A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (7 page)
Read A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Chapter 5
N
icole was curled up on the love seat in front of the window of her studio apartment, looking out. She was barely aware that icy raindrops were chasing each other down the glass.
icole was curled up on the love seat in front of the window of her studio apartment, looking out. She was barely aware that icy raindrops were chasing each other down the glass.
What an incredible distraction Sam Bennett was turning out to be—and right when she was busiest. She made more money in December than in the other eleven months of the year combined.
Which worked out okay when prices weren’t so high. She was going to have to scramble to get some decent freelance gigs come January. Creating displays covered up with big red signs saying
EVERYTHING MUST GO
was a little depressing.
EVERYTHING MUST GO
was a little depressing.
It was a good thing that Sam was only in New York for one month, and working as hard as she was. Although completing the first of the two boutique windows with him had been an experience.
He knew how to get close without ever touching her. But after a while, his presence had rattled her—especially the way he combined strength and skill. That had never been a concern with the guys on her crew, who were actually more experienced carpenters but were awkward or unattractive or both.
And by the time they’d gone outside to inspect the finished window—and she caught that look in his eyes when she turned around to discuss it—for just a second, she’d thought he was going to kiss her.
Sam had just stood there. Whatever she’d seen in his eyes had vanished. Or she’d imagined it.
Nicole pulled a pillow into her arms and hugged it, watching open umbrellas, bright circles of color from her vantage point, moving up and down the street.
Someone dodged the umbrellas and dashed through the rain to go up the stairs to her building, moving too quickly for her to see anything more.
That was it for excitement today.
She picked up her bills for this and that, and leafed through them for something to do. No matter how hard she worked, she never had enough to pay everything all at once. Her good old hometown was getting incredibly expensive to live in. The rent for her little place was going up. Much as she loved New York and Manhattan in particular, the hassle of living there sometimes didn’t seem worth it.
An ear-shattering scraping sound rose from the street. Nicole looked out the window again. Two trucks had jammed together in the street and the drivers were screaming at each other, disputing the width of the street and disparaging each other’s ability to eyeball the space they’d misjudged. Only they weren’t using words like “dispute” and “disparage.”
A cop came along and joined in, threatening loudly to arrest them both and impound the trucks. The stopped cars caught behind the jam began to honk.
It was a real New York symphony. She was getting tired of that too. Fairly quickly, the cop got everyone sorted out and the trucks went on their way.
Several minutes later the bell from the intercom panel outside rang in her apartment.
Nicole tossed the pillow to one side and went to answer it, though she wasn’t expecting anyone. It couldn’t be Sam. He’d checked in as promised, told her he would be doing another installation with Greg’s crew outside the city. She didn’t remember the particulars. But she’d given herself and the guys the day off. Darci was still in Aspen.
“Who is it?” she asked after she pressed the button.
“Hey. It’s me. Sam.”
She felt a flush of foolish pleasure at the sound of his voice and squelched it immediately, trying to think how he’d gotten her address. Then she remembered: she’d told the taxi driver where she was going that first night. He must have overheard and remembered it.
The bell rang again. “Nicole?”
“Yes, I’m here. I thought you were supposed to be out on Long Island or something. Are you playing hooky?”
“Guilty with an explanation,” came the cheerful reply. “Got a moment?”
Nicole hesitated, then buzzed him through the door at street level. She glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned, then yanked open her closet. Her apartment was on the fifth floor. Even if he galloped up all those stairs she still had time to change.
It was late in the afternoon, but she still hadn’t bothered to dress, and the vintage kimono she wore over her favorite owl-print pajamas was a little too bedroom-y. Not that she had an actual bedroom. The love seat folded out.
Fortunately, she’d folded it up—creaking and groaning—after lunch. She ran back to it and punched the decorative pillows into shape, flinging them against the arms of the love seat.
Whump whump.
So much for that.
Whump whump.
So much for that.
Startled by the sudden activity, Whiskeroo disappeared into a compartment of his carpeted tower.
The last she saw of her cat was his striped tail as she undressed. Nicole pulled on jeans and a purple sweater, dragging a brush through her hair. What with the humidity, it fluffed up nicely. No time for her usual ponytail.
Nicole gave herself a spinach-search smile in the mirror. All clear on the teeth. There was a knock on the door. No time for lip gloss. She bit them instead.
She glanced at him through the peephole. Even with the fish-eye distortion, Sam looked tall. He didn’t seem to be aware she was looking at him, because he was inspecting the bouquet he held, adjusting a few petals. His Stetson was pushed back on his head, so wet the color seemed more black than brown. His denim jacket was wet too.
The bouquet was over the top... but she couldn’t remember the last time a man had brought her flowers.
Nicole unlocked the dead bolt and the chain latch. “Hi,” she said, keeping her tone friendly but just a little cool. “This is a surprise.”
“I guess I should have called first,” Sam said. “Hope you’re not busy.”
“I was just about to start sketching some ideas for the second window.”
That was a lie, but she wasn’t going to get caught. Scribbled-up paper and sketchpads were everywhere, as usual.
“So I see.” Sam had his hands full, what with the bouquet. He took off the hat. “Got a place for this?” he asked.
Nicole took the Stetson from him, noticing that it was dry inside. The rain didn’t seem to have gotten through the thick felt. She put it and his wet jacket on a hook by the door.
She wasn’t going to ask if the flowers were for her.
He straightened. “Gloomy day, huh? I was, um, walking by the flower stand and just thought you might like these.”
