A Texas Cowboy's Christmas

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A Texas Cowboy's Christmas Page 11

by Cathy Gillen Thacker


  Glad her son was so excited about Christmas, even if she had yet to exactly work out a solution regarding his gift, Molly countered cheerfully, “I know you do.”

  Braden kicked his feet energetically. “I like bulls!” he shouted.

  As usual, Chance showed no worry over that issue. Which made Molly wonder what he knew that she didn’t. “Mistletoe and Mistletoe Jr. like you, too,” Chance reassured him.

  Braden let out a joyous whoop. “Santa bring me trains and bulls!”

  Again, Chance seemed confident it would all work out.

  Again, Molly was not sure how.

  Deciding, however, not to worry about it at this moment, when she had so much else on her agenda, she clapped her hands together and shifted toward her son, as much as her seat belt would allow. “Who wants to sing Christmas carols?”

  Braden grinned. “Me do! Me school!”

  Chance sent Molly a glance. “You’re going to have to translate...”

  Trying not to notice how handsome he was in profile, or how closely he had shaved that morning, she explained, “He’s talking about the Christmas program his preschool is having. They’ve been working on the music for weeks now.”

  Chance looked interested. “When is it?”

  Molly’s heartbeat picked up. “December 18th, ”

  “What time?”

  “Seven p.m.”

  “Can anyone go?”

  Meaning you? “Yes,” Molly said cautiously, her excitement rising.

  “But?” he prodded, when she said nothing more.

  She took a deep breath. Aware her son never missed a beat in a situation like this, she parsed her words carefully. “I’m just not sure.”

  He flashed her a sexy sidelong grin. “I’d be interested?”

  Clearly he was.

  In lots and lots of things.

  Her.

  Braden.

  Kissing her again.

  Maybe more than kissing...if the strength of his arousal during the cookie-burning incident was any indication.

  Heavens, Molly brought herself up short when she realized the silence had gone on too long and Chance was clearly wondering why. What was wrong with her? Why was she such a welter of feeling and desire whenever he was around? She’d certainly never reacted like this before!

  Not with Braden’s daddy.

  Not with anyone!

  Except Chance.

  “Because,” the object of all her wildest fantasies continued persuasively, “I am interested, Molly. Very much so.”

  Swallowing around the knot of emotion in her throat, she tried again. “I know. I can see that.”

  “Then?”

  She gestured inanely, wishing she were driving because then she’d have something else to concentrate on other than how ruggedly masculine Chance looked, even in a navy flannel shirt and jeans, or how good he smelled, like soap and sandalwood and man.

  With effort, she babbled on. “Those programs are a lot to handle. Overeager parents. Way too excited kids.” And me, making a sentimental fool of myself, getting all misty over the slightest thing.

  Did she really want Chance to see her like that?

  “Chance watch me sing!” Braden called from the backseat.

  Chance smiled as if the matter was settled. “Sounds good, buddy!”

  Braden clapped his hands. “Hurrah! Chance see me!”

  They really had to get out of this loop before Braden invited Chance to anything else.

  “Speaking of singing,” Molly said brightly. “Here we go, now! ‘We wish you a merry Christmas...’”

  Chance joined in, along with Braden, their voices blending in if not perfect harmony, at least perfect good cheer. The sound of that and the other holiday tunes that followed was enough to warm her heart. For the first time, she wished she could stay in Laramie, and see where this was all going with Chance and still give her son everything he should have. But she couldn’t. The visit to Worthington Academy had shown her that.

  To do that, she was going to have to be all in—in Dallas. Not leaving her heart behind with Chance.

  * * *

  “DOES BRADEN ALWAYS fall asleep like that?” Chance asked twenty minutes later. The child had dropped off midsong. A check in the rearview mirror had showed him snoozing away.

  Molly shot him the kind of affectionately rueful look he imagined mothers gave their babies’ daddies. The one that said, “We’re in this together.”

  And they were...

  “Pretty much. Especially in the car. It’s good though.” As their eyes briefly met, he felt warmed through and through. “We have to drop him at preschool when we get to Laramie.”

  We. He liked the sound of that.

  Molly thumbed through the calendar on her smartphone. “And he has a playdate with his best friends, Will and Justin, right after school, so I can meet your mother at the ranch house to look at the new tile we picked out this morning. Make sure she likes the way it looks in the light there before we take what’s already up of the current backsplash down.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  “I hope so,” she said, her soft lips tightening anxiously. “A lot is riding on this job.”

  A lot was riding on a lot of things, Chance thought. He continued driving while Molly got on the phone with the crew working at the remodeling site.

  He’d never considered himself that much of a family guy.

  But then he’d never traveled with anyone like Molly, or anyone as cute as Braden, either.

  He’d been cast in the daddy role and found he liked it. A lot. But then this holiday season was full of surprises, he realized, as he hit the town limits and parked in front of Braden’s preschool.

  Molly woke her son and walked him in, then Chance drove Molly home, so she could change clothes before driving out to the ranch to meet him and his mother and the rest of their work crews.

