A Last Chance Christmas

2

SOMEONE WAS PLAYING “Silent Night” on the harmonica. Nostalgia washed over Molly Gallagher and she paused, fingers resting on the computer keyboard. Her Grandpa Seth had played the harmonica, and the gentle sound, especially at Christmastime, always made her think of him.

Harmonicas and cowboys seemed to go together, and her grandpa had been an old-fashioned cowpoke who’d grown up right here in Jackson Hole. He’d even lived in this house for a little while with his sister, Nelsie, and his brother-in-law, Archie. If Molly believed in ghosts, she might think Grandpa Seth had taken up residence down the hall from her bedroom.

“Silent Night” was followed by “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Talk about atmosphere. Snow drifted down outside her window and the scent of pine filled her room. Yesterday she’d helped Aunt Sarah arrange fresh boughs all over the house. With her bedroom door open, she could hear the logs crackling in the giant fireplace downstairs.

Feeling all warm and cozy, Molly went back to entering data in her Excel file. The harmonica player was likely the guy Jack had mentioned was staying down the hall. His name was Ben something-or-other. He’d come to look at the ranch’s registered Paints and would be around for a couple of nights. Molly had offered to help out by making his bed and putting clean towels in his bathroom.

Being alone upstairs with four empty bedrooms had been a little spooky. She was glad to share the space with someone, especially if he chose to serenade her every so often with Christmas carols on the harmonica. Hard to believe she’d be leaving in four days. The time had flown by.

Although she’d love to stay and meet everyone who’d be coming in to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, that would mean she’d miss the big Gallagher family celebration in Prescott. So far, she had a perfect record—twenty-eight consecutive holidays spent at the Double Down Ranch. Her parents ran it now that her grandparents were gone, and it was her favorite place in the world.

“O Little Town of Bethlehem” came to a close with a long, drawn-out note embellished by some vibrato. Ben was pretty good on that thing. Then he switched away from carols to play the theme from Beauty and the Beast. She’d loved that movie from the first time she’d seen it as a little girl. Belle was the perfect heroine—pretty, brave and well-read.

Plus she was a brunette, and Molly had been thrilled about that, too. The scholarly Belle had been her role model for years. She’d never heard the theme played on a harmonica before, but it worked. It worked so well that she left her chair and moved into the hall so she could hear it better.

What a lovely sound. He really was talented. She moved a few steps closer and then a few steps more. He played with heart, and she could almost imagine him as the Beast longing for his Beauty to show up. That was plain silly, of course. The way her luck went, he’d be old as the hills, or middle-aged and balding.

His bedroom door was open. As the music continued, she edged closer. Now that her curiosity was aroused, she wanted to find out what the man who created such a heavenly sound looked like. But she decided to wait until he’d finished the song. She liked it way too much to interrupt him, and if she suddenly appeared, he’d probably stop playing.

The last note trailed away, and she walked up to the doorway, prepared with a little speech. “That was...” She forgot what she’d intended to say. Ben something-or-other was drop-dead gorgeous.

Why hadn’t she brushed her hair before walking down here? Why hadn’t she checked to see if she had anything in her teeth? Why hadn’t she taken two measly seconds to glance in a mirror and find out if her glasses were smudged?

Thinking of that, she whipped them off and cleared her throat. “I’m Molly Gallagher. I live down the hall.” What? “I mean, I’m sleeping down the hall. That is, my room’s...that way.” She actually pointed. Good God, now she was giving the beautiful man directions.

His eyes were the color of dark chocolate, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Good to know.”

Heat flooded her face. “I didn’t mean that as a...well, never mind. I don’t know why I said it. Mostly I wanted to tell you how much I like your harmonica. Your harmonica playing, that is.”

“Thanks. I didn’t know anybody was up here. You were quiet as a mouse.”

“Just nibbling away on my computer.” Her laugh sounded much too breathless, but he had such broad shoulders, and his dark hair curled gently around his ears in a very sexy way. She liked his chin, too, with its little cleft, and she adored his mouth. A harmonica player would be good with his mouth and his tongue. She’d never thought of that before.

