A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

As the group passed by the chapel on their way to the bride’s dressing room, Molly crossed her fingers, willing the bride not to notice the orange roses.

“Mom, look at the flowers!”

Uh-oh.

“They’re gorgeous,” her mother gushed and everyone came to a standstill. “Absolutely stunning.”

They were? More oohing and aahing followed, and Molly breathed a little easier.

“Just like you,” the mother said, her eyes misting as she reached out a hand to pinch her daughter’s chin. Molly doubted these were the first tears shed today, nor would they be the last.

At the dressing room door, she stopped and handed the bride a small black pager. “If you need me, just press the green button.” A matching device was clipped to her pocket.

“We hate to bother you right from the start...” The maid of honor tilted her head appealingly. “Do you have any food we can snack on? We’re not particular.”

“I haven’t eaten all day,” the bride admitted. “I’ve been too nervous.”

Her mother laid a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t have her passing out from hunger.”

“No problem.” Molly smiled graciously. “I’ll bring something right away.”

“Low-cal, please.” The bride patted her waist. “I can’t afford to gain a single ounce if I hope to fit into my dress.”

Molly ducked out of the room.

There were plenty of leftovers from the open house. She’d prepare a selection of fresh fruit and yogurt dip and finger sandwiches. That should satisfy the bride.

Molly hurried through the parlor, now empty except for Nora’s granddaughter Tracee who was pushing a vacuum. Every last trace of the open house had been removed and the buffet freshly set for the reception.

Right now, Sweetheart Ranch didn’t offer catering services beyond a cake, nonalcoholic punch and a continental breakfast. If couples chose, they could bring their own champagne and hors d’oeuvres. One day, if the ranch did well and turned a decent profit, they hoped to offer light catering. Bridget was already planning ahead.

One step at a time, Molly told herself. For now, guests would come to the main house between 7:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. for some of Bridget’s incredible homemade croissants, breads, pastries and jams. Yet another ranch specialty was a honeymoon breakfast prepared to order for the couple the morning after their wedding and delivered to their cabin as late as noon. Until then, they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Hey, the bride’s here,” Molly announced upon entering the kitchen. “She and the others are in the dressing room. The groom’s on his way.”

“Our first wedding. Now we’re really and truly open for business.” Bridget fussed over the cake, adding a tiny flower here and smoothing a patch of icing there.

Molly removed a clean platter from the rack and began loading it with leftovers.

“Hungry?” Nora asked.

Temporarily relieved of her babysitting duties, the older woman had returned to the house for a short break and a quick bite. She’d be back on the clock, so to speak, during the wedding when she’d resume care of Owen’s children.

“This is for the bride and her entourage,” Molly explained. “They’re hungry and requested a snack.”

“You must be happy. The open house was a huge success.”

“Are you kidding? I’m thrilled. Not a single hitch.” Molly couldn’t believe their good fortune.

“You two worked your tails off.” Nora tore off a piece of her quesadilla. “Have you talked to your grandmother yet? I bet she’s bursting with pride.”

“For two minutes. I promised to call her later when we weren’t so busy.”

More people had attended the open house than expected. Along with potential clients researching wedding venues, several locals had shown up to lend their support. There had also been a large number of curious folks who’d heard or read about the ranch and wanted to see for themselves.

During a free moment, Molly had sought out their neighbor, the owner of Powell Ranch, and proposed an idea of cross-promoting. He’d seemed interested and had told her to call him later in the week. The owner of the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill had heard them chatting and asked Molly to include her as well.

The best part had been the many compliments and well wishes. By the time the crowd had started thinning at around three thirty, Molly was walking on air. With everyone gone, however, exhaustion had set in. She longed to rest her aching feet but at the pace she was going, that wasn’t likely.

She loaded strawberries, blackberries, apple slices and finger sandwiches on the platter while Nora prattled on about the open house. At the mention of Owen’s name, Molly paused.

“He quite enjoyed himself,” Nora said.

“He’s prejudiced.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The TV reporter made a big fuss over him. Did a whole seven-minute segment with him alone.” Molly would have quite enjoyed herself, too.

“Can you blame her?”

“He’s just the minister. A temporary, online minister at that. Bridget and I are the owners, and we only got three-minute interviews.”

“You timed the reporter?” Bridget asked in amazement.

“I happen to glance at the mantel clock.” Molly waved her sister away. “The point is we’re Sweetheart Ranch. You and I. Owen is hired help.”

“Maybe you got three minutes. My interview was longer than that.” Bridget disappeared inside the walk-in pantry.

Okay, now Molly was good and miffed. Apparently, she was the least interesting person on staff at the ranch.

“Owen’s the kind of man who draws attention,” Nora observed. “He has that quality about him.”

“He is scrumptious,” Bridget remarked, returning from the cooler. “With a great smile.”

“Don’t forget well built.” Nora fanned herself. “My, my.”

Molly huffed. “You two are being ridiculous.”

“Am I wrong?” Nora appealed to Bridget.

“Not at all. If I was a female reporter, I’d spend more time interviewing Owen than anyone else.”

“The purpose of the TV interviews is to promote Sweetheart Ranch,” Molly insisted. “Not some scrumptious cowboy.”

“Ha! Then you agree with us.”