Shocking pink and brilliant orange pinwheels peeked out of the paper funnel he handed to her. Gerbera daisies. Her favorite. He didn’t have to know that.
The hot colors were a jazzy note against the dull green of the hallway wall. She still wasn’t sure why he’d bothered, but she could feel her resolve soften. “Come on in,” she said.
Sam followed her inside and moved aside to let her shut the door. “Nice and bright, whatever they are.”
“Did you get them at the place around the corner?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“Are you staying near there? I never did ask. But you seem to have remembered my address.”
He looked a little sheepish and pretty much dodged the question. “Two blocks south. I was staying with some friends, but I just got the keys to my sublet. I’m moving in today.”
“I see,” she said casually. She wondered why he wasn’t more direct, but it really wasn’t any of her business. “Well, thanks for the flowers. But how did you know I’d be here?”
“I didn’t. Just thought I’d try. I had the flower shop lady stick the stems in foam so they wouldn’t wilt. I was planning to stop by later if you didn’t answer. Anyway, I rang every bell for the fifth floor. ”
Nicole sort of remembered telling him that she lived on the top floor of a walk-up. Her bad mood was ebbing away. She decided to give him a break. It was even possible that she had a good bottle of wine somewhere. Left by some forgettable date.
There was no real reason to continue the cool-chick routine. Sam was nice. “Did anyone buzz back?”
“Just you.”
He looked at her holding the flowers, his dark eyes warm with—
stop it,
she told herself.
stop it,
she told herself.
“And now my neighbors hate you,” she pointed out.
“I don’t doubt it.” He didn’t seem to care. New York must be rubbing off on him.
“Well, have a seat while I find a vase.” She motioned toward the love seat in front of the window. “And let’s hear the explanation for your day off,” she said over her shoulder.
Sam launched into it. “Greg said the visual marketing director is snowbound in the Chicago airport. That’s where the company headquarters are—they own malls all over the U.S. Apparently no one is allowed to make a move until she arrives. So here I am.”
Nicole unwrapped the paper from the flowers and let them rest in the sink. “That’s how corporate design works.”
“Thought so.” He ventured a few steps farther into the one room in which she did all her living. “Freelancers probably have a lot more fun.”
“Depends on what level you’re at,” she responded, sticking to business.
“How so?”
“A lot of corporate designers are freelance, but they work online. Once you have a name, it doesn’t even matter where you live. Unlike me, they don’t have to drag a portfolio around to little stores like Now.”
“You’ll get there.”
“Yes. But I’ll never get rich. Though I’m not sure I want to be. I’d settle for enough to live on, plus ten percent for emergencies. And a bigger place than this.”
He heard her opening cabinet doors. “What do you consider an emergency?”
“At the moment, not being able to find a corkscrew when you find a bottle of wine is an emergency. I guess I have nothing to complain about, do I?”
“I’d help you look, but I don’t know where anything is,” Sam said.
Help her look? In a kitchen no bigger than a shoebox? No. Noooooo. She yanked open a cluttered drawer and saw it on top. “Found it. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Sure.” He took the opportunity to look around. Her place was bigger than his sublet but basically still one room.
Two high, old-fashioned windows framed a view of the building right across the street. It was almost identical to hers, with an ornamental cornice that seemed too heavy for it, squeezed in between others built around the same time, more than a hundred years ago, judging by the Victorian style.
Sam moved closer to the window. When he looked straight down, he could see the front steps of Nicole’s building. The vertical perspective emphasized the narrowness of the front room.
There weren’t any side windows, but there was a lot of natural light this time of day. And none at all otherwise, by his guess.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of being boxed in. Give him a nice plain house on the ground any day. With windows all around, a view of open land and rugged mountains, and more than one door to go in and out of.
Funny how he’d always taken all that for granted. Not to mention furniture a man could stretch out on.
By the look of it, hers folded up or out into whatever she needed. She’d arranged other pieces ingeniously to fit the limited space and hung colorful framed artwork he was sure was hers. Tucked under a drafting table were wire-basket carts holding everything from pens to fabric. She’d even stacked big books on their sides to prop up a shelf that held other books.
There was one substantial club chair that would do for him. But Sam still couldn’t take a step without bumping into something. There was barely enough room to swing a cat, he thought.
He moved backward and caught his elbow in a tower thing covered with nubbly carpet. A faint hiss came from inside it, and he caught a glimpse of green eyes glaring at him as he righted the structure.
“I didn’t mean you,” he said to the unseen animal.
“What?” Nicole asked, coming back without the flowers.
“Oh—I was just talking to your cat. That is a cat in there, right?”
She peered into the dark compartment. “Sure is. Whiskeroo isn’t used to company.”
A paw poked out and quickly went back in when she turned away. The cat stayed hidden.
“You know how it is,” she said to Sam. “Sleep, eat, work, repeat. I don’t entertain at all.”
He was secretly pleased to hear that. “Oh,” he said, gathering his thoughts. “But you could. This is a really nice place.” He moved away from the tower just in case the cat decided to sneak a swipe at him. “I like the collages. You did those, right?”
“Yes.”
“All those bits and pieces add up to something amazing. You have a lot of interesting stuff.”
“And no room for it,” she replied, going back into the kitchen area.
He didn’t argue with that, but he didn’t agree with her either. “Looks great. Everything you need is right where you can find it.”
“True enough.” Nicole came back in with the bouquet arranged in a vase. Sam was sitting in the leather club chair, his hands draped over the studded arms.
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