Harlequin American Romance November 2014 Box Set: The SEAL's Holiday Babies\The Texan's Christmas\Cowboy for Hire\The Cowboy's Christmas Gift (60 page)

“I'm not most women. Besides, I'll see you tomorrow when I come to work.”

“Right.”

To her chagrin, he got up from the floor and she got a fine view before he grabbed his jeans and pulled them on—without the benefit of underwear. “You sure you don't want to stay, Carrie?”

If he only knew how tempting that offer was, but no. “I only had a few sips out of my beer, and the last thing I want is to do the walk of shame through the farmyard in the morning. It's the right thing, Duke.”

“If you're sure...”

“I'm positive.”

He walked her to the door, waited while she pulled on her boots and took her gloves out of her coat pocket. “Thanks for your help tonight,” he offered, and the conversation felt stilted now, talking about the mundane when twenty minutes ago they'd been entwined on the living room floor.

“No problem. And you did good on the drive,” she complimented. “We could make a rancher out of you yet.”

“We'll see,” he said, but there was nothing that sounded of commitment in his voice. Still, he was settling in well. There was still a chance he'd choose to stay. Give Crooked Valley the security it so desperately needed.

One of them had to say goodbye first, so she took a breath and stood on tiptoe, touching her lips lightly to his. “Good night,” she murmured, and before he could reply she ducked out his door into the cold night.

The door shut behind her, and she was just turning out of the driveway when she saw the flicker of his porch light turning off.

Chapter Eight

For two weeks Carrie managed to steer clear of any moments alone with Duke. She showed up and did her work and went home again at night. When she did encounter Duke at the ranch, she made sure she was with Quinn or one of the hands—or that he was. No time for personal chats. From that first morning, she was determined to set the tone between them and she did—ruthlessly.

She was firm on it, and she knew it was because being with Duke had affected her more than she cared to admit.

And it had all been going fine until Quinn had come up with this brainiac idea that they should all spend Thanksgiving together since they were at loose ends, family-wise.

Carrie shivered as she entered the barn, the easy gait of her horse swaying her hips back and forth as the hooves clopped on the floor. God, it was cold out there. Another few inches of snow had fallen and right afterward the thermometer had plunged. The good news was the cattle were doing fine and she'd encountered no problems this morning. The bad news was she'd tried trapping the coyote that was giving her trouble and so far—nothing. She wanted to think he'd moved on, but she doubted it. Sooner or later he'd be back for more.

“Everything okay?” Duke's voice came from her right and her head snapped up, startled to see him standing there.

“Yeah. Just cold. Boy, it's freezing. Herd's doing fine, though. This morning they were huddled together down in a coulee, all sheltered and snug.”

“Haven't seen you much lately.”

She met his gaze. When had he started looking the part of rancher? Today he wore a heavy work jacket, and his chestnut hair was topped by a plain brown Stetson. Her gaze took a trip down his long, denim-clad legs to his worn-in boots. Oh, yeah. The fire still burned in her belly but she paid it no attention. “Been busy.”

“Me, too,” he replied. “Quinn's been walking me through the bucking stock business. He seems to think we should sell it off. Concentrate the ranch on cattle.”

Hmm. Carrie wasn't sure she agreed with that assessment, even if she understood where it was coming from. “That's because Quinn isn't as comfortable with that side of the ranch. It really needs a skilled hand to run it, and right now we can't afford to bring someone in. What are you going to do? You planning on selling it?”

She dismounted and tied the mare while she worked at removing her saddle and blanket.

“I can't. Well, I can, but I need Lacey and Rylan to sign off on it. And I don't want to pressure them right now.”

She hefted the saddle and waddled into the tack room to put it away. “You should ask them their plans at dinner tomorrow.”

He'd followed her to the tack room door. “I haven't exactly called them yet.”

“Still? But you've been here almost a month already. And Thanksgiving is tomorrow.” It had only been the idea of Lacey and Rylan being here that had made her agree in the first place. Lots of people. Not so intimate.

“They know where I am.”

Stubborn. That was what he was. “What's the deal with you, then? Why don't you talk to your brother and sister? Or your mom? Jeez, Duke, you weren't brought up in a bubble, you know.”

“You know, I really appreciate how you don't sugarcoat things on my behalf, Carrie.”

She couldn't help but chuckle a little. “I thought you appreciated my honesty.”

And then she looked up. All the hard work of the past two weeks—the deliberate timing, excuses, even skipping out on the Triple B potluck—melted away as she looked up into his eyes.

