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Abby resisted the urge to laugh, but Rose didn’t. Her warm chuckle drifted through the cold air. “Thanks for the encouragement. Mr. Henson is eighty-five if he’s a day.”
“Just kidding,” Jackson said. “But the truth is you can find your true love. I did. Don’t give up.”
“I’m not sure I can count on that,” she said.
“Give it a little longer,” Jackson said. “You might be surprised.”
Seconds later, silence fell over Abby as she stood outside the deck in the dark. She wasn’t quite sure what she should take away from the cold night and the conversation she’d overheard.
Abby stared into the horizon, feeling the stars from the sky watching over her. She should leave, she thought, but she felt the stars tracking her. She wanted—no, needed—to feel the stars guiding her to her future. More than anything, she wished a lucky star was shining down on her. A star of love. If not love, then an antidote for love.
Fixing her gaze on the brightest star, she felt a ripple of realization shimmy down her spine. She’s wanted Cade as long as she could remember. She’d pushed herself to flirt with him the other night. Abby felt as if her passion for Cade would never be returned. But she would never be sure if she didn’t put herself out there.
Abby had never been much of a flirt, and she had no idea how to be a seductress, but maybe she needed to give it her best shot now. Maybe she needed to do everything she could to make Cade see her as a woman, a desirable woman who wanted him. At that moment, she made a promise to herself. No more shy little sister, hiding behind Laila. Abby needed to find her inner sexpot.
Abby cringed at the thought. Okay, maybe not sexpot, but seductress had an empowering ring to it…when it didn’t make her snicker.
Two days later, Cade took a break from work at the shop and headed for the new bakery in town, the Mountain Bluebell Bakery. He was feeling deprived lately and figured giving in to his sweet tooth was the least of possible evils. Cherry pie or something better sounded great.
He exhaled and his breath sent out a foggy spritz. Noticing a crowd ahead, he slowed as he approached. A news team was interviewing several different citizens of Thunder Canyon.
“So, do you think a down-home ribs meal is good enough to keep customers happy?” the newscaster asked. “Or do you think tight T-shirts and short shorts are necessary in today’s market?”
“Nothing wrong with short shorts and tight T-shirts,” a man from the crowd yelled.
“But is it necessary?” the newscaster asked.
“Well,” the man said, “I guess not. But it sure doesn’t hurt.”
The crowd laughed.
Suddenly a microphone was put in Cade’s face. “What about you? Do you think a tight T-shirt and short shorts are more important than a home-cooked meal?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “The food and service are great at DJ’s. No need for tight T-shirts.”
The reporter moved past him and Cade automatically searched the crowd. His gaze landed on Abby on the opposite side of the street. He wondered what she thought of all this. She’d seemed a bit skeptical of the skimpy outfits of LipSmackin’ Ribs.
Her gaze met his, and he lifted his hand and gave her the hi sign. She nodded and moved toward him.
Cade noticed the way her long brown hair swung over her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her plump lips shiny and distracting. She had the kind of lips any man would want to kiss.
“Hi,” she said as she approached him. “Can you believe this?”
He nodded at the crazy press. “Not really. Who would have thought a debate over ribs would bring national news to Thunder Canyon?”
“I’m with you,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the crowd behind her. “What are you doing out and about?”
“I’m taking a break and checking out the new bakery down the street. I hear they’ve got some good stuff,” he said.
“Mind if join you?” she asked.
Something told him he should refuse, but he didn’t give in to it. “What about school?”
“I don’t have a class until tonight.”
He frowned. “You take night classes? Why don’t you stick to day?” he asked.
Her lips twitched. “Because not all of my classes are available during the day.”
“Hmm.”
“Are you going to buy me a chocolate tart or not?” she asked.
He blinked. “Yeah, I’ll buy you a tart. Let’s go.”
He led the way to the bakery and they ordered their pastries and coffee.
Moments later, the two of them sat at a table with coffee, a chocolate tart and a slice of cherry pie à la mode. Like many of the shops around town, the bakery featured both Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations. The shop owners in Thunder Canyon weren’t dummies. They would maximize the holiday season to get the most out of it. Cade, however, wasn’t big on Christmas since his mother and Dominique had died years ago.
Abby took a spoonful of chocolate tart into her mouth and closed her eyes in satisfaction. “Now, that is good.”
“Yeah,” Cade said, fighting a surge of arousal as he took a bite of his cherry pie.
“No, really,” she said, lifting a spoon toward Cade. “You should try this.”
Cade glanced into her brown eyes then felt his gaze dip deeper to her cleavage. When had Abby Cates gotten cleavage?
Cade cleared his throat. “I’m game,” he said and opened his mouth.
He felt her slide the spoon and decadent chocolate past his lips onto his tongue. His temperature rose. He swallowed.
“Good,” he managed.
“Of course it is,” she murmured.
Cade met her gaze and felt a wicked stirring throughout him. Something about Abby made him…hard.
