A Texas Cowboy's Christmas

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  As long as they kept it casual and had a little chaperone, their relationship would stay safely in the just-friends zone. Wouldn’t it?

  Molly smiled. “We’re baking Christmas cookies this evening, too.”

  Chapter Seven

  Braden answered the door at seven that evening, Molly by his side. Chance looked at the smiling penguin wearing a Santa hat on the front of Braden’s knit shirt and the red-and-white stripes on his pants. “Nice pajamas.”

  Braden took in the second plywood board, covered in white, and folding table Chance carried in his right hand, the shopping bag of goodies in his left. His eyes widened in delight. “Mommy, look!” he shouted happily.

  Molly wrinkled her brow. “You’re going to spoil us,” she said.

  Chance winked. “Then mission accomplished. And by the way—” he let his glance drift over her cream-colored V-neck sweater and formfitting black yoga pants “—you’re looking mighty fine, too.”

  “Then that makes three of us,” she said, nodding at his green corduroy shirt and jeans. Grinning, she opened the door wide. A front had blown in since they had seen each other earlier, bringing gusting winds and taking the temperature down to freezing. Worse, it was the kind of damp cold that went right through your clothes. Molly reached past him to hold the door. “Come in out of the cold.”

  With a nod of his head, Chance obliged.

  “What’s that?” Braden asked as Molly shut the door behind them, once again sealing them into the cozy warmth of her home.

  Chance winked at the little boy. “Let’s see.” After handing Molly the bag, he took the folding table over and set it up flush against the matching one he’d brought over the previous night. The white fabric-covered board went on top.

  “We’ve got a North Pole over here, with Rudolph and the sleigh, and what is going to be a Christmas ranch over on this side.”

  “I like ranches!” Braden jumped up and down.

  “Then let’s build one, shall we?”

  Together, the three of them set up a corral, a barn and a snow-covered ranch house decorated for the holidays. Three horses, a dog and a cat completed the menagerie. Last but not least were a number of snow-covered trees that could be placed on either side of the increasingly elaborate Christmas village.

  Yet there was plenty of room for more.

  “I play?” Braden asked.

  “What do you say first?” Molly prompted.

  Braden encompassed Chance in the biggest hug he could manage. “Love you, Chance!”

  A lump the size of a walnut formed in Chance’s throat at the unexpected declaration.

  There was no doubt the earnest little boy meant it.

  Chance knelt down, aware this was a first. “Love you, too, buddy,” he said thickly, accepting Braden’s joyous hug. In the foreground, he saw Molly, tears shining in her eyes. She needed a moment as much as he did.

  Braden went back to playing.

  Molly returned to the kitchen. She plucked an apron off the hook. When she had a little trouble tying it, he stepped behind her and did it for her.

  He caught the scent of orchids before he stepped away. She was wearing that perfume again.

  But then maybe she wore it a lot.

  Maybe he had just never noticed.

  “I guess this is what they mean when they say Christmas is for kids.”

  She nodded, her head bent over the handwritten cookie recipe on the counter. “Thank you for helping us with our dilemma, although I’m still not sure I see how that’s going to convince him that it’s not likely he will get a L-I-V-E trio of B-U-L-L-S.”

  “Patience,” he teased. He saw her blush, just the way she had when they’d made love.

  His body reacted in kind.

  Aware this was no time to be going down that path, however, not with her son in the next room, he took an apron off the hook for himself and put it on. “We’ll work it out.”

  Brightening, Molly put six eggs into the mixing bowl of her stand mixer and turned it on high speed. “Speaking of things working out unexpectedly...guess what I got shortly before you arrived?”

  Chance watched her pour milk and baking powder into another bowl.

  “A call from Elspeth Pyle, the headmistress at Worthington Academy! Braden has an interview on Monday afternoon. They’ll give us a tour of the school at that time and also talk to me privately. Which means I need to take another adult along.”

  Maybe more than she knew if things went the way they usually did at the Academy. Casually, he volunteered, “I wouldn’t mind going.” For starters, it would give him more time with both of them. There were other things in Dallas that could be accomplished, as well.

  As Molly zested the skin of a lemon, the bright flavor of citrus filled the room. She paused to look up at him. “I didn’t think you were gung ho about this.”

  He shrugged, not about to enter that particular minefield and chance spoiling the evening.

  A furrow formed along the bridge of her nose. She added softened butter to the whirring mixer, then sugar. “Not going to confirm or deny?”

  He fought the urge to take her in his arms. “If you need someone, I’ll be there. It’ll give us a chance to take care of another matter while we’re in the city.”

  She peered at him through a fringe of thick auburn lashes. “Like what?”

  “I got a call from our tile guys this afternoon. They said some of the tile for the kitchen backsplash was damaged or is not as perfect as you want it to be.”

  She frowned, already taking the matter in stride. “That’s a special-order material.”

  “I know. I found some at a warehouse in Dallas, but I think we should probably take a look at it before we buy it, make sure the same flaws don’t exist in that batch.”

