A Texas Cowboy's Christmas

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Mr. X looked at Chance, too. “I’ll even go down to only a forty-nine percent stake in the business, if that will turn the tide in my favor.”

  Chance shook his head.

  Delia rolled her eyes. “Chance is. Just. Not. Interested.”

  Babs sent an irritated look at her daughter. “Chance doesn’t need you to defend him, sweetheart.”

  Wordlessly, Delia spun away and headed into the crowd. Mr. X followed.

  Babs glared at Chance. “I’m going to get Delia to forget you once and for all, if it is the last thing I do, Chance Lockhart!”

  Chance was pretty sure that was already the case. He relaxed as Babs stormed off.

  “Is Delia still carrying a torch for you?” Wyatt asked curiously.

  Chance shook his head. “No.”

  But Mr. X sure seemed to be intent on pursuing Delia. The slightly geeky billionaire caught up with Babs’s daughter at the fringes and put his hand on her waist. Leaning down, he said something into her ear. Delia shrugged free. Took off. Mr. X was right behind her, looking more determined than ever.

  Thirty seconds later, Chance got a text from Delia.

  * * *

  MOLLY SAW CHANCE winding through the crowd, walking past the bandstand toward the barns. She was about to follow him, hoping to surreptitiously get a moment alone with him, when Babs stepped out in front of her.

  For once, the aggressive sales and acquisitions exec was not with her daughter or Mr. X, who, to Molly’s surprise, had both also appeared there that evening. “Hello, dear,” Babs said cheerfully. “I’d like to speak to you about doing a decorating job for me.”

  Molly was not at the point she could turn down any business in her new city. Though if she could have, this would have been the job she passed on. Determined to be professional, she plucked her phone from her blazer pocket and brought up her calendar. “Absolutely.”

  Babs wrote the address on the back of her business card. “The job is here in Laramie County. A house on the lake that I’m considering buying as rental property. Can you be there at 9:00 a.m.? The Realtor is going to open up the house. Then we can talk about what is possible in terms of renovation.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Molly saw Mr. X come out from behind the barn. He was alone, and he looked ticked off.

  Wondering what that was about, Molly turned her attention back to Babs. “I’ll see you then.”

  Babs pivoted to see what Molly had been looking at, then headed off in the direction of Mr. X. Molly continued threading her way through the dwindling crowds, toward the barn.

  As she neared it, she saw Delia standing in the shadows just behind it, arms folded in front of her. Chance was standing opposite his ex. They were talking. Seriously, it seemed. Delia did not seem to like what she was hearing from her ex. She threw up her arms in frustration and walked away, head bowed.

  What was going on here? Molly wondered, stalled in her tracks.

  Was there still something left between Chance and Delia?

  Had Mr. X discovered the two of them together? Or had the three of them been talking in private—about the bucking-bull business yet again?

  She had no more chance to ponder because Chance was striding toward her. He stopped just short of her. He waited until they were well out of earshot of other partygoers passing by, then grinned casually and quipped, “Am I allowed to talk to you yet?”

  “Yes,” Molly said, ready to bolt this fund-raiser once and for all. Right or wrong, she wanted the safety of Chance’s arms. “Just not here,” she said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As soon as they got back to Bullhaven, Molly filled Chance in on her conversation with Delia’s mother. Chance didn’t even have to think about what his recommendation would be. “Turn her down,” he said.

  Molly slipped off her heels. Her lips slid out in the adorable pout he knew so well. And could never stop wanting to kiss. “I can’t.”

  He lit the fire, then went into the kitchen and brought them back a couple of bottles of water. Molly sank onto his big leather sofa and bent over to rub her arches. “Babs is not just one of your mother’s longtime friends—”

  “I’m not sure I’d call them that exactly,” Chance interrupted. “They’re more like acquaintances who once frequented the same social scene.”

  Practically trembling with the exhaustion and adrenaline accumulated after such a long evening, Molly waved off his pointed objection. “Regardless, Babs is very well connected. Doing a job for her, and doing it well, could bring me a lot of future business.”

  Already wanting her so bad he ached, Chance shifted Molly into the corner of the leather sofa and drew her legs across his lap. Adjusting his posture to ease the pressure building at the front of his slacks, he massaged her left foot gently, from toes to heel. Felt her start to blissfully relax, even as his desire built. “She could also blackball you,” he pointed out quietly.

  Molly drew her legs away from his lap and swung them back onto the floor. Sitting up, she looked him straight in the eye. Beneath their evening clothes, their thighs touched. “Believe me, I am very well aware of that, too,” she snapped. “That’s why I’m treading carefully.”

  Yes, but you shouldn’t have to, he thought, as a tense silence fell.

  They stared at each other.

  She sighed and ran her hands through her hair.

  Finally, he tried again. “I talked to Delia tonight.”

  Molly’s lips tightened. Briefly she turned her glance away, clearly angry now. “I know. I saw the two of you come out from behind the barn.”

  That sounded a lot worse than it had been. Knowing how lame it sounded, he explained, “She wanted to talk to me without her mother seeing.”