She took a sip of coffee and looked at Cade from the rim of her coffee mug. “Coffee’s not really my favorite,” she said. “When it comes to hot drinks, I’d rather have hot chocolate or apple cider.”
“I’ll take coffee,” Cade said.
“But what if you had a choice?” Abby asked. “What would you choose?”
“Coffee with cream and hazelnut,” he said.
“Smells delicious,” Abby said, closing her eyes and smiling.
“But do you want to drink it?” he asked.
“Not so much,” she said. “But I would love to smell it.”
He chuckled and she opened her eyes. “What’s wrong with smelling?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
She got to the end of her tart and there was one bite left. “Bet you want it,” she said, waving the spoon in front of his mouth.
The motion was incredibly seductive, and he found himself craving what she offered. Or maybe he was craving what he wanted. He couldn’t quite tell what Abby was offering, but it was a big no-no. Or was it?
He clasped his hand over hers, the last bite of chocolate hanging between them.
“Take it,” she urged.
Her voice was too sexy to ignore. He grabbed her hand and drew it to his mouth. Cade enveloped the chocolate with his mouth and swallowed it down. The motion was both carnivorous and sexual.
Abby’s brown eyes widened in surprise.
“What did you expect?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Something more…”
“Polite?” he asked.
Her eyes darkened. “Maybe. If so, I’m glad I was wrong.”
His gut tightened. “You need to be careful. You’re asking for trouble.”
“Just from you,” she said.
His heart hammered against his rib cage. “This is a bad idea.”
“There are worse ideas,” she countered.
He felt himself begin to sweat. How could Laila’s little sister affect him this way? It wasn’t possible.
“Go away, little girl,” he said and pulled back.
“I’m not a little girl,” she said.
“You’re too young for me,” he said.
“Says who?” she challenged.
Her defiance caught him by surprise. “Says anyone with any sanity.”
Abby leaned toward him, her eyes full of everything he shouldn’t be thinking. “Haven’t you heard? Sanity’s overrated.”
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Abby. But I’m not playing,” he told her with finality.
Chapter Three
Abby’s ego bruised again, she buried herself in her schoolwork and decided to follow up on her intention to visit Mr. Henson. She hadn’t seen his old truck in town during the past few days and decided he might enjoy some leftover chicken and dumplings Abby and her mother had made last night. She also brought along a wreath to add a little holiday cheer to his home, hoping it might lift his spirits. She drove her orange VW toward his place and slowed as she turned onto his dirt driveway. The ground was too frozen to allow the dust to kick up the way it would in the summer, she thought as she pulled in front of the old white farmhouse.
Although Mr. Henson did far more than most folks thought he should, Abby knew he’d finally given up on ranching several years ago and leased his acreage to a local rancher. The old blue truck with peeling paint was parked next to the house, which meant he should be home.
Abby picked up the container of food and got out of her car. She noticed the steps to his porch were still crusty with ice and wondered if he had any salt she could throw on them for him. Knocking on the door, she paused and listened, but there was no response. She knocked again and heard a faint reply.
“Mr. Henson, it’s Abby Cates. Are you okay?”
She heard the sound of slow footsteps and moments later, the door finally opened. Abby was surprised at the sight of him. His face was grizzly with white stubble, his hair hadn’t been combed and his clothes were rumpled.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded in a cranky voice.
“I came to see you and I brought some chicken and dumplings,” she said.
His eyes lit with faint approval. “Oh, well, that’s nice of you. Come on in,” he said and hobbled inside. “Where’s that Pritchett young man? Aren’t you two married?”
“No,” she said. “Cade Pritchett barely knows I’m alive.”
Mr. Henson glanced over his shoulder. “That’s his mistake, I’d say.”
She noticed his grimace as he took a step and her alarm buttons started to go off. “Mr. Henson, you’re limping. What’s wrong?”
He waved his hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Couple logs fell on my leg when I was delivering wood. You mind if I heat up those dumplings? I bet they’re tasty.”
“They are, but I think you might need to get your ankle checked by a doctor,” she said.
“Doctors usually can’t do anything. Medicine is just one more racket, I say.”
“But—”
“You gonna make me beg for those dumplings?” he asked.
She sighed. “No. Sit down and I’ll heat them up for you,” she said and walked toward the kitchen, then turned as something occurred to her. “If you’ll let me take you into town to see the doctor as soon as you finish eating.”
He scowled at her. “I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time and money.”
“It will make me feel better,” she told him. “I’m worried about you. You’re not yourself.”
His gaze softened. “Well, you’re being silly,” he said gruffly. “I’ll go,” he said, sinking onto the sofa. “But not until I eat those dumplings.”
Thirty minutes later, he’d finished the food and she hung the wreath on his front door.
“What’s that for?” he asked as he shuffled toward her car.
Abby adjusted the red bow. “To give you some Christmas spirit.”
He muttered and got into her car. Abby drove toward town with Mr. Henson fussing the entire way about her car.
