A Texas Cowboy's Christmas

He chuckled. “Back to train analogies?”

She gave him a quelling look.

He lifted an exaggeratedly apologetic hand. “I know. Even some of us big, dumb cowpokes who passed on Ivy League educations know a few big words.”

She’d heard Chance had been just as much of a problem to his wealthy parents growing up as he was to her now. “How about ‘aggravate’?” She looked him square in the eye. “Do you know what that means?”

He grinned. “I think that’s what I do to you, on a daily, hourly, basis?”

So true. Molly drew a calming breath. She started the ignition, then motioned for him to step away. When he did, she put her window down. “I’m going to be at the Circle H this afternoon, meeting with your mother about the proposed kitchen renovation.”

“Well, what do you know,” he rumbled with a maddeningly affable shrug. “I will be, too.”

She ignored the fact that their two contracting companies were competing for the renovation job. “Braden will be with me. It’s your chance to make things right with my son. Please, Chance.” She paused to let her words sink in. “Don’t let us down.”

* * *

IF MOLLY HADN’T framed it quite like that, maybe he could have bailed. But she had, so at five past three Chance found himself driving up the lane to the Circle H ranch house.

Molly’s SUV was already on-site. She and her son, Braden, were by the pasture, where a one-week-old Black Angus was pastured with his momma. Little arms on the middle rung of the fence, Braden was staring, mesmerized, at the sight of the nursing bull.

“Can I pet him?” Braden asked as Chance strolled up to join them.

Her pretty face pinched with tension, Molly shook her head.

Chance hunkered down beside Braden. The little tyke had the same curly red hair, cute-as-a-button features and amber eyes as his mother. “Petting the bull would scare it, buddy, and we don’t want that, do we?”

Balking, Braden bartered, “I know gentle. Mommy showed me.” Realizing Chance didn’t quite understand what he was saying, Braden continued with a demonstration of easy petting. “Kitty cat—gentle. Puppy—gentle. Babies—gentle.”

“Ah. You’re very gentle with all of those things,” Chance concluded.

Braden nodded importantly. “Mommy showed me.”

“Well, listen, buckaroo,” Chance continued, still hunkered down so he and Braden were eye to eye. “It’s always good to be gentle,” he said kindly. “And it’s great to be able to see a real baby bull.”

Braden beamed. “I like bulls!”

“The thing is, Santa doesn’t really have any bulls to bring to little boys,” Chance told him, quashing the kid’s dreams against his better judgment.

“Uh-huh! At the North Pole,” Braden said. “Santa has everything!”

“No.” Chance shook his head sadly but firmly. He looked the little boy in the eye. “There aren’t any bulls at the North Pole.”

Mutinously, Braden folded his little arms across his chest. “Santa bring me one,” he reiterated stubbornly.

Out of the corner of Chance’s eye, he saw Molly’s stricken expression. Yeah. She pretty much wanted to let him have it. Given the unforeseen way things were developing, he could hardly blame her.

“For Christmas,” Braden added for good measure, in case either Molly or Chance didn’t understand him. He pointed to the pasture. “Want mommy bull. And baby bull.”

Okay, this was not going according to plan, Chance thought uncomfortably.

“Baby needs mommy,” Braden added plaintively, just in case they still weren’t getting it.

Molly lifted a brow and sent Chance an even more withering glare.

Fortunately, at that moment, his mother walked out of the recently renovated Circle H bunkhouse, where she was currently living, her part-time cook and housekeeper, Maria Gonzales, at her side. The young woman often brought her own three-year-old daughter, Tessie, to work with her. The little lass peeked at Braden from behind her mother’s skirt.

“Braden, Maria and Tessie were just about to make some Thanksgiving tarts. Would you like to help them?” Lucille asked.

He looked at his mother for permission.

Molly gave it with a nod, then pointed to the ranch house on the other side of the barns. “Miss Lucille, Chance and I are going to walk over there and have a meeting. Then I’ll come back to get you. Okay?”

Braden took Maria’s outstretched hand. “’Kay, Mommy.”

Maria and her two young charges set off.

