“You want to go out to eat?”
She nodded, her expression morphing into one of misery. “It’s okay. I should’ve asked sooner. I kept thinking I’d bump into you, but this week has been busy, I guess. And maybe you don’t even want to—it’s presumptuous. I’m sorry. Just forget it. Please?”
“Wait.” Cyan grabbed her hand before she could turn and, if her body language was any indication, run far, far away. He smiled. “It happens that I like eating dinner. I think I’d like eating with a beautiful woman even more. If the offer’s still good?”
“You don’t have to—”
Cyan pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss that still made his pulse race. “I know that. I came over here to find you and ask you out. You beat me to the punch.”
“You were going to ask me out? What about Calvin?”
His face heated. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet. I’d hoped I could talk my grandparents into watching him, but if not, we’d just drag him along. He’d keep the conversation rolling, if nothing else.”
“You would’ve taken him with? On our date?”
Cyan shrugged. “Sure, why not? He’s a great kid. It might mean I didn’t get to hold your hand, and that would be a bummer, but I’d probably live. Turns out though, that’s not an issue.”
Maria flashed a grin. “True.”
“So? Dinner?”
“I’d like that. Since I technically asked you out, do I get to choose the place?”
Cyan chuckled. “Sure. I probably would’ve let you do that anyway since the only restaurant I know of is the fast food joint I hit on the highway on the way into town. That’s not quite what I had in mind.”
“Perfect.” Maria pulled her phone out of her pocket and glanced at the display. “I have maybe another hour I need to get in here. Does six work for you?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you at your place?”
She nodded.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers, his gaze holding hers steadily. “See you then.”
* * *
“What kind of food do you call that?” Cyan held the door for Maria as they exited the restaurant. “It’s not really Mexican. Or, at least, not the kind of Mexican I’m used to.”
Maria chuckled as she zipped her coat and tugged a knit cap down over her ears. “It’s New Mexican.”
“Okay. What’s that?” Cyan zipped his own coat as a gust of wind reminded him that it was the start of December and they were at a higher elevation than he was used to.
“Blend of Spanish, Mexican, and Native American flavors. It’s unique to the state, so it’s not super surprising you’ve never had it before. But it’s hands down my favorite.”
He nodded. He’d never thought to differentiate between Spanish and Mexican, but there were obviously differences. “It was good. There’s more on that menu I’d like to try.”
“Then we’ll come back again.”
He warmed through and reached for her hand. “Want to take a walk around the square?”
Maria hesitated.
“Or we can head back.” Maybe he’d misread the evening somehow, but it had seemed like she had a good time. Hadn’t she just suggested they return to the restaurant? Wasn’t that a second date?
“It’s not that. I just—bedtime. I hate to miss Calvin’s bedtime. And that’s stupid. It’s not as if I’ve never missed putting him to bed before.”
“But you don’t like to.” Cyan dug his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “What if we called and asked Betsy and Wayne to let him stay up an extra thirty minutes? Then we’d have enough time for a little stroll, maybe some ice cream, and you’d still get bedtime.”
“Ice cream?” Maria shook her head. “You’ve lost your mind. It’s freezing.”
He shrugged. “Just means it won’t melt and you can eat it slower. We can skip that, if you want.”
“You can get ice cream. I’ll get coffee.” She edged closer so their bodies brushed. “You don’t think they’ll mind?”
Maria knew his grandparents better than he did, but he did know they adored Calvin. “Let’s call and find out.”
Cyan tapped his grandmother’s picture in his contacts and waited as it rang. When she answered, he ran their idea by her and smiled as she quickly agreed. He offered the phone to Maria. “Want to say hi to her or Calvin first?”
Maria took the phone. “You’re sure it’s not a problem? He’s acting okay?”
Cyan couldn’t hear his grandmother fully, but from the fact that Maria’s face relaxed slightly, Betsy must’ve been reassuring her.