“I promise not to play in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t care.” And didn’t that sound like she’d become his adoring fangirl? She licked her dry lips. “Actually, I grew up hearing harmonica music. My grandpa would sometimes play me a lullaby before I went to sleep.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“It was more of a bribe. I always put up a fight about going to bed.” She had no idea where these idiotic remarks were coming from, but she couldn’t seem to make them stop.

She’d prepared herself for some old geezer, probably because she associated harmonicas with her grandfather. Instead she’d found this amazing man, who couldn’t be much older than she was. He sat on the edge of a king-sized bed she’d personally made up earlier today. Her filter must be working a little bit, because at least she hadn’t blurted out that piece of information.

“I’ll bet you did put up a fight about bedtime.” Amusement flashed in his brown eyes. “I’ll bet you were one feisty little girl.”

“Jack would probably tell you I still am. I think he and Gabe are a little irritated with me.”

“Why is that?”

“Oh, there’s something I asked them to do and they’re both procrastinating. I’m leaving in four days so I gave them each a little nudge. I don’t think they appreciated it.”

He seemed to be working hard not to laugh.

“Did Jack mention that to you?”

“Just in passing.”

“It’s only two pages of information for my genealogy research. You’d think I’d asked him to write a book.”

“Some people hate filling out forms.”

She sighed. “I know. Everybody’s not detail oriented like I am. I should probably just sit down with each of them and do it interview style. I’ll text them and suggest that. I mean, if Jack’s complaining to you, a virtual stranger, I guess he really doesn’t want to do it.”

“He didn’t complain all that much. Don’t quote me on this, but I think he plans to finish it soon.”

“Then I’ll wait and see. He might be insulted if I offered to write it down for him, as if he’s not capable.”

“I’ve only spent a little time with the guy, but I think you’re right.”

Discussing this matter with Ben had been a good ice-breaker. He felt like a potential friend now. She was still ogling him a little, but she’d recovered from her first stunned reaction. “Sarah told me you were here to look at horses.”

“That’s right.” Something flickered in his gaze the way it did when someone wasn’t telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

She caught it because she’d thought all along that driving around looking at horses in this weather was strange. She couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was here for some other reason, but she couldn’t imagine what that would be. “Did you see any you might be interested in?”

“I did, as a matter of fact. I really like the looks of Calamity Sam.”

“Oh, yeah. Me, too. He’s one beautiful stallion. Pricey, though, since he gets pretty good stud fees.”

“I know. Jack said maybe we could work something out.”

So maybe he really was interested in buying one of the Last Chance horses. He might hope to get a better price by coming when business was slow. But asking any more questions would make her seem nosy—which she was, of course. She’d been nosy all her life.

But sometimes she caught herself doing it and backed off. This was one of those times. “Well, I’ve bothered you long enough. I should get back to my work. If you need anything like more towels or extra pillows, the linen closet is right down there.” She gestured to a door on the far side of the hallway. “The housekeeper’s on vacation so we’re on our own up here.”

“Jack told me. I’m pretty good at looking out for myself.”

“Great. That’s great. Anyway, thanks for the harmonica concert. Please play any time you feel like it. Brings back fond memories for me.”

“I’ll remember that. Actually, I was about to head downstairs. Sarah and Pete invited me to have a drink with them before dinner.”

“Oh! Is it happy hour already?” Whenever she became involved in a genealogy project, she lost track of time.

“Almost six.”

“Then I’ll turn off my computer. Last night Sarah had to come upstairs to get me or I would have worked through the whole evening. I’d have hated that because I love hanging out with her and Pete. I’ll see you down there, then.” She turned to leave.

“I can wait until you shut off your computer.”

Thank God she wasn’t facing him, because she wouldn’t have wanted him to see her reaction to that comment. For sure, her eyes and mouth had popped wide open exactly the way a cartoon character would look when startled. “Um, sure, that would be great. I’ll just be a sec. Meet you at the top of the stairs.” And she skedaddled out of there.

