Chapter 1 Here for You

February

Ames Carson drummed his fingers on the checkout counter of Pinetop's most popular coffee bistro, wondering why it was taking so long to pour two simple cups of coffee. Unless, of course, the barista had run outside to grow and harvest the coffee beans first.

With a huff of impatience, he leaned farther over the counter, trying to figure out exactly what was happening inside the order preparation area at the Gingerbread House. The place was forever hopping with business — morning, noon, and night. But he'd been waiting a good ten minutes already.

And ten minutes felt like an eternity when a guy had a rented sleigh and a paid driver waiting outside.

If his spur-of-the-moment coffee stop took much longer, he'd be running late to his "not a date" with his "just a friend", Laura Lee, which would kind of defeat the whole purpose of their outing. He'd been trying without success for months to nudge their friendship toward something more. Inviting her on a Friday evening sleigh ride was his first attempt at a big gesture. According to the movies, girls liked big gestures. She'd said yes, so he was in the process of jumping the next big hurdle — gathering the perfect refreshments.

After breaking up with her fiancé a little over a year ago, Laura was still piecing her trampled heart back together. She deserved an evening that said you come first with me. An evening custom designed to pamper her with all of her favorite things. An evening that said I'm gonna be here for you, no matter what.

Ames fully intended to be the guy who ultimately convinced her to give love a second chance. That is, assuming the barista in front of him finished brewing their order before his two-hour sleigh ride reservation ended.

As she fiddled with countless knobs on a complicated-looking beverage machine, she shot a laughing glance over her shoulder. "Rela-a-ax. I'm almost finished." She looked college age, not that there were any colleges located in the tiny tourist town.

"Sorry." He shifted from one cowboy boot to the next. "It's just taking longer than I expected." A lot longer. He'd ordered coffee, for pity's sake, not a five-course meal.

"For two espressos with a shot of frothy hot cream that looks like it snowed on top?" The look the barista tossed his way had a little less warmth than before. Her dark ponytail was tied back in one of those food safety nets, so it slid forward against her shoulder like a fat beaver tail as she continued to work.

Ames nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, that sounds like what she wants." He'd written down word for word what Laura's younger sister, Lucy, had colorfully described as Laura's favorite beverage on the planet.

"When was the last time you steamed milk?" The young barista twirled his way, holding a silver wand over a small silver pitcher. The handle was pinched between her thumb and forefinger. A motor whirred and steam rose as she held the wand.

"Uh…never, I guess." How hard could it be to boil milk, though? He wondered if she'd dashed from the room when he wasn't looking to milk a cow in addition to growing the coffee beans.

She gave a snort of derision as she meticulously poured the bubbling white froth into the two cardboard cups in front of her. Though it was well past Christmas, the cups were still embossed with a holiday theme — a pale blue background shimmering with metallic white and silver snowflakes. The Gingerbread House logo was emblazoned in silver letters across the lids she snapped on the cups.

With a tight smile, she slid them across the counter to Ames. "Here you go. Two espressos mixed as fast as humanly possible."

"Thanks." To apologize for his impatience, he dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the counter before lifting the cups. One of the lids immediately popped off. "Uh-oh!" He abruptly set the cups back on the counter. It was a delicate balancing act to keep from sloshing the hot coffee over the rim.

The barista, who was in the act of eagerly reaching for the tip, paused in consternation to watch him wrestle with the lid. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to get it snapped back on.

"Let me try." In a tone one might use with a toddler, she proceeded to take over his wrestling match with the lid. It proved to be a stubborn lid. She finally gave a sigh of defeat and tossed it in the trashcan.

"Think we got a defective lid." With a dramatic eye roll, she pulled a fresh one off a nearby stack and expertly popped it into place. Her relief was palpable as she slid the espressos back in his direction. "First lid replacement is always on the house."

The first one?"Thanks." He really hoped she was joking, because he needed these lids to last through a couple-hour sleigh ride.

"Merry Friday and happy almost weekend," she trilled after him as he moved toward the rear exit.