In the past, the sixty-eight-year-old Lucille had ignored interpersonal tensions for the sake of peace. However, a recent series of life-changing events had caused Chance’s mother to rethink the idea of sugarcoating anything. And now, to everyone’s surprise, it turned out she could be as blunt as Chance’s older brother, Garrett.

“What’s going on between you two?” Lucille demanded as she looked from Molly to Chance and back again. “And don’t tell me nothing, because I can feel the mutual aggravation simmering between you a mile away!”

Chance would have preferred to keep their tiff private. Unfortunately, Molly had other ideas. “Chance told Braden that he could ask Santa to bring him a real live baby bull for Christmas!” she sputtered.

Lucille turned to him, formidable as always in an ultrasuede sheath, cashmere cardigan and heels.

“I was trying not to quash his dreams,” Chance insisted hotly.

“So, instead, you lit fire to impossible ones, and now he wants not just a baby bull but a bovine mama to go with it, too,” Molly accused him, looking furious enough to burst into tears.

“Look, I—” Even as the words came out of his mouth, Chance had to wonder how Molly had managed to put him on the defensive.

She stomped closer and waved a finger beneath his nose. “If you hadn’t brought that baby bull over with his momma to pasture at the Circle H—”

“If you hadn’t brought your son with you to discuss making a bid,” he volleyed right back.

Molly planted both her hands on her slender hips. “I had no choice!”

He mocked her by doing the same. “Well, neither did I!”

Completely exasperated, Lucille stopped worrying the pearls around her neck and stepped in between them. “Enough, you two!” she chastised. “You are acting like ornery children. It’s five weeks until Christmas...we will figure out a way to work this out.”

Chance and Molly separated once again.

Satisfied things were calmer, at least for the moment, Lucille walked up the steps to the rambling, homestead-style ranch house and across the spacious front porch. “In the meantime, I have a job big enough for the two of you,” she said over her shoulder, leading the way into the house.

Chance and his crew had spent the fall getting the two bedrooms and bathroom upstairs remodeled, the staircase rebuilt and all new energy-efficient windows installed. A new roof and fiber-cement siding had been put on, and the exterior had been painted a dazzling white with pine-green shutters. They’d also followed the plans of the structural engineer and gutted the downstairs into an open living-kitchen-dining area, a laundry room and mudroom, and what would one day be a spacious master suite with luxury bath for Lucille.

For the moment, however, only the framework of the redesigned first-floor rooms and the original wood floors—which were in need of refinishing—stood.

In the center of the space, in front of the original limestone fireplace, were two big easels. One held Molly’s proposed design, the other Chance’s.

Lucille turned to her son. “Although I love the rustic nature of your plans, honey, I am going to go with Molly’s vision for the first floor.”

There wasn’t a lot of difference in the plan for the master suite, since Lucille had been very specific in what kind of fixtures and the size closet she wanted. As for the rest...

“You know that’s going to cost you twice what mine would,” Chance pointed out.

Lucille nodded. “True. But your vision for the space is so...utilitarian.”

Exactly! It was what made it so great.

Chance pointed to the samples of his proposed maple cabinets and black granite countertops, the top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances and plentiful pantry shelving. “It’ll get the job done, Mom.”

Where he had been trying to be economical, his competition had gone all out. Dual dishwashers, two prep areas, double ovens and countless other features. Everywhere you looked there was some sort of up-charge.

Lucille smiled. “Molly captured what I was looking for. Unfortunately, I don’t think she and her crew can manage to finish the entire downstairs in the next five weeks.”

Molly’s triumph faded. “Did you say five...weeks?”

Lucille nodded. “I want to reserve December 19 for delivery of the furniture from my previous house in Dallas that’s currently in storage, the twentieth and the twenty-first for decorating and the twenty-second for my planned fund-raiser for the Lockhart Foundation and West Texas Warrior Assistance program. And of course Christmas Eve and Day for my family celebration.”

Chance frowned. “Which means all the wiring, plumbing, drywall and paint, as well as kitchen and master suite bath, will have to go in by then.”

His mother remained undaunted. “You have six people on your crew, Chance. Molly has seven. If you have all thirteen people working, it’s easily feasible. I’ll pay overtime if necessary.”

All business, Molly nodded. “How are we going to divide the work?”