As she hurried down the hall, she calculated how much repair work she could get away with. Changing clothes was out, so she was stuck with the blah jeans and her old green turtleneck. If she had time to pop in her contacts, Ben might notice that the sweater nearly matched her eyes, but she didn’t so he wouldn’t.

The best she could hope for was a quick brush through her hair, a fast polish of her lenses and a glance in the bathroom mirror to make sure she didn’t have food in her teeth. Refreshing her makeup would take too long, and besides, he’d already seen her like this. If she showed up with lipstick and blusher, that might telegraph her interest in him.

But, truly, she might as well forget about having any interest in him. It didn’t matter how yummy he looked, or how much she loved his harmonica music, or how talented his mouth might be as a result of playing said harmonica. She was leaving in four days and didn’t expect to be back in Wyoming any time soon.

She should forget about Ben, whose last name she still didn’t know. It wasn’t like she was thirsting for male companionship. For example, there was Dennis, the new guy in the history department. He was cute in a nerdy kind of way, and he’d seemed quite fascinated by her when they’d talked during the faculty Christmas party. He’d promised to call after the holidays.

So, there. She had a potential boyfriend and a potential relationship waiting to be cultivated back home. No need to get starry-eyed over some horse-buying, harmonica-playing cowboy who had his feet firmly planted in Wyoming.

Then she walked out of her room and saw those booted feet braced slightly apart as Ben waited for her at the top of the stairs. Oh, Lordy. She’d never looked at a man and instantly fallen into lust. Well, except for unattainable movie stars.

But it was happening this very minute. He’d been impressive sitting on the bed. Standing upright in all his six-foot-plus glory, he made her forget her own name, let alone the name of that guy in the history department.

Then he smiled at her and her knees actually weakened. She’d thought that was a stupid cliché, but apparently not. When she went back for second semester, she’d get one of her friends in the biology department to explain how a brilliant smile from a handsome man could adversely affect a woman’s tendons, ligaments, joints and kneecaps.

She hoped she didn’t wobble like a Weeble as she joined him at the top landing. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“No problem. By the way, I never introduced myself. I’m Ben Radcliffe.”

“I know. I mean, I knew about the Ben part but I’d forgotten your last name.” If she’d known he was a walking female fantasy, she would have paid more attention when Sarah mentioned it.

“Okay, now that we have that out of the way, we can—whoops. Hold still for a minute.” He leaned toward her.

Her heart leaped into high gear as he reached a hand toward her hair. She’d been told it was her best feature because it was so many rich shades of brown. Maybe he couldn’t resist running his fingers through it. That would be a good start.

Then, after he’d buried his fingers in her hair, he could lean even closer and kiss her. Maybe she should take off her glasses to make that maneuver easier, but he’d told her to hold still. She’d have to move a little, though, because he was almost a foot taller than she was. She’d have to stand on tiptoe for a proper kiss.

As his fingers made contact, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally. That sure wasn’t working. Finally she gulped in some air so she wouldn’t pass out and tumble down the curved staircase.

“There you go.”

She opened her eyes to discover a piece of dental floss dangling in front of her face.

“It was in your hair.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks hot, she grabbed the floss and rubbed it between her palms until it was a tiny ball. Then she shoved it in the pocket of her jeans. “Thanks. That’s what I get for rushing.” She couldn’t make herself look at him.

“You have great hair.”

That brought her head up. She gazed into his warm brown eyes and said the first thing that popped into her head. “So do you.”

“Thank you.” The crinkles reappeared at the corners of his eyes because he was smiling again. “I got teased about it as a kid. I guess I looked too girly.”

Not anymore. “What do kids know?”

“Not just kids. My dad, too.”

“Oh.” That made her heart hurt. “Guess you proved him wrong, huh?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I did or not. We’re not that close, anyway.”

“Well, that’s...” She stopped herself before saying it was too bad. She knew nothing about him, really, or about his family. For him, distance from his father might be a good thing. “That’s the way it happens sometimes.” She’d honor his obvious wish to make light of what, for her, would be a devastating situation. She couldn’t imagine not being close to either of her parents.

“Yep, sure does. Ready?”

