Page 45 of Between a Rock and a Hard Cowboy

“Don’t know. Text your bestie and ask,” he called over his shoulder as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Then he was gone. But her immensely strange feelings—about him, about what they’d done, about this tree trimming party where she’d have to be with him after what they’d done—remained. As did the soreness in parts lower.Thatwas going to remind her all damn day of what she should probably be trying to forget.

With a sigh, she forced herself to get out of bed. Grabbing her T-shirt off the end of the mattress where Linc had laid it while he’d been gathering his own clothes, she pulled it over her head and then shuffled toward the bathroom.

She had a party to get ready for. And more research to do before that.

But most of all, she had to get herself a coffee. Maybe two.

ChapterTwenty-Two

Linc handled afternoon chores alone so Ethan could help Poppy get the tree set up at the house. And that was fine with him. He’d rather work alone than have Ethan interrogating him like he’d done that morning.

Why are you late? Why do you have coffee from Rosie’s? What were you doing in town so early this morning?

Ethan’s barrage of questions was the last thing Linc wanted to face after what had been an amazing, albeit surprising, night spent with Eva. He had a lot to wrap his head around, the least of which was her suddeninterestin him that way. But no thinking was happening while he had to fend off his nosy brother’s questions.

He had finally decided to turn things around and grill Ethan instead on why they’d moved up the date. And, now that Eva had put the idea in his mind, were they going to get fed at this event? With Olivia, the family cooking expert, laid up, food and the quality of it was always in question.

That had kept Ethan talking for long enough he forgot about grilling Linc, right up until the time the bulk of the morning chores were complete and Ethan had snuck away to cut down the tree for the living room. Happily left to himself, Linc set a leisurely pace, taking his time doing what needed to be done, and even doing some things that they’d been putting off, like cleaning and conditioning all the leather tack.

He broke for lunch just long enough to run home and heat up some leftover stew, then he knocked out the afternoon chores, showered, changed and headed to the main house just before four.

That put him inside, a spiked eggnog already in his hand, by the time Eva blew through the front door.

Her gaze found him even before she got her coat off to expose her long sleeved T-shirt that had a frazzled looking black cat wrapped in a tangled string of Christmas lights saying,This is as merry as I get.

Her eyes remained focused on him before she tore her gaze away and said overly loudly to the room in general, “Hello, Wilders and friends. Is there alcohol?”

Poppy leaned down and said to Darcy, “Can you go get Auntie Eva a cup of egg nog?”

When Eva cocked a brow, Poppy added, “The booze is on the sideboard. You can add that yourself. I’m not opposed to using a five-year old to fetch things but I draw the line of having her serve alcohol.”

Eva nodded. “Understandable.”

She swung her ever-present laptop bag onto the floor behind the front door then hung her jacket on the coat rack, all while her gaze kept meeting then skittering away from his.

Darcy returned using both hands to hold a clear glass punch cup half filled with eggnog. The liquid came precariously close to splashing out as she ran toward Eva.

“Whoa. Okay. I got it. Thank you very much. You’re a good little waitress.” Eva bent and rescued the drink.

She straightened, cup in hand, and glanced toward the sideboard. That’s when they both realized Linc was standing directly in front of the bottle, which she no doubt wanted.

He restrained his smile knowing she wasn’t going to be able to avoid speaking directly to him much longer. Not if she wanted to turn that egg nog into an adult beverage.

The internal struggle within her was laughingly obvious. She pulled an air of nonchalance around her like a cloak and, looking anywhere but at him, headed for the sideboard.

He didn’t move when she arrived. He stayed standing right there, blocking the bottle. Waiting for her to ask him to move.

Contrary to the end, she didn’t ask. She glared, her eyes widening with the unspoken demand that he move over.

Wrestling to control his smile, he finally said, “Yes?”

Nostrils flaring, she drew in a breath and said, “Can you please move so I can get to the whisky?”

He feigned surprise. “Oh, sure. No problem.” Moving to the side, but not by much, he turned to face the wall and allowed himself that smile.

“Why are you acting so weird?” she spat as she reached for the bottle.

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