  He walked her as far as her front door.

  She rummaged for her key. “You don’t have to stay.”

  “Don’t want me to come in?”

  She paused and looked at him in a way that said she did. “We’re already running late.”

  And he knew if he did go in, they might very well be even later.

  Putting his disappointment aside—this was something that could be picked up later—when they weren’t rushed—he turned and headed for his own truck, which had been left parked at the curb. “I’ll see you at the Circle H.”

  Smiling, she waved goodbye. “I won’t be long.”

  He grinned back, aware he was counting on that. And much more.

  “You look happy,” Lucille observed, when he walked in to the renovation in progress, at the Circle H ranch house.

  He felt happy. Not wanting to discuss his feelings, he shrugged, and turned his glance to the work that had been done in their absence. “Time of year, I guess.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Don’t read more into this, Mom,” Chance warned.

  “Hey.” Lucille lifted her well-manicured hands in surrender. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

  “Who’s happy?” Molly asked cheerfully, strolling in, too.

  “Everyone, it seems.” Lucille smiled.

  Especially Molly, Chance thought. She had never looked better in a pair of designer jeans, cranberry cashmere turtleneck and a black down field jacket. Sexy. Competent. Warm. Kind. Feisty. Pretty much everything that was on his list for the perfect woman.

  Oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, Molly asked his mom, “What do you think of the substitute tile we picked out, now that you can see it in person?”

  Lucille viewed it from all angles. “I actually like it better than the original.”

  “G
ood.” Molly’s body relaxed in relief. “Then we’ll get started on taking down what we put up, so we can go forward.”

  “Wonderful!” Lucille said.

  Tank, one of the construction guys on Chance’s crew, entered. “Express delivery service van from Dallas out here for you. Somebody want to sign?”

  Chance bit down on an oath. Not good.

  “I’ll get it,” Molly volunteered.

  “That’s okay.” He moved around her, motioning for her to stay put. “I’ll get the tile.”

  Molly shot him an odd look and dug in. “I want to check it out before he leaves.” They’d taken the samples in her SUV. The rest had needed to be delivered via courier. “You can do that in here,” Chance said gallantly. “The guys and I will carry the boxes in.”

  Molly gave him another odd look. “I can carry some.”

  “You really don’t need to do this,” Chance dissented.

  Molly looked mutinous, but then Lucille stepped in. “Goodness, let’s all go then.”

  They’d barely made it through the door when the delivery driver said from the back of the van, “Are the boxes from the Toy Emporium going here, too?”

  Molly looked at Chance. He wasn’t about to get into this here and now. “Those should go to the bunkhouse,” he decreed quickly. “Mom, would you mind showing the driver?”

  An old pro at social maneuvering, Lucille covered her confusion. “Not at all.”

  Molly peeked into the back of the van. “Are all those for here?”

  The uniformed driver nodded. “Somebody’s going to have a very good Christmas from the looks of it.”

  Except it wasn’t a good surprise for Molly, Chance noted, judging by the aggrieved look on her lovely face as she turned around, got in her car and left the ranch. It was more like her worst nightmare.

  Lucille patted him on the arm. “Looks like you have some explaining to do, son.”

  And then some, Chance thought, wincing.

  It would be better done without an audience.

  * * *

  MOLLY HAD NO sooner gotten home than her doorbell rang.

  Chance stood on her porch. “We need to talk.”

  She glared at him, not sure when she had felt so hurt and simultaneously left out. “Do we?” She didn’t think so.

  He brushed past anyway. Waited for her to shut the door behind them. Then shrugged out of his coat, his tall body seeming to fill up the space of her foyer the way the rest of him filled up her heart. Grimly, he surmised, “You’re mad at me because I bought a train set for Braden.”

  Knowing she had to do something with her hands or she would probably throw something at his handsome head, Molly went back to what she had neglected to do earlier—unpack her overnight bag.

  Grabbing the handful of dirty clothing from the day before, she carried it to the back of the house to the laundry room.

  “It’s not just any train set, Chance. It’s the deluxe collector’s edition. The one with every Leo and Lizzie component ever made thus far. The one that costs more than some small cars!”

  Brawny arms folded in front of him, he watched as she sprayed the ketchup stains on Braden’s clothing with prewash, then tossed them into the washing machine. “As you once pointed out to me, it’s quality stuff that will last for years. And could even be passed down to the next generation.”

  She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Please don’t tell me you actually believe that!”

  “Okay, how about this?” he countered, reaching for several pieces of laundry she had dropped.

  Unfortunately, it was her red satin bra and bikini set.

  He crumpled them in his hand, much as he had the first time he’d undressed her. “I wanted him to have it.”

  Snatching the lingerie from his fingers, Molly tossed them in the wicker basket she kept for unmentionables. Trying not to put momentary pleasure ahead of long-range goals, she tried again to talk sense into Chance. “I’d like Braden to have a lot of things, but this is way too much.”