“Excuse me. I need to finish putting up Sage.”

He stepped aside and she brushed past him, her pulse hammering. Crap.

“Maybe I should skip tomorrow's dinner,” she mused out loud. “Tell Quinn I'm spending it with Kailey's family.”

“We can't avoid each other forever. Besides, he's doing it for you, you know.”

Her head snapped up. “For me?”

Duke nodded. “Quinn said that Joe always invited you to these things. And that before Gram died, you and your mom always came for holidays. He wanted you to have that in some way this year.”

“Quinn said that?” Her mouth dropped open and Sage's bridle dangled in her hand.

“I asked him if he had a thing for you.”

Her stomach tumbled around. Why weren't they able to keep any conversation away from romance in some way? “Quinn's like a brother.”

“That's what he said. That he's like a big brother and a bit protective where you're concerned.”

There was a bite to Duke's tone that made Carrie wonder if Quinn had sensed something going on between Duke and herself. And if he'd made any feelings known about it. Not that she was going to ask.

“So you see,” he continued on, “you have to come. Besides, you're on dessert.”

Yup. Pumpkin pie she was picking up from the Flour Power Bakery on the way home.

“Right.”

She must have sounded put out because Duke came around and took Sage's lead. “Come on, Carrie. It looks to me as though Quinn's the only family you've got. You don't want to let him down just because you're avoiding me.”

“Who said I'm avoiding you?” She reached for the lead but he held it away.

“Aren't you? All business. I get it. You think we crossed a line, right? But you'd really hurt Quinn's feelings. And Amber's.”

Great. Now he was guilt-tripping her into it. The thing was, it wasn't Quinn she minded thinking about as family. It was Duke. Sitting across the table from him, eating turkey and mashed potatoes and pie and getting used to him being around. It wasn't about the fact they'd slept together. It was because she couldn't stop thinking about him. Couldn't stop having these
feelings
that she neither liked nor wanted. Feelings that she was sure were going to get her hurt in the end.

“Tell you what,” she bargained, taking the rope from his hand. “I won't cancel if you call Rylan and Lacey and invite them to join us.”

The look on his face was comical.

“Come on, Duke. You don't have to look so constipated about it.” She laughed as she led Sage down the corridor to her stall.

“Fine,” he called after her. “I'll call them and invite them. It won't matter. They won't come.”

He sounded victorious, but she wondered if he really believed his family wouldn't come or if he was in for a big surprise.

* * *

T
HE
COLD
TREND
continued through Thanksgiving and Carrie dressed in neat jeans and a thick red sweater, topped with a warm coat and a knitted scarf wrapped around her neck. She shivered in her truck as it warmed up. The heater wasn't working as well as it could; she wondered if she needed a new thermostat or heater core. Quinn had called this morning, letting her know there would be one extra this afternoon. Lacey had accepted Duke's invitation, though Quinn hadn't said anything about Rylan or Duke's mom.

She'd wait another few seconds to let the engine get warm. To pass the time she flipped down the visor and peered at her reflection in the small mirror. She'd left her hair mostly down today, just pulled back from the sides a bit as the rest of the waves fell free. And she'd put on mascara and lip gloss.... It was a special occasion after all. She was glad now. Not for Duke, of course, but because she'd just bet Lacey was gorgeous and chances were Carrie would feel tomboyish anyway. At least this way she looked as if she'd attempted to be feminine.

The drive to Crooked Valley was beautiful. The sun was peeping through the naked trees, the sky a clear, clear blue. Pinpricks of light glinted off the light covering of snow on the ground. It looked more like Christmas than Thanksgiving, but Carrie didn't mind. She'd always liked the snow. So had her mom. She sure missed her today. Years past, they'd celebrate Thanksgiving as a family in their little house. It had been happy once, with the three of them. Her mom had decorated the house and cooked favorite dishes, and there was always football on the TV.

Carrie swallowed thickly. There was no sense dwelling on painful memories. In the absence of family, a person had to make their own. Quinn and Amber were the closest thing she had, next to the Brandts. Today it didn't feel like enough, though. Something was still missing.

A strange car was parked outside the ranch house when Carrie arrived. She'd just taken her boxed pies off the seat when the front door opened and Amber came running out, her little legs churning their way down the steps toward her truck. “Carrie, Carrie! I gots to make the cranberry sauce!”

Carrie laughed and her heart warmed—and ached—as she looked down at the little girl. “I'll be sure to have an extra helping, it's my favorite,” she assured Amber with a smile.