  Molly nodded. “Absolutely.” She paused, thinking. Then ran a hand across her brow. “This is going to put us behind, isn’t it?”

  He stepped closer. “A little bit.”

  Their eyes met, and he felt the connection between them deepen. “How come no one called me?”

  “I told them I’d talk to you about it. Just in case you wanted to—” conscious of her little boy playing a short distance away, he mimed an arrow to the heart “—the messenger.”

  “Smart-ass.” They all knew neither of them ever took any of their frustrations out on the crew. Mix-ups and snafus were par for the course of any building project. Molly took them in stride, just as he did.

  The customer was not always as understanding. “Did you tell your mom?” Molly added lemon zest, anise extract and salt to the mixer.

  Chance shook his head. He really enjoyed watching her move about the kitchen and work her magic. “I thought you might want to do that.”

  “I do, since it really falls on the design side. I’ll see if I can get her to pick out something else as backup, just in case we don’t have time to get her first choice and still make the Open House deadline.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She turned the speed down on the machine and handed him a bowl of flour. “Can you put this in, a cup at a time, while the mixer is still going?”

  “Without making a mess?”

  Her amber eyes glittering jovially, she patted his biceps. “I have faith in you.”

  He was glad someone did. He was competent in the kitchen but not a pro like her.

  Still, it was nice to be included, he thought, carefully adding the first of what looked like half a dozen or so cups of flour.

  He watched her retreating backside as she went off to get out the baking sheets. She looked good in jeans and skirts, but this was the first time he had seen her in something as formfitting as the black yoga pants. They hugged her slender but curvy frame with disturbing accuracy.

  Whirling b
ack around, she came toward him once again. Standing next to him, she watched him add the last of flour. As soon as it was mixed, she turned.

  He cleared his throat. “So what are we making here?” he asked. When all he wanted to make with her was love...hot, wild love.

  She smiled, oblivious to the effect she had on his libido. “Springerle. It’s a German shortbread cookie with a design stamped on top.”

  Feeling the pressure building at the front of his jeans, he noted with mock gravity, “Fancy.”

  She laughed, bending forward to remove the latch holding the mixing bowl in place. The V of her sweater gaped slightly as she moved, giving him an unexpected view of the delectable uppermost curves of her breasts and the satin edge of her bra.

  His body hardening, he resisted the urge to take her in his arms, and instead, contented himself, watching her move gracefully about her task.

  “It’s one of those things that looks harder than it actually is.” She picked up a wooden rolling pin with pictures carved into it. “Thanks to this.”

  “Really fancy.”

  She laughed again. Nodded at the other room. “Want to tell Braden that it’s time for him to come and help?”

  Chance gestured toward the sofa. “Ah, I think it might be too late for that.” Braden was curled up, his favorite blanket beneath his cheek, the Rudolph Chance had brought him in one hand, a horse from his Christmas village in the other. “Long day?”

  “Very.” Molly unlooped the apron from around her neck, then set it aside. “I’m going to have to carry him to bed.”

  Aware he had flour all over the front of his apron, Chance took his off. “Want me to do the honors?”

  Suddenly looking as if it had been a very long day for her, too, Molly sighed. “If you think you can without waking him.”

  “What’s that saying?” He tilted his head. “Anything you can do I can do better?”

  She elbowed him in the ribs, taking the joke in the spirit it was intended. “Just don’t disappoint me, okay, cowboy?”

  It was a casual request.

  Yet one he wanted to take seriously.

  “Never.” He leaned down and lightly kissed the top of her head. Then after carefully picking her son up in his arms, blankie, toys and all, Chance followed Molly up the stairs.

  * * *

  MOLLY TRIED NOT to react to the sight of Chance gently laying Braden in his toddler bed. But it was impossible. The sight of the big, strong man tenderly cradling her son, and setting him down on the pillows, created an ache in her heart that was so fierce it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

  Up until now, she had convinced herself that Braden was better off with one parent who loved him with all her being. Now, with Chance in their lives, even temporarily, she could no longer deny the truth. Her son needed a daddy.

  He deserved one.

  Had circumstances been different, had she and Chance been more compatible in all the ways that really counted when it came to long-term relationships, their future might have been different.

  But they weren’t the same.

  He was the kind of man who could reject financial offers without even looking at them.

  She was a woman who would upend her entire life to better financially provide for her son.

  And money, she knew, was on the top three list of things couples fought about.

  “Tell me you’re going to let me stay around long enough to at least taste the springerle,” he said when they were back downstairs again.

  What harm could there be in a little more time with him? Molly wondered. Especially when the two of them were becoming such good friends. “Sure.” Molly drew a bolstering breath and handed him his apron. “But be warned,” she said with a playful look. “I plan to put you to work.”

  And work they did.

  After rolling out the dough and then using the special pin to leave an imprint, they carefully cut and transferred the stamped cookie dough onto parchment-lined cookies sheets. Finally, it was time to put the first two pans in the preheated oven. “What about the rest of the dough?” Chance asked.

  Molly smiled at the way he was really getting into the holiday baking. “I’m going to save that for Braden to do, first thing tomorrow morning.” She covered the bowl and set it in the fridge.