  Molly’s delicate brow lifted, and the pink in her cheeks deepened. She folded her arms in front of her and glared at him. “Sounds cozy.”

  She wanted to believe him. He could see that. She just wasn’t sure she should.

  He tore his eyes from the lush fullness of her lips. “Delia’s worried her mother and Mr. X are up to something.”

  Her expressive brows lowered over her long-lashed eyes. Molly uncapped her water bottle and took a long, thirsty drink. “That’s hardly old news.” She shrugged. “The two of them have been scheming ways to somehow buy out or takeover your bucking-bull business for weeks now.”

  “Something besides that,” Chance clarified with concern.

  “Like what?” Molly asked impatiently.

  “Delia doesn’t know. But Bab’s sudden interest in hiring you indicates you’re involved in her devious plans, too.”

  Molly flinched. He’d never seen her so overwrought or incredibly, passionately beautiful, and he edged closer.

  “Babs couldn’t just want me on board because I’m talented?”

  Chance saw he’d hurt her feelings. But there was too much at stake—most importantly, their relationship—to sugarcoat the situation. “No.”

  Molly’s lips tightened. Slowly but surely the walls around her heart began to go back up. “Thanks a lot.”

  Wanting to protect her more than ever, he covered her hand with his. “Listen to me, Molly. Mr. X told Delia he’s prepared to pull out all the stops to get her to go out with him. And Babs is a manipulative shrew who never forgets a slight.”

  “So?” Molly shook her head as if that would clear it. “How is any of that our problem?”

  “Babs blames me for the fact her only daughter has never married or brought a new influx of major money into their family coffers. She’s particularly unhappy about the fact that Delia has been rejecting all of Mr. X’s advances thus far. And she’s told Delia repeatedly that she would like nothing better than to see me as unhappy as Delia has been. Worse, Babs apparently realized correctly the best way to get her long-awai
ted revenge on me is through you, Molly.” Chance paused to let his words sink in. “I don’t want you getting hurt via collateral damage,” Chance finished tersely. I don’t want Babs ruining what we have.

  And it was so fragile, Babs just might.

  Molly huffed out a breath. “I think you’re overreacting.”

  Chance only wished he was.

  Extricating her hand from his, she stood and moved gracefully to the fireplace. She stood with her back to the flames. “Babs doesn’t know we’re dating. Nor does anyone else. Everyone thinks we’ve just buried the hatchet long enough to become temporary co-contractors on your mother’s renovation and casual friends.”

  Chance wasn’t so sure about that. Molly wore her heart on her sleeve, whether she realized it or not.

  He was equally bad at hiding his feelings where she was concerned. Whether she liked it or not, the two of them had been getting a lot of curious looks. People, like his siblings and their crews, were starting to put two and two together. Heck, even three-year-old Braden realized they’d forged a heck of a lot more than a casual connection. And could have a lot more, if Molly would only give them a shot.

  Unwilling to see what was right in front of her, Molly continued blithely, defiantly keeping her blinders on. “So there’s no reason for Babs to come after me.”

  Okay. So Molly didn’t want to believe him. Maybe because she had yet to see the dark side of the world he had grown up in. She’d been raised in Laramie County, where neighbor took care of neighbor, and a man or woman’s word was worth more than any gold.

  He would have to accept her naive outlook in this matter, and for now, at least, try another tact. “Why risk it, in any case?” he said with a reassuring smile. He rose and joined her at the hearth. “There will be other jobs.”

  “It doesn’t matter if there are, or aren’t.” Molly angled her chin at him, fury glittering in her amber eyes. “I’m not like you, Chance. I don’t have the luxury of turning down work or money!” Her slender body quivered with emotion. “I can’t just throw lucrative offers into the shredder without even looking at them.”

  He returned her pointed look. “You did it once—with Braden’s daddy.”

  “Yes.” Sadness turned the corners of her mouth down. “And I’ve regretted it ever since.”

  * * *

  MOLLY DIDN’T KNOW where the words had come from. She could barely fathom thinking them, never mind saying them aloud. To Chance, of all people.

  He clasped her elbow lightly and drew her toward him. “You don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

  The truth hit her with the force of the north wind, chilling her from head to toe. Ignoring the shocked and disillusioned expression on Chance’s face, she lifted her face to his and went on with gut-wrenching clarity. “I’m not saying it would have been the right thing to do.” She knew, deep down, that morally and ethically it would not have been.

  Chance’s wish to understand her helped her go on. “Given how Braden’s daddy felt about having a child at all, never mind with me, it would have been disastrous to bring Aaron into the equation. Because all Braden would have been to Aaron was a problem to be managed.” Her voice cracked a little. “And Braden would have been devastated to realize he wasn’t loved or wanted the way he should be.”

  Chance twined his hands with hers. Squeezed. “I agree.”

  Molly was determined to let Chance see the differences between them as clearly as she did. She looked him in the eye. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish—on some level, anyway—that I could have figured out a way back then to provide for and protect Braden. Even if it injured my pride.”

  She paused to let her words sink in.

