Santa In Montana (7 page)

Monday morning Cat awoke with a heady sense of anticipation. “First of the week,” that's when Wade had said he would be stopping by again.

As she went about her daily routine, Cat kept one ear tuned to outside noises. The sound of a vehicle pulling up to the Homestead prompted a quick glance out a front window in hopes it might be Wade arriving. But Monday came and went without any sign of him.

When Tuesday morning turned out to be a repeat of the previous day, Cat finally faced the possibility that something had come up and Wade wouldn't be dropping by at all. Disappointment came, quick and strong.

With the entire afternoon ahead of her, Cat refused to let it hold sway. Instead she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, silently chiding herself to stop acting like a schoolgirl. Behind her the dishwasher clicked into its next cycle. Absently she glanced around the kitchen.

Now that the noon meal was over, she virtually had the house to herself. Chase was in his room taking a nap. Jessy had gone back to the ranch office. Laredo had volunteered to run a part to an outlying camp, and Trey had taken charge of Jake so Sloan could make another trip to Wolf Meadow to track down a couple items on the inventory list.

Faced with all this free time, Cat decided to fill it by whipping up a batch of Christmas cookies. Twenty minutes later she placed the finished dough in the refrigerator to chill while she got out the rolling pin, cookie cutters, baking sheets, and parchment paper.

After dusting the countertop with flour, Cat started to put the nearly empty canister away, then changed her mind and decided to refill it first. As she went to take a new sack from the pantry shelf, she happened to notice there weren't any bags of powdered sugar on the shelf.

“Like it or not, I guess I'm going to the commissary for some sugar,” Cat muttered to herself. “At least I discovered it before I started to make the icing.”

She carried the sack of flour over to the canister. Just as she was about to pour it in, a voice came from the entryway, “Hello? Anybody home?”

It was Wade Rogers. She nearly dropped the flour sack. As it was, she spilled some of it on the counter. “I'll be right there!” she called back and hastily set the sack on the counter, then exited the kitchen at a running walk.

Cat found him in the entryway, as expected. He was dressed much more casually than on his last visit, in a pair of blue jeans and an insulated vest over a blue chambray shirt. He smiled when he saw her, the action carving those sexy dimples in his cheeks and stirring up her pulse.

“I had decided you weren't going to be stopping by after all.” Cat heard the breathy note in her voice, an echo of the fluttering excitement she felt inside.

“Sorry. I invited myself in.” The deep timbre of his voice vibrated through her like a caress. “The last time I was here, Chase told me that only strangers knock.”

“That's true. Welcome back.” As she extended a hand to greet him, Cat noticed the dusting of white flour on it and hastily pulled it back to brush it away. “Sorry. I was in the kitchen doing some baking.”

“In that case, I won't keep you. I don't want to be the cause of you ruining something. Is Chase in the den?” He gestured toward the room.

“Actually he's taking a nap. I'll wake him for you.” She took a step in the direction of her father's first-floor bedroom.

A staying hand checked her movement. “Don't do that.” He added a quick shake of his head. “I'll go outside and wander around a bit. Maybe check out that old barn, if that's alright?”

“Of course. Although—” Cat hesitated, then plunged on, hoping she didn't sound too forward, “—as it happens, I need to go down to the commissary. I don't have enough powdered sugar to frost the Christmas cookies. Just give me a minute to get my coat and boots on and we can walk together.”

“I'd welcome the company.”

Cat had the impression he meant it, and the feeling smoothed away much of her uncertainty. He stood by while she pulled on her snow boots, then stepped forward to help her on with her winter coat. She murmured a “thanks.” He acknowledged it with a nod, then opened the front door for her and followed her outside.

As they started down the porch steps, he said, “I'm guessing this commissary you mentioned and the ranch store my father told me about are one and the same thing.”

“I'm sure they are,” Cat confirmed. “We always keep it well stocked with basics as well as an assortment of other things.

