Waving, Jazzy hurried down the steps before he’deven parked his truck. She wore a pink car coat—she called the color “mauve”—a white turtleneck sweater, dark-wash denim jeans, and pointy-toed black ankle boots. Her hair was down today, flowing over her shoulders in that curtain of golden silk. She looked elegant as any princess and Roan drank in the sight of her.
From the radio, tuned to the 1960s channel after Mom and Dad had borrowed his truck to haul home a garage sale furniture find, Dean Martin started singing “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head.”
Spellbound, Roan watched Jazzy leap lightly over the small stone wall, not bothering with the charming metal gate.
He snapped off the radio, planning on getting out and opening the car door for her, but before he could even undo his seat belt, she was already there. Popping into the passenger seat with her sunbeam smile.
“Hey!” she said in that gleeful voice of hers. “Good morning.”
Danny Garza, you’re a damn fool.
“Morning.” Roan grinned back, his chest growing tight with so many feels he couldn’t name them all. “Ready?”
She buckled her seat belt. “Ready.”
The cab of his truck filled with her fragrance, sweet as cotton candy and as clean as strawberry-scented shampoo. The impulse to kiss her and see if she tasted as good as she smelled gripped him and it was all he could do to keep his hands on the steering wheel and off Jazzy Walker.
“All set,” she said, settling back in the seat and resting her hands in her lap. “Let’s do this.”
Five minutes later, they arrived at the Twilight Bakery. Honestly Roan wasn’t even sure how they got there. Jazzy so dazed his mind. This time, he hopped out of the truck and ran around to the passenger side before she could get out.
Unfortunately, he forgot to put on the parking brake and the truck started slowly slipping down the incline. Oh crap. He raced back to the driver’s side, but Jazzy had already leaned over to yank on the parking brake, and when he opened his door to find her stretched out across the seat, she peeked up at him through a sheaf of blond hair and grinned.
“Got it!” She giggled.
“Jazzy to the rescue,” he said, sounding insanely out of breath. He got in and repositioned the truck.
“Don’t think you have to help me out of the truck. It’s nice that you’re chivalrous, but I can take care of myself.”
“It’s an ingrained habit,” he said, “but I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
“No need. It’s not like we’re dating or anything,” she said. “We’re just friends, right?”
“My mom trained me to open doors for women, but now I see that’s a throwback to the days when men believed women couldn’t take care of themselves. Old customs are falling by the wayside.” He glanced over at her. “You’ll have to teach me the ways of your generation.”
“Oh yes,” she said with a grin. He loved how she smiled so often. “You’re practically Methuselah.”
“Maybe you should open doors for me?” he joked. “Where did my cane get off to?”
“You’re not too old for me,” she blurted, sitting right there in his truck parked in front of the Twilight Bakery.
“Wh-what?”
“I know you think you’re too old for me, but you’re not.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“You like me,” she said. “I can tell, and I like you. So, if it’s my age that’s holding you back from kissing me, don’t let that be an obstacle. I’m single, you’re single. Why can’t we have a bit of holiday fun together?”
With that, she hopped from the truck and made a beeline for the bakery, leaving Roan sitting with his mouth agape.
Inside the bakery, Jazzy stepped aside to let others pass, waiting for Roan to join her. “Let It Snow” was on the sound system and to distract herself, Jazzy imagined what the song would be like to sing on karaoke night. As the seconds ticked by and Roan stayed in the truck, her anxiety grew.
Why had she told him she liked him? Why had she practically begged him to kiss her?
Why? Because she’d spent the last two evenings sitting around a campfire with the man. Baking cookies, smelling his manly scent, listening to ranch noises, and wishing, oh so powerfully, for something more.
Greedy girl! She should have kept her big mouth shut. Instead, she’d impulsively told him what wason her mind. Had she scared him off? Would he tell her he could no longer give her baking lessons, considering that she wanted to jump his bones?