Free A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe by Vicki Lewis Thompson

around a little, which sounded way more fun. He knew what the kitchen was like, but there was an important room he’d never seen. She’d given him her keys so she had to know he’d take a look.
    Heading down a short hallway, he came to her darkened bedroom. No timed lights in here. He patted the wall beside the door and found a switch. When he flipped it, two bedside table lights came on and illuminated a bed so inviting that he hated not having her here right this minute.
    The headboard was some kind of reddish wood, maybe cherry, and the fluffy comforter was dark green. It had been folded back, along with the white top sheet to reveal the snowy bottom sheet. Pillows in white cases had been stacked against the headboard—six of them, to be exact.
    It wasn’t the fanciest bed he’d ever seen, but it was the most tempting. Then again, he probably thought so because he was picturing Whitney lying naked in it. Crossing the room, he stroked his hand across a section of the bottom sheet. Nice and soft. Perfect to make love on.
    He’d bought condoms yesterday, just in case. The box was in his truck, but he’d put two in each of his front jeans pockets before coming up here tonight. He’d love to leave them in here instead of carting them around all night, but where?
    Putting them in one of the bedside table drawers seemed too much like snooping, but leaving them lying on top was too blatant. Finally he decided to open a drawer and toss them in. He wouldn’t look at anything in there.
    But when he opened the drawer, an entire box of condoms was already inside. He picked it up and discovered it had never been opened. She’d obviously been shopping recently, too.
    Chuckling, he added his loose packets to the drawer and closed it. At least they wouldn’t run out. Still smiling, he walked back into the living room. Just as he picked up the remote for her TV, the intercom buzzed.
    Damn, he hoped she didn’t have an unexpected visitor. Then he had to laugh at himself. It was probably Whitney, who’d given him her key and now needed to be buzzed in. Maybe someone was covering her last hour for her.
    In that case, they had an hour in which no one expected them to be anywhere. Talk about an answer to his prayers. They might not have to wait until after the party, after all.
    He opened the intercom connection. “Whitney?”
    The silence that followed was not promising. “No, this is her mother. Who are you?”

7
    T HANK G OD M ERYL had been willing to cover for her. As Whitney drove home, she tried to figure out her best approach to this fustercluck. A surprise visit from her mom and dad had never occurred to her, but maybe it should have.
    When her mother had called a few minutes ago, she’d said they’d come up to surprise her with Thanksgiving leftovers. Whitney had never been away for Thanksgiving before, so that was a semireasonable explanation. Her mom had said they’d tried her apartment first and had been prepared to drive to Rangeland Roasters if they hadn’t found her at home.
    Knowing her parents and their love of tradition, they might have decided on a whim to make the ten-hour round trip to bring her turkey, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. Her dad might believe that rationale, but Whitney didn’t buy it. After that Thanksgiving Day conversation, Ellen Jones had wanted to find out if anything was going on between her daughter and the guy from the calendar , which is how she’d referred to Ty on the phone just now.
    Mentioning him had been a huge mistake. Because she’d gone to college in Cheyenne, her parents had met everyone she’d ever dated. But the guy from the calendar was an unknown, and to be fair, he looked like a rascal in that shot.
    So delivering Thanksgiving leftovers was a cover story and the actual reason was currently sitting in her living room sweating out an unexpected face-to-face with her parents. Poor Ty. She hadn’t meant to put him in this position. She’d had several other