A Christmas Cowboy Crush

“Harder. Go deeper.”
The masculine groan echoed in the small room, overlaying the soft music designed to help clients relax in the soothing atmosphere. Grace Alexander’s fingers dug into the knots in his shoulder, going deeper as requested. A part of her wished she were the one moaning the words, being pounded into the table by one of the sexiest cowboy she’d ever massaged. But she was a professional and her boss, Sierra Austin Raines, wouldn’t appreciate Grace lusting after one of her clients, not after working so hard to make Rocky Mountain High spa successful in Granite Junction.
She also took a chance on Grace and she’d be forever grateful for the opportunity, so she’d reserve her hitting on the clients for the actual massage type and not the romance type, not even if he was a cowboy from her dreams. Hell, she knew better than to set her hat on any man for her future. She needed to find a place of her own, a place to belong. Then she could think about adding a man to it. In the meantime, well, batteries helped just fine.
He let out another groan, and she sighed. Batteries and plastic didn’t smell as nice as Evan Jackson, nor did they feel as hot and sexy, sadly. The knot released, and she moved into the space between his shoulder blades, easily finding more knots in the tight expanse of skin. She pumped more lotion into her hands and smoothed it over his back and worked on the next section. He flinched, and she immediately eased on the pressure.
He chuckled into the face pillow. “You won’t hurt me, Grace. You can dig in. That’s what those damned knots need.”
She ran her hands over the spot again and noticed a faded, yellowing spot, a bruising that had almost disappeared. She traced the edges of the grapefruit sized mark. “What happened?”
“Buford, that damned beefalo that Trent loves so much, took exception to being escorted away from his lady loves. Banged me against a fence. Wasn’t a big deal. Just a bruise. Nothing was really hurt.”
“You could have been hurt bad. Why did you get so close? I thought cowboys were too smart to get between bulls and a fence.”
He rolled onto his side, the sheet barely covering his groin region, and he smirked at her. “You worried for me, Gracie?”
Her face burned, and she turned to a towel, wiping her hands and checking on the hot stones in the pot. “No. Well, no more than anyone else. It’s a dangerous job you have. I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”
He snagged her hand and tugged her until she faced him, his expression serious. “Don’t worry about me, Gracie. I can handle myself.”
She arched her eyebrow. “That’s what they all say. The next thing they know, they’re pinned to a fence by a randy beefalo, becoming his cow.”
He hooted a laugh and dropped her hand. He settled back on the table. “Message received, Gracie. You’ll make me feel better. You always do.”
She opened the hot stone container, noting they were ready. Sure, he hadn’t asked for that kind of massage, but he needed it and she had time to clean everything since she didn’t have another appointment that day. She took out a couple of stones and cooled them in a towel before smoothing them on his skin. He moaned at the soothing heat.
“And the name’s Grace, Mr. Jackson.”
“Well, mine’s Evan, though you can call me anything you want if you keep doing that.”