were snug and stacked up over his scuffed up boots. His denim shirt had two buttons undone showing an oatmeal-colored thermal shirt underneath.
“I do not knit. Grand does and she tried to teach me. That pesky yarn crawled up the needles and tried to strangle me. So don’t ask me to make socks for your cattle.”
He chuckled.
“What? It’s the truth.”
“I’m not saying it’s not. You said your cattle.”
“Slip of the tongue. I meant to say Grand’s cattle.” She folded her arms over her chest and turned her attention once again back to the blank canvas.
Nothing!
Nada!
Nil!
The PGs weren’t giving her a thing that morning. Two small paintings weren’t enough to make the Sage Presley Mistletoe Collection. Had her special gods forsaken her?
Then the sun peeked out from the dark clouds covering the skies and there it was, plain as day. Angel’s fur glistened as the rays flowed through the window and settled on the basket of kittens sleeping soundly. A snowbird with its dark feathers on top and white belly sat in the twig arms of Mr. Frosty, right at the top of the mistletoe ball. Sage moved the canvas one foot to the left. Mr. Frosty was barely showing in the side of the window and the mistletoe in his arm made of twigs hung right above Angel’s head as she washed a paw.
Sage grabbed a sketch pencil and began to work as fast as she could before the sun rays shifted. Two long rectangular lines to denote the direction of the sun. The edge of the snowman’s hat, his scarf blowing out in the wind, the stick arms, and the bird. And the sun’s rays bringing it all to life.
Please, paint gods, let the sun stay out a few more minutes so I won’t lose every little detail. It’s the world coming back after darkness. It’s the sun breathing warmth into a dark room, and it is a momma cat who wants to go outside and play, and it is baby kittens basking in warmth they’ve never known.
She expected the sun to disappear as soon as she had the major sketch done, but it didn’t. Angel hopped down and joined her babies. The snowbird flew away and a chicken hawk tried to rest on the twig arms to peck at the frozen carrot nose, but the twigs wouldn’t support him so he gave up and flew away.
“So that’s the next one? Coffee, tea, or me?” Creed asked.
“That’s a hell of a choice there, cowboy,” she said.
“Your choice, darlin’.”
“Better be hot chocolate then. I’ve already had too much coffee, and honey, right now even you couldn’t entice me away from this picture.”
“Now I’m hurt.” He threw a hand over his heart and his chin dropped to his chest.
“You are not. You are a big flirt and you’re used to rejections. And marshmallows, please.”
She chose her background colors and squirted them onto the palette.
Creed headed for the cabinet. “I’m not a big flirt and you’ll have to stop all this shit about me not having the ranch to make it up to me for hurting my feelings.”
“You’re one brazen cowboy,” she laughed.
The phone rang and they both jumped. Creed had to do some fast handwork to keep from dropping a whole can of cocoa onto the floor. Sage did drop her brush but caught it midair against her sweatshirt, leaving a yellow blob right on her breast.
Sage crossed the floor in long, easy strides and grabbed the receiver before Creed could get around the table.
“Hello!”
Creed set the cocoa on the cabinet with a bang.
“Yes, ma’am, he is right here. Yes, ma’am, the sun is out and I am Sage Presley.”
He reached for the phone and she put it in his hand.
“Hi, Momma.”
Sage finished making the hot chocolate he’d started, but the kitchen was small so she heard every word.
“Yes, ma’am.”
A pause.
“Just fine.”
Another pause.
He laughed. “I’m not answering that.”
He listened for a long time and then said, “Bye, love you, too. Tell all my brothers that I’m surviving, but if they’d like to play in the snow to come out for a visit.”
He’d barely gotten the phone back on the hook when it rang again. He picked it up. “Hello.”
He held it out to her. “This one is for you.”
Two long strides and she stood in front of him, her hand outstretched.
His fingers brushed her palm in the transfer, and naughty visions danced through her mind. “Hi, Grand. Looks like we’ve got phone service but no electricity. Creed’s momma just called and…”
Creed