A Texas Cowboy's Christmas

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Reluctantly, she stepped out of the warm cocoon of Chance’s strong arms. She went to a drawer on the opposite side of the kitchen and pulled out a roll of plastic wrap.

  Her lips and body still throbbing from the thrilling contact, she lifted a staying hand and admitted softly, “That was my fault every bit as much as it was yours.”

  “Fault?” With displeasure, he zeroed in on her low, censoring tone.

  “Holidays can be really lonely.”

  He gave her a considering look. “They don’t have to be.”

  Irritated he saw so much of her feelings when she wanted him to see so little, Molly admitted, “It’s easy to find yourself reaching out in ways you normally wouldn’t.”

  His eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and compassion. “Is that what happened with Braden’s daddy?”

  “No,” Molly said, trying hard not to succumb to the unexpected tenderness in Chance’s expression.

  He leaned against the counter, arms folded in front of him, and continued to study her. “Then?”

  Maybe if Chance knew the worst about her, he would forget the sizzling physical attraction between them and realize their backgrounds were too diverse for them to ever be more than casual friends.

  Molly drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to go down the wrong path again.”

  “With me.”

  It upset her to bring this up, but she knew for both their sakes, it had to be said. Chance had to start facing the fact they were and always would be all wrong for each other. “With anyone who was born outside my social standing.”

  His brow furrowed. “You really think I’m that much of a snob?”

  She flushed and dropped her gaze to his muscular chest. “I think, in this respect, you might be as naive as I once was.”

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  Molly grabbed the spray cleaner and paper towels, then began scrubbing down the counters. “I never really dated much after my dad died. I was too busy trying to put myself through school and get my business going.”

  He moved so she could reach behind him. But not quite enough. As she reached, her shoulder lightly brushed his bicep. “Sounds like you had to grow up pretty fast.”

  Molly straightened. “All that changed when Aaron Powell III came to Laramie to look for lakeside property that could be flipped.” She grimaced at the memory. “I was asked to give a bid. I did and won the work on several houses that he and his family purchased.” She removed her apron and hung it back on the hook. Recalling her first taste of unfettered luxury, she admitted reluctantly, “I’d never been friends with anyone that ostentatiously wealthy, and Aaron swept me off my feet.”

  Chance’s expression relaxed in understanding. “How long were you together?”

  “About three months.”

  Taking her by the hand, he guided her onto the stool. Sat down beside her. “You didn’t expect it to end?”

  Molly shrugged, still wishing she hadn’t been quite so naive. Shifting so the two of them faced each other, she said, “I knew Aaron’s life was in Houston, that his shuttling back and forth continuously would stop when my work was done and the lake properties were listed. But I was okay with that. I was perfectly willing to move where he was.”

  Chance’s expression darkened. “He didn’t want that.”

  Humiliation clogged Molly’s throat. “He didn’t think that would go over so well with his fiancée.”

  An awkward silence fell.

  “You had no idea,” Chance guessed in a low, even tone.

  “None,” Molly was forced to admit. Restless, she got up and began to pace the confines of the kitchen. “Unfortunately, I was pregnant by then. And I’d already told him.”

  Giving Chance no more opportunity to ask questions, Molly rushed on. “The next thing I know the Powell family lawyer is at my door with a contract for me to sign. All I have to do is agree—in writing—not to ever publicly acknowledge paternity and a nice six-figure check is mine.”

  Jaw taut, Chance stood. “I’m pretty sure that’s not legal.”

  Molly nodded as he circled the counter and strode closer.

  “I could have forced the issue in court. I also knew if I did that, Aaron and his attorneys would use my modest financial circumstances to allege I was a gold digger and make our lives a living hell. My only priority was to protect my child from hurt.”

  The compassion in Chance’s hazel eyes spurred her to go on.

  “So I hired a lawyer and countered with an offer of my own. I would never pursue any claims of paternity, or child support, if Aaron would promise to do the same and allow me to raise Braden completely on my own.” She drew a breath. “Aaron was more than happy with that, since he didn’t really want children, never mind a bastard son from a woman from a lower social echelon.” Molly wrung her hands and lifted her chin defiantly. “So we signed an agreement...and that was that.”

  Chance searched her face. “Did you ever regret it?”

  Wasn’t that the million-dollar question!

  Molly shrugged, the barriers coming up to protect her heart once again. Steadily, she held Chance’s gaze. “I regret mistaking big, expensive romantic gestures for love. And the fact that Braden doesn’t have the devoted daddy he deserves.”

  His gaze drifted over her, igniting wildfires wherever it landed. “The latter could be fixed,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

  Maybe someday. For the first time, she was beginning to see that.

  In the meantime, she had the next phase of her life plan to execute. Molly handed Chance the wrapped, freshly baked stollen and escorted him to the door. Wary of her still-sleeping son, she eased it open, then stepped with him all the way out onto the porch. It was unseasonably warm, and the sun sparkled down on them.

  “The point is, even if fate works against us and Braden never gets the loving daddy he deserves, I still have to support my son to the very best of my ability.”

  “Which means?” Chance prodded, suddenly looking a lot less pleased.