“The Triple C prides itself on being self-sufficient. In its early days—before the advent of the automobile—it had to be. Now the commissary is more of a convenience.”

“Sounds interesting. I think I'll come inside with you and check it out.”

Cat tried not to let it show how pleased she was with his decision. As they angled across the ranch yard toward the store, she pointed out various buildings that comprised the Triple C headquarters, identifying everything from the structure housing the ranch offices, to the medical dispensary staffed by a registered nurse, and the fire station. Yet she never lost her awareness of him. If anything it was intensified by the occasional brush of his arm against hers. She tried to recall the last time she had walked side by side with a male who wasn't either a relative or a ranch hand, but she couldn't think of one. Not since Logan died.

“When an average Joe like me thinks of a ranch, the word conjures up images of barns and sheds, a bunkhouse, maybe even a cookshack,” Wade remarked. “You have all those and more. You meant it when you talked about the ranch being self-sufficient.”

“It's a necessity,” Cat reminded him. “Outside help can be hours away.”

Together they paused while a pickup bearing the ranch insignia pulled away from the gas pumps located outside the commissary. When it cleared their path to the door, they started forward again.

“I can see that now,” Wade agreed and reached ahead of her to open the door. “But it's a hard concept to wrap your mind around until you are actually here.”

“That's what everybody says.” Smiling, Cat walked into the store and nearly ran straight into Laredo, who was on his way out. Cat stopped short, forcing Wade to do the same. “I thought you were running a part out to the West Camp.”

“I am.” His glance flicked past her to touch on Wade. “I decided since I was headed that way, I'd take their mail with me. Save them a trip.” With the explanation made, he nodded a greeting to Wade. “See you made it back again, Rogers.”

“That I did,” Wade replied with an easy smile and came forward to stand next to Cat, extending a hand.

“Good to see you again, Laredo.”

“Right.” Laredo shifted the bundle of mail to his other hand and briefly gripped Wade's. “Come to do some shopping, did you?”

“No, I did,” Cat inserted. “I need some powdered sugar. Since Dad was taking a nap, Wade came along with me.”

“Cat's being my unofficial tour guide,” Wade added.

“You couldn't be in better hands,” Laredo stated, then stirred. “I'd best be on my way. Take care.” He directed his parting words to Cat as Wade swung to one side, giving Laredo a clear path to the door.

Wade briefly tracked Laredo's departure with his gaze. then returned it to Cat. A crooked smile carved a groove into one cheek. “That's a hard man to read. He didn't seem surprised to see me—and he didn't seem all that glad either.”

“That's just Laredo being Laredo.” Cat shrugged her lack of concern. “He tends to keep anyone he doesn't know well at arm's length. But he's the best thing that's happened to this family. Especially to Jessy.”

“I know Chase definitely looks on him as family.”

“We all do,” Cat said with a smile and turned toward the aisle where the powdered sugar was located.

“Laredo said something about picking up the mail for the West Camp. I'm guessing that means the commissary serves as a post office, too.”

“Yes, although unofficially.”

Before Cat could explain her comment, Wade spoke. “Let me guess. The Triple C covers too many square miles for rural mail delivery to reach all of its corners, so the commissary is the clearing house for all personal mail that comes to its employees and their families.”

“That's exactly right,” Cat admitted.

“So what's this? Are you about to add a toy section for Christmas?” Wade motioned at the variety of toy items stacked high in a corner, some still in their original boxes.

“It looks like it, doesn't it?” she agreed on a laughing note. “Actually those are all donations for the Marines' toy drive. I think I heard Jessy say that they're scheduled to be loaded up tomorrow morning and delivered to the designated drop-off point.”

“That's quite a haul.”

“There wasn't a single person on the ranch who didn't contribute something toward it.” Cat resumed her path to the powdered sugar.

“Full participation. That's really remarkable.”

“I guess it is, but I learned long ago that cowboys have the biggest hearts.”

“They certainly do on the Triple C.” Wade paused next to her while she gathered up the largest sized bag of powdered sugar.

