A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

by Cathy McDavid

  “I swear, Molly, I’ll do my best not to let that happen.”

  “I believe you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

  A light came to her eyes, and the hope he’d been holding at bay broke free, filling his chest. “Is that a yes?”

  “It’s a let’s see what happens. No promises.”

  “Sorry, not good enough.”

  Her smile began to fade. “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s New Year’s Day. A time for resolutions. I’m making several of them and intend to keep every one.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and removed the package containing the double-heart necklace he’d planned on giving her at Christmas. “Open it.”

  “Owen, I wasn’t... I don’t have—”

  “Shh.” He placed the package in her hand. “Just do it.”

  She gasped softly upon seeing the necklace. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  He closed his hand over hers, the necklace nestled between their palms. “Molly O’Malley, I promise to treat you with respect and to always listen with an open heart and mind. I promise to value your opinions and not dismiss them. I promise to make you laugh and to be a shoulder for you to cry on. I promise to keep things interesting and exciting, to delight in our differences and cherish our similarities. I promise to learn from you and grow into a better version of myself. Lastly, I promise to kiss you every day.”

  “Oh, really?” She arched her brows.

  “Many times every day.”

  Her expression softened. “That almost sounds like a wedding vow.”

  “I’ve been reciting a lot of those lately.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “You should know, I date with purpose, not casually. I want for this to go somewhere and last a long time. If you’re not on board, now’s the time to say something.”

  “I’m on board.”

  That was all he needed to hear. Owen jumped to his feet and led her out of the chapel, through the foyer, and to the front door. The crowd there had moved to the parlor leaving Owen and Molly alone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, laughing.

  He pointed to the mistletoe hanging above them.

  “You could have kissed me in the chapel.”

  “This is better. More meaningful.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her onto her tiptoes, then off her feet entirely. Their kiss was gentle and sweet at first but soon escalated in intensity, a reflection of their feelings for each other.

  Something filled him then, an emotion that had been missing for too long. Contentment. Molly’s soft sigh spoke of that same contentment, and he pulled her closer.

  When he finally released her moments later, he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither could she.

  Laying her head against his chest, she sighed expansively. Owen was content to remain where they were, holding her indefinitely. Too soon they were interrupted by a pair of departing guests.

  Owen didn’t mind. Later, when they were the only ones left downstairs, he’d kiss her again. And again.

  EPILOGUE

  “TURN HIM TO the left, son. That’s right. Don’t let him walk away with you.”

  Owen called out instructions to Cody, who sat atop Moses. The draft horse’s large size dwarfed the young boy, giving the pair a comical appearance.

  “I wanna ride, Daddy.” Marisa stood beside Owen, tugging on his jacket sleeve. “You said I could.”

  Willa added her vote to the mix. “Me, too!”

  At almost three, she was quickly catching up to her siblings. Owen couldn’t believe how much they’d grown this past year. Before long, he’d be teaching them to drive a car rather than ride.

  “All right.” Owen lifted the girls one at a time onto Popeye, the pony he’d purchased back in April. “Hold on tight.”

  This particular riding lesson was taking place in front of the ranch house on a lazy and unseasonably warm Christmas afternoon. After picking the kids up at their mother’s, Owen had brought them home to Mustang Valley for the next couple of days. He, Molly and the rest of her family had postponed opening presents until the kids arrived. They’d insisted on trying out the new chaps and cowboy hats “Santa” had left for them with Owen. Since Molly, her sister and grandmother were busy getting ready for a small evening wedding, keeping the kids busy with Moses and Popeye and out of the way had seemed like a good idea.

  Owen couldn’t help thinking back on all the changes from a year ago. He’d found a house to rent after the sale of the feed store had gone through. The owner of the house was willing to sell it to Owen, and they’d recently entered discussions. He’d been waiting to buy the house until the store was making what he considered a decent profit, and he’d reached that point in October, well ahead of the schedule he’d set for himself.

  Pinkie Pie had settled in nicely, turning out to be a good cat. Except for when the kids were staying with him, she lived at the store, earning her kibbles by keeping mice out of the grain and entertaining the customers.

  Entrepreneurship. Owen had been heading down that path since he quit the rodeo circuit. He just hadn’t seen it until coming to Mustang Valley—and until Molly had pointed out to him that he was at a career crossroads. Luckily, he’d wised up before losing her altogether.

  When he wasn’t at the store or one of the kids’ events, he helped out at Sweetheart Ranch. With their hectic schedules and free time at a premium, it was an arrangement that enabled Owen and Molly to see each other as much as possible.

  Who was he kidding? He just wanted to be with her whenever and however. That, he supposed, was what happened when someone fell deeply and completely in love like he had with Molly. He’d been ready to commit to more almost from when they’d started dating. She, however, had insisted on waiting, citing that they had a lot on their respective plates with the feed store and the ranch.

  So, Owen had bid his time. Until today. The Christmas gift he’d given her earlier had been a decoy. His real gift was in his jacket pocket where it would stay until the moment was right.