  Molly said determinedly, “I’ve got to move to a place where I can make a lot more money than I am now. And give Braden the kind of boundless future that he deserves.”

  And that meant no more getting too friendly with Chance.

  And definitely no more kissing him!

  Chapter Four

  “How was your Thanksgiving?” Chance asked the two newest members of the Bullhaven family, now temporarily quartered in a private pasture at the Circle H.

  “Mine was the best I’ve ever had.” He set out premium feed. “You think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not.”

  Even though Molly had sort of kicked him out at the end, he’d left with a warm feeling in his chest that had continued through the night and had still lingered there when he woke up, maybe because he was going to see her again soon.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’ve got it bad...” But there were worse things than knowing what you wanted. And what he wanted right now was a Christmas holiday spent with Molly. And her adorable son.

  The momma Black Angus came toward the bucket, her bull calf, Mistletoe Jr., at her side. While she ate, the calf searched for a teat. Momma mooed gently in approval and then licked at her calf as it started to nurse.

  Satisfied all was well, Chance went to his pickup truck. The morning was slightly cool, and rain had left the air smelling clean and brisk. He got out the rest of his breakfast—a thick wedge of Christmas bread—and a thermos of hot black coffee.

  Leaning against the fender, he enjoyed the early morning quiet. Until his brother Wyatt drove up and parked beside him. An ornery look on his face, he nodded at the confection in Chance’s hand. “What’s that?”

  Chance savored another bite. “Stollen.”

  Wyatt blinked. “A—what?�
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  Chance let the citrus-flavored bread melt on his tongue. “It’s a German Christmas bread made with fruit and nuts.”

  Wyatt nodded, practically salivating now. “Looks good,” he said.

  It was more than simply good, Chance thought. It was the most amazing thing he had ever eaten. Better yet was the fact he had helped Molly and Braden make it.

  “Can I have some?” Ready to help himself, Wyatt ambled closer.

  Chance held it out of reach. “Sorry.”

  Wyatt blinked in surprise. It wasn’t like his brother to be greedy. “What do you mean no?” he demanded.

  Chance moved farther away. “I’m not sharing.”

  His brother stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Why the devil not?”

  Chance shrugged as Molly’s car turned into the lane and parked in front of the Circle H ranch house, too. “Just not.”

  She emerged from the driver’s side, looking as stunning as usual in a pair of faded jeans, a long-sleeved white T-shirt and a cropped denim jacket. She had a pair of fancy burgundy engineer boots on, a tape measure attached to her belt and a pen stuck behind one ear. Clearly she was ready to work.

  Wyatt angled a thumb at him as she approached. “Can you believe this?” Wyatt grumbled. “Chance is eating stollen and refusing to share.”

  Mischief lit her pretty amber eyes when her gaze fell to the treat in his hand. Chance gave her a look, imploring her not to give his brother information to dissect. What he and Molly had experienced was too special, too fragile, to risk or share.

  The corners of her lips turning up all the more, she sipped coffee from the travel mug in hand. Then shrugging, she gave Chance a barely tolerant look before turning back to Wyatt. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” She sighed loudly. Exactly the way she would have before they’d started working together on this job. “Your brother has never had particularly good manners.”

  That had been true, up to now, when it came to Molly. That was going to change. Because now they’d stopped quarreling long enough to kiss, he couldn’t imagine being anything but a complete Texas gentleman around her.

  Wyatt exhaled in frustration. “Fine.” He swung back around to Chance, growling as Chance popped what was left of his breakfast into his mouth. “Where did you get it then? ’Cause I don’t remember Sage making German bread at her coffee shop in town.”

  Quickly, Chance shut down that line of inquiry. His only sister was worse than his mother when it came to interfering in his love life.

  “Wasn’t there,” he confirmed.

  “Then where was it?” Wyatt persisted hungrily.

  Molly stepped between the two brothers. She interjected, “Maybe he made it?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think so.” He squinted, about to deliver another round of questions.

  Figuring Molly’d had enough amusement at his expense for one morning, Chance lifted a hand. “If you must know, it was a holiday gift from someone I do business with. Okay? Happy now?” Ignoring Wyatt, he turned to Molly. “You ready to go over the project financials...make sure we’re still on budget?”

  Her reply was cut off by the loud thump-thump-thump-thump of a helicopter approaching overhead.

  This wasn’t an uncommon sight. A lot of wealthy people had homes in or around Laramie. They often flew in and out of the local airstrip either via private jet or chopper. The hospital used air ambulances, too. But this chopper was flying incredibly low. And coming right toward the Circle H.

  While the momma cow and her baby bull hurried for cover in a strand of faraway trees, the chopper hovered over a large pasture, currently empty of livestock, and slowly, noisily set down. The motor slowed, then cut, the gusts of air fading.

  “What the...?” Chance and Wyatt murmured in unison. The door to the chopper opened. And just like that, Chance was taken back to a time and place he had never wanted to revisit.