“So how do you usually spend the Christmas holidays?” Cat sent him a curious glance as she moved toward the back of the store and its counter area.

“It depends on where I am and what I might be in the middle of, although I always make a point to spend at least a couple days with my dad. Like Chase, he's up there in age so I can never be sure how many more Christmases I'll have with him.”

“I know that feeling.” And it warmed her to know that they had something in common.

“What made you ask?”

“Just curious,” Cat answered with an idle shrug. “Some people like to laze on a tropical beach and others go skiing for the holidays. Me, I'm with the group that likes to stay home and spend Christmas with the family—and enjoy all the old traditions that go with it.”

“Like iced Christmas cookies.” He nodded in the direction of the powdered sugar she carried and flashed her a smile that carved those sexy grooves in his cheeks.

She laughed and admitted, “Cookies, caroling, and children's Christmas programs—the whole nine yards. Best of all, this year the house will be full of family. Jessy's daughter Laura and her husband are coming from England, and my son Quint is flying in from Texas with his wife and my new grandson. It will be the first time we've all been together in several years.”

“Sounds fun,” Wade remarked. “I guess that's one of the advantages of having a fairly large extended family. I didn't have the good fortune to be blessed with one.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Cat spotted a new display of housewares and stopped to look, picking up a silicone rubber muffin pan. She read the label and tested its flexibility by bending it, balancing the bag of powdered sugar in the crook of her arm.

“What's that?” Wade asked.

“A muffin pan. They're supposed to pop right out.”

He watched her for a moment until she put it back on the shelf and picked up a loaf pan, twisting that.

“I'll leave you to it,” he said wryly. “And I'll go pick up some packaged snacks for the drive to the airport.”

Wade wandered off and Cat took advantage of the opportunity to examine the pans more closely, aware that she could use some new baking pans at the Homestead, especially with Christmas coming on.

Turning away from them, Cat mentally made a note to check which pans at the house needed to be replaced or supplemented. Absently she glanced up the aisle to the rear counter where the checkout was. As usual, Nancy Taylor was at the register. Nearing fifty and still sandy-haired, Nancy didn't fuss much with makeup or clothes, satisfied with lipstick and a simple combination of blouse and jeans.

Nancy's expression suddenly brightened with curiosity. Cat quickly realized that the object of her interest was Wade making his approach to the register.

“Can I help you?”

“I'm getting these.” He set a handful of snacks in bright foil on the counter.

“Is there anything else you need today?”

“Don't think so.” He glanced around as Cat joined him. “You ready too?”

“Yes.” Cat felt the full force of Nancy's curiosity directed at her, as the other woman speculated on the connection between her and Wade.

“Hi, Nancy,” Cat said, irritated by the touch of embarrassment she felt. “This is Wade Rogers. Wade, Nancy Taylor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rogers.” She nodded to him, then noted the price of the sugar and bagged it for Cat.

“The Rogers folks are old family friends of Chase's,” Cat stated, then hesitated, looking at Wade, hoping he would offer a further explanation.

“Oh, we go back years,” Wade said vaguely.

“Isn't that nice.” Nancy's tone was courteous but she seemed a little disappointed and Cat secretly didn't blame her for that. Wade Rogers was too attractive to fit the tame label of “family friend.”

The other woman handed Cat a pen and a receipt for the sugar. “Please sign here.”

“Thanks, Nancy.” Cat jotted her name and they left.

Going out the door of the commissary, she turned to Wade. “Brace yourself. The ranch telegraph will be clattering big time.”

“Because you bought five pounds of sugar?”

“No. Because I came in here with you. Around here, that counts as news.”

“I'm flattered.”

“Everyone will want to know who you are and what you're doing here, so you're liable to field a few questions.” Cat sighed. “As will I.”

Wade studied her with a sidelong glance. “Guess you don't do much dating, Cat.” Startled, she lifted her head. He read the unvoiced question in her look and explained, “If you did, Nancy wouldn't have been so surprised to see you with a man.”