Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy - Diana Palmer Page 0,74
internal monologue. It wasn’t exactly a “What would Cody do?” conversation, but it did involve hunting down whoever had caused this heartache and ending their life. That would come later, though, after she was back to slamming doors in men’s faces.
With a soft, “Whatever it is, I promise you we can fix it,” his hands continued a lulling motion up and down her back. Kind of the way he hugged his sister-in-law when she was upset, using gentle, soothing passes along the friend-zone of her spine. Only, he’d never had a problem keeping himself in check hugging Shelby—or any woman for that matter.
But with Faith in his arms, he felt as if he could finally stop running.
“I’m usually not a hugger,” she murmured into his chest, her voice whisper-thin and full of a vulnerable emotion he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Or a liar.” She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with apology. “But those women can be so mean. When they asked about why Pax was in your car . . . I might have gone a little overboard.”
Again, she was slowly killing him. “You’re not the one who made up a fake internship.”
“You’re not mad?” Even as she said it, her grip loosened, as if she were expecting him to back away.
He laced his fingers behind her, letting her know he wasn’t going anywhere. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because I dragged you into my life drama. Not to mention, a lie that would be easy for Molly-Mae and her minions to ferret out.”
“A heads-up next time would be nice but, angel, that’s the sweetest lie I’ve ever been dragged into.”
Her hands played with the zipper of his jacket, her eyes looking everywhere but at his. “Full disclosure. I gave them your e-mail address and place of work.”
“So women aren’t e-mailing me nonstop because they think I’m charming?” he said, and a hint of a smile teased at her lips. “It’s all public record.”
“It was still a pretty crappy thing of me to do, and you didn’t sell me out,” she said as if every man before him had done exactly that.
“What can I say? A hero’s work is never done.”
She laughed. And what a beautiful laugh—carefree, bold, and a whole hell of a lot better than that heartbreaking smile of a moment ago.
“If you want to talk about it, or anything.”
She held up a hand and stepped back. “Nope. We’re good.”
He was better when she was in his arms, but he’d take what he could get. “Then how about we take this roadshow inside and out of the rain?”
She stepped inside, then turned to block his entrance. “Depends. You got a warrant?”
“Do I need one?”
“Answering a question with a question.” She rolled her eyes all the way to the peak of the house. “You’re such a cop.”
“Is this the part of the night where we throw out our role-play fantasies?”
She snorted. “In your dreams. And yes, you need a warrant.”
“What if I don’t want to search for anything? What if I come bearing presents in the form of power?”
Her fathomless eyes met his and she smiled. “You’d still need a warrant.”
“You’re strict, angel. Is that how you earned your wings? Following all the rules?”
“And you’re a sweet talker.” She opened the door and stood back. “You can come in. This once. I’m guessing you need access to my breaker box?”
“Now who’s sweet-talking who?” And with a wink, Noah took off his hat and walked past her into the house, catching a hint of cinnamon and vanilla. The woman smelled like Christmas and looked like heaven, even when she was scowling at him.
With only the faint light of the moon, he could see the house was clean and well cared for, a surprise since the exterior was in some serious need of love. He kicked off his boots, chuckling over her shocked expression at his thoughtfulness, and left them and his hat by the door as he made his way farther into the room, clicking on his flashlight when she closed the door.
“Is your box in your bedroom?” he asked hopefully.
“You wish. It’s in the kitchen.”
He followed her lead, watching the sway of her hips. And tight didn’t even begin to describe those pajama bottoms. With no visible panty lines, he had to wonder if she was wearing a thong, a G-string, or nothing at all. And while he was more of a thong than G-string kind of guy, he was rooting for commando.