“Okay. Thank you.” Maria handed the phone back to Cyan.
He held it to his ear, but Betsy must have hung up. “So, a walk and a treat and then home?”
Maria offered a small smile. “Sounds good.”
He would’ve preferred more enthusiasm, but he imagined it was tricky to balance mom life with everything else. Especially with the diabetes diagnosis thrown into the works. They walked in relative silence the block or so that took them the main square.
“What are those?” Cyan pointed to the square that was lit somehow. The white twinkle lights he’d expected were wound around tree branches, but the paths and walls were lined with something he’d never seen before.
“Luminarias.” Maria grinned. “We’ll probably get ours up at the ranch tomorrow. We’re a little behind with the outdoor decorations this year. They’re paper bags with sand and candles.”
“Candles in paper bags seems like a really bad idea.” There was a break in the traffic, so Cyan tugged Maria across the street. “Don’t they have a lot of fires?”
“No.” She shrugged. “They’ve done this my whole life and I never thought to wonder about that. I just like the warm glow. There’s nothing like it.”
That, he could agree with. He squatted at the edge of the path and peered into one of the bags. A votive candle flickered merrily in a bed of sand. The bag protected the flame from the wind, so maybe there wasn’t any way for the thing to catch fire. Unless it got blown over. But surely there was enough weight in the sand to keep that from happening. “Not something people leave unattended, I imagine?”
“I—maybe not? We light ours and leave them until bedtime, then put them out.”
That was a lot more work than a strand of lights that could be put on a timer. “Every night?”
“Sure. Some things are worth the extra effort.” Maria turned and her gaze locked with his.
His lips curved and he lost himself for a moment in her eyes. “I couldn’t agree more.”
10
Maria waved to Calvin as he got on the bus and waited until the door closed and the big yellow vehicle lumbered down the road. She sighed and turned, heading back down the long driveway. There was a lot to do today. There was always a lot to do, but with the weekends filling up with sleigh rides and bonfires as the community made its way up to partake of the usual Christmas cheer available at Rancho de Esperanza, it seemed like there was more.
Ranch of Hope. The name had been one of the big draws for her when Maria had been trying to figure out what to do with a life that had just careened off course. Everyone needed a little hope. She’d been here coming up on eight years now, and she saw the hope the Hewitts went out of their way to offer to everyone who crossed their path. Maybe she hadn’t been a particularly strong Christian when she landed on their doorstep pregnant, but they’d helped her change that. And now they were doing the same thing for Cyan.
Her heart gave a funny little skip as her mind built a picture of him from Saturday, all tall and lanky in faded jeans and a fraying sweatshirt as he manned the s’mores station by the bonfire. He’d navigated the trouble with Calvin better than she had, too. Maria’s plan was to simply cut sugar from Calvin’s life. It seemed like the most certain way to avoid highs and lows—both of which could end them back in the hospital if they weren’t careful. Wasn’t it enough that she had to trust him to the school nurse during the day,
five days a week? And that she hardly slept, she was so intent on keeping an ear open for him heading to the bathroom—a pretty sure sign his sugars were high? Of course, it wasn’t as if Calvin completely got it. He was used to gorging himself on s’mores for the month of December. Since that was out, Cyan had dubbed him his official helper and put him in charge of doling out chocolate bars and marshmallows. Calvin loved it. And the couple of times he snitched a piece of chocolate, Cyan had noted it and let her know, so they’d been able to adjust, mostly, and avoid problems.
Maria slipped out of her boots in the mudroom of the big house and tugged on her sneakers. It was past time to stop thinking about Cyan and move on with her work. Today was meal planning day—and wasn’t that just a thrill—so she could get to the grocery store in the afternoon and grab Calvin from school on the way home.
“There you are.” Betsy sat at the counter with a huge mug of coffee and her Bible. She closed the book and pushed it aside. “Calvin off to school?”
“He is. I feel like I’m running a little behind though, so—”
“Pfft. Get yourself some coffee and sit a minute.”
