A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

by Cathy McDavid

  Molly circled the table and slid into the chair across from him, glad for the breathing room. What she hadn’t counted on was feeling his gaze on her and connecting with it each time she looked up. Was there no escaping him?

  “I got a call from the mayor’s office today,” Bridget said. “They asked if we’d like a bigger space for the Holly Daze Festival. There was a cancellation.”

  Darn it. With everything going on lately, her tiff with Owen included, the annual town event had slipped Molly’s mind.

  “What do you think?” she asked her sister.

  “That if we don’t get to work today on our display, we won’t be able to fill the space already assigned to us. The festival starts on Friday.”

  That soon! Molly cringed. “Any ideas? There are plenty of the new brochures left.”

  “I saw them at the feed store,” Owen interjected. He’d eaten two cookies and was eyeing a third. “You did a good job. Fred’s given most of his away.”

  “Thanks.” She wished his praise didn’t ignite a soft glow inside her.

  Bridget frowned. “I’m not going to sit at a table for hours on end just to hand out brochures.”

  “What about a giveaway people enter to win?”

  Luckily, the children were occupied with their afternoon snack and being relatively quiet, allowing the adults to converse.

  “We could hold a raffle for a free Valentine’s Day wedding,” Nora suggested. “Just the basic ceremony. None of the extras.”

  Molly considered that. “We already have multiple weddings booked that day and I’m sure we’ll get more requests. I’d rather leave the day open for paying clients.”

  It was a popular day for weddings as well as proposals, Molly had learned. They’d agreed they could accommodate as many as six ceremonies if they adhered to a strict schedule. Their closest competitor, a Victorian house in Gilbert, had ten weddings scheduled.

  “A Valentine’s Day Eve ceremony? Or a romantic couples weekend?” Nora snapped her fingers. “I know, a discount on any of our services or the cabins.” Her executive assistant experience was showing.

  “Maybe.” Molly liked the idea of raffling off discount tickets best. “Let’s look at costs and dates after we’re done here. We could easily print up our own entry tickets.”

  Nora popped a snowman’s head into her mouth. “Don’t forget to include a line for email addresses.”

  Molly had already thought of that.

  The ideas continued to flow for the next ten minutes, many of them good. Owen suggested they take the carriage and horses to the festival and tie them to a stake behind the table. Everyone agreed that was sure to draw people. Bridget offered to bring some of her holiday treats. She had a new recipe to try.

  “I also think Owen should come decked out in his wedding officiator clothes.” Nora patted his arm. “People will love meeting you.”

  “I agree!” Bridget exclaimed. “You’re so handsome and charming, we’ll have the most popular table there.”

  Looking chagrined, Owen reached for the third cookie. “I can’t stay all day. Not with having to watch these guys. But I’ll be there both Friday and Saturday evenings and on Sunday afternoon. As long as I can bring them with me and have some free time each day to take in the festival.”

  “That’ll work.” Bridget beamed.

  “If we’re done, let me help with the dishes.” Owen stood and began collecting empty milk glasses. “Willa’s ready for her nap.”

  The toddler was falling asleep in her chair.

  “You go on,” Bridget insisted. “There’s hardly any mess.”

  “Daddy.” Marisa tugged on his sleeve. “I’m bored. Can we play Twister?”

  “After Willa wakes up.”

  Molly waited for Owen to say something to her about the hug, only he didn’t. Grabbing their coats and jackets, he wrangled his kids into them with Nora’s help and then started to leave by way of the parlor, Willa in his arms and holding Marisa by the hand. Cody tried to run ahead but Owen called him back.

  “Say goodbye, everyone.”

  His two oldest dutifully did as told. Willa looked over Owen’s shoulder and waved.

  Molly stalled for a minute, checking her phone. There was no return call from Grandma Em and no pressing emails.

  “If you’re just going to stand there,” Bridget said, motioning to the sink, “grab a washrag and wipe down the table.”

