Page 35 of The Wedding Gift
“How many?” she asked.
“I have four brothers, all older than me and married, and six nephews and two nieces. The oldest niece and I always watch Miss Dolly sometime during the holidays,” he told her.
“How does your family feel about you having a bar?” she asked.
“Happy for me now, but when I left college only one year away from getting my degree, they were all pretty pissed at me. They’ve mellowed a little, though, in the past ten years,” he answered. “Let’s go build a snowman.”
She beat him to the door to the parking lot, rolled up a good, tight snowball, and pelted him in the chest with it the minute he walked out the back door. He ran across the parking lot, tackled her, and brought her down flat on her back in the snow. For a moment he lay on top of her, and her heart raced with a full head of steam. Her gaze went to his lips and then back up to sink into the depths of his dark-brown eyes. She was sure he was about to kiss her again, and she was disappointed when he rolled to the side to lie on his back and point to the gray skies.
“We’d better get busy if we’re going to give old Frosty a drinkin’ buddy. Looks like it could start snowing again or maybe sleeting,” he said.
“I don’t mind working in snow, but sleet’s another matter.” She popped up on her knees, patted a good-sized snowballtogether, and then began to roll it. That there would soon be two snowmen in the parking lot wasn’t any surprise at all. She started humming “Let It Snow” as she worked, just like she had done the last time she and her sister and her nieces had made a snowman in Hurricane Mills. She hadn’t figured on missing them all so damn much this year. She thought she’d go to Mingus and be so busy she wouldn’t have time to even think about the holiday season.
Thoughts get you in trouble. You thought Cameron was a girl.Her grandmother’s voice giggled inside her head.
You didn’t tell me he was a damn fine sexy cowboy,Jorja argued. She stole a sideways look at him halfway across the parking lot. Tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a black hat all caked with snow—her type or not, he looked pretty damn fine.
“You make the middle, and I’ll work on the bottom,” Cameron said and then began to sing the song she was humming.
His deep voice rang out across the area and was right on key.
“Have you ever done any professional singing?” she asked.
“Only if the shower is considered professional,” he answered. “When me and JJ were little guys, we each got a guitar for Christmas and fancied ourselves country singers. We entertained the cows out in Grandpa’s pasture, but they usually ran the other way when we hit the first chords.”
Jorja heard what he was saying, but her mind strayed from his singing to something deeper. She’d known this cowboy for only a few days, and she already felt more comfortable with him than she ever had with Eli—even after she’d dated him for a year. That seemed crazy, but it was the truth.
“No comment?” Cameron asked.
“About what?” Jorja stopped and sat down beside the middle part of the snowman.
“About what I just said,” he answered.
“Oh, that.” She smiled up at him. “That’s just plain old unadulterated bullshit. You could put most country artists to shame.”
He tipped his hat toward her. “Well, thank you, ma’am. I’m sure if JJ heard that, he’d tell you that he was even better than me.”
“I’d have to hear him sing before I’d believe him,” she argued. “Right now, I guess we’d better lift this big belly up on that bottom you’ve got made and then make a head for this old boy.”
“Boy,” Cameron said and wiggled his eyebrows. “So, it’s a drinkin’ buddy and not a girlfriend?”
“Yep, Frosty doesn’t need a girlfriend. He needs a buddy to have a beer with for Christmas. He’s lonely.”
Cameron lifted the huge ball of snow up onto the bottom layer without even huffing or groaning, proving that he hadbeen picking up more than bottles of beer and double shots of whiskey for a while now. Then she watched as he quickly rolled up a head and set it in place, making the whole creation even taller than himself.
“Wait right here,” Cameron said and jogged through the snow back to the bar. When he returned, he brought a fistful of beer bottle caps and used them for the eyes and the mouth.
“Got a carrot for his nose?” she asked.
“This is a Honky Tonk snowman,” he grinned as he took the top of a Coors bottle out of his pocket. “I found this in the trash can. It’s about the size of a carrot nose.” He set the bottle top in place, then stepped back, folded his arms over his chest, and frowned.
“Never thought we’d have a use for the neck of a busted beer bottle,” Jorja said. She had tossed one toward the trash the night before and the top had broken off smooth.
“Me neither, but it works for our drinkin’ buddy here,” Cameron insisted, “but he still needs something.”
“Use the rest of those beer caps for buttons on his chest. He does need something.” Jorja stood back and studied their creation. “A scarf. That’s what he needs.”
She raced into the house and grabbed the red-and-green-plaid scarf that Abigail had given her for Christmas a few years back. When she returned, Cameron had foundbranches for the new fellow’s arms and he had a can of Coors in his hand.