A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

by Cathy McDavid

  “Can I help?” He started to rise, causing the girls to squeal.

  “Thanks. I’ve got this, and you have your hands full.”

  More like he had his lap full.

  “Whatcha making?” Cody stared inquisitively but didn’t venture from behind Owen’s chair where he’d been instructed to stay.

  “S’mores,” Molly said, sending him a smile. “For the guests. They’ll be here any second.”

  The debacle yesterday had made the kids hesitant around Molly. Owen’s fault, he’d chastised them soundly. But progress had been made this morning at the stables. That, or his kids had short memories.

  Owen was relieved to see Molly wasn’t holding a grudge against Marisa. Or him. Then again, had Tasha and Wayne been less understanding, Owen might have been packing his bags this morning rather than helping with the horses.

  “I like s’mores,” Cody told Molly, hope in his voice.

  “Want to help?”

  “Can I, Daddy?”

  Owen sent Molly a look that silently asked, “Are you sure?” At her nod, he said, “Go ahead, son, but listen to what Miss Molly tells you.”

  Cody rushed to the table and began grabbing things. “What are these?”

  “Cody!” Owen started to rise.

  “Marshmallow roasting sticks.” Molly plucked the long, sharp metal objects from Cody’s hands, much to Cody’s disappointment. “You can’t have them without your father’s permission.”

  Owen sat back down, expelling a long breath.

  “Can I have a marshmallow?” Cody asked.

  “Not until everyone gets here.” Molly handed him the bag. “But you can open this for me if you want.”

  Owen expected most of the marshmallows to end up on the ground. When Cody successfully executed the small task, Owen relaxed.

  Molly surveyed the table. Apparently satisfied, she announced, “I’ll be right back. I need to get the hot chocolate.”

  Cody ran to Owen and grabbed the chair arm. “Can I go, too, Daddy?”

  “I...don’t...”

  “It’s all right,” Molly said. “He can carry the paper cups for me.”

  Cody let out a whoop.

  Owen watched their retreating backs and smiled to himself. One small step for Cody and Molly in the right direction, thanks to the power of s’mores and hot chocolate.

  Marisa and Willa slumped against him, their stares fixed on the flickering flames. The fire was, indeed, hypnotic, and Owen allowed himself to relax. Before long, Molly and Cody returned. With everything ready to go, she made a final inspection of the area and nodded with satisfaction when she was done.

  “Have a seat.” Owen reached over and patted the armrest on the lawn chair beside him.

  To his delight, she accepted the offer. “Tasha, Wayne and their family should be here any minute.”

  Their conversation roused the girls who sat up.

  “I wanna call Mommy,” Marisa complained again.

  “Mommy,” Willa seconded around the thumb she was sucking.

  “They talked to her before dinner,” Owen explained to Molly.

  “I didn’t tell her about feeding the horses.” Marisa’s voice rose by degrees until it verged on a whine.

  “Missing your mom is hard,” Molly said compassionately. “They’re young, and it’s their first time away from her.”

  Owen had been ready to be annoyed at his kids for attempting to manipulate him with their whining. Molly changed his mind completely.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  She turned those vivid green eyes on him, the color heightened by the firelight. If not for Marisa tugging on his coat collar, he’d have stared at Molly indefinitely.

  “Reminding me of what’s important. My kids.” He removed his phone and dialed Jeanne’s number. The moment she answered, he passed the phone to Marisa. “It’s Mommy.”

  A squeal of delight followed and then Marisa launched into a rapid-fire story about the horses, much of it hard to understand. Owen set both girls on the ground in front of him, his eardrums unable to tolerate the strain. By now, Cody had found a stick and was carving shapes in the dirt behind them.

  “You’ve done so much today,” Molly said hesitantly, “I hate to ask another favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Any chance you can help with stringing the Christmas lights before the wedding on Thursday? I was able to get the ones along the veranda railing. I can’t reach the eave and have trouble with the staple gun.”

  Owen envisioned Molly on a ladder, wielding a staple gun. He very much wanted to be part of that picture. “Just let me know when.”

  “I still need to buy a Christmas tree for the foyer.”

  “We’ll take my truck.”

  “I wasn’t hinting for help, Owen.”

  “I know you weren’t.”

  “Thanks.” She sent him a smile that warmed him more than the campfire. “Grandma insists on making Sweetheart Ranch’s first holiday special.” Molly laughed. “Who am I kidding? Grandma loves the holidays and always decorates like crazy. The whole family does. It’s a tradition.”

  “My family’s more laid back,” Owen said. “’Course, since the kids were born, Christmas has centered on them.”

  “It can’t be easy, after your divorce.”

  “Jeanne and I have tried to make things as normal as possible. Though, this year we’ll be celebrating here. In the early morning anyway. She’s picking the kids up after breakfast. Not sure how we’re going to explain Santa making two stops.”