  He was confident her family would approve. His, too. Owen’s parents had taken to Molly immediately during their visit last February and became good friends with her over Thanksgiving when they visited again.

  With business booming, Molly existed in a near constant state of panic. Even so, she always set aside two evenings during the week when she’d let herself relax. Whenever possible, she went with Owen to Cody’s soccer practice or the girls’ dance classes. The kids adored her, and she doted on them.

  Life, Owen thought, didn’t get much better than this. Well, it could be, he amended and patted his jacket pocket.

  While shooting a video with his phone of the kids riding, the door to the ranch house suddenly flew open, and Molly came running down the veranda steps, shirttails flying and her face flushed.

  “Owen! Owen! Look at this.” Reaching him, she took hold of his hands. “You’ll never guess who just called. The editor from Southwest Bride Magazine.”

  “On Christmas day?”

  “She apologized for disturbing us, but apparently the final edition’s been approved, and she wanted us to know.” Molly grinned excitedly. “They named Sweetheart Ranch as their editor’s choice for this year’s best wedding venue.”

  “You’re kidding. That’s great, sweetheart.” He pulled her into a fierce hug.

  The flattering article featuring Sweetheart Ranch from last February had impacted the ranch greatly, bringing in a slew of new customers from all over the country. And while not singlehandedly responsible for the ranch’s impressive growth this past year, it had contributed greatly. Molly’s cross-promotion efforts with other local businesses, including Owen’s store, had also paid off. She wasn’t just a success at her job, she was a powerhouse.

  “What’s going on, Daddy?” Marisa nudged Popeye into a tr
ot and rode over to them. Behind her, Willa held on, squealing with delight.

  “Molly got some really good news.”

  Cody, too, rode over. “Does this mean we can have cake?” For him, all celebrations were good for one thing: dessert.

  “Maybe later.” Owen turned back to Molly. “You should send a copy of the excerpt from the magazine to your former clients and everyone on your mailing list.”

  “And hang a framed copy in the foyer!”

  “Molly,” Bridget called from the veranda. “You need to come inside. The bride just phoned. There’s a small problem with the ceremony, and Grandma needs your advice.”

  “Oh, boy.” Molly started to go. “It never ends.”

  Owen tugged on her hand. “Don’t go yet. I have something for you.”

  “Now?” She patted his cheek. “Can’t it wait?”

  “I’ve waited long enough. Two months, to be precise. That’s how long I’ve been planning this.”

  “Planning what?” The look of confusion on her face instantly cleared when he removed the small velvet box from his jacket pocket, and her hands flew to her mouth. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Molly O’Malley, I love you with all my heart.” He flipped the lid on the box to reveal a diamond solitaire ring that sparkled in the bright sunlight. “You are more than the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, you’re—”

  “Yes!” She let out a gasp. “I’ll marry you.”

  “I haven’t finished.”

  “You don’t have to. I accept.”

  Owen laughed. So much for the flowery speech he’d prepared. Removing the ring from the box, he slipped it on her finger.

  “I love it!” she exclaimed, holding her hand and admiring the ring.

  “What about me?”

  She threw herself at him. “That, my darling, goes without saying.”

  He held her close and nuzzled her ear. “This is only the beginning for us.”

  As he pressed his lips to hers, he dimly heard Cody saying, “Ew...” and Bridget hollering in the distance, “Hurry up, no time for that.”

  He ignored them. Molly did, too.

  * * * * *

  Look for the next book in Cathy McDavid’s The Sweetheart Ranch miniseries,

  coming May 2019, only from Harlequin Heartwarming!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Rescued by the Firefighter by Catherine Lanigan.

  Join Harlequin My Rewards today and earn a FREE ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Heartwarming title.

  You’ve got to have heart.... Harlequin Heartwarming celebrates wholesome, heartfelt relationships imbued with the traditional values so important to you: home, family, community and love.

  Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Heartwarming every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  Join Harlequin My Rewards and reward the book lover in you!

  Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever and whenever you shop.

  Turn your points into FREE BOOKS of your choice

  OR

  EXCLUSIVE GIFTS from your favorite authors or series.

  Click here to join for FREE

  Or visit us online to register at

  www.HarlequinMyRewards.com

  Harlequin My Rewards is a free program (no fees) without any commitments or obligations.

  Rescued by the Firefighter

  by Catherine Lanigan

  CHAPTER ONE

  Indian Lake, Indiana

  July

  THE SUMMER NIGHT sounds of chirping tree frogs and cicadas drifted through the open screen window of Beatrice Wilcox’s sixty-year-old log cabin. Loving the wildlife melodies, she closed her eyes, her weary body spent from a long day with ten rowdy, sometimes frustratingly taciturn children and preteens.

  But running this camp was her dream. She wanted to create a summer idyll for kids who faced challenges in their young lives, as she had when she’d been a camper herself as a child.