Maria fought a sigh and moved to the machine on the counter. Hopefully, whatever was buzzing around in Betsy’s bonnet would be quick. She stirred a little sugar into her mug, decided against cream, and carried it over to the island. “What’s up?”
“You have fun on Friday?”
Maria’s cheeks warmed. “Sure. You know I love eating out.”
“That’s not quite what I meant.” Betsy shook her head. “I guess you figure I’m prying.”
“No. It’s not that.” Not exactly. Well, maybe sort of. “It’s just weird talking about it.”
“You told me all about the dates you went on with Tommy and Morgan when they asked you out. What’s making this one weird?”
She’d known going into those dates that there wasn’t any potential. Not really. She’d only gone because they were persistent and she’d wanted to maintain a good working relationship with them. But Cyan? Everything about him screamed potential, and had since she first pulled open the door to find him standing there. How, exactly, was she supposed to explain that to Betsy? “They weren’t your grandson.”
“I see.” Betsy took a casual sip of her coffee. “You don’t like the idea of being part of the family officially?”
Maria frowned. “Did I say that? Besides, one date does not a marriage make.”
“True. Of course, if you don’t go on dates, you don’t end up with that marriage either. Unless you’re going for an arranged marriage where you meet, get married, and then get to know the person?”
“Has anyone told you you’re impossible lately?” Maria looked into her coffee, frowning. “I like him. A lot. Too much, maybe. I don’t know what to do with that. Calvin’s the result of the last impetuous dating decision I made. I can’t go there again. And he makes me want to.”
Betsy reached over and covered Maria’s hand. “He’s a good man. I understand wanting—even needing—to take it slow, but don’t get so caught up in not repeating a mistake of the past that you miss out on the future God has for you. Now, tell me how Calvin’s doing. Really. Because you act like you’ve got this diabetes thing licked and that doesn’t seem completely possible.”
Maria hunched her shoulders under Betsy’s steady gaze. “We’re muddling through. It’s hard. Little boys like sweets, and I’m used to letting him have them.”
“You never over did.”
“No, but they weren’t special treats and now they have to be. It tears me up inside every time I have to prick his finger or give him a shot—I feel like I’m a bad mother because I’m glad the school nurse has to do it during the day instead of me. And I’m so tired of dealing with the insurance company. Every single one of Calvin’s doctors says he needs to be on a pump—that it’ll make both of our lives easier—but the insurance company doesn’t care.” Maria blew out a breath. “So, how’s Calvin doing? He’s okay. He’s resilient. His mom is struggling.”
“How can I help?”
Right there was why Maria hadn’t unburdened herself before. She loved that Betsy would ask—had known she was going to—but there was nothing anyone could do. She shook her head. “This is just the new normal. It takes some getting used to. We’ll get there.”
After a moment, Betsy nodded. “All right, then. If you think of something, let me know. I’ll let you get back to your work. I know I’ve held you up. Do me a favor though?”
“What?”
“Take a little snack out to Cyan sometime today? He said he didn’t want to intrude on lunch, because he’s not an employee.”
“I always make plenty.” Maria frowned. What was he thinking? She’d been pinning her hopes of seeing him on that meal. Even though they weren’t alone, she’d get to chat with him, maybe flirt a little. She hadn’t decided on that last bit yet. Her flirting skills were pretty rusty. Throw in an audience and maybe it wasn’t the best idea.
“I tried to tell him that.” Betsy shrugged. “You’ll take him something?”
Maria nodded. She absolutely would. It might just come with a piece of her mind on the side.
* * *
Maria knocked on the cabin door and tried the handle. When it turned, she pushed the door open and leaned in. “Cyan?”
“Come on in, I’m in the dining room.”
Maria stepped in and pushed the door closed behind her. She looked around. He hadn’t done anything to customize his space yet. Did he plan to? He’d said he was going to stay here permanently. He hadn’t really had time to do anything about the basic sofa and hotel-quality art, but there was no clutter even. They had enough spare Christmas decorations lying around. She’d have to bring something over. He needed some seasonal cheer in here.
