Page 4 of Dear Santa, Send Me a Cowboy
I was right about one thing, it was a man standing just beyond my door. A ruggedly handsome man whose face was twisted with a scowl as if he was seconds away from losing his shit on my front porch. But it wasn’t his declining composure that had me intrigued, it was leather cowboy hat and the big, gaudy belt buckle wrapped around his waist that nearly sent me into a stupor.
His big, thick arms laid heavily at his sides, as his towering frame left me wondering how tall he truly was.
Six-three, maybe? Either way, he’d loom over me, making me feel tiny in comparison.
“Jesus, fuck…” I heard the tail end of his grumbles as he pounded his fist once again on my door.
Who the hell is this man? And why is he here?
“I think you have the wrong house.” My voice resembled a mouse as the shock of what I was looking at began to fully register. Even now after blinking at least ten times, the strange man still didn’t disappear.
Which meant he was real.
“Look, darlin’, I’m freezin’ my balls off out here, so can you please just open the door?” he growled through shivering teeth as he rocked back and forth on some faded cowboy boots that looked the size of my whole arm.
Jesus, he was big.
My throat dried as my eyes scaled the length of him again, dressed in faded Wranglers, a tan jacket, and cowboy hat. I couldn’t formulate a single word as I took this stranger in. I swear my thighs heated when I caught the sight of his callused hands lift and plant themselves on each side of the doorframe.
“Uh, you definitely have the wrong house. I don’t know you.” My teeth captured my bottom lip in a gnawing motion as I watched his face shift into a scowl. Clearly agitated, he cursed under his breath, causing a ripple of wrinkles to form on his forehead.
“I’m here with your fuckin’ tree.” He moved to the side a bit where I saw a balsam fir propped up against the siding of my home.
I pulled myself away from the eyehole to catch a much-needed breath.
Who the hell was this guy and why was he dropping off my tree?
Peering down at my flannel pants and stained tee, I contemplated running to my room to change, but those thoughts quickly dissipated when I heard a low growl reverberate from beyond the door.
“Swear to god, woman…” I had a feeling his words weren’t meant for me to hear, and once again, I found myself looking back through the eyehole. I almost laughed when I saw his head tilted back on a low groan, but something more heated passed through me as I caught his tanned, corded throat. Thick and tempting, I swallowed back a moan as a heavy exhale escaped the confines of my chest. He looked nothing like my ex, or any man I’d been with for that matter. His presence was looming and almost dangerous in a way that had my heart galloping and thighs clenching.
“Where’s…” The word came out faint, so then clearing my throat, I repeated myself again. “Where’s Fred?”
“He’s sick. I’m his son Lawson. Told me he was goin’ to come by sometime tomorrow to drop it off, but I offered to bring it tonight.”
Oh…
Fred had a son? Why didn’t I know that? And why, out of every possible type of man out there, did he have to resemble a cowboy? My kryptonite. The one and only thing I foolishly and desperately asked for in my “Dear Santa” letter. What were the odds of having the exact replica of what I drunkenly imagined in my head that night, standing just beyond the door?
Either I was right, and I have been a very good girl, or someone was playing a dirty trick on me.
Snapping out of whatever trance I had been in, and without a second thought, I swung open the door and was greeted by a blast of cold air and dark, obsidian eyes. The force of both almost knocked me onto my ass, but I remained rooted to the ground as I let his stare roam over the tiny length of me. Even in my not-so-sexy pajama set, he made me feel like I had been wearing the most revealing, skimpiest outfit out there as he left no part of me unscathed. But just as he was getting his fill of me, I was doing the same. Trailing my stare along those broad shoulders and thick arms, I couldn’t stop the rush of air that filled my lungs.
God, he was perfect.
Not only was I shocked by the fact his hands were still clinging onto the doorframe in a menacing stance, but I was gobsmacked by the raw, unfiltered beauty of this man and the scowl lines that marred his tanned forehead. Confusion and maybe agitation filled his stunning features as he slowly dropped his arms from the door and gave me his full height.
Oh. My. God.
“You’re the shitty driver my dad brings a tree to every year?” His chest flared, causing a current of shocks to strike me at the core. At first, it didn’t register that he called me a shitty driver and when it finally did, I placed my palms onto my hips.
“Um… Excuse you? I don’t think spinning out in basically a blizzard and ending up in a ditch makes me a shitty driver.”I scoffed in annoyance as his intense gaze still lingered on my body.
“Yeah, so what does that make you then?” he asked in an amused tone.
My eyebrows slammed together as a puff of air escaped from my mouth.
“I think everyone ends up in a ditch once in their lifetime, don’t you think?”