He nodded instead of answering. By now, he should've been accustomed to all the creative holiday greetings floating around Pinetop, but he wasn't. Though he was currently living three-quarters of the year in a town that celebrated the holidays year round, he remained a firm believer that Christmas trees and mistletoe were for December. Not January, February, or March through November.

It was kind of ironic that he was putting so much effort into landing a date with a woman who wore an elf costume to work each day.

He used his shoulder to push open the door and stepped outside with a coffee cup fisted in each hand. His sleigh driver, Flash Billings, glanced up from his team of draft horses as he tromped back to the bright red sleigh waiting on the snowy strip behind the building. Mr. Billings was the town postmaster by day and tour guide by night.

"‘Bout time you showed back up. Almost sent in a search party after you." The twinkle in his eyes brightened his grizzled appearance. Though he was often hired to dress as Santa for the holiday events around town, he looked more like Rumpelstiltskin when he was out of costume. He didn't have an extra ounce on his wiry frame, and his white beard was more of a long drizzle. It hung nearly to the waist of his insulated denim coat. His cheeks and nose were every bit as red as Santa's, though, making Ames feel guilty for making the older fella wait so long in the winter breeze.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about the wait. Here. Take one of these." On impulse, he held out one of the freshly made espressos.

"No, siree!" Mr. Billings gave a vehement head shake. "Appreciate the offer, but I've got my own brew to keep me warm — made just the I way like it." He gave another energetic head shake. "Black with no frills."

Black was how Ames preferred his coffee, too, but he was open to trying new things — especially things that might stand a chance of impressing Laura Lee. He climbed into the sleigh, tickled to pieces about the fresh blanket of snow that had fallen last night. Until he'd rolled out of bed this morning, he wasn't sure there'd be enough accumulation for a sleigh ride today. Now that they were in the second week of February, the end of winter was looming.

The slopes and ridges behind Main Street, however, were filled with more than enough snow for the sleigh runners to glide over. A few kids were lugging sleds up one of the hills. Their parents probably owned or rented one of the shops nearby.

A bustling, thriving tourist trap tucked into the side of a mountain, Pinetop was chock full of gift boutiques. Across Arizona, they were known as the place to do one's holiday shopping. On just about any given day, they had more visitors than permanent residents browsing through their stores. On snow days, most of the roads leading to bigger towns were closed until Pinetop's tiny road crew could safely clear the way. Today was probably one of those days, which meant the streets and sidewalks would be jammed with traffic all evening.

Going for a sleigh ride was the perfect way for Ames to avoid the crowds and have Laura all to himself for a couple of hours. Since he was in the presence of a fellow black coffee enthusiast at the moment, he didn't mind grumbling a little about the Gingerbread House behind their back.

"Apparently, those froo-froo drinks they make on the strip take half a century to brew." He grimaced at the memory of getting schooled on how to properly froth hot milk. "I was worried I might be stuck there the rest of the night and miss our sleigh ride altogether."

Mr. Billings guffawed. "Didn't have you pegged as a froo-froo kinda cowboy."

"Far from it, sir. I normally take my coffee black, same as you. The froo-froo stuff is for my friend, Laura." Ames settled back against the pair of quilts Mr. Billings had tossed into the sleigh. There was another side bench across from the one he was sitting on. His goal was to use only one of them this evening.

"Your friend, eh?" Flash Billings swiveled his head around just long enough to wink at him. "I was wondering if this was your first date or something."

"Or something." Ames glanced across the snowy terrain. "She's been through a lot. Not sure when she'll be ready to date again." He would continue to make it very clear to her this evening that he was available to fill that vacancy the moment she reached that point.

"So I've heard." Mr. Billings gave him a speculative look from his peripheral vision. "If it comes down to a fight, my money's on you, you loco bronc rider. I was as sorry as I could be to find out her ex had arrived in town this morning. Her parents aren't sure what he's got up his sleeve this time."

