Page 22 of Cowboy Friend Zone for Christmas

Noelle was left alone in the hallway with Nash.

He lounged against the wall between their suites. “It wouldn’t be cool of me to say I told you so.” He curled his upper lip at her. “So I won’t.”

“Oh, the fun is just beginning.” She pushed open her door and nudged her pair of suitcases inside with the toe of her boot. “You’ve yet to meet my parents.”

His expression grew quizzical. “They can’t be all that bad.” A smile quirked his mouth upward as he reminded, “They had you.”

“Hold that thought, cowboy,” she warned.

His grin widened. “Should I shave?”

She shrugged. “You’re on vacation. Do what you want.”

He leaned closer and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial note. “I’ll shave if you wear a dress.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If this is about Flint’s comment, I don’t own any striped stockings.”

“It’s not.” He winked at her. “I just like seeing you in dresses.”

On that startling note, he pivoted and returned to his room. The door clicked firmly closed behind him.

She was left in the hallway, blinking and repeating his words inside her head. For a tough cowboy, he sure had his weaknesses. She liked the fact that she was one of them.

She showered and rummaged through her suitcase, wondering which dress she should wear. After a quick debate, she settled on a white dress with blue flowers that didn’t look too wrinkled. It had a square neckline, lightly puffed sleeves, and a short, ruffled skirt that would show off her toned legs to perfection. She considered them to be her one good feature. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do about her petite stature or freckles. She hadn’t been blessed with creamy, classical features or a supermodel’s height.

Since her hair didn’t seem in the mood to hang straight, she applied a handful of mousse and scrunched it a little more. The effect was a cascade of strawberry blonde waves around her shoulders that provided a lovely contrast to the blue and white dress.

Nash was waiting for her in the hallway when she stepped outside her room. He took one look at her and whistled. “Better stick close to my plus one tonight.” He splayed his bionic hand lightly against her lower back as they strolled together to the elevator.

She waited until the elevator doors rolled shut behind them before speaking again. Then she turned impulsively his way. “Do you think that picture of our almost kiss at the rodeo was shopped?”

“Nope.” There was no hesitation in his answer. His look made her insides weak.

“Did we then?”

“Did we what?” His lazy drawl told her he wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

“Almost kiss?”

“I wanted to.” He reached for her hand to tangle their fingers together again. “If you were my girlfriend, I would have.”

His answer left her aching with even more questions as the elevator doors rolled open again.

They made their way to his truck in silence. He assisted her into the cab, then made his way around to the driver’s side to slide behind the steering wheel. “Are you upset with me again?” He started the motor.

“No.” She watched him idly run his left hand up his right arm, pausing where the stump ended and the bionic components began. “Is the phantom pain back?”

For an answer, he rested his arm on the console, palm facing up.

She slid her fingers over his wrist and nestled them against his mechanical digits. “We’re complicated, aren’t we?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed her fingers to his lips before responding. “I like what we are, Noelle.”

His answer made her heart race. When she’d first proposed the friendship pact, she hadn’t anticipated growing this close to him. They could sense each other’s feelings and anticipate each other’s needs. It was both sweet and terrifying, something she didn’t want to think too hard about right now.

They didn’t speak the rest of the drive to her parents’ new chalet. They’d moved to a bigger place after she’d left town. It surprised her that they’d remained in town at all. Then again, they did so much traveling together that it almost didn’t matter where they stayed between trips. It wasn’t as if they were ever in any one place for long.

She frowned and straightened in her seat as Nash parked his pickup beside a much older, classic truck — a two-tone burgundy and gray refurbished Ford F-150 that belonged to none other than Brady McGrath.

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