  “Because if I had accepted the money to just go away, then I would be able to afford to put Braden in any elite school I chose without asking for scholarships, and be at least a little more selective about which jobs I took on. I wouldn’t have to worry about what might happen to us if I ever got sick or injured or couldn’t work.”

  Chance dropped his grip on her, stepped back. “But you would have been selling your soul had you done that.”

  “I make compromises all the time.”

  “Not like that, you don’t.”

  * * *

  THE TRUTH WAS, Chance thought irritably, Molly had no idea how cold and ruthless some of the truly wealthy could be, and he didn’t want her to ever know. Not firsthand, anyway. She’d come close enough to finding out in her dealings with the vaulted Worthington Academy.

  “I’m asking you not to be naive,” he said again.

  Molly angled her thumb at the center of her chest. “And I’m asking you to consider my position.” The soft swell of her breasts rose and fell. “To imagine what it is like to not have that fallback of security that comes from family money and connection.”

  She rushed on, giving him no chance to interrupt, “Because if I did have that, Chance, I wouldn’t have to work so hard to build my business.”

  Her lips pinched together stubbornly. “Or meet Babs tomorrow. Never mind leave everything and everyone I know behind and move to Dallas. But I don’t have that luxury, Chance, and odds are, I never will. The most I can do is earn as much money as possible as quickly as possible and provide for my son.”

  She had a point, he acknowledged silently. For a lot of reasons she wasn’t as secure financially as she wanted to be at this point in her life, and given how hard she worked, she should be.

  She was also his woman—whether she admitted it yet or not. He was her man. Yes, he had acted on her son’s behalf, but he hadn’t done nearly enough to protect her feelings or keep her safe. That would change. Effective immediately. “Let me go with you tomorrow,” he said.

  She moved away from the mantel. “I don’t need your protection.”

  Except she did. He caught up with her as she retrieved her shoes. Tried again. “Molly...”

  She perched on the edge of his sofa and slipped on her heels, then stood. “If you understand nothing else, understand this. I have to move forward and do this the way I always have. On my own.”

  * * *

  MOLLY HAD PLENTY of time to regret the abrupt way she’d left Chance’s ranch the evening before and returned to her home in town. The truth was she hadn’t been nearly as irritated with him as she was with herself.

  The womanly side of her kept telling her she was making a mistake in not allowing Chance to stand by her side or run interference for her. Whereas the independent single mom told her it would be a mistake to rely on anyone other than herself, lest she upend the life she had already built for herself and her son.

  As for the romantic part of her?

  Well, she knew what that required.

  A long-term future with Chance.

  But was that even realistic, knowing how he felt about everything that mattered to her? The first of which was earning enough money to obtain real financial security.

  Molly had no answer. What she did know was the meeting with Babs could be the key to a lot of things. Hence she had to go. Even if it meant disappointing Chance.

  So Molly dressed in her most elegant business suit, the one she reserved for premiere networking events, grabbed her briefcase and headed out to Lake Laramie.

  Two cars were already in the drive. A sleek white Mercedes and a minivan with a Realtor sign on the side. She walked up to the fixer-upper, one of many year-round rentals at the lake. It had an artificial wreath on the door and a sparsely decorated small Christmas tree inside. The Realtor, whose daughter attended Braden’s preschool, said hello to Molly, then turned back to Babs. “I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  “You’ll have an answer on the property by noon,” Babs promised.

  The Realtor left them to discuss possible renovations. Molly turned to Babs, her attitude professional. “How
much were you thinking of doing?”

  Babs laid a silk scarf over the worn sofa, then perched on it. “Actually, I’d like to sit and talk first.”

  Getting better acquainted might help break the ice, but something felt off. Ignoring her growing sense of unease, Molly sat opposite her.

  Babs smiled. “I understand you have a son, Braden, and that he was recently wait-listed at Worthington Academy.”

  Molly’s alarm deepened, but she kept her outward cool. “How do you know that?”

  “I do background checks on all prospective business associates. As it turns out, Worthington Academy recently did one on you.”

  Molly had agreed to a credit check as part of the application process. It was standard at most businesses requiring a long-term payment commitment.

  She hadn’t expected such information to become available to anyone but school officials.

  But if Babs had had her investigated, it would have shown up. The same way all the details of her life had shown up when Aaron’s family had her life scrutinized by a PI.

  Molly felt as punched in the gut now as she had then.

  Seeming to realize she’d caught Molly off guard, Babs continued haughtily, “The school wants to know who the parents of their prospective students are. Delia attended WA, and I’ve maintained my connections there, to help business associates, so I made a few calls to see how the process was going.”

  Without my knowledge or consent? That was unacceptable.

  But wary of insulting a person she still hoped to get work from at the end of the day, Molly merely smiled. “I don’t understand what my son’s education has to do with this job.”

  “I still have pull at Worthington. I can get him off the wait list before Christmas.”

  That would be nice. Had it been merit—not connection—based. Doing her best to appear as if this sort of thing happened to her every day, Molly asked calmly, “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Oh, honey.” Babs shook her head at Molly. “It wouldn’t be without quid pro quo. You’d do a favor for me. I want you to help me shake some sense into my daughter once and for all.”