Ames' jaw dropped. For the second time in the space of a few minutes, he nearly spilled the coffee he was clutching in each gloved hand. "Did you say her ex is in town?" Since when? He cleared his throat, hoping he'd heard wrong even though he was pretty sure he hadn't. Though his exact age was a bit of a mystery, Flash Billings was probably the oldest citizen in town. A guy who knew everything there was to know about everybody around him.

"Yup. Sorry for being the bearer of bad news. Figured you already knew." The aging postmaster's voice waxed sympathetic as he guided his team of horses around a copse of evergreens.

"Nope." Ames angrily popped the P at the end of the word. His mind raced over all the possibilities of why Laura hadn't told him. Was she happy to see her ex? Was she still hopeful of picking up where they'd left off?

Ames didn't have all the details about their breakup. All he really knew was that her fiancé had broken things off only days before their wedding was supposed to have taken place.

"Believe me, his sudden appearance in town caught Laura's parents off guard, too." Flash Billings shook his head. "Ol' Haruki Lee wasn't sure how to break the news to her that Brex Morrison," his voice turned mocking, "the last of the gypsies, had decided to grace our small town with his presence." He raised a gloved hand to put air quotes around the words, the last of the gypsies.

Ames snorted. "The last of the who-sy what-ies?"

Mr. Billings shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. All I can tell you is that's what the fella wrote on his vendor application for the Sweetheart Spectacular. Who knows? Maybe this whole gypsy business means more to the Lees than it does to the rest of us."

A gypsy? It sounded like something out of a storybook to Ames. Color me not impressed. He didn't care what the guy called himself. It didn't change the fact that he was a spineless commitment-phobe, who'd broken the heart of a genuinely kind and decent woman.

He sat forward on the bench, resting his forearms on his knees in an attempt to keep the two espresso cups level. "So, that's his excuse for showing his face around here, eh?" Signing up as a craft fair vendor felt like the guy was grasping at straws. Was there any significance to the fact that he'd chosen to participate in Pinetop's annual Valentine themed fair? There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of other craft fairs around the country he could've chosen to participate in.

He shot a curious look at Flash Billings' gaunt shoulder blades. "What's he peddling, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Hand-crafted wooden toys." The postmaster's voice was grim.

"No kidding?" Ames tasted disgust. Apparently, that was something else Laura's ex had in common with her and her family. He was a blasted toy maker.

Technically, the Lees were certified furniture specialists. However, they'd made a name for themselves as the Merry Woodmakers, producing heirloom-quality Christmas toys. They'd got their start in an RV, roving from craft fair to craft fair across the country. A year ago, however, their fortune had changed after negotiating a contract to design toys exclusively for Santa's Toy Factory on Main Street. For the first time in years, they had a permanent address. They'd even purchased one of the chalets dotting the side of the mountain.

The last thing Laura Lee needed right now was some blast from her past skidding into town and yanking up the roots she was trying so hard to put down —certainly not some rolling stone who claimed to be the last of the gypsies. What did that even mean?

You'll have to go through me to get to her, buddy. Only when the coffee lid popped off the cup in his right hand did Ames realize how hard he'd been squeezing the cups. He spent the remaining few minutes of the drive to the Lees' home trying to clamp the loose lid back into place without spilling the espresso. His efforts proved futile.

Man! Two defunct coffee lids and the unexpected appearance of Laura's ex-fiancé were a rough start to the perfect evening he'd planned to treat her to.

I can still salvage this.He mentally braced himself as Flash Billings pulled across the front lawn of the Lee family's three-story chalet. It was a lovely cedar home overlooking the heart of Pinetop. Its snow-drenched roof made it look every bit a part of the postcard town sprawled below it.

Bronc riders are no sissies. I've got this!

Though Ames was no master toy maker like Brex Morrison apparently was, he was far from a nobody. He and his two brothers had spent most of their adult lives risking life and limb to make a name for themselves as rodeo champs. They had drawers full of buckles to prove it.

Ever since his oldest brother lost his lower right arm in a highway accident, however, the Carson brothers had been working hard to make a new name for themselves as indoor rodeo performers. The one-of-a-kind acting job was what had brought them to the festive mountain town and kept them there for the better part of a year.

