A Lawman's Christmas: A McKettricks of Texas Novel by Linda Lael Miller Page B

times already.”
    A smile quirked at one corner of Dara Rose’s mouth. Like the rest of her, visible and invisible, that mouth fascinated Clay out of all good sense and reason. “Well,” she said, “now it’s a thousand and one. ”
    After a glance at Clay’s face, she opened the door and stepped right out into that blizzard.
    Clay followed, and the wind was so strong that it buffeted her back a step, so they collided, her back to his torso. He put his arms out to steady her, and a powerful jolt of… something… shot through him.
    Since it was too cold to dally, they recovered quickly and advanced toward the rickety coop.
    The chickens had taken refuge inside and, with the exception of the rooster, who squawked indignantly as he paced the floor of that shed, as though fussing over the pure injustice of a snowstorm, the birds huddled close to one another on the length of wood that served as a roost.
    There was a visible easing in Dara Rose as she lookedaround. “At least none of them have frozen to death,” she said, and she might have been addressing herself, not him, trundling over to lift the lid off a wooden bend and lean inside to scoop out feed. Judging by how far she had to lean—Lordy, she had a shapely backside—the supply was starting to run low.
    Like a lot of other things in her life, probably.
    Clay watched, offering no comment, as Dara Rose filled a shallow pan with feed and set it out for the hens to peck at. That done, she picked up a second pan, went to the doorway and shoveled up some snow. The stuff was already melting around the edges, cold as that chicken coop was, when Dara Rose waded back into the center of the noisy flock to set the second pan down beside the first.
    They fought their way back to the house, side by side, heads down, shoulders braced. Clay wanted to put an arm around Dara Rose’s waist, so she wouldn’t fall or blow away, but every instinct warned against it.
    The woman had a right to her pride, probably needed it just to press on from one day to the next.
    By the time they got back inside the house, the girls had left the kitchen for the front room.
    Their voices carried, a happy sound, like the chiming of bells somewhere off in the muffled distance.
    Dara Rose moved to untie her bonnet laces, but Clayclosed his hands over hers. “You’ve done a fine job raising those girls of yours,” he said, though he hadn’t actually planned the words ahead of time.
    Those wonderful eyes of hers searched his face, almost warily. Then she smiled and went on to take off her bonnet, Clay’s hands falling away from hers and back to his sides.
    â€œThank you, Mr. McKettrick,” she said, stepping back to shed her snow-speckled cloak.
    â€œClay,” he said, knowing she wanted him to step aside so she could get on with whatever it was she planned to do next but stubbornly holding his ground. “I don’t generally answer to ‘Mr. McKettrick,’ as it happens. Usually, when folks use that moniker, they’re talking to my granddad.”
    She blushed, but her eyes flashed. “When I say it,” she told him, “I’m addressing you. We haven’t known each other long enough to use first names.”
    He chuckled at that. Curved his finger sideways under her chin and lifted. “Have it your way…Dara Rose,” he said, partly to get under her hide and partly because he just liked saying her name.
    Still wearing his coat and hat, he summoned the dog with a soft whistle.
    Edrina and Harriet immediately appeared in the inside doorway, squashed together as though there was barelyenough room in the gap to contain both of them. Their eyes were wide with curiosity and something else—maybe worry.
    â€œYou’re going?” Edrina asked.
    â€œAnd taking Chester?” Harriet added.
    Clay touched the brim of his hat, momentarily ignoring Dara Rose, who was probably still