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A toasty warmth engulfed him when he walked in. As he shrugged off the heavy jacket, Trey noticed Cat in the dining room adding the finishing touches to the table settings.
“Where’s Sloan? In the kitchen?” he asked.
“Upstairs. She wanted to finish her Christmas cards before supper. It’s in the oven now. Be about another hour before it’s done.”
“Thanks.” Leaving his jacket and hat on the coat rack by the door, Trey crossed the living room and climbed the stairs to the master suite.
A small, but cheery fire crackled in the sitting room’s fireplace to greet him when he entered. There sat Sloan, curled up in an easy chair next to it, a mix of blank Christmas cards and addressed envelopes spread over the ottoman in front of her and an address book balanced on the chair’s broad armrest. The flames’ flickering light shone on her face, enhancing its natural glow.
She looked up in surprise, the pen in her hand poised in mid-stroke. “Is it that late, or are you home early?”
“I’m a little early,” he admitted while he made his way to her chair. “You look like a contented little kitten, curled up in front of the fire.”
“A very pregnant kitten.” There was a definite roundness to her stomach now that not even her bulky sweater could disguise.
“A pregnant and beautiful kitten,” Trey corrected and bent to exchange a warm and lingering kiss with her.
“Your lips are cold,” Sloan murmured when he lifted his head.
“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s snowing outside.”
“I did notice a few flakes drifting by the window.”
“I’ll have you know there’s more than a few out there.”
“Personally I hope it stays on the ground through the holidays. It’s been years since I saw snow on Christmas day.” A wistful quality was in her voice.
“You might just get your wish this year.” Trey straightened up from the chair. “Speaking of Christmas, how are the cards coming along? Cat mentioned you were trying to get them done before supper.”
“Only three more after this one.” Sloan tapped the card with the half-finished note on her lap.
“If you just signed your name instead of writing those newsy little notes, they’d go a lot faster,” he teased.
“You’re trying to get a rise out of me, but it isn’t going to work. Sit down here by the fire and get warm and tell me all about your day like a good husband.” She started to lean forward to clear a space for him on the ottoman.
“Sit back. I’ll do that.” He scooped the unused cards into a stack and set them on the table next to her chair. The sealed envelopes he pushed to one side, clearing a space on the ottoman.
Sloan waited until he sat down. “So what’s new?”
“Not much, although I did run into Johnny Taylor when I stopped to get gas. He told me he’s thinking about asking Kelly to marry him.”
There was utter surprise in her expression. “Was he serious?”
“Johnny isn’t the kind to joke about such things,” Trey answered dryly.
“Do you think she’ll accept?”
“Who knows? I never thought they’d ever have more than one date, but they went everywhere together this summer. Which shows how wrong I was.”
In an attempt to arrange his long frame in a more comfortable position on the low seat, he stretched his legs and jostled the ottoman in the process. The stack of addressed envelopes shifted toward the edge. Sheer reflex enabled him to catch them before they slid to the floor.
“Isn’t she in nursing school? She wouldn’t quit, would she?”
“Johnny doesn’t want her to.” The envelopes were turned every which way, corners catching in the flaps of those above it. One by one, Trey straightened them until his eye was caught by the name on one of the envelopes. He felt like he’d been gut-kicked. “What’s this?” He showed it to Sloan, his hard gaze dark with questioning.
“It’s a card to Uncle Max. What did you think it was?” she asked with amusement.
“Max Rutledge is the man you call Uncle Max?” The statement bordered on an accusation. “Why am I just now finding this out?”