Ames didn't know how long they'd remain there. Show ratings could be a fickle thing. However, there was one thing he was very sure about. He was desperate to know what it felt like to kiss Laura Lee before he returned to Dallas. If she didn't feel the same way about him, he'd soon be long gone. If she did return his feelings, though…

He shook his head at the direction of his thoughts, struggling not to spill the espresso sloshing around in the dented, capless coffee cup. As soon as Mr. Billings brought his horses to a standstill, Ames bent to set the two cups of coffee on the floorboard. Then he gingerly stepped out of the sleigh, trying not to rock it too much in the process.

"Thanks!" He moved to the driver's side of the sleigh to catch the postman's eye. "I'll be right back with Laura." Jogging up the snowy sidewalk to the front porch, he was a little surprised to discover that no one had cleared the walkway. Normally, Mr. Lee was fastidious about details like that. Though the sun was dipping on the horizon, there was no porch light on, either.

Hoping everything was okay, he used the toe of his boot to clear a path up the short flight of stairs that would make it all the easier to escort Laura back down them. Before he could tap the doorbell button, the porch light flickered on. The front door popped open.

"Hey!" Laura stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind her. "You made it!" Though she had her face averted, it was impossible to miss the fact that her eyelids were puffy from crying.

Since it wasn't in Ames' DNA to play games, he stepped directly in her path and reached for her shoulders. "What's wrong?" Though he suspected her ex was what was wrong, he preferred to hear it from the horse's mouth.

Despite the shadows beneath her eyes, she looked amazing in a white puff jacket with a matching beanie and mittens. Her wavy hair tumbled past her shoulders like a dark waterfall. To him, she was the most beautiful woman in the country, splotchy cheeks and all. That was how bad he had it for her.

She gave a damp sniffle. "Can we please not talk about it right now? I just…" She glanced around his shoulder. "I just want to enjoy our sleigh ride, okay?"

"Okay." Unable to resist the urge to comfort her, he tugged her closer for a quick, reassuring hug. When he lowered his arms, she gave a squeak of pain.

Her head jerked back a little, making him realize that the little plastic hook on his gloves had gotten caught in her hair. It was the hook that clasped his gloves together when he wasn't wearing them.

"I'm sorry." He fumbled with the hook and managed to make her wince again. Gritting his teeth, he had to remove his other glove with his teeth to bare his fingers. Only then did he achieve the dexterity required to release the silky strand of hair that had become snagged.

Her eyes were shimmering with a fresh round of unshed tears by the time he finished. "Listen, I'm really sorry," he muttered again, hating himself a little for being so clumsy.

"It's okay." She smiled through the mist at him. "No good deed goes unpunished, huh?" In a playful attempt to help him put his glove back on, she leaned his way at the same time he bent his head to accomplish the same task.

Their foreheads collided.

Her gasp went straight to his heart, nearly strangling it. "I'm such an idiot," he groaned.

"No, you're not!" She tugged his glove the rest of the way on while he was still blinking away stars. "You're my best friend in the universe."

Ouch! Ames wasn't sure if the sharp pain shooting through his skull was from bumping noggins or from being slammed solidly back into the friend zone. However, tonight wasn't about him, his needs, or his wants. It was about serving up the kind of evening Laura deserved. He wanted to pamper and spoil her in ways that no one else had ever done. He wanted to show her what it was like to be with a guy who truly cared about her. He wanted tonight to be a night she'd never forget.

It was certainly shaping up to be unforgettable, just not in the way he'd hoped. At this very moment, he'd gladly settle for one thing going right. Just one thing!

As she moved down the porch stairs ahead of him, her left hand shot toward the railing. "Oh!" Her gasp filled his ears as her snow boots scissored out from beneath her.

He lunged her way and reached for her elbow to steady her. In the process, his left boot shot out from beneath him on the slick stairs. His taller, broader frame catapulted toward hers, threatening to crush her.