  He lounged in the portal, gaze moving over her lingeringly, as if he were already mentally ending this argument by making love to her. “So let me give him some of it now, and then some more on his birthday and so on. Kind of like I’ve been doing with the Christmas villages, which, by the way, aren’t finished yet.”

  Molly put two shirts in the washer, then realized they were navy and black and everything in the tub was white. She plucked them back out again, lest she get further sidetracked, start the darn machine and then have everything she washed turn an ugly blue-grey.

  Deciding to leave starting the machine for later, she marched past him. “This is different, Chance.”

  He followed. “How?”

  She removed Braden’s blanket and Rudolph from the suitcase and set them on the sofa for him to find when he returned home.

  Aware Chance was truly trying to understand now, she drew a deep breath. “It was one thing for you to buy a brand-new set of building blocks for Braden to play with at your place when you invited us to lunch. It made sense for you to have something for him to do,” she told him kindly. “And you can use those for your nephew Max when he comes over to play.” So it wasn’t all for Braden.

  “But?”

  Molly could tell from the sardonic curve of his lip he still thought she was in the wrong. “This excess on your part just highlights the difference between us when it comes to money. To you, this is nothing. To me, it’s a year of mortgage payments!”

  He came closer. “If you are so concerned about excess, then why apply to Worthington Academy, where the tuition is more than some colleges?”

  “A place like that will bring him boundless life opportunities.”

  “It will still cost an arm and a leg.”

  Ducking her head, she zipped the suitcase and reluctantly admitted, “He’s applying as a scholarship student.” Embarrassed to have to say that, because it made her feel like a failure, as a parent, to have to rely on charity to meet her son’s needs, she rushed on, “The stipend Worthington Academy offers doesn’t pay everything, of course. But it’s enough that, if Braden does get in, I could afford it and then, hopefully, after a couple of years at a much higher income for me, he wouldn’t even need that financial assistance to go there.”

  Chance spread his hands wide. “Look, if he gets in, I can help you with that—if it’s what you really want for him. You don’t have to rely on scholarship.”

  Molly carried the suitcase to the garage and stuck it on a shelf. She spun back around and marched into the house. Once again, he was using money—his money—to solve everything. “You’re missing the point, Chance,” she said angrily.

  “No. You’re missing the point!” Chance returned gruffly. “I did what I did because I care enough about you and your son to want to see you happy.”

  Tears of frustration blurred her vision. With trembling fingers, Molly wiped them away. “Buying us extravagant stuff won’t achieve that!”

  “Then what will?” he demanded, taking her by the shoulders.

  Love, Molly thought.

  Shocked by the notion, she shook her head. Too late, he had seen the raw need reflected in her eyes. He caught her hand and pulled her to him. The next thing she knew he was sliding his fingers through her hair, kissing her lips, her cheek, her hair and then, ever so wantonly, her lips again. It was almost as if he were on a mission, not just to make her his but to give her every Christmas wish she had ever wanted.

  A man in her life who would give her everything.

  A man who adored her son as much as she did.

  A hot affair.

  Someone to share life’s up and downs with.

  He cradled her cheek in his hand. “Tell me you forgive me for overstepping,” he whispered, kissing her hotly,
thoroughly again. “Tell me you’ll give me a second chance.”

  “To be friends?”

  “To be a hell of a lot more than just friends.” He slid a hand beneath her knees. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her up the stairs, down the hall to her bedroom. He had never been in there before. And she wouldn’t have wanted him to see it now, with clothes draped everywhere. “Burglary?” he joked.

  “Wardrobe crisis,” she murmured in a strangled voice. For the trip to Dallas. Because I wanted to look good for you. Somehow she managed not to hide her eyes. “Don’t ask.”

  “Okay if we clear a space?” He set her down gently on the floor.

  “I’ll help.” Her sense of humor returning as quickly as her smile, Molly picked up an armload of garments and tossed them onto a nearby reading chair. He laughed and carried the rest over and set it on top.

  The sheets were already rumpled. She hadn’t had time the previous morning to make her bed.

  “Now, where were we?” he asked her, easing his hands beneath the hem of her sweater.

  “Kissing and making up?” At least that was where she wanted them to be. She hated fighting with him. Hated the thought that they might go back to what they had been, irritants who did nothing more than get each other’s goat.

  He grinned. “I think I can pick up there...” He gathered her close and lifted her face to his. Their mouths met, and she savored the feeling of his lips moving over hers. He kissed her like there was nothing standing between them, nothing but this moment in time. And it wasn’t hard to stay in the moment, not when his hands were sifting through her hair, his tongue was playing with hers, even as the powerful muscles of his chest abraded the softness of her breasts and, lower still, his hardness pressed against her belly.

  Something was happening between them, something that thus far had surpassed her wildest expectations. And she could no more deny it than the desire welling up inside her. Her knees weakening, her whole body swaying, she threw herself into the kiss. She ran her hands over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt, tugging the thermal tee from the waistband of his jeans. She smoothed her hands over the warm, satiny muscles of his pecs, finding out his nipples were as hard as hers. She kissed his neck, savoring the salty taste of his skin.

 

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