A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

by Cathy McDavid

  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 h
er 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.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  OWEN HELPED CODY and Marisa onto the first pew in the chapel. He sat Willa on the floor rather than take the chance of her falling.

  As it turned out, he needn’t have worried for her safety. The toddler immediately collapsed onto the carpet, stuck her thumb in her mouth, pillowed her head with her other arm and stared into space. Before long, she would nod off.

  Owen let her be. Neither he nor his kids had slept soundly their first night at the ranch. True to her word, Marisa objected to sharing the sofa bed with her brother and had a meltdown. Even after she gave up and accepted the inevitable, she, Cody and Willa had insisted on multiple trips to the bathroom and drinks of water and whined endlessly because they missed their mother and Oreo.

  No amount of coaxing, cajoling or consoling on Owen’s part had made a difference. Eventually, Willa and Marisa had cried themselves to sleep while Cody remained stubbornly awake. At a loss, Owen had finally allowed his son to crawl into the king-size bed with him where they’d both succumbed to exhaustion.

  Everyone had awoken this morning tired and cranky. Owen didn’t see their moods improving without a nap, which was why he let Willa sleep on the chapel floor.

  “Is she okay there?” Molly asked from where she stood at the altar, her brow knitted.

  “She’ll be fine.” Owen reached down and stroked his youngest’s cheek. She would be fine, right?

  Another glaring example of his below average dad skills. His ex-wife had always been the one to get up with the kids at night or tend them when they were sick. And he’d let her, seldom volunteering to take her place. It was one of his many regrets. Regrets he had the chance to remedy thanks to Jeanne.

  Straightening, he said to Cody and Marisa, “All right, you two, listen up. We’re playing a game.”

  “Yay!” Marisa’s expression instantly brightened, and she bounced in her seat. “I wanna play a game.”

  Cody crossed his arms, considerably less enthused. “You said you had to work.”

  “I am working and we’re playing a game. You get to help me.” Owen removed a red paisley handkerchief from his jeans pocket and tied it around Cody’s neck. The boy immediately pulled the handkerchief up over his mouth like an Old West bandit. Owen then gave Marisa a rose from last evening’s wedding to hold. “We’re pretending you two are guests. I’m the minister who’s going to perform the service and Miss Molly is the bride.”

  “Can I be a bride, too?” Marisa asked.

  “Next time, if you behave.”

  “Why does she have a mop?” Cody stared at Molly. He’d somehow deduced she was the one responsible for this girly game.

  “The mop is the pretend groom,” Owen said.

  Over breakfast in the kitchen, he’d attempted to explain the duties of his job at Sweetheart Ranch to his kids without much success. Cody and Marisa had been very young at their aunt’s wedding three years ago and didn’t remember.

  He’d have preferred to leave them in Nora’s care for the practice. Unfortunately, she wasn’t available until later, which meant the kids were currently underfoot.

  No, not underfoot. Owen reminded himself that he and his kids were at Sweetheart Ranch to bond and strengthen their relationship and for him to become a better dad. Referring to them in negative terms was counterproductive.

  “This game is dumb.” Cody threw himself against the back of the pew.

  “Would you rather be the groom and stand next to Miss Molly?”

  “I’m not marrying her!” Cody pushed off the pew, prepared to make a run for it.

  “Stay put, young man.”

  He flopped down hard enough to shake the pew.

  Owen gritted his teeth, embarrassed at his oldest’s rude outburst but refusing to make the situation worse by yelling.

  “I don’t know, son.” He forced himself to speak slowly. “Might not be as bad as you think, standing next to a pretty lady.”

  He glanced over at Molly and found her looking at him. The moment lingered, and then her mouth curved into a small smile.

  She pulled the mop closer in a mock hug and said, “Sorry. I’m already taken.”

  How about that? She possessed a sense of humor after all.

  Owen was
suddenly glad to be practicing and not because he needed to smooth out a few of his rough edges. Getting to know Molly better was proving enjoyable.

  “We don’t have much time,” she reminded him. “We should get started.”

  With Willa sleeping peacefully, Owen leveled a finger at Cody and Marisa. “Be good,” he warned and took his position at the altar. Facing Molly and her makeshift groom, he asked, “What ceremony did the couple request?”

  “The Art of Marriage, and they’re going to recite their own vows, which makes things a little easier for you.” She handed him a sheet of paper on which was printed the ceremony. “This is a second wedding for both the bride and groom. Only their teenage children, parents and a few close friends are attending. They requested the ceremony have an intimate, casual feel. For you, that means infusing lots of warmth into your voice.”

  “Can do.”

  At her nod, Owen began with the same welcome speech from the previous night, including the joke about the open house.

  Molly stopped him there. “Why don’t we leave out the part about the open house? These people weren’t here yesterday and don’t care.”

  She was right, about that and infusing warmth. “Life is a journey,” he continued.

  “Wait. That’s too cliché.” Molly tapped a finger on her cheek. “Let’s try, the journey of life is made better when traveled together. Wayne and Tasha have chosen each other to share their journey.”

  “You make me wish I’d brought a pen,” Owen teased.

  Always prepared, Molly promptly extracted a pen from her shirt pocket and handed it to him. Owen scribbled the changes in the margin.

  “You know,” she said when he was nearly done. “I’m not the only person in the room. There’s the groom and the guests. Look at them, too.”

  Busted. He had been concentrating on her. Hard to ignore those amazing green eyes which were focused directly on him.

  Clearing his throat, he glanced over at his kids. By some miracle, Cody and Marisa weren’t fighting. Instead, they watched him with an intensity akin to wonderment. That hadn’t happened since he’d taken them to the office one Saturday when he couldn’t get out of work and their mother had plans. He’d fully anticipated a trying morning filled with reminding the kids to lower their voices and stay out of trouble. Instead, they’d wound up having enormous fun.