  “I think the children will like it here,” Molly said softly, her gaze falling on the girls “The ranch will be beautiful. All lit up on the outside and with a big tree in the foyer. And there’s several holiday events in town. Craft fairs and the Holly Daze Festival.”

  “Thanks again.” Owen rested his hand on Molly’s arm. “You have a knack for saying the right words at the right time.”

  She stared at him as if seeing him with new eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

  “Maybe they didn’t get to know you well enough.”

  “Maybe I didn’t let them.”

  “If you’re referring to your former fiancés, they obviously didn’t know a good thing when they had it.”

  “They weren’t to blame. I rushed the relationships. I thought I was ready. That being married guaranteed a happy life. I was wrong about that and wrong to rush them. My broken heart was my fault. Both times.”

  “Is your heart still broken?”

  “Only a little,” she admitted. “Coming to Mustang Valley and working for Grandma was the best decision I could have made. I love helping couples realize their dream weddings and honeymoons. It’s very satisfying.”

  Owen shouldn’t be relieved that Molly was well on the road to recovery. He wasn’t in a position to start dating, and until he found a job, he wouldn’t consider himself a decent prospect for any woman.

  Yet, he was relieved to learn Molly’s heart was mostly healed. She deserved that happy life she wanted.

  “I wonder what’s keeping Wayne and Tasha?” She glanced over her shoulder, ending her moment with Owen.

  “They just got married. Who wants company on their honeymoon?”

  “I figured their family would be here at least. They’d sounded excited on the carriage ride this morning.”

  “Nothing like brisk air and being outdoors to tire a person out.” Owen had suffered an energy lull after unharnessing the horses and had practically snoozed through lunch.

  “I brought enough s’mores ingredients for an army.” Molly looked back at the house. “Nora and Bridget said they’d stop by, too.”

  Cody jumped up and grabbed the back of Owen’s chair, pulling hard enough to rock him. “I
want s’mores.”

  “You can have one.”

  “When?”

  “When everyone else gets here.”

  Sulking, he resumed carving in the dirt, stabbing it with his stick rather than drawing shapes.

  “Jeanne and her boyfriend are going away on a ski trip,” Owen said. “It’s upset the kids. She hasn’t done this before.”

  “What about you? Are you upset?”

  “Naw.” He shook his head.

  “You did mention not wanting another man in your children’s lives.”

  “I don’t want a man taking my place in their lives. Realistically, I can’t prevent one from occupying a place in Jeanne’s. Nor would I, as long as he treats her well. Not because I’m jealous,” he quickly clarified. “For the kids’ sakes. A happy Jeanne is a happy mom. A happy mom makes for a happy Cody, Marisa and Willa.”

  “I have to quit asking personal questions that are none of my business.” Molly looked chagrined.

  “I don’t mind. I’m an open book. For the most part.”

  “I envy you.” She shifted in her chair. “I’m not good at expressing my feelings.”

  “You can trust me, Molly. I won’t hurt you.”

  She gaped at him, her eyes wide. “It’s not that.”

  “My mistake. Sometimes people don’t talk about themselves because they’re afraid of being hurt.”

  She didn’t respond, which in itself was an answer. Molly feared another heartbreak, and Owen would be wise to treat her emotions tenderly.

  “Hello,” Cody called out.

  Wayne, Tasha and their family were strolling down the walkway toward the campfire. Molly jumped from her chair to welcome them and reorganize the already organized table. Tasha complained about doing nothing but eating the past few days when Molly offered s’mores.

  An hour was apparently enough to satisfy everyone’s campfire fix. Between the hot chocolate and s’mores, Owen doubted he’d be able to get Cody and Marisa to sleep. They were riding a sugar high amplified by the excitement of playing with older kids. Willa, conversely, had nodded off in one of the lawn chairs.

  “I’ll put out the fire,” Owen said when he, Molly and Nora were the only adults left. The flames had long died down, leaving a pile of glowing embers.

  “Let me get these three out of your hair.” Nora reached for Willa and lifted the limp child.

  “I hate to impose.”

  “No bother. I’ll have them bathed and in their pajamas by the time you get back.” She beckoned to Cody and Marisa. “Come on, you two.”

  “She’s not taking no for an answer,” Molly observed after they’d gone.

  “Guilt.” Owen knotted the ties on a plastic trash bag. “She still feels bad about losing track of Marisa yesterday. I told her it’s fine, but you know Nora.”

  “She’s been extra helpful with me, too.”

  He looked in the direction of the house. “Will that garden hose reach or should I fill buckets with water to douse the fire?”

  “It’ll reach.”

  She had her tray loaded and ready to carry inside when he returned dragging the hose. Adjusting the setting on the spray nozzle, Owen squeezed the handle and expelled a fine mist.

  The embers sizzled before extinguishing. Smoke and ash particles rose in a dense cloud, scattering in the breeze.