It was all he could do to skid his long legs beneath hers in order to absorb the brunt of their tumble. He grunted in discomfort as her weight slipped and slid against him, jamming him more fully into the hard edge of the stairs.

"Oh, my goodness! Are you okay?" Laura slithered like a wet eel against him to twist around and crane anxiously up at him.

He'd probably have bruises the size of San Antonio on his shoulders and backside tomorrow, but he managed to give her an affirmative nod.

"Liar!" She spat out the word, struggling to her feet and reaching for him with both hands.

Since he'd already established the fact that he was an idiot, he accepted her help and tried not to groan too loudly as she helped pull him upright. He took a tentative step to make sure nothing was broken. "Please assure me you're alright."

"I'm, er…" She leaned into him, pressing her face to his chest. Her shoulders started to shake.

"Laura, darling!" He gathered her close, careful to keep his arms snaked around her waist to avoid snagging her hair again. "Talk to me."

A muffled sound erupted from her, then another one. That's when he realized she was laughing, not crying.

His shoulders slumped in relief. "Man! You had me going there for a sec." He spoke against the top of her head, enjoying her flowery scent and nearness. Though he'd come close to breaking a few bones in the process, having her in his arms like this was worth every bruise rising on his body.

"Thank you." She slid from his embrace and took a shaky step back.

"For what?" He met her gaze ruefully. "Nearly yanking your hair out by the roots or almost breaking your neck?"

"None of the above, you dork." She punched him lightly in the chest. "Thanks for making me laugh. I needed that." By some miracle, her tears had vanished, and the splotchiness staining her cheeks was fast fading.

He caught her hand and used it to tow her the rest of the way down the sidewalk toward the sleigh. He didn't dare meet Flash Billings' gaze, not wanting to know what the old fellow was thinking. Ames was all too aware that the beginning of his perfectly planned evening was a complete disaster. He wasn't sure there was any coming back from their tumble down the porch stairs.

He was extra careful as he assisted Laura into the sleigh and extra gentle as he lifted and tucked one of the quilts snuggly around her waist.

"Careful!" She pointed down in alarm, but it was too late.

The lower edge of the quilt caught the side of the coffee cup on the right. It toppled over, sending rivulets of frothy brown coffee across the floorboard of the sleigh.

Ames dove forward to save the second cup, grateful that at least one of the espressos had survived his hapless fling of the quilt. "It looks like your cup is the sole survivor of my clumsiness."

He couldn't have been more wrong. As he started to hand it to her, the breeze whipped off the lid and sent it flying over the edge of the sleigh. "What in the—?" He stared after it in puzzlement, realizing he must've knocked over the good cup, which meant the one in his hand was the one he'd popped the lid loose on earlier.

Laura's startled gasp alerted him to the fact that he was tipping the cup. Steaming coffee sloshed onto the quilt covering her lap. A dark, damp spot spread across the fabric.

The sleigh passed over a bumpy part of the yard, sending a second splash of coffee over the rim.

Laura abruptly removed the cup from Ames' hand and tossed it over the side of the sleigh. "This is clearly not my night." She wrinkled her nose at him. "It's me, not you. Trust me. I should've never left home this evening. I've been a wreck ever since I found out…" She bit her lip to silence the rest of what she'd been about to say.

Ames gusted out a breath, pretty sure he knew what was bothering her. "Ever since you found out Brex Morrison was in town, eh?" No matter how much she didn't want to talk about him, there was no point in continuing to beat around the bush. Her ex was the proverbial elephant perched on the bench between them.

"Yes," she sighed. "Wait!" She tipped her face up to his, looking distressed. "How did you?—?"

"It's a small town," he reminded, flinging the soggy quilt into the damp floorboard. He'd offer to have it dry cleaned. At the sight of the damp spot on the thighs of Laura's jeans, he unzipped his leather coat and started to shrug out of it.

"Don't you dare!" Her voice grew so threatening that he stopped.

When she shivered, his hands started moving again. "I'm not gonna let you freeze," he protested.

