Santa In Montana by Janet Dailey

to come find you instead.” She snuggled closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body heat.
    â€œCold?” he guessed.
    â€œFrozen,” Sloan admitted. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your Montana winters.”
    â€œMiss those warm Hawaiian breezes, do you?”
    â€œA little.”
    â€œMaybe we can slip away for a week or so in January and introduce Jake to the Pacific Ocean.”
    â€œIs that a promise?” Sloan tipped her head back to look at him. “Before you answer, be warned that I’ll hold you to it if you say ‘yes.’”
    â€œIn that case”—Trey arched an eyebrow, eyes twinkling—“maybe I’d better say that it’s a definite ‘maybe.’”
    â€œNot fair.” She emphasized her reply with a playful poke in the ribs, his wool-lined parka absorbing much of the poke.
    He turned serious as he ran a searching look over her face. “You are happy here, aren’t you?”
    â€œHappier than I’ve ever been in my whole life,” she assured him, “even if I never set foot in Hawaii again.”
    â€œJust wanted to be sure.” He made his tone deliberately light, as if his question hadn’t been a serious one at all. “Ready to head up to the house?”
    â€œIf you’re done here?”
    â€œI am.” Keeping an arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the door.
    Outside the barn, Sloan waited while he turned off its interior lights and closed the door behind him, checking to make sure it was securely latched. Side by side, they struck out for the Homestead.
    Sloan lifted her gaze to the large, two-story structure, its white brick revealed as a pale color in the moonlight. Red, blue, and green lights twinkled around the twin trees flanking the front door as well as the wreaths hung in each front window.
    â€œThe house looks so beautiful all decked out for Christmas,” she murmured, unconsciously giving voice to her thoughts.
    The sight of it triggered another thought in Trey’s mind. “In another couple weeks it’ll be time to decorate the barn for our annual Christmas party.”
    â€œIt’s always the last Saturday before Christmas, isn’t it,” Sloan recalled. “That sounds far away, but it really isn’t, even though Thanksgiving was only a week ago. Which reminds me, I’ll be gone most of tomorrow.”
    â€œWhere?” It was an idle question, born of casual curiosity.
    â€œA couple of us ranch wives are going to Miles City to buy toys for the Marines’ campaign. We have our list done, so hopefully it won’t take long once we hit the stores.”
    â€œI like the way you said that.” His mouth curved in a pleased smile.
    â€œSaid what?” She slid him a puzzled glance.
    â€œUs ranch wives. It tells me you finally feel like one of them.”
    Sloan thought about it and nodded. “I guess I do.”
    â€œSee the stars.” The gloved hand resting on her shoulder lifted, a finger pointing skyward. “On cold nights like this they always remind me of ice crystals scattered across a black sky.”
    Scanning nature’s stardusted canopy, Sloan nodded in agreement, murmuring, “They’re beautiful.”
    â€œAlmost as beautiful as you are.”
    Surprised by the compliment that seemed to come out of nowhere, she turned her head to look at him. “I do believe you’re putting the make on me.”
    â€œAnd what’s wrong with an old married man putting the make on his wife?” Trey countered with a challenging lift of an eyebrow.
    â€œNothing at all.” Her upturned face invited his kiss, and Trey was quick to oblige, his head dipping down, his mouth covering her night-cooled lips, heating them both.
    When they parted, their eyes locked for a long moment, but neither spoke. All that needed to be said was communicated with that look. An easy silence ran between