  Molly moved but not toward the sink. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going!”

  “Be right back,” she repeated and hurried through the parlor to the foyer and out the front door. Owen was loading his children into his truck. “Owen,” she called. “Wait up.”

  He peered over his shoulder. “Did I forget something?”

  “I wanted to explain.” She slowed to a stop a few feet from the truck, not wishing to be overheard.

  “About what?” He issued a warning to his children to stay and then joined Molly.

  Her courage promptly abandoned her. She cleared her throat to buy time. Owen waited, humor lighting his eyes. Did he find her discomfort amusing?

  “The hug in the kitchen,” she forced herself to say. “I, um, don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It meant nothing. I was excited about the magazine article is all.”

  “I know.”

  “Ah, okay. I wanted to make sure.”

  “No worries.”

  Seriously? Had he not felt the same sizzling electricity as her when they were entwined like a pair of cuddle bugs?

  He looked at her quizzically. “Is that it?”

  “Yes. No.”

  “Which is it?”

  Why had she come outside? Dumb decision on her part. “Thank you for not making more of the hug than it was.”

  “I said I’d give you space, Molly.”

  And he had. He’d been a perfect gentleman all this week, which inexplicably annoyed her, as did this conversation.

  The next instant, his lips were perilously close to hers, catching her off guard. “FYI, if this job with Craft-Right works out, all agreements are null and void.”

  Molly stilled, and a small tingle blossomed in her heart. She locked her knees before they buckled.

  I’m mad at him, she thought. Mad and hurt.

  Except she wasn’t. Not anymore.

  “See you later,” Owen murmured in a voice like honey.

  If she stayed a moment longer, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. Pivoting, she hurried into the house. Bridget and Nora were waiting for her in the kitchen, and the two of them immediately confronted Molly.

  “What’s going on with you and Owen?” Bridget demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  Both Bridget and Nora laughed. “You are such a liar,” Bridget accused. “We saw you through the parlor window.”

  “You were spying on me?”

  “I thought he was going to kiss you,” Nora remarked.

  “I thought she was going to kiss him,” Bridget countered. “You should have seen them hugging. I came this close to dousing them with cold water.”

  “You’re both being ridiculous.” Molly then attempted to throw them off by bringing up the Holly Daze Festival.

  She had no intention of letting anyone know she’d already kissed Owen. Twice. Especially Bridget, who’d never let Molly live it down.

  * * *

  MOLLY SAT AT the table, rubbing her gloved hands together. Though not freezing cold, it was a chilly December evening in Mustang Valley. A full moon and strikingly clear sky made it a perfect night to kick off the Holly Daze Festival. Locals had come in droves, along with visitors from as far away as Casa Grande to the southeast and Surprise to the northwest.

  By alternating shifts, Molly and Bridget would be able to man their table at the festival
for the full three days. Not, however, without help from Nora, her granddaughter Tracee and—Molly bit down on her lip—Owen.

  They still weren’t speaking all that much. Molly’s doing entirely, her post-hug awkward feelings continuing to linger. Plus, they were busy. Besides preparing for the festival, a last-minute wedding had been booked for Sunday evening at seven. Like the previous week, this one would be simple and small and not a lot of work. The festival closed at five that day; Molly and Bridget would be scrambling to pack up and return to the ranch in time to greet the couple.

  Molly had booked a second wedding on New Year’s Eve. Adding to their workload, Grandma Em called earlier with several requests for her and Homer’s vow renewal ceremony New Year’s Day. Molly barely had a free minute to breathe.

  Thankfully, Nora and Tracee had volunteered to assist at the festival all day Saturday, allowing Molly and Bridget to take breaks. The teenager was cute and friendly and would be great at passing out brochures and raffle entry tickets. That left Molly, Bridget and Owen alone tonight.

