A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) by Kim Redford Page A

She gazed at the imposing house that rose in planes, angles, and sharp roof lines. Red brick. Green trim. Slate-gray shingles. Three-car garage. Extra parking for guests by the tennis court. Beautiful in its stark simplicity and welcoming ambiance.
    “Looks like Jake built a multilevel Midcentury Modern house in the eighties.” She turned to look at Trey in astonishment.
    “Sure did. He was a young man based in California during World War II when he first saw that style. Remained his favorite architecture.”
    “I can’t wait to see inside.”
    “Not disappointed?”
    She glanced into his bright hazel eyes. “Impossible. You’re right. This is a special place. I’m glad I’m staying here.”
    “Good. Come on. Let’s get you settled in.”
    She got out, picked up her laptop in its case from the backseat, and slid the strap of her large handbag over her shoulder as she walked to the rear of her SUV. Trey was already there waiting for her. When she opened the back and started to pick up her bags, he grabbed the heaviest right out from under her hands.
    “Let me do like my mama taught me and act the gentleman.” Trey easily lifted her two cases. “It’s enough for you to handle your laptop and whatever else is in that giant bag.”
    “Thanks. Always the question for men, isn’t it? What do women put in their handbags?”
    “Scary thought. Don’t want to know.”
    She joined his laughter and locked her SUV. They were some distance from the house. She walked beside him across dry grass to a two-story pergola outlined by twinkling blue lights with a green picnic table on each level. The redbrick pergola appeared to be the viewing stand for the tennis court enclosed by a high chain-link fence.
    “Jake really was a visionary, wasn’t he?” She gestured around as she walked across the cement court.
    “And he did the work himself. Bit by bit.”
    “Even more impressive.”
    At the front of the house, she noticed sliding glass doors under a covered entry porch. A silver-and-blue wreath hung on each door. White poinsettias with green leaves brightened a redbrick planter. A huge oak tree, with the trunk wrapped in silver and blue tinsel and lights, cast the area in shadow.
    Misty heard a meow and glanced up. Bright blue eyes in a white face with a black mark across the nose stared down at her. She smiled at the cat on the roof. Another beauty. She might as well start taking lots of cats in Wildcat Bluff for granted like everybody else.
    Trey walked over, patted the oak’s trunk, and looked up. “Meet Big John. Big Bertha is on the other side of the house. Jake built between them so if lightning struck, it’d hit the trees.”
    She followed his gaze upward. High above, the center trunk was gray, lightning blasted, but the tree was a survivor. New branches had grown tall and strong around the storm damage.
    In Wildcat Bluff, everything appeared intensely alive, even in winter. Creativity, happiness, and love of life were obviously nurtured here. Misty felt a little like Big John, damaged by life’s storms but still strong—and still growing—just like Aunt Cami had always wanted for her.
    “Welcome to Twin Oaks Bed & Breakfast!” The sliding glass doors snapped open. A lithe woman in jeans, a red top, and black cowboy boots stepped outside. She wore her dark hair straight and blunt-cut at her shoulders. She’d tucked a white poinsettia bloom behind one ear.
    “Hey, Ruby.” Trey patted the tree again. “Just introduced your new guest to your favorite guy.”
    “Did you now?” Ruby said in a husky, alto voice. “All I ask is that you don’t whisper sweet nothings to Big John so he runs off and leaves me lonely.”
    Misty laughed. “I’ll do my best not to lure him away.”
    “Thanks.” She held out a sun-browned hand. “Ruby Jobson, chief cook and bottle washer. You must be Misty Reynolds.”
    “Pleased to meet you.” Misty shook Ruby’s firm hand. She knew right away that Ruby was Country Texas