“You tell me. I was prepared to walk downstairs wearing dental floss. Do I pass inspection?”

“Now that you mention it, I don’t know if you do or not. Back up and do a slow turn for me.”

She followed his instructions, although she didn’t kid herself that he had ulterior motives for the request. There wasn’t much to see because she’d always been slender, not curvy. If she’d been taller, instead of only five-four, she could have been a runway model.

But not really. The idea had been an obsession of hers as a preteen, when her egghead status had made her feel uncool. A career as a high-fashion model would have soothed her ego. But she’d abandoned that plan when she’d realized, first, she’d never grow tall enough, and second, she’d only be modeling to improve her social standing, which was a dumb reason to get into any line of work.

So, instead, she’d embraced her brainy side, especially her passion for details, specifically historical details. Teaching history during the day and studying genealogy in her spare time made her incredibly happy. In her chosen profession, being an egghead was a good thing.

She finished her circle and glanced up at him. “Okay?”

“Perfect.”

Of course he didn’t mean that literally, but she couldn’t help the squiggle of happiness that danced through her. When a man who looked like Ben declared that she was perfect, she’d take it with a grain of salt, but she’d take it. “Then let’s go down.”

“Now I’m not sure if I pass inspection or not.”

“Don’t worry.” She smiled at him. “You’re perfect, too.” That was the main problem with him, in fact. If she were to design her ideal man, he would look exactly like Ben. She just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be the guy who would haunt her dreams once she left Wyoming.

3

BEN WASN’T SURE what to do about his instant attraction to the impish woman descending the staircase beside him. He tended to go for tall and curvy. Molly was short and on the skinny side. He’d never finished college, which didn’t matter for his saddle making, but he’d steered away from dating scholars because he wasn’t sure how to talk to them. Molly was a college professor.

And yet she didn’t act much like one, or the way he thought a college professor would behave. He didn’t have a lot of experience to go on, but he’d had no trouble talking to her. He liked talking to her, in fact. She was so full of energy, so happy. He imagined that he could see her glowing, and not just when she blushed because she’d put her foot in her mouth.

That was part of why she charmed him. Apparently he flustered her, which made him want to fluster her more just to see the pink bloom on her cheeks. But that didn’t explain the visceral tug he’d felt when she’d walked down the hall toward him, or the surge of desire he’d felt when she made a slow turn, allowing him to view her from all sides.

She hadn’t done it in a suggestive way, as if trying to showcase her body. Yet he’d had the almost irresistible urge to get his hands on her. He still had that urge. He had no trouble imagining what she’d feel like beneath him, a small but explosive bundle of heat. He had a hunch she’d drive him crazy.

Maybe he was drawn to her because of the advance billing. He’d been curious to meet the woman who had no problem pestering all three Chance men for what she wanted. After watching his mother’s mouse-like behavior for years, he admired any female who stood up for herself. He might never marry, but if he did, it would be to someone who refused to be intimidated by anyone, especially him.

“So, where are you from, Ben?”

Her question brought him back to reality. He’d already pictured them in bed together and she didn’t even know where he lived. “Sheridan.”

“Really? That’s fabulous! Maybe you can help me track down two of my relatives, an aunt and a cousin.”

“Maybe. I’ve lived there for seven years.”

“I hope so. It’s not a huge place. My aunt’s married name was Heather Marlowe. At least, that’s what it was last time we heard from her, although that was a long time ago. She was in Sheridan then.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“My cousin’s name is Cade. His dad was a bull rider, Rance Marlowe, although he’d be too old to do that now. From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t a very nice guy. Aunt Heather might have divorced him, but nobody knows because she stopped writing or calling.”

“Sorry, but I don’t think I’ve met anybody named Marlowe.”

Molly sighed. “It was worth a shot. I’ve investigated online but I got nowhere. Rance followed the rodeo circuit and was never in one place for long. My aunt trailed after him and brought little Cade along, too. Well, he’s not so little anymore. He’d be the same age as I am, twenty-eight.”

He considering pointing out that she was still little, even at twenty-eight, but he figured she’d probably had her fill of short-person jokes. “So they might have had some tough times financially along the way?”