  The park in the center of town had been transformed. The long expanse of green stretching between the riding trails, playground and the community center was covered with three-sided tents, open tables, food trucks, a ten-foot-tall inflatable snowman with a mechanical waving arm and cordoned-off displays, including an interactive Santa’s workshop.

  One of the more popular attractions was the petting zoo. Confined inside the temporary fencing were a trio of disinterested sheep, a family of rambunctious goats that tried to make meals of buttons and shoelaces, a potbellied pig determined to hide in the corner, and two of the cutest miniature horses on the planet.

  Molly wondered if the petting zoo proprietor would be willing to walk the tiny equines over to where Amos and Moses were standing quietly beside Sweetheart Ranch’s table. The four of them, on opposite ends of the size spectrum, would make an adorable picture the ranch could use in their advertisements.

  The horses didn’t mind standing for several hours or being petted by hundreds of strangers. People climbing in and out of the carriage and taking endless pictures earned no more than an ear flicker.

  The Haflingers and their miniature cousins weren’t alone at the festival. Several locals had ridden their horses to the park rather than driving vehicles, causing quite a stir with the out-of-towners.

  Molly had been fielding questions and dropping entry tickets in the fishbowl since the festival gates had opened ninety minutes ago. She and Bridget had arrived an hour earlier than that to set up.

  Owen, too. He’d driven the carriage from the ranch to the park, about a two-mile trip. The children had come with him, and Tracee went along to supervise. She’d disappeared to meet up with friends the moment they’d arrived at the park.

  Together, Molly and Bridget had delivered everything else needed for their display to the park. It was a big job, and her back and legs were paying the price.

  “Where’s Owen?” Bridget asked. She sat beside Molly at the table, holiday bread samples on a tray in front of her. At the last minute, she’d painted a poster board sign which they’d hung from the table.

  “He took the children to the petting zoo and to eat at one of the food vendors.” Molly kept a keen eye on the horses, ready to jump up whenever someone neared.

  “Lucky them. I’m starving.” Bridget lifted her nose and filled her lungs. “Don’t you just love the smell of kettle corn and cinnamon buns?”

  Molly did. And the calories went straight to her hips. “Go ahead and take off when Owen comes back.” They needed a minimum of two people, one at the table and one to watch the horses.

  “You think he’s okay?” Bridget asked, her brows scrunched together.

  “Owen? Sure. Why?”

  “He’s been acting differently these past few days. Did you two fight again?”

  “No. We’re getting along fine.”

  Their conversation was put on hold as a large group meandered over. Bridget passed out bread samples while Molly chatted up the raffle prizes.

  “I wonder how his second interview with Craft-Right went,” Bridget said when the group left. “Wasn’t it today?”

  “He didn’t say a word to me.” In hindsight, Molly should have inquired. With everything going on, she’d forgotten to wish him luck and check in with him after the interview.

  “How did he look afterward? Happy or disappointed?”

  “I was gone when he came home. I mean got back.”

  Owen’s home was in north Phoenix, and he’d be returning there when he left the ranch.

  A heavy weight suddenly formed inside Molly’s chest and pressed against her heart. She was convinced it had nothing to do with Owen leaving in the near future and that she’d miss him. Must be her tummy complaining about missing dinner.

  “I’m crossing my fingers for him.” Bridget straightened the tray of samples in preparation of a young family breaking free from the flowing stream of humanity and coming toward them.

  After patiently listening to Molly’s pitch and filling out the entry ticket for the raffle, the mom asked Molly if she’d mind taking a picture of them with the horses.

  “Please?” She smiled hopefully.

  “Happy to.” Molly accepted the woman’s phone and directed the shot.

  The family left and others took their place. Molly had just finished assisting a charming older couple down from the carriage when a low-flying missile collided with the back of her sore legs. Emitting out a loud “Oomph,” she pitched forward, managing to catch herself on the carriage door a split second before she face planted on the ground.