"Right back atcha, cowboy!" She leaned forward to snatch the other quilt off the bench across from them. "You planned an amazing evening for us. There's no way I'm going to thank you by allowing you to turn into a block of ice." She tossed the quilt over both of them, tucking it carefully around him the way he'd tucked the other quilt around her only minutes earlier. She was shivering like crazy by the time she finished.

Ames drew her snugly against his side, sharing as much of his body heat as he could. Then he called to Flash Billings, "You'd best turn around and get us back to her place pronto. She's soaked to the skin from all the coffee I spilled on her." It was no wonder he was still a single guy. Rough and tough bronc riders like him simply weren't made of boyfriend material.

The aging postmaster obligingly drove his team of horses in a wide circle and retraced their path. In short order, he had them back in front of the Lees' chalet.

"Sorry about tonight." Ames gave Laura one last lingering hug before letting her go. "This was far from the evening I had planned for us."

"I know." Despite her own misery, Laura's voice was filled to the brim with empathy for him. It was just how kindhearted of a person she was. "Come inside," she urged, tugging on his hand. "We can thaw out together over a fresh cup of coffee. My treat this time."

"Nah, that's okay." He curled his upper lip at her, anxious to put an end to the nightmarish evening. "You're the one who—" A violent shiver came out of nowhere, interrupting his sentence.

She snickered. "I'm pretty sure you're wearing as much coffee as I am, cowboy." Her teeth chattered over the last few words.

She threw off the quilt and hopped out of the sleigh.

Ames gave Flash Billings an apologetic look. "Listen, I intend to cover the dry cleaning bill for those quilts."

"That won't be necessary, son." His tone was far more cheerful than the dismal situation warranted. "I'll throw ‘em in the washer like I always do, and they'll be right as rain by the time you reschedule your sleigh ride. You've got at least an hour and a half left of the slot you reserved."

"Thank you, sir. I'll, um…take a look at your schedule." Ames highly doubted he'd be rescheduling. What woman in her right mind would want to relive an evening like this one?

He stepped from the sleigh and hurried after Laura, keeping a careful grip on the railing as they made their way back up the stairs they'd fallen down earlier.

Moments later, they stood inside the entry foyer, facing each other. The interior of the chalet was surprisingly silent, telling him they were alone.

Though it was much warmer inside, Laura gave another shiver. Then she flung herself into his arms. "Thank you, Ames. For the sleigh ride and the coffee." She gave a chuckle that held a hint of a sob around the edges. "Lucy let it slip that you asked her for my favorite coffee order, so I know you put a lot of effort into this evening."

He hugged her back. "Much good it did me." He was the proverbial bull in a china shop. Can't seem to do anything right where you're concerned. "Where's Lucy, by the way?"

"Out with friends." She snuggled closer to him.

"What about your parents?" It seemed awfully late on a Friday night for them not to be home from work already.

"It's their anniversary weekend," she explained in a muffled voice against his shirt, "so Dad reserved one of the airbnb rooms above the toy store."

Guess that explains the snowy sidewalk outside.Ames grunted and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. "I'm going to go out on a limb and predict he's probably not busy spilling coffee all over your mother as we speak."

"Just stop it already!" Laura chuckled again. "You're being way too hard on yourself. In case I've never told you this, you are —hands down — the nicest guy I've ever met."

"Nice," he grumbled. "Yay." Not. Nice was most definitely not the kind of evening he'd been gunning for. More like spectacular.

"You are," she protested, leaning back in his embrace to meet his gaze. "Nobody has ever gone to that kind of effort on my behalf. For reals. You're always doing stuff for me, and it means the world to me, okay? Spilled coffee and all."

"Really?" Though it was far from a romantic moment, standing there in the foyer shivering together, his gaze dipped to her rosy lips. Someday he was going to steal that kiss he'd been dreaming about day and night for months.

Not now, though. She wasn't ready.

"Really." She gently wiggled out of his embrace and reached for his hands, towing him backward toward the kitchen. "Now let's go make some more of that espresso that didn't survive the sleigh ride."