She paused at the foot of the stairs and turned to him. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Why?”

“They might have made use of social services there. I know a retired social worker. Maybe she’d remember something, or could ask around.”

“That’s a great idea. I didn’t think of that, but it gives me another avenue. Thanks!”

“She lives not too far from Sheridan at a place called Thunder Mountain Ranch. I—” He caught himself right before he screwed up. He’d been about to announce that he’d made a couple of saddles for Rosie and Herb, but his profession wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge yet. “The Padgetts are good people. He’s a retired equine vet. For years they also took in foster boys, but they don’t do that anymore. Anyway, Rosie knows a lot of people in town. She might have information.”

The tension eased from her eyes and she smiled. “I’d run out of ideas, so I’m thrilled to have a new lead. My family always wondered what became of Cade, especially my grandpa.”

“The harmonica player.”

“Yes. Losing touch with Aunt Heather and Cade made him sad. And of course Heather’s my dad’s sister. I think he’s resigned to the idea that she doesn’t want to hang around with the Gallagher family anymore, but he’s told me that he wonders where she is. When I started working on this family tree project, tracking them down was one of my goals, especially because my dad still thinks about them.”

“Then I wish you luck with it. Now that I know what names to listen for, I’ll pay more attention once I get back home. Maybe I’ll stumble across somebody who’s heard of them.”

“Excellent! I’ll give you my phone number in case you find anything. You’ll be my man in Sheridan.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Okay.”

Her cheeks turned that wonderful shade of pink again. “That didn’t come out quite right.”

“It came out fine as far as I’m concerned.”

Her blush deepened. “Um, well...I didn’t mean to imply that I considered you my...” Then she groaned. “I’m going to stop now before I make this worse than it already is. Sarah’s going to wonder what the heck we’re standing here yakking about. Let’s go get us some drinks.”

“Works for me.” Still smiling, he walked beside her into the living room. She was not a flirt by any stretch, and yet she was clearly interested in him. Earlier he’d wondered what to do about his attraction to her. He might not have to do a damned thing except wait and let nature take its course.

The ranch’s beautiful setting wouldn’t hurt, either. The living room looked like a scene out of a Christmas card, with pine boughs and ribbons everywhere, plus candles on the mantel. Flames danced in the big stone fireplace, and a ten-foot Scotch pine in the corner glittered with lights, ornaments and garlands.

Sarah and Pete both got up from their leather armchairs. Through Ben’s cursory internet research, he’d discovered that Sarah’s first husband, Jonathan, had died several years ago and she’d since married Pete Beckett. Pete was tall, like Sarah, and lanky, with gray hair and gentle blue eyes. He was a philanthropist who’d dreamed up the Last Chance’s summer program for disadvantaged kids. He had the relaxed air of someone who’d found his place in the world. Ben wondered if that time would ever come for him.

Sarah put down her wineglass. “I thought I heard you two out in the hall.”

As Sarah made the introductions, Ben stepped forward and shook hands with Pete, who’d been one of the biggest contributors to the saddle fund. “It’s a pleasure.”

Obviously Pete wasn’t about to give anything away at the zero hour. “I admire your can-do spirit.” He raised his glass in Ben’s direction. “I’m not sure I’d drive all the way from Sheridan to look at horses in this weather.”

“I’m used to the weather and I had some free time. Jack promised I wouldn’t be in the way.” Ben had been prepared to like the guy, and Pete’s casual friendliness didn’t disappoint him.

“Heck, no,” Pete said. “Always room for one more at a party. Right, Sarah?”

“Absolutely. The more the merrier. It isn’t every day a girl turns seventy.”

Pete gasped and placed a hand over his heart. “You’re that old?”

“Stuff a sock in it, Peter.” Sarah laughed. “I’m still younger than you. Now, please get Ben something to drink while I pour Molly a glass of wine. I already know that’s what she wants.”

“Yes, I sure do. That’s a terrific red wine. I’m stocking up on some when I get home.”

Pete turned to Ben. “What can I get for you?”