  The missile, human apparently, had grown arms and now had a hold of Molly’s knees. She looked down to see a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer cap and pink jacket.

  Willa.

  Owen rounded the carriage and grabbed her arm. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She straightened.

  “Willa took off running the second she saw you. I couldn’t stop her.”

  “Hey, little one.” She tugged on Rudolph’s red nose. Willa hadn’t yet released her.

  Neither had Owen. His hand remained firmly in place. Through the layers of her sweater and coat, she could feel the pressure of his strong fingers, and her body reacted by humming softly. She may not want to like his touch but she did.

  Willa finally let go and raised her arms to Molly in the universal pick-me-up gesture. “Mawee.”

  It was the first time Willa had used Molly’s name, and the weight in her chest grew a little heavier. Owen wasn’t the only one she’d miss. She’d miss his children, too, when they left on Christmas morning. Maybe she should buy them gifts.

  Swinging Willa high in the air, Molly propped her on a hip. The movement dislodged Owen’s hand, and he let it fall to his side. Cold air rushed to fill the spot where he’d held her.

  “Are you having fun at the festival?” Molly asked the toddler.

  Willa babbled a lengthy answer. Molly had no idea what she was saying but Willa pointed in the direction of the Christmas tree in the center of the park and the petting zoo.

  Holding her, Molly was reminded of the day they’d ridden in the carriage through town and Willa had sat in her lap. That had been nice. This was, too.

  Cody came over. “Daddy gave us ten dollars each to spend. Then he made us give two dollars to the charity.” He said “charity” as if trying it out for the first time. “For kids who Santa doesn’t visit.”

  “The holiday toy drive,” Owen said.

  Marisa looked ready to cry. “What if Santa can’t find us here?”

  “You could write him a letter,” Molly suggested. “I’m sure your dad will help.”

  “If he doesn’t come,” Cody announced, “then we get toys from the charity.”

  Owen tugged on his son’s ear. “So much for showing them the value o
f giving back.”

  Molly thought he’d done a wonderful job.

  “I’m starving,” Bridget proclaimed and stood up from the table. Marisa and Cody were there, having coaxed her out of yet another piece of holiday bread. “Molly, do you and Owen mind holding down the fort for a while? I absolutely have to eat.”

  A short while after she left, Nora came by with her daughter and several of her younger grandchildren. She gave Molly a curious look but made no comment about her holding Willa, who abruptly wanted down to play with the other children.

  “Owen, why don’t I take your three with us?” Nora offered.

  “You sure?”

  In response, Nora asked, “Who wants to jump in the bouncy house?”

  Two minutes later, Molly and Owen were left alone.

  He stood next to the horses and introduced himself as Sweetheart Ranch’s resident wedding officiator. As always, his naturally charming personality paid off. The number of entry tickets in the fishbowl nearly doubled while the stack of brochures shrank at record speed. One couple actually scheduled an appointment with Molly for early January. That was after Owen mentioned the ranch being featured in an upcoming issue of Southwest Bride Magazine—something Molly mentally kicked herself for not thinking of.

  With his Stetson hat and rugged good looks, people flocked to him like flies to molasses. Molly appreciated his assistance. She was also glad she hadn’t put her foot down and fired him after the kitten incident. Sometimes, depending on circumstances, it was okay to bend the rules for the greater good. That was another lesson she’d learned since coming to Mustang Valley.

  Bridget returned and squeezed into her seat at the table. “Yikes, I leave for a few minutes and business is booming.”

  “No kidding.” Molly rubbed her temple.

  “Headache?”

  “A small one.” That was growing by the minute. “I should have asked you to bring me back some food.”

  “What happened while I was gone?”

  Molly informed Bridget of the excellent progress they’d made in her absence while Owen bedazzled a trio of college-aged women who didn’t hide the fact they were smitten with him. They each made a point of touching his arm or shoulder when he helped them down from the carriage and cozying up next to him afterward.