  * * *

  FEELING EVERY BIT as stunned as the two men beside her, Molly watched as a fiftysomething woman in a long white fur coat and ostrich boots stepped out. The silvery blonde was followed by a tall, lanky man in chinos, a sweater, a black leather biker jacket and sneakers. He had a decidedly unathletic air and appeared to be in his early forties. Last out was a thin, sophisticated blonde about Molly’s age who looked like a younger version of the first woman. She had chic sunglasses over her eyes that matched her all-black clothing and body language that screamed indifference.

  “Do you know them?” Molly asked, aware that the normally unflappable Chance seemed more perturbed than the unexpected landing should have made him.

  Nodding at the approaching trio, Wyatt leaned over and quipped in Molly’s ear, “The lady in fur is Babs Holcombe, Chance’s would-have-been-mother-in-law-from-hell.”

  Oh, dear.

  “And his ex, Delia Holcombe.”

  Who was, Molly noted, quite beautiful in that dissolutely wealthy way.

  “No clue who the other dude is,” Wyatt continued helpfully.

  An unwelcoming look on his handsome face, Chance looked past them to where Mistletoe Jr. was cowering next to his momma. Sharing the concern, Wyatt touched his brother’s arm. “I’ll see to them. You take care of this.”

  Stopping just short of them, Babs looked at Molly. “You can leave, too.”

  Before Molly could react, Chance had an arm around her shoulders. “She stays,” he said gruffly.

  Molly hadn’t been planning to. But...okay...if Chance felt in need of some kind of backup, she would provide it.

  Watching as Chance dropped his arm, Babs said drolly, “Hello, Chance.”

  His scowl deepened. “Did you have permission to land that chopper here?”

  Babs waved off any difficulty. “I’m sure your mother won’t mind.”

  “What do you want?” he demanded.

  Molly hitched in a surprised breath. In all their time together, she had never heard Chance be that rude.

  “To introduce you to Mr. X—the founder of the X search engine.”

  No wonder the tall, sort of geeky guy looked familiar, Molly thought. She’d seen him being interviewed on TV. He’d also starred in commercials featuring the product that was on par with Google and Yahoo. One of the most famous new faces on the tech front, he stood to make much more than the billions he already had.

  “Mr. X would like to purchase your bucking-bull business and Bullhaven Ranch.”

  Chance snorted as if that were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. And with good reason. Molly couldn’t imagine the tech mogul running a rodeo enterprise. Even through proxy.

  Chance’s ex, who was lingering in the foreground, still appeared as if she wanted to be anywhere but there. Molly could hardly blame Delia. Coming here unannounced was a bad idea all around.

  But Mr. X did not appear to know it. Grinning enthusiastically, he told Chance, “I’ve already purchased an alligator farm in Louisiana, a minor league hockey team in Minnesota and a salmon fishery in Washington State.”

  Babs explained, “He’s aggressively adding to and diversifying his business portfolio. And he’s willing to pay top dollar.”

  Chance folded his arms, biceps bulging beneath his denim work jacket. “How nice for him.”

  Molly winced at Chance’s biting sarcasm. Glaring, he continued flatly, “My bucking-bull enterprise is not for sale.”

  Undaunted, Babs handed over a piece of paper. “You haven’t seen his offer yet.”

  Not surprisingly, Chance refused to accept or even look at it.

  “At any price,” he reiterated flatly.

  Delia took off her sunglasses and rubbed at her temples as if she had a migraine. She gave her mother a sanctioning look, then stepped forward slightly. “Just look at it, Chance. Please.”

 
“You’ll be pleasantly surprised,” Mr. X predicted happily.

  Chance turned to his ex. Something painfully intimate passed between them. Exhaling, he took the paper. Read the number, shook his head. “Not for a thousand times that.”

  Before anything else could be offered, a powder-blue Cadillac drove up behind them and parked in the drive. Chance’s mother emerged, looking coiffed and pulled together, as always. “Isn’t this a surprise!” Lucille Lockhart said.

  More introductions of Mr. X followed. Babs explained why they were there. Lucille Lockhart nodded agreeably. “Let’s all go down to the bunkhouse, where I’m living now,” she said.

  Mr. X consulted his watch. “Actually, I’m not sure we have time. I have to get back to Silicon Valley for a board meeting this evening, and I really want to tour Bullhaven Ranch before I go.” The billionaire frowned, impatient. “We could only see so much from the air.”

  Delia gauged Chance with the wisdom of an old friend. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  Her mother sent Delia a swift, censoring glance, which seemed to deflate the young woman’s spirit, before flashing a triumphant smile Chance’s way. “Never say never!” Babs murmured, linking arms with Lucille. “But you’re right. We do have some catching up to do first...”

  Or in other words, Molly thought, Babs was planning to use Lucille to pressure her son into cooperating.

  At Lucille’s cheerful urging, the trio climbed into her Cadillac while the chopper pilot appeared to get comfortable in the aircraft. In the distance, Wyatt could be seen herding the momma cow and her calf toward the safety of the barn.

  Chance was already bolting for his pickup, which made Molly wonder if he and Delia were really over or not. Every feminine instinct she had told her there was definitely some fragile connection remaining. What, precisely, she didn’t know. Nor did she understand why it mattered so much to her what that connection was based on. Anger? Lust? Regret? It wasn’t as if she were jealous or anything...