Page 3 of Her Grumpy Cowboy
“Still stubborn, huh?”Grady rumbles.
“More so,” Mary replies with a long-suffering sigh.“Now go help before he breaks his fool neck.”
“Too late for that,” Christopher calls from the other side of the yard, balanced halfway up a ladder and reaching for a strand of lights.He climbs down with the same unhurried steadiness that always makes people listen before he even speaks.Tall and solid, with a white beard that catches the light, his blue eyes land on Grady and soften with something like pride.
“Well,” he says gruffly.“Took you long enough, son.”
Grady’s mouth pulls into something that’s getting closer to a smile.“Yes, sir.”
Christopher claps him on the shoulder once, the way men like him saywelcome homewithout needing to use the words.
Mary wipes her eyes, muttering something about men who make her cry, and turns to me.“All right, let’s get that star hung before this weather turns.”
Christopher nods toward the massive spruce near the porch.“Right where the light line meets the top.Ladder’s sturdy—mostly.”
“That’s comforting,” I mutter, grabbing the ladder and ignoring the flutter in my chest at the touching reunion I just witnessed.“But I can handle it.”
Grady frowns.“You can, but you shouldn’t.Let me.”
“No, I’m good,” I assure him.“I’m not afraid of heights.”
“I don’t want you falling.”
His protective tone does something strange to my pulse.I climb anyway, muttering about male hubris with a twenty-pound star wobbling in my gloved hands.
“This is fine,” I tell no one, which is usually a sign that things are not fine.The spruce is taller than it looked.The ladder sinks a little with each step.
“Stop,” Grady orders.He’s at the foot of the ladder, one hand braced on the side, the other held up like he can catch me from here.Maybe he can.“Come down.We’ll do it another way.”
“I’m okay,” I call, inching up.The star tilts.So does the world.
I don’t fall.Not technically.The snow under the ladder slips, the whole thing skews, and my boot twists, sending sharp, hot pain through my ankle.
Before I can yelp, he’s on the ladder, one forearm caging the rung, the other sliding around my waist.I end up against his chest with my heart trying to relocate to his shirt pocket.His body is solid, hot even through our layers, and I feel every hard inch of him where we touch—his arm tight around my waist, his chest like a furnace against my cheek.I don’t move.Don’t want to.
His breath is rough next to my ear.“Easy.I’ve got you.”
The star dangles from one wire, swaying harmlessly.The world steadies.My heart doesn’t.Neither do the parts of me that think nearly falling off a ladder into the arms of the most attractive man I’ve ever met count as foreplay.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, not moving.
“Don’t lie to me, Angel.You twisted it.”
“It’s minor.”I wince when my foot touches snow.
Without asking, he scoops me up, solid and sure.
“W-what are you?—”
“Taking you back to your shop,” he says, like he’s accepting a mission.
“Grady, seriously, I’m too heavy?—”
His arms tighten just a little, voice low.“You’re perfect.Now stop arguing.”
The words knock the air right out of me.No one’s ever said that to me.Not like that.Not with heat and hunger and something gentler curled inside it.I want to believe him.My body already does.
Mary’s watching with her entire heart in her eyes.“Oh, let him fuss, Angel.It’s been too long since Grady had someone to fuss over.”