Matter-of-factly, Lucille explained, “Molly will be in charge of the design and the materials, and Chance will supervise the construction and installation. Then, of course, Molly, I’d like you to do the yuletide decorating.” She flashed a smile her way. “I’ll give you a free hand with that since part of the reason for the rush is to help you showcase your skills during the fund-raising open house, and make the connections with my Dallas friends that will help you drum up business there.”

Chance turned to his mother and gave her a warning look. He would have expected Lucille, who, better than anyone, knew the downside of leaving the warm, supportive utopia of Laramie County behind, to be urging caution. Not cheerleading. “You’re really supporting Molly in this lunacy?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Molly had a growing business. A home. Dozens of people who looked out for her. A young son who was thriving in the small-town environment. Why she would want to leave all that for the coldness of the big city he had grown up in was beyond him.

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Lucille regarded him sternly. “And, yes, I fully understand Molly’s desire to be all that she can be.”

Resolved to inject a little common sense into the conversation, Chance scoffed, “In terms of what? Money? Social position?”

Molly glared at him. “Don’t forget dazzling professional success! And all the accoutrements that come with it.”

Chance looked heavenward. “I don’t expect you to understand,” Molly said stiffly, her emotions suddenly as fired up as his.

“Good,” Chance snapped back, running his hand through his hair in exasperation. Then, pinning her with a glare of his own, he said exactly what was on his mind. “Because I don’t.”

Chapter Two

“Avoiding me?” a husky voice taunted.

Molly thought work had wrapped up for the day. Which was, as it turned out, the only reason she was at the Circle H ranch house this late.

Turning in the direction of the familiar baritone, Molly took in the sight of the indomitable cowboy. Clad in a knit thermal tee, plaid flannel shirt and jeans, a tool belt circling his waist, Chance Lockhart strode toward her purposefully.

Working to still her racing heart, Molly held her clipboard and pen close to her chest. She lifted her chin. “Why would you think that?”

Chance stopped just short of her and gave her a slow, thorough once-over. “We’ve both had crews working here ten days straight, and you and I haven’t run into each other once.”

Thank God.

Aware the last thing she wanted was to give Chance another opportunity to tell her what he thought of her plan to improve her and her son’s lives, Molly shrugged. “I guess we have different schedules.”

His, she had deduced, kept him at his ranch, taking care of his bucking bulls early mornings and evenings. Hence, it was usually safe to arrive at the remodeling site during those hours.

Except today, he’d varied his routine. Why? To try to catch her in person, rather than communicate through endless emails and texts?

What she knew for certain was that it would be dark in another fifteen minutes, and all she had for light was a 220-volt camping lantern.

As seemingly unaffected by their quiet, intimate surroundings as the cell phone that kept going off with a sound that usually signaled an incoming text message—checked, then unanswered—in the holster at his waist, he glanced around. “What do you think thus far?”

That even with rumpled hair and a couple of days’ growth of beard on your face, you are without a doubt the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Which was too bad. Molly sighed inwardly, since Chance wasn’t at all her type. But if he were...she could definitely lose herself in those gorgeous hazel eyes, big hunky body and wickedly sensual lips. Luckily he didn’t know that.

With effort, she switched on her camping lantern, set it on the floor and got out her tape measure. She measured the front windows and door for window treatments and wreaths. The fireplace and staircase for garlands. Jotting down the numbers in her leather notebook, she said, “I think our combined crews have made amazing progress.”

Under Chance’s direction, new rooms had been framed out and a first-floor powder room for guests added last minute. Plumbing and electrical wiring had been installed, new drywall put up and taped, crown molding and trim work done.

Chance moved to the fireplace. He ran his big, calloused hand along the new wooden mantel. It was cut out of the same rustic oak as the support beams overhead. “The floors will be repaired where needed and sanded tomorrow.”

Which took them all the way up to Thanksgiving, she knew. The one day every one of them would have a break from the demanding schedule.

“You got the tile for the kitchen and the bathrooms, and the paint colors picked out?”

Trying not to think what he would be doing for the holidays, Molly replied, “Still waiting on final approval from your mom. She wants to see samples in the light here before she decides. But we’ve narrowed it down to a couple of shades for each space.”

