Soldier Under the Mistletoe: Snowbound in Sawyer Creek by Williams Lacy

Author:Williams, Lacy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lacy Williams Books LLC
Published: 2018-01-30T16:00:00+00:00

Mallory jumped when she caught sight of Maverick exiting the tiny hallway that led to both the tack room and her barn office.

He was carrying two mugs. Steam wafted from the tops.

"What're you still doing here?" She'd thought he had finally wised up and gone back to the house.

"I told you I'm not leaving you down here by yourself."

She drew Prince to a momentary stop, gave the lead rope slack as she approached Maverick. "Is that for me?"

"Yeah." He handed her the mug. His eyes were hooded, unreadable.

She drew the mug up without looking at it and had to laugh when a massive float of marshmallows bumped her upper lip.

"You found my stash." She smiled up at him.

A corner of his mouth quirked, but he seemed to be too busy scouring her face—for what?—to smile.

"I remember how you liked it."

She laughed again. "Yeah, when I was ten." She took a sip anyway, though the sweetness from the marshmallows threatened to overpower the cocoa itself.

He took a sip from his mug and then put it on the nearest flat-topped post. He reached out one hand. "Let me have a turn."

She handed over the lead rope, not because she needed a break but because something had made the light in his eyes darken in the twenty minutes since he'd disappeared into her office.

Maybe it was impulsive, but before she let go of the lead rope, she rose on tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his stubbled cheek.

She turned her shoulder before he could remind her about her place in the friend zone.

She breathed easier when he started walking, Prince in tow, without commenting.

She couldn't help the way her gaze followed the man. He'd shrugged Cash's work coat off at some point and now looked completely out of place in his tuxedo, walking alongside the horse. She supposed she looked just as foolish in her evening gown and work boots.

She could hear him talking to the horse, but his words were too low to make out.

She forced her focus to Prince. His agitation had eased some as she'd walked him. He'd stopped pulling against the lead to try and roll. If the colic were worsening, he would've kept trying to lie down.

She was optimistic. Prince was Dad's horse. He'd been on the ranch since she was little. She'd ridden him with dad before she could walk. He'd done his working duty as a cutting horse and was now enjoying old age and the occasional amble through the property when she had time. He'd worked hard. He deserved it.

How many nights had Dad missed sleep over an animal? Too many to count. In some small way, tonight made her feel closer to him.

She didn't want to see Prince in pain, and she only hoped this colic was a passing thing, an issue from something he'd eaten that would pass and never return.

Now it was a waiting game. How long until the horse pooped?

The cocoa was too sweet for her—not the childhood her, but she wasn't ten anymore, and it was about time Maverick noticed—and she traded it for his mug.

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