  But how to pay for it? Worrying over money often kept her awake at night. Tonight being no exception.

  She kicked the old patchwork quilt off her body. Then she flung her forearm over her brow. She was still wide awake.

  Breathing a sigh, she sniffed the air. And froze. Then sniffed again.

  “It...can’t be.”

  Curling through the screen was pungent smoke. Not the smoke from a cigarette or cigar, or the acrid, bitter smoke from a country farmer burning garbage. This was clean smoke. The kind from burning vegetation.

  Beatrice bolted upright in her bed, her eyes wide. She tossed aside the sheets and swung her legs to the rag rug she’d made herself that covered the painted concrete floor.

  “No!”

  Going to the window, she cranked the casement window open wide. The smell of smoke was unmistakable. “Not a fire. Not now. Not ever!”

  Spinning around, she shoved her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her cell phone off the varnished tree-stump table.

  “Please don’t let it be one of the cabins. Or the kitchen!” She raced out to her front porch, the wood screen door banging behind her. The yellow “bug” light on the front porch did a good job of keeping the mosquitoes and flies away, but unfortuntely gave little illumination. She leaned over the wide log railing that extended down the four steps to the gravel path that served as her sidewalk.

  The camp consisted of ten sturdy small log cabins, with five on either side of the main dining hall and activities center. Up the hill at the end of the five cabins was a larger cabin that housed the male counselors, though right now there was only the one. Beatrice’s cabin was on the left side after the five girls’ cabins and a larger cabin for the female counselors.

  Her eyes scoured the little cabins and the main hall. She saw nothing amiss.

  Walking farther down the path, she stopped abruptly as a crimson glow illuminated the side of her face. She turned toward the forest that stretched for acres across the country road. “Oh, no!”

  Forest fire.

  The summer had been hot and dry with barely a sprinkle of rain in the past month. The Weather Channel had said it was the driest summer in Indian Lake history. This was Southern California weather, not northern Indiana weather. July was known for heat in Indiana, and even soared over one hundred degrees, but seldom did the region get this dry. In recent weeks, the corn was withering on the stalks. The leaves of the soybean crops were already turning golden six weeks ahead of normal.

  She punched in 911 on her phone.

  “What is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

  “Fire! I’m at Indian Lake Youth Camp. Up Highway Thirty-Five. There’s fire in the woods across the road. It’s been so dry, I’m afraid the fire could move fast and head right for us.”

  She looked around and saw the light in Maisie and Cindy’s cabin switch on. Cindy had just turned twenty-two, and though a year younger than Maisie, she possessed a child’s boundless energy. She was pulling a light sweatshirt over her head as she rushed out onto her porch.

  Beatrice beckoned to Cindy, who started running toward her, her sneakers digging into the gravel with purpose.

  Cindy’s streaked blond hair was clipped up on her head into a thick spike, making her look just like Cindy Lou Who from the Grinch cartoon. There was nothing comical about the fear in Cindy’s face, howeve
r. She pointed to the fire. “This is a nightmare.”

  “It is,” Beatrice replied, still listening to the dispatcher.

  “The units have been sent. They’re on their way,” the dispatcher said.

  “Thank you,” Beatrice said and hung up while simultaneously grabbing Cindy’s arm. Cindy was shaking.

  “Cindy, look at me. This is no time to panic. We have to get the kids up and dressed. Then you and Bruce need to take them to St. Mark’s.”

  “St. Mark’s?” Cindy’s voice cracked.

  “Yes. You remember, right?” Beatrice asked firmly. Beatrice knew she could do this.

  But Beatrice was their leader. She was responsible for these children. Their lives might depend on her tonight.

  More than the danger the fire posed to her beloved camp, it was the children she cared about. Each child was a gift to her. She took special care to learn their needs and idiosyncrasies, their fears and their delights.

  When misgivings about money turned to dark moments, when she wondered why she’d placed all her dreams into this black hole of continual and costly restoration, she reminded herself it was for the kids, whom she cared about as if they were family.

  “Cindy...”

  “St. Mark’s! I remember. Father Michael offered his activity hall in case of any emergency.” Cindy brushed a lock of her hair away from her cheek. “This definitely qualifies.”

  “Yes, it does, Cindy. Wake up Bruce. Believe me, it takes a bomb to get that guy up. You and Bruce wake up the boys. Maisie and I will take the girls’ cabins. Get everyone to the dining hall first, then hustle them into the SUVs and drive them into town.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have to stay here. It’s my camp. Now, go!”

  As Cindy raced off to Bruce’s cabin, Beatrice waved to Maisie.

  Maisie had put on jeans, sneakers and a light hooded pullover. She held up her cell phone as she ran toward Beatrice. “I’ll get the girls.”

  While Cindy was all emotion, hugging the kids, giving them encouragement, Maisie was the organized, Excel-sheet-minded counselor who kept the kids in line. She also helped order the food and had their consumption quantities down to the number of tiny boxes of raisins and bars of soap they would need each month.