The radio clicks off. I put it back on the charger and turn around. Eliza is still watching the tree. Based on the way her face pinches into tight lines, I’d guess that the sight of it seems to bother her.
I step beside her. “It’s crooked, over-decorated, and the star on top is leaning like it’s had a long year. But I like it, I cut it down myself. It looks like Kingridge Ranch past, before all the marriages brought the women with taste into the fold around here.”
“You cut it down yourself? Interesting. In California, we have them shipped to us on trucks. They come from Oregon with the reforestation laws. But with the transportation, it’s terribly unsustainable and don’t get me started on the toxic plastic trees…”
“Yeah, Christmas traditions. Gross.” I let out a sarcastic huff that stops her in her tracks. “Listen, you'd better take that attitude back to California.”
“What?” She feigns offense, but she can’t hide the amusement in her eyes.
“You’re in Texas now, sweetheart.” I flash her an arrogant smile, and I watch her cheeks flush with heat in response. “How long do we have the pleasure of your company?”
“As briefly as possible.” The answer comes fast.
Too fast for my liking. “Yeah, well, the storm might have other plans for you.” I nod toward the window. The clouds are rolling in heavy and low, already spitting flurries. “Weather report says we’re about to get hammered.”
Her jaw works as she takes in the sky. “I booked a room at the hotel in town.”
The thought of her navigating this storm in her rental alone makes my throat tighten. "You're not driving those icy roads. You're staying here. End of discussion. We’ve had folks slide right into the ditch on that last curve more times than I can count, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to be one of them.” The words rip out of me.
“Are you kidding me? I’ve driven in snow before.”
“In L.A.?”
She narrows her eyes. “One time we had a light dusting in San Francisco.”
“Oh, well, that changes everything,” I deadpan.
A sound escapes her. It’s somewhere between a scoff and a reluctant laugh. But she presses her lips together like she’s trying to shove it back down.
“Point is,” I say, softer, “if the storm hits as they say, you’re stuck here.”
She looks at the tree again, at the crooked star, and the badly wrapped tinsel. Her shoulders tense. It’s like the idea of being stuck anywhere she doesn’t control makes her skin crawl.
“This was supposed to be simple,” she says under her breath. “Meet my half-brothers and father. Collect Danner and his wife.Bring them back to reality with me. In and out.” She watches the snow fall, and the line between her eyes deepens.
“Well, nothing about the Kingridge family is simple. You might as well know that upfront.”
My comment pulls her deep into thought. I can’t help but wonder who she’s racing to get back to. I know I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t want to smooth the wrinkle between her brows or tell her it might not be so bad if she stayed a day or two and actually let herself breathe.
“You sure you don’t want that coffee?”
She hesitates, then finally exhales. “Fine. Yes. Coffee.” She says it like she’s making some huge concession. “Black.”
"Good girl." The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her eyes flash to mine, startled. But that beautiful blush crawls back into her cheeks, and I don't take anything back.
I pour her a cup of coffee from the carafe on the sideboard and hand it over. Her fingers brush mine around the handle. It makes heat jolts up my arm so fast I almost flinch.Mine.The word hammers through me again. It’s relentless.
“Thanks,” she says quietly.
“Don’t mention it.”
Her hand is small and colder than it should be. Every protective instinct I thought I’d buried kicks awake like it’s been waiting for just her. I pull back before I do something stupid, like wrap my hand over hers and keep it there to warm her up.
Outside, the wind howls and snow falls harder. Tiny white flakes plaster themselves to the window. Eliza wraps both hands around the mug and stares out at the ranch like it’s a battlefield she’s been dropped into without a map.
I follow her gaze, watching the way the lights I just hung glow against the growing storm. I’ve got a feeling this Christmas is about to get a whole lot more complicated. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.