Chance ambled over and switched on several of the portable construction lamps. “The new appliances and light fixtures?”

Instantly the downstairs became much brighter. “On order.”

He walked around, inspecting some of the work that had been done. Finding a tiny flaw, he stuck a piece of blue painter’s tape on it. “Kitchen and bath cabinets and countertops?”

“Will all be delivered in time to meet our schedule.”

He nodded, as aware as she that one major glitch could throw everything off. Fortunately, thus far anyway, luck had been completely on their side.

He came toward her.

Her heartbeat picked up for no reason she could figure. Molly cleared her throat. “Speaking of the holiday... I wanted to talk to you about Thanksgiving.” She moved around restlessly. “I’ve given my crew the day off.”

Joining her at the hearth, Chance took a foil-wrapped candy from his shirt pocket. “Same here.”

There was no way, she thought, he could know that was her very favorite. Trying not to salivate over the treat, Molly continued, “But they’ve all agreed to work on Friday.”

He nodded, ripping open one end. Immediately the smell of dark chocolate and peppermint filled the small space between them.

“Mine, too.”

Chance’s cell phone buzzed again, this time with the ringtone “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

Telling herself that particular choice in no way involved her, either, Molly watched as, once again, he checked the screen and ignored it.

He held out the partially unwrapped confection. “Want one?” he asked.

Now she knew he was flirting.

“I’ve got another...” he teased.

Hell, yes, she wanted some of his dark chocolate peppermint. But if she started taking candy from him on a whim, who knew what might be next?

She returned his assessing look and said as innocently as possible, “Thanks, but no.”

His eyes gleamed.

“I don’t really like those.”

His sexy grin widened all the more.

Then his phone buzzed yet again. With the maddeningly suggestive holiday song...

Thinking maybe he really should answer that, and would if she weren’t standing right there, Molly picked up her lantern before she ended up doing something really stupid—like kissing the smug look off his face—and headed for the staircase.

Able to feel the heat of his masculine gaze drifting over her, she tossed the words over her shoulder. “I’ve got to measure the upstairs windows before I go.”

“Want help?”

“No!”

He chuckled, as she had known he would.

Molly fought back a flush. This was exactly why she had been avoiding him. Luckily she had work to keep her busy. Chance might even be gone before she left.

She had just finished measuring the first window when she heard a door open, then close. Lucille Lockhart’s lyrical voice echoed through the first floor. “Chance? Why aren’t you picking up? I just got another call from Babs Holcombe. She said she’s been trying to reach you for days!”

Who the heck is Babs? Not that she should be listening...

“Been a little busy, Mom,” Chance growled.

Lucille’s high heels tapped across the wood floors. “You owe her the courtesy of a return call. Or at the very least an email!”

“After the way things ended with Delia?” Chance scoffed.

Delia? Molly perked up, edging a little closer despite herself.

“I admit that wasn’t one of their finer moments,” Lucille conceded reluctantly, “but they’ve both done a lot to support the Lockhart Foundation in the three years since.”

“Okay,” Chance countered gruffly.

“Okay you’ll call her,” Lucille pressed, sounding beside herself with irritation, “or okay you won’t?”

Silence reigned once again.

Molly could imagine the bullheaded look on Chance’s face. The disapproving moue of his mother. There was a brief murmur of disgruntled talk she couldn’t decipher, then the sound of Lucille leaving. The front door shut. Chance’s heavy footsteps crossed to the center of the house. “You can come down now!” he called cheerfully up the stairs.

Aghast that he knew she had been eavesdropping, heat flooded her cheeks. Measurements taken, she walked back down, pocketing her pen. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

He gave her a look that said, “I’ll bet.”

Falling into step beside her, he accompanied her out onto the front porch. The air had the distinct damp chill of late November. Dark clouds gathered along the horizon, where the sun was setting in streaks of purple and gray.

“How is Braden doing? Were you able to steer him toward the Leo and Lizzie World Adventure train set?”

Surprised that Chance recalled the name of the toy, Molly grimaced. “Ah, no. Not yet.”

Concern etched his ruggedly handsome face. “Meaning you haven’t really tried yet?”