This cabin’s layout was different from hers. The door still opened into the main living area, but arched doorways led to the kitchen straight ahead, the dining room to the left, and a hallway to bedrooms on the right. It was interesting. She’d grown used to everything being open at her place, but the separation wasn’t a bad thing.
She hovered in the archway to the dining room and smiled. Cyan leaned back in one of the spindly chairs, his laptop and several stacks of paper spread out on the table in front of him. His feet were bare below the frayed hems of his jeans, and the sleeves of his light gray sweatshirt were pushed up to his elbows. Her mouth watered.
“Hi.”
He grinned. “Hi, back. What brings you here?”
“Lunch. Did you eat?”
Cyan shook his head. “I was going to slap together a PB and J and call it a day.”
“Poet.”
“I have untapped depths.” Cyan chuckled and sniffed. “Whatever you brought smells better than peanut butter.”
“I should hope so.” Maria hefted the insulated bag onto the table then frowned. “Is there a place to eat in the kitchen? I don’t want to get your work messy.”
“Sure. There are stools at the counter, but I can clear some of this away. It’s nicer in here.”
“I don’t want to mess anything up. Give me a couple minutes to set up in there and then come eat.” She backed out of the dining room and angled toward the kitchen. Stepping through the doorway she stopped, eyes widening. The kitchen was done in hues of gold and green, like some kind of nightmare from the seventies. The only thing it had going for it was that it was a small space, so at least the horror was contained. No wonder he’d wanted to eat in the dining room.
Maria glanced over her shoulder. Maybe...no. Cyan had covered the majority of the table with his stuff. Cleaning it up wouldn’t be a small undertaking. Not if he needed to keep an order to the papers and piles. Why on earth hadn’t the Hewitts done something about this kitchen before now?
At least it was clean.
She set the insulated bag on the counter and pulled out the containers and dishes. She hadn’t known if Cyan would have plates, so she’d brought them, too. It didn’t ta
ke long to set out two portions of the tamales, rice, and beans that she’d made for lunch. She was just adding a sprinkle of cheese to the beans when Cyan padded in.
“Are those tamales?” He sniffed and his eyes closed. “Yum. Where’d you get them?”
“Get them?” Maria fought the urge to bristle. “I made them. People do, you know.”
“Not anyone I’ve ever met.” He grinned and hopped onto one of the stools. “Just one more way you’re amazing. This definitely tops peanut butter.”
She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just about anything would.”
“No. No no no. You’re not a peanut butter snob, are you? That’s a pretty major flaw.” Cyan shook his head. “The things you find out about people.”
“Seriously? It’s mashed up peanuts. What’s appetizing about that?” She took her own seat and reached for the napkin she’d set beside her plate. “Before you answer, you want to pray?”
He gave her a startled glance. “Oh. Um. Sure? Unless you want to?”
“You go ahead.” Fighting a smile, she folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. When several seconds passed in silence, she opened one lid and glanced at him. “You know how, right? It doesn’t have to be fancy.”
Pink tinged his cheeks and he hunched his shoulders. “I’ve never done it out loud. The whole praying thing is new to me, you realize?”
She nodded. “Good practice for you then. I’m a safe audience, I promise. No judgment.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed before bowing his head. “Um. Thank you, Jesus, for this food. And um, bless the hands that prepared it. They belong to a pretty special woman. Amen.”
Her cheeks were warm. He thought she was special. That shouldn’t be a surprise. Cyan was pretty free with his compliments. Somehow, they always seemed sincere, too. “Why aren’t you coming to lunch at the main house?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to be in the way. Plus, I don’t usually take a very long lunch break. I’d rather plow through my hours and then be done. Why?”
Hope for Christmas (Hope Ranch Book 1) Page 8