Page 9 of Cowboy's Christmas Girlfriend

“Because once you’ve kissed someone, your walls tumble down. You’re different together—your body language, your expressions. People can see it, the spark between you. There’s a certain something, a glow.”

“So you’re saying, if we kissed, it would make us more believable?” Will stepped closer himself, as though drawn on a string. Suzanna was tempting, no question about that—pretty and plump, with skin like peaches and cream. Soft, tender lips that would yield to his own; a ripe, perfect bosom that—

“Well?” She looked up at him, teasing, the light dancing in her eyes. They were pale green, he saw, not blue like he’d thought.

“Well, I...” She stepped closer, and Will took it as the invitation it was, reaching out to pull her to him. He closed the space between them, her hair tickling his wrist. Suzanna rose to meet him, up on her toes. Their lips met and she sighed, then she shuddered all over. Her kiss was as soft as Will had imagined, with a faint taste of pumpkin pie spiced with nutmeg. Her hands fluttered up to grasp his shoulders, then dropped to his hips as he deepened the kiss. A sharp thrill ran through him—the reckless excitement of a midnight ride—and he drew back gasping, pulse loud in his ears.

“Oh...my...” Suzanna reached up and touched her lips, and let out a breathless giggle. “I expected a peck,” she said.

“I don’t believe in half measures.” And there’d been nothing halfway about that kiss.

Suzanna looked up at him, all flushed and bright-eyed. “Then...I’m glad you’re on my side in this snowball fight.”

* * *

Will crouched in the deep snow behind the shielding pines. Cassie and Sarah had double-teamed him right off the bat, tripped him and tackled him so they could keep him down long enough to rub snow in his hair. It was time for revenge, but he’d need a distraction. A ripe, tempting target to draw them off his tail.

“You run out first,” he said, low-pitched to Suzanna. “Haul ass for the barn, and I’ll—Suzanna?”

“Look at your girls.” She pointed out past the firepit, where Beth and Ann were raiding the marshmallows. “Aren’t they the cutest?”

“They’re in trouble, is what they are.” Will stood up, scowling. “S’mores are for after the fight. They know the rules.”

“Aw, don’t be a Scrooge.”

“I’m not. I just don’t want them up all night, sick to their stomachs.” He ducked down and ran to grab them, arms over his head to ward off a hail of snowballs.

“It’s Dad,” yelped Ann.

“Get him,” squealed Beth, and then they were on him, pelting him with big, sloppy handfuls of snow. Mom popped up from her hiding place behind the woodpile, flinging tight-packed snowballs like grenades. Will took off like a jackrabbit, with a shout of dismay.

“Suzanna! Help! Ambush!”

“I think she switched sides,” said Aunt Nancy, and where had she sprung from? Will whirled and spotted Suzanna across the yard, taking a gossip break with Cassie and Sarah. His mouth turned down. He didn’t like that at all, Suzanna bonding with his family out of his earshot. She’d tell them one thing about their supposed relationship, then he’d say another, and before they knew it, they’d have their stories all tangled.

“Bombs away!” Ann charged him, snowpants whooshing, and caught him full in the face with a bucket of snow. Will went down laughing and Beth piled on, kicking up drifts of snow to cover his head.

“Bury Dad! Bury Dad!”

“Dad’s a snowman.”

Will struggled upright, packing snow as he went, forming it into a tight ball the size of his fist. “Better run,” he said, and the girls took off. Beth tripped and Ann righted her, and the two of them slid down the hill on their snowpants-clad rumps. Their laughter rose high and merry, and Will couldn’t help but join in. His heart always lightened when his girls were full of joy. It took a lot to make them laugh like that, more than it should have. He hated that that hint of sadness that lived in their eyes—that hollow look that came from growing up without their mother. Some days were hard, almost brutally so. But other days? Other days overflowed with happiness and made every sad thought melt away.

“You should check on your girlfriend,” called someone, across the yard. Will ducked down on instinct, not at the words themselves, but at the note of warning they carried. He stashed his snowball in his pocket and started on a new one. He’d build up an arsenal, and the next ambush he encountered—

“Will? Where’d you go?”

He went still at Mom’s shout, braced himself for her assault.

“She’s talking to you,” said Aunt Nancy. “Get up and be a gentleman—go check on your girl.” She swatted him across the shoulders and Will jumped up, surprised.

My girl? Finally, it hit him. “You mean Suzanna?”

“She took a pretty bad spill. She’s got a nosebleed.”

Oh. Will dropped his snowball. He felt dizzy, caught off guard. Hannah was his girl, always had been, all through high school, then college, then their life together. It hadn’t occurred to him he had a new girl—at least for now. For the first time in nearly a decade, he had a girlfriend. A fake one, granted, but no one knew that.

“Well, kid? Get going.” Mom gave him a push and Will set off stiff-legged. Cassie had sat Suzanna on Will’s chopping stump, and was fussing over her while Sarah plied her with Kleenex from her stash. How had it not occurred to him she might get hurt too? Hannah, who had grown up on a ranch, who knew exactly what she was doing, had managed to get hurt—get killed. Suzanna was a city girl, and klutzy to boot. Had he screwed up, bringing her here? Today a bumped nose, tomorrow who knew?

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