Molly only wished that were the case. Taking her first real break of the day, she perched on the railing edging the front porch. “Meaning, like with most men, subtlety doesn’t work on Braden. Nor does direct conversation.”

Chance took a seat opposite her, mesmerizing her with the blatant interest in his eyes. “So he still wants a live baby bull and a momma.”

“As well as a daddy bull.”

“Wow.”

She sighed, relieved to be able to talk about what had been bothering her all day. “Wow is right.”

His expression grew thoughtful. “What are you going to do?”

With effort, she forced herself to meet his probing gaze. “Honestly? I don’t have a clue.”

“I had a few ideas.”

Molly pushed to her feet. Feeling her pulse skitter, she turned her head to the side. “I think you’ve done enough,” she quipped, using sarcasm to hide her worry.

He accompanied her down the steps to her SUV. “Seriously. I think I might be able to dissuade him, given another opportunity. And since you have Thanksgiving Day off and so do I, and my mother is hosting her annual dinner at the bunkhouse, I was thinking you and Braden might want to come as my plus two.”

Aware the mood between them was quickly becoming highly charged and way too intimate, Molly unlocked her vehicle. “You’re asking me for a date?”

To her consternation, he didn’t exactly deny it.

“There will be a lot of people there. Three of my siblings and their significant others and or friends. And a few other family friends.”

Molly tossed her bag into the front passenger seat. “First of all, your mother and I get along so well because I know my place.”

His brow lifted.

“Furthermore, Braden and I have our own holiday tradition.”

He rested a muscular forearm on the open driver-side door. “You cook?”

Molly lifted her chin. “I take him to the buffet at the cafeteria in San Angelo.”

Sympathy lit his gaze. “Sounds...lonely.”

Lonely, Molly thought, was being a fifth wheel at the big family gatherings of friends. Knowing, you’d never enjoy the same.

She shrugged. “Crowded is more like it. But it’s not too bad if we get there at eleven, when it opens, and then Braden and I have the rest of the day to do whatever we want.” Which usually involved a family activity of their own.

Chance stepped back. “Well, if you change your mind, the invitation stands.”

Molly slid behind the wheel. “Thanks, but I won’t.” She looked up at him.

Whether Chance admitted it or not, she was out of his league socially, too. “And don’t worry about Braden. I’ll figure out a way to handle his misconceptions about what is possible for Christmas. And what is not.”

* * *

EXCEPT SHE WASN’T handling it, Molly thought the following day when they entered the popular San Angelo cafeteria. At least not as well as she or her son would like.

“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Braden complained as the line of customers inched forward.

Although she had been hoping to make this Thanksgiving really special for him, he’d been grumpy since waking that morning. “I know.” Molly inched up slightly, clear of the entrance. “It will be our turn soon. See?” She pointed to the lighted display cases up ahead.

Braden stamped his cowboy boot. “Don’t want to wait,” he fumed.

“I know.” Thinking he might be overheated, Molly knelt down in front of him and unzipped his fleece hoodie. She figured he would be fine once they sat down. Avoiding a meltdown before that concerned her.

“Can we go home now?” Braden persisted.

“Oh, you don’t want to do that,” a familiar low voice said from behind them. “I hear the holiday buffet here is not to be missed.”

Braden lit up like a Christmas tree. “Cowboy Chance!”

“Hi, buddy!” Chance held out his palm. Braden high-fived him.

Slowly, Molly straightened to her full height. To her dismay, she was ridiculously glad to see him. Especially looking so fine.

Like her, he had upped his game a notch. Slacks, a starched shirt, tie and tweed Western-cut blazer, instead of his usual flannel shirt and jeans. “Aren’t you supposed to be at your mom’s today?”

“Already made my appearance.”

Which accounted for his neatly combed chestnut hair and freshly shaven jaw.

“I’m tired,” Braden complained.

Molly inhaled the sandalwood and leather fragrance of Chance’s cologne, mixing with the usual soap and fresh air scent of his skin.

“Probably a little bored, too.” Chance winked. He reached into his jacket pockets. “Which is why I brought you these.” He pulled out a toy reindeer with a big red nose and a coordinating winter sleigh.