Page 5 of Dear Santa, Send Me a Cowboy
“That’s somethin’ only a shitty driver would say, darlin’.” His face dipped down as the brim of his hat concealed his eyes, but it did nothing to hide the beginnings of a smirk.
Narrowing my stare at the grumpy cowboy, I then took a quick glance over at my tree and sighed.
“Look, thanks for going out of your way and bringing my tree, but I can take it from here now.” I tried to go around him, but with his whole body taking up the space in front of the doorway, I brushed up against his stone-like arm.
Jesus, he was built. I wonder what he did to have a body that feels rock solid?
Then, quickly as I brushed off those unwarranted thoughts, I rushed past him in only my fuzzy socks and thin pajamas and headed for my tree. Instead of gauging where to grab or how to carry it, I quickly wrapped my short arms around the middle of the broad tree and lifted.
Oh fuck.
There was no way I could get this inside my house. Not without help anyway. My cheeks puffed out and my legs wobbled as I lifted the oversized tree about an inch off the ground. I’m sure I looked as ridiculous as I felt, with my face pressed into the prickly tree and my ass arched out in hopes I could lift it higher. Unfortunately, both my legs and arms began to spasm, causing me to drop the tree back onto the ground.
“Jesus Christ…” A low, rumble of a voice manifested from behind me and the next thing I knew, my giant tree was lifted with ease and propped up onto his shoulder like it was nothing. All I could do was stare with wide eyes as the grumpy cowboy gave me a stern look before stomping past me. My eyebrows scrunched in confusion as I silently watched him, or more specifically his ass flex with each step until he disappeared into my home.
“Where do you want me to put this thing?” His voice echoed from inside, causing my feet to move and follow him. With a little pep in my step, I ran inside and slammed the door shut behind me before refocusing my attention back on to the stranger in my home.
Or, not technically a stranger. Fred’s sex-on-a-stick son.
I found him standing awkwardly in the living room where he made everything look miniature-sized. For a second, I wondered if he would even be able to fit his large body on my couch, but the thought quickly fizzled when I heard an expulsion of air fall past his lips.
“In that corner is fine.” I waved in the direction behind him and watched as he grunted in acknowledgment and dropped the tree until it is now leaning against the wall.
Asshole.
“You didn’t have to help me, you know. I would have gotten it inside eventually.” I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him with narrowed eyes. Just because he was quite possibly the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on, or the fact he was Fred’s son, didn’t mean I trusted him.
“Right.” He chuckled while that perfect mouth tilted upward into a smirk. “Before or after you slipped on the ice patches on your front porch?”
My god, he was a sight for sore eyes.
Damn him.
“Do you think I’m inept on ice or something? Besides, I’ve been carrying a tree in this house by myself for the past nine years, so… I think I could have managed another one without you.”
Normally, I wasn’t this sassy or felt the need to be so defensive. If anything, I was the opposite most of the time, but something about this arrogant beast of a man standing in my living room with an “I’m better than everyone else” look on his face made my blood run hot. Even more so now as his beard-covered jaw went taut and those intimidating eyes took a plunge down my body again. Then, as if catching himself, his throat contracted with a cough.
“Look,” he ground out as his stare wavered off to the side before slinking their way back to mine. “I don’t like watchin’ a woman struggle. If I can help, I will.”
“Yah, well, you didn’t look too eager to help me.” I scoffed.
Honestly, I didn’t know why he was still here and yet, here he was taking up residence in my home like he belonged here. God, he looked so out of place surrounded by Christmas knickknacks and shiplap walls. He belonged somewhere dirtier, rougher, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and the other holding the waist of a woman.
“Trust me, the last thing I want to see is a woman slip and break her fuckin’ back because I wasn’t bein’ a man and helpin’,” he grunted while removing his hat and running a hand through his thick, tawny waves.
And a man he was.
“So, what are you saying? That women are more prone to slip and fall on ice than men? That’s a bit sexist, don’t you think?” A sarcastic laugh spilled from my mouth as I watched his chest deflate in annoyance.
“Not tryin’ to be sexist. But helping a woman in red fuzzy socks trying to walk backward on her icy-as-fuck front porchwith a tree that’s three times the size of her makes me sexist, then so be it.”
The smug tilt of his mouth had my skin pulsing red. If he was trying to get under my skin, it was working.
Tremendously.
We held each other’s eyes in a silent stare-off, and for some odd, infuriating reason, my brain decided to malfunction as it no longer could formulate any wittier comebacks. Instead, it was too focused on studying the full layout of his body and the minor details that took up residence on his rugged face. The only man I could compare him to was my ex, and by no means was there any resemblance. Just looking at him made me question why I had even wasted my time and energy on the poor excuse of a man who I let fumble around between my legs. As I scaled my eyes over his waistline, I caught the sight of a silver belt buckle, and the worn, brown strap that hugged his wide waist.
Jesus, why was that so hot?