  “So now we wait,” he said.

  “We wait,” she confirmed, her stomach suddenly clenching with excitement for no reason she could figure.

  She liked cookies.

  But she wouldn’t empty the bank for them.

  On the other hand, to be held in his arms again and or have another one of his kisses...

  Hazel eyes glittering with a wealth of emotions she wasn’t so sure she should decipher, he brushed aside a lock of her hair. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you having me here, with you and Braden?”

  She laughed off the significance of her actions and tried to harden her heart. “No choice really, given the ongoing live-bull situation.”

  Looking confident they would solve that dilemma, Chance wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close. “Oh, there’s always a choice, Molly,” he murmured huskily.

  And the first one she had to make was whether she was going to let him kiss her again.

  * * *

  CHANCE SAW THE indecision in her eyes. Luckily for both of them, there was no indecision in him. He knew exactly where he wanted this liaison of theirs to go. Giving her no room to protest, he lowered his mouth over hers. She smelled like an intoxicating mix of orchid, cookies and delectable woman. And she tasted just as sweet, her lips as heavenly soft and supple as he recalled. Her body just as warm and although not quite yielding, not pulling away, either.

  He slid a hand down her spine and back up again. Worked to erotically deepen and further the kiss. The move was rewarded with a soft, sultry moan and a surge against his body that had him hard as granite, and hungering for more. “Chance...”

  Sensing she was a woman who had never been valued the way she should be, he wove his hands through her hair. “Just a kiss or two, Molly,” he rasped, kissing his way up the nape of her neck, the sensitive place behind her ear. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  And all, he was certain, she meant to give. She uttered another soft sigh. Wrapped her arms around his neck, rose on tiptoe and pressed her breasts to his chest. “Two kisses, then,” she whispered, her eyes a dreamy amber as she looked up at him. “That’s all.”

  Two kisses that would mean everything, Chance determined, savoring the way her heart pounded against his.

  Resolving to make her realize how much they could have if she just gave them the opportunity, Chance resumed kissing her. Soft and sweet, slow and deep, and all the ways in between. He let her know with every stroke of his lips and tongue how much he wanted to be there for her, to let her know he cared. Enough to be as patient and gentle as she required, while cherishing and honoring her as she never had been before.

  He kissed her until she was as caught up in the all-consuming passion as he was. And it was only then that he realized the kitchen smelled of burning sugar.

  Molly noticed at the same time he did.

  She broke away. Stared in dismay at the smoke coming out of her oven vents. Then jumped into action, as did he. She swiftly hit the power-off button on her oven and covered the vents with two oven mitts, stifling the smoke and cutting off the flow of oxygen before anything could burst into flames. Chance grabbed a chair, stepped up and undid the plastic covering on the smoke alarm just as the first earsplitting warning screech sounded for half a second, then abruptly stopped when he managed to disconnect it.

  Chance and Molly tensed, waiting to hear if Braden cried out. Thankfully, only silence reigned.

  Her face pale, she opened the oven door. The cookies inside were indeed burned black, b
ut not on fire. With a grimace, she pulled out both sheets, carried the horribly smelling cookies outside and set the pans on the concrete patio behind the house.

  He went in the opposite direction and opened a couple of windows at the front of the house for cross ventilation. Almost instantly bitter-cold air swept into the living area and wafted through the kitchen, easing the smoky smell.

  Molly jerked in another breath, still distressed. “I’m going upstairs to check on Braden.” She dashed off while he stayed behind. And as soon as the residual smoke was cleared out by the winter wind now gusting through the downstairs, he reassembled the alarm.

  Eventually Molly returned. She still looked a little shaken but was composing herself quickly.

  Aware how quickly the temperature had dropped inside her home, as well as between the two of them, he moved to shut the windows. “‘Everything okay up there?”

  She nodded, her face flushed blotchy pink with embarrassment. “Braden’s still asleep. No smoke made it up there.”

  He gave her the physical space she seemed to need. “Sorry about the cookies.”

  She scoffed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not.”

  How was that possible, he wondered, given how much work they’d put in?

  Molly retrieved her baking pans and shut the door behind her. Back stiff, she carried the remains to the sink and dumped the contents. Whirling to face him, she lifted her chin. “I needed a reminder to stay focused. And not get distracted by this...attraction between us.” She swallowed, amending half-apologetically, “Nice as it is.”

  At least she admitted that.

  As for the rest...

  She held up a hand before he could interrupt. “I’m not going to lie to you, Chance. I enjoyed making love with you.” She squared her shoulders defiantly. “But I meant what I said. It’s not going to happen again. And this disaster here—” she indicated the burned-black cookies now filling her kitchen sink “—is evidence why.”

  * * *

  CHANCE COULD HAVE argued the culinary disaster was not a harbinger of events to come, but the look on Molly’s face told him their relationship—and it was a relationship whether she wanted to admit it or not—would be better served by giving her some time alone to sort out her feelings. So he called on every bit of gentlemanly reserve he had, bid her good-night and left.