Christmas Kisses with My Cowboy - Diana Palmer Page 0,88

stepping down onto one of the big boulders that lined the hillside next to the creek. He lifted her hand, steadying it so she could step down with him. He did it for every boulder they descended.

“If you ask Pax, he’d say all night. But I promised myself not more than two hours of fun, and then I have to get back to work.”

“Not many people smile like that when they say work.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re happy.”

She touched her cheek, surprised to find it plump with joy. “I guess I am. Even though I’m exhausted and will probably never eat another gingerbread cookie as long as I live, once I put my apron on I feel, I don’t know, content.”

To her, contentment was almost a foreign concept. She knew discipline, resilience, and a bunch of other traits that went along with constantly being in motion. But contentment was something new.

She looked at Noah, standing on another rock with his hand outstretched, and she realized contentment was right up there with refreshing.

“It’s hard not to be when surrounded by all of this,” she said, taking in the rushing creek and leaves rustling in the breeze. While she’d been helping organize the silent auction, the sun had begun to set. And now that they were down in the valley, the sky had turned to a dark twilight.

“I know,” he said, and Faith realized he wasn’t looking at the surroundings. She was so overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, she found it hard to remember why this was a bad idea.

“Can you hold on?” She held up a finger and he looked thoroughly amused. “I know that was a moment and I totally blew it, but hang on.” She dug through her purse and pulled out the mistletoe he’d left on her doorstep. She held it high, but he was too tall.

“I’ve got an idea—stay with me,” she directed.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Oh boy. As if that didn’t make her wish for more. Ignoring temptation for the moment, she took the bag from his hand and set it down, then led him to the last boulder of their descent. She climbed up to the top and turned to face him—

“Oh, fa-la-la.” Now she was too high.

“Why don’t you sit, right here?” He patted an indentation in the rock, and she shimmied down to—well, my oh my, she was at perfect lip-locking level.

She held up the mistletoe over their heads. “I think if we get the after-the-first-kiss jitters out of the way, I’ll be able to breathe.”

“Who am I to argue with a lady?”

Noah stepped forward, his hands sliding up her thighs, to part them as he pressed himself against her until there was no more than a whisper between them. Her hands were still holding the mistletoe, her heartbeat pounding so loudly she barely heard him when he said, “Funny, the second you took my hand was the second I started breathing.”

With a small groan, he captured her mouth.

No hesitation, no gentle exploratory brushes this time. Oh no, Noah kissed her as if he had to expel everything he felt in one, single, solitary kiss.

Except his one kiss turned into two, and by the time he went back for thirds, Faith thought she had died and gone to Tuckerland, where every kiss packed enough punch to rock her world.

And, Lord have mercy, he was not a man to be rushed. He teased and kissed, his hands moving from her legs to her backside, languidly taking his time to get out every . . . last . . . jitter.

And when he pulled back, they were both breathing hard, and Faith was convinced they were flying.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself wrapped around him like a pretzel while he was supporting her. Her hand was still raised in the air, clutching the mistletoe.

“That’s some powerful mistletoe. I’d better confiscate it,” he said, walking them over to where they’d dropped the bag, not setting her on her feet until she handed over the contraband.

With another quick smooch to her mouth, he pulled a blanket from the bag and spread it out. Faith was so in awe of his thoughtfulness she might have kissed him again.

“Why is this place special to you?”

She needed to know because her gut said this was the key to unraveling the mystery of Noah Tucker, the lethal Texas Ranger who hunted bad people by day and helped bake cookies by night. A man who loved his family but never came