“I didn’t say that.” Except, she had.

Finished with her meal, Nora wiped her hands on a napkin. “I bet you two get all kinds of inquiries after the segment airs tonight. I set my DVR to record the show.”

“We should do that, too!” Bridget turned to Molly and waited, hands on her hips.

“What? You expect me to set the DVR?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“I have to take this food to the bride.”

“And I have to clean the kitchen.”

“Fine,” Molly grumbled and picked up the platter. “I’ll do it.”

Mindful not to drop any food in her haste, she stopped in the den and programmed the DVR—but only because her grandmother would enjoy watching the news segment when she returned from her trip.

Molly was in the middle of delivering the platter when loud male voices emanating from the foyer alerted her to the arrival of the groom and his party.

“Hurry, hurry!” The bride shooed her away.

Molly greeted the men and escorted them to the second dressing room, this one off the chapel. The groom’s parents had arrived with him. The mother quickly busied herself setting out the guest book and feather pen on the table next to the bowl of birdseed packets and placing folded programs on the pews. The groom’s sisters had brought champagne, and Molly directed them to the parlor where silver buckets filled with ice waited.

After cake and a toast, the wedding party and guests were traveling via chartered bus to a posh restaurant in north Scottsdale for a celebration dinner. They’d no doubt return late. Molly didn’t expect to see the bride and groom again until tomorrow morning. Or even later for their carriage ride around town.

Molly was debating calling Owen when he finally strolled into the chapel. He’d swapped his vest for the Western cut sports jacket he’d worn earlier, shaved off his stubble and freshly combed his dark hair. Molly had to admit, he looked the part. The groom’s sisters’ giddy reaction when they saw him confirmed it.

“You ready?” she asked.

“I think so.” He held up a sheet of paper. “I called Uncle Homer, and he gave me a few more tips.”

“Good.” She surveyed the chapel. Most of the guests had arrived and were seated. “We start in seven minutes.”

“That soon?” He swallowed.

“Relax. You’ll be fine. Don’t forget to introduce yourself to the groom before heading to the altar.” The next second, Molly’s pager vibrated. “I have to go. Good luck.” For one ridiculous second, she considered giving Owen a reassuring hug.

Coming to her senses, she sped off. The bride and whatever need had arisen topped Molly’s list.

She didn’t see Owen again until it was time for the wedding to start. Having exited the bride’s dressing room only moments before the recorded wedding march began to play, she retreated to the back of the chapel near the corner.

She wasn’t reassured to see Owen shifting anxiously from one foot to the other and tugging at his shirt collar. She tried to discreetly signal him without success.

Suddenly, music began playing, and the bride materialized at the entrance to a chorus of soft gasps. From then on, everyone’s attention was focused on her and the besotted groom. When the music stopped and they stood side by side in front of Owen, he cleared his throat. Then, he cleared it again. When he finally spoke, his voice was dry and frog-like.

“Wa...welcome, family, friends and, um, loved ones.”

Oh, no, Molly thought and clenched her fingers. Not the most impressive start.

“We’re here this evening to celebrate a wonderful occasion. No, not the opening of Sweetheart Ranch. Though, that was some humdinger of an open house earlier. Sorry you missed it.”

Molly cringed when no one laughed.

“Benjamin Carr and Jolyn Montgomery have invited you to witness their public commitment and declaration of love to each other.” Owen stared hard at the paper he held. “Gatherings such as these are important as they mark the special milestones in our lives.”

Terrific. The ceremony was sounding more like a legal proceeding than a wedding.

“Make eye contact,” she murmured under her breath. “Smile.”

He did neither, and listening to him was a painful experience.

“Ben and Jolyn, please join hands and look into each other’s eyes.” He paused. “These are the hands of your best friend. They are holding yours on your wedding day as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow and forever.”

Okay, this wasn’t so bad. He was reciting the “Blessing of the Hands” per the bride and groom’s request. Thank goodness he was getting this part right.

Owen managed to complete the entire blessing, even smiling when he finished with, “May these hands continue to build a loving relationship that lasts a lifetime.”

Molly expelled a sigh of relief. It was short-lived. Owen messed up twice during the exchange of vows and once when the unity candles were lit.

At last, he announced, “You may kiss the bride,” and proclaimed the couple as Mr. and Mrs. Carr.

Molly waited until all the guests had expressed their best wishes to the glowing couple before approaching them. She was prepared to apologize for Owen’s lack of polish and to explain the reason for it. Except they didn’t give her a chance.

The bride pulled Molly into a fierce embrace, nearly drowning her in satin and tulle and lace. “Thank you so much. This is the best day of my life. The ceremony was wonderful. Everything I hoped for.”

It was? “I’m glad,” she replied automatically.

The bride was whisked away by her maid of honor before Molly could say more.

She blinked in amazement. Had that really just happened?

Knowing she should make her way to the parlor and check on progress for the reception, she cast a quick glance in Owen’s direction. He flashed her a grin and lifted a shoulder as if to say, “We’re home free.”

Not exactly. He might be a diamond, but he was definitely still in the rough. First thing tomorrow, the two of them were practicing. Sweetheart Ranch’s next guests were arriving at noon, and their wedding was scheduled for one o’clock. That left Molly and Owen very little time.

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