“Daddy said I couldn't help with the turkey. He said that's his job.” She put on a pouty face.

“Let's see if there's something else you can help with. I'm freezing. Is it warmer inside?”

Amber took Carrie's hand without a second thought. “Yep. Duke made a big fire in the fireplace. He put on some of those green sticks and made it crackle!” Her eyes were big as silver dollars as she explained.

They started up the steps and Carrie realized Duke was standing at the top. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he rumbled out, and a little zing went through her as she met his gaze.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too. What's this I hear about crackling fires?”

She thought he was going to reach for the pies but instead he picked up Amber and hefted her on his arm. “I put a few spruce boughs on it for fun. I've got hardwood on it now, though. Toasty warm.”

Amber put her pudgy hand on his face. “I like toast.”

“You like everything.” He grinned at her. “Let's go in and see your dad. He and Lacey are having an argument about mashed potatoes.”

Once inside the door, he put Amber down and she ran off to the kitchen. “So your sister came.”

“Surprised the heck out of me. She's not the ‘let's spend the holiday in the country' type.”

“Apparently she is if she's here. Or maybe she just wanted to see her big brother.”

He shrugged. “I doubt it. Here, let me take those while you take off your coat.”

She handed him the pies and hung her coat on a hook behind the door. Stepping inside the kitchen, she heard a difference of opinion being voiced about the proper additions to mashed potatoes to make them creamy.

“Milk and butter. That's all my mother used,” Quinn argued.

Carrie watched as a beautiful woman with mahogany hair leaned over the pot. “Bah. I'm telling you, you need a little sour cream and cream cheese in there. And a ricer, not a masher.”

“There's a difference?”

“Oh, God.” Lacey face-palmed. “You're hopeless. I'll just have to drown them in gravy.”

“Is there any other way to eat mashed potatoes?”

“Well, actually...”

“Ahem,” Duke interrupted, a broad grin on his face. “Lacey, you probably don't remember Carrie Coulter. She's the cattle foreman here now.”

“Hi,” Carrie offered shyly. Lacey Duggan was probably the most beautiful woman Carrie had ever seen—and that was saying a lot, since Kailey was drop-dead gorgeous. Lacey's long dark hair held tints of red—darker than Duke's but lustrous and thick. Her creamy skin and dark hair made the grayish-blue of her eyes incredibly striking. Carrie had felt slightly dressed up in her jeans and sweater, but Lacey's snug jeans, soft leather boots and sweater coat made Carrie feel dowdy by comparison.

“Hi,” Lacey offered, smiling warmly. “My big brother says I owe my invitation to dinner to you. Nice to know he wouldn't have invited me otherwise.” She raised one eyebrow at her brother.

“I gather he hasn't seen much of his family since he got home,” Carrie replied, taking perverse pleasure in talking about Duke while he was standing right there. “I guess Rylan couldn't make it?”

“Rylan's somewhere in North Dakota,” Duke answered. “I did call him. I said I would.”

Carrie stepped forward, toward Lacey and Quinn. “I'm glad you could come. Joe always used to host, but without him this year...”

There was an awkward silence. It was clear to everyone that Quinn and Carrie had been closer to Joe than his own grandkids.

She cleared her throat. “He'd be glad you're here now. Okay, Quinn, what's left to do? How can I help?”

The uncomfortable moment passed as everyone chipped in. Quinn let Lacey have her way with the potatoes while Carrie drained the vegetables. Duke set the table and Amber was put to work putting warm buns in a basket. Quinn took Joe's good carving knife and began carving the turkey, and at the last minute Duke turned down the volume on the TV. It was showing the end of a Thanksgiving parade from somewhere, and Amber was oohing and aahing over the floats, bands and just about everything.

They were all seated at the table when Carrie looked at Duke, sitting in Joe's spot. Did he even realize that he'd taken over the head of the table? Quinn had filled the gap as best he could, but Carrie knew deep down they were all looking to Duke to take his place. As head of the ranch, head of the family. Trouble was, she knew he wasn't sure if he wanted either position.

Quinn looked at Duke. “I know I did this at the party, but I think you should give the blessing this time, Duke.”

Duke's cheeks grew ruddy as he looked up. “I'm sorry, what was that?”

Lacey was looking at him strangely, and Carrie had an instant realization that Quinn was sitting on Duke's right side, and with the television running, he hadn't heard the request clearly.

“Oh, you guys and your football,” Carrie chided good-naturedly. Duke's gaze met hers and she blinked. “I know the preview to the game's interesting, but we could take a few minutes to give thanks, don't you think?”