“So, you think I’m your friend?” Jorja flirted.
“I damn sure hope so since we’re going to be working together for a long, long time…”—he wiggled his eyebrows—“unless you’re so homesick that you want to sell me your half of this place and go home. You could be there in time for Santa Claus presents tomorrow morning if you leave right now.”
“Not in your wildest dreams, cowboy.” She gathered up a fistful of snow, threw it at him, and then ran as fast as she could back toward the bar.
She would have made it if she had been wearing anything but rubber boots.
Cameron tackled her for the second time and brought them both down to the ground with her on top of him this time. She started to roll to the side, but he held her on to her, and suddenly, everything around them ceased to exist. She felt as if she was drowning in his dark-brown eyes. One of his hands went to the back of her head to gently pull her lips toward his, and then her heart began to race.
When their lips met, the temperature seemed to jack up at least twenty degrees, and her whole body melted into his as each kiss deepened. He sat up, keeping her in his lap and moved his hands to her waist. If they didn’t stop soon, they would be undressing each other right out there in the open and having wild sex in the snow.
She pushed away from him and shifted her weight to the side so that she was sitting beside him instead of in his lap. “That certainly made me forget all about homesickness,” she said, panting.
“Me too.” He grinned as he stood to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. “We should lock the door and go to the store.”
“In rubber boots?” She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. “Shouldn’t we change into something more appropriate?”
“After those scaldin’-hot kisses, I’m not sure we would be safe being that close to the beds in our apartment,” he said. “I’ll start the truck if you’ll lock the door.”
“I’ll grab my purse while I’m in there,” she said, “and I’ll also change my boots.”
“Women!” He chuckled.
“Aren’t we amazing?” She let go of his hand and dashed in the back door. She took time to change her boots and peek into the mirror above her chest of drawers. Her cheeks were bright red. Her lips were bee-stung and her eyes were still glazed over. Sweet Jesus! She’d only known the man a few days, and she’d almost been ready to drag him into the apartment and spend the rest of the day with him on a twin bed.
“Merry Christmas to me if I had.” She touched her lips to see if they were as hot as they felt, but surprisingly enough, they were cool.
You are going to be the death of your family for thinking like that. Abigail’s voice popped into Jorja’s head.
Take off your holier-than-thou britches, Jorja argued. Thinking something doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.
Chapter 7
When Jorja got into the truck and fastened the seat belt, Cameron was still smoldering hot from that make-out session, but he turned the heater on low for her benefit. She now wore a pair of red cowboy boots, but that was all that had been changed. Tight jeans hugged every curve, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold—or maybe from all that kissing. Had it heated her up as much as it had him? He wondered.
Think about cooking or something, anything but the way she felt in your arms, he told himself as he turned on the windshield wipers and drove away from the parking lot. “North or south?” he asked.
“Why?” she asked.
“Distance is a little over thirty miles either way,” he answered.
“Is Gordon that far? I got the idea from Frankie that it wasn’t but a few miles,” she said.
“We need a supermarket, not a convenience store. Mineral Wells is to the northeast. South is Stephenville. Both have a Walmart and several grocery stores,” he explained. “I looked it all up before I moved from Florida, so I’d know what to expect. If one of us needs a hospital, we’d probably go to one of those towns too,” he answered.
“Either one is fine with me, then,” she answered. “Just how much food are we buying today?”
“Let’s try for two weeks’ worth. I’m ready for something more than burgers and fries.” Talking about food almost took his mind off her lips and the way he felt with her lying on top of his body.
“Me, too. I’ve been starving for fried chicken,” she said.
“We could go to KFC while we’re out and about,” he offered.
“Why don’t we start our own tradition.” She would make a lousy poker player because her face lit up and her eyes started to twinkle. “Since we can’t go home for the holidays, let’s do it our way. We’ll have fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, hot biscuits, and corn on the cob for our Christmas dinner. What’s your very favorite kind of pie?”
“Cherry cobbler with ice cream on top,” he answered. “And you’re making me hungry talking about a dinner like that.”
“Then we’ll have cobbler for dessert,” she said. “We can get ice cream at the Mingus convenience store on the way back home. That way it won’t melt.” She took a deep breath and went on. “But for today, let’s go have something like Mexican or Italian.”
“Sounds good to me.” Cameron was glad the highway had been cleaned off and that the traffic was light that day.
He was humming a new country song by Jason Isbell titled “Cover Me Up” and planning to ask the jukebox guy to include it the next time he came by when he noticed movement out of his peripheral vision. He stomped the brakes, hit a patch of ice, and slid to a stop as a buck and a doe crossed the road in front of them.
“Two again,” he said.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Seems like everywhere I look there’s two of everything, beginning with those two doves that we hung above the bar,” he answered.
“So you noticed that too,” she said. “Think it means anything?”
“I don’t believe in signs, magic, and miracles.” He chuckled.
The trip took a little longer than what the map app on his phone said, but they were in Mineral Wells before noon. He noticed a sign for a barbecue place a mile up the road and pointed it out to Jorja.
“How about some brisket?” he asked.
“Yes!” She clapped her hands. “And I hope they have good beans. Mama makes the best baked beans in the whole world.”
“I’d have to argue with you there,” Cameron said. “My nana wears that crown, and if you don’t believe me, you’ll have to go to Sunday dinner with me sometime over at her house.”