruggedly handsome mistake in jeans and a flannel shirt, with a sad look in his dark eyes.
    Marshall Stone’s cart had bumped hers. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink either. She felt not one iota of sympathy for him.
    â€œDid you do that on purpose?” she asked him.
    â€œNo. Sorry.”
    She angled her cart away. He blocked it with his. “Stop it,” she ordered. “Go away.”
    â€œIn a minute. Want to tell me why you’re mad at me?”
    â€œYou know exactly why.” Annie was ready to walk away and stepped out from behind the cart. It wasn’t like she owned the damn thing or was somehow responsible for the few items she’d put into it.
    Marshall caught her arm. “Let go of me.” He didn’t, but his grip relaxed slightly. Something about his touch made her irrational, because she didn’t pull away. “Listen,” she began. “You can’t be on both sides of the same fence. I would think a surveyor would know