After all, I’m a freaking rancher’s daughter!
Evander just laughed at my costume.I can’t say I blame him.Sporting a head-to-toe reindeer ensemble screams,get a load of the goofy neighbor girl!
That’s not exactly part of my plan.
Because I want him to look at me and think,How can I resist this beautiful woman?I must make hot, passionate love to her immediately!
Or something.
Maybe my fantasizing still needs some work.
“Ugh, Phoebe,” I say aloud.“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
I turn down the state highway and toward home, suddenly perking up.
Wait.
Maybe that was a laugh of appreciation from him.Maybe Evander’s got a thing for fuzzy costumes.I’ve heard some people do.I can’t imagine that’s the case, but how can I be sure?
I’ve knownaboutEvander MacLaine all my life, but the truth is, I don’t reallyknowhim.
Except that he’s honorable.Stubborn.Decent.Smart.Hard-working.Loyal.Prefers fancy clothes.And has a high pain threshold.
Also, he’s as hot as Satan’s six pack.
“Phew!”
It may be cold as a meat locker outside, but I’m sweating inside my fake-fur prison.I crack the driver’s side window as I make my way into the valley and toward Travis Ranch.
I eventually pull into the ranch lane, smiling to myself.I see there are some recent additions to the giant decorative blow-up wonderland my mother has created at the intersection.Swaying in the breeze is a new stack of festively wrapped gifts and yet another Frosty the Snowman.
I think my mother is singlehandedly responsible for the success of the inflatable décor industry.
Which reminds me…shoot!
Before we broke up, I’d invited Rick to come to the ranch for Christmas.But I never uninvited him!And knowing the kind of black-and-white thinker that he is, I should make certain he knows it isn’t a standing invitation.
I make a mental note to take care of that as soon as I get inside.I’ll send him an email.Or maybe a text would be more polite.Actually, I might call him, though I don’t want to give him any false hope that we might get back together.
Ugh.Seriously.Being polite is freaking exhausting.
I pull up to the main house, seeing that Jake has been roped into helping my mother string more garland along the porch railing.He turns to me, his eyes flashing,help me!
Jake Travis is a star NHL center.He can defend himself just fine, on and off the ice.
He meets me at the bottom of the porch steps and loudly says, for our mother’s benefit, “Let me help you carry everything in, little sis!”
I roll my eyes, grabbing my boutique garment bag from the backseat hook.Jake snatches my coat, purse, and antlers from the front and follows me up to the porch.
“What happened to your car?”Jake asks.
“Nothing.Just scraped the curb.Hey, Mama!”I say.
“How was the party, sweetie?”
“Great!”
“Jake, get your butt back here,” Mom says.“Once we’redone with this, you need to hang more of the solar-powered lights along the roof of the west loafing shed and fence.”