  Molly coughed and waved her hand in front of her face.

  Owen was instantly contrite. “Sorry. I should have warned you.”

  Squinting, she held out a shovel. “I figured you might need this.”

  “Thanks.” He dropped the hose and stirred the ashes. A second and third dousing with water produced no smoke or ash particles. “I say we’re in good shape,” he pronounced.

  “Let me help you.”

  She carried the shovel to the side of the house while he rolled up the hose and hung it on the rack.

  “Good night, Owen.” She started to leave.

  He reached for her. “Wait.”

  “What?”

  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he tilted her toward the porch light. “You have some soot on your face.”

  “Do I?” She dabbed at her cheeks, smearing rather than removing the soot.

  “Here. Let me.”

  He removed a kerchief from his coat pocket and gently wiped her face. While pretending to scrutinize his work, he studied her eyes, which never veered from his.

  Molly might have trouble expressing her innermost feelings, but they were clearly telegraphed in the tiny nuances of her expression. What Owen saw made his heart bounce wildly inside his chest. She didn’t entirely object to his touch. Even enjoyed it.

  He took a leap, not caring about the consequences. “I’m going to kiss you, Molly.”

  “You are?” she breathed.

  “Unless you object.”

  He waited for her to say she did. When one moment stretched into two, he dipped his head and brushed his lips slowly across hers. The sparks he knew were there waiting to erupt did in a flurry, snapping and popping like the campfire had earlier.

  Owen pulled her closer into his embrace, savoring the sweet taste and soft, satiny texture of her mouth. She resisted for a fraction longer before slowly melting against him. He tasted her again. Then a third time. Her hands clutched the fabric of his coat, not in need but invitation. Owen wanted to shout. Instead, he circled her waist with his arms.

  For something that should be completely wrong, everything about their kiss was wonderfully right and incredibly perfect. They fit and moved together as if by design. Owen tried to tell her without words how special she and this moment were to him. Her response let him know she understood and reciprocated his feelings.

  For the moment. Nothing lasted, unfortunately. At the first tug from Molly, he stopped and rested his forehead against hers. He wasn’t yet willing to break all contact. Nor, was she.

  “We probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No,” he agreed. “But I’m glad we did.”

  “It can’t happen again, Owen. You’re here for your children. Distracting you would hardly be fair to them.”

  She was right, unfortunately.

  “It was the smudges on your cheeks. I lost control.”

  “I think we both lost control.” She extracted herself then, reluctantly.

  He, in turn, reluctantly released her. “What if things were different, Molly? What then?”

  “But they aren’t different, and there’s no sense tearing ourselves up over a situation we can’t change.”

  She was the first to walk away. Owen had no excuse to stay. He did anyway, until she was inside and safely away from him.

  He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he was glad they’d kissed. It was something he’d remember for a long, long time. Perhaps the rest of his life.

  * * *

  SEVERAL DAYS HAD passed without incident. Owen hesitated about patting himself on the back; it was too soon to assume he had everything under control. Kids were kids and unpredictable by definition.

  Aw, what the heck. He deserved some kudos and let himself feel good. Things were definitely on the upswing. He and Nora had developed a better system for supervising his rambunctious offspring. And while he wasn’t going down in history as the best wedding officiant ever, he was steadily improving. Like the old saying went, practice made perfect. He now boasted two more weddings under his belt. Tonight’s service would be his fifth to date.

  The bride and groom, a really cute couple in their seventies—they’d dropped by yesterday morning to consult with Molly on some last-minute arrangements—had requested a traditional service with the basic do-you-take vows. Owen was feeling confident enough that he’d only practiced once in front of the mirror before determining he was ready.

  “What can I do to help?” he ask
ed, striding into the parlor.

  Molly paused and gave him a casual, yet thorough, hat-to-boot inspection. Nothing about it indicated they’d shared a brief yet electrifying kiss the other night after the campfire.

  “You look nice.”

  “Glad you approve.” He’d swapped his usual sports jacket for a deep green Western shirt and his leather vest. Molly had requested the wardrobe change. The couple were wearing Christmas colors for their wedding and wanted Owen to match them for the photographs, which would be taken with the Christmas lights and decorated tree in the background.

  This was his and Molly’s first real conversation since their kiss. Owen wasn’t sure if she’d been avoiding him because she regretted what had happened or was afraid the two of them might accidentally repeat their mistake and fall into each other’s arms.

  “Would you mind helping me take the leaf out of the table?” she asked. “The sliders can sometimes stick.”

  “Furniture rearranging. My specialty.”

  She looked pretty, as always. One of Owen’s favorite parts of officiating weddings was seeing Molly in a dress as opposed to her jeans. The burgundy-and-gold outfit she wore today looked conservative and professional, like all her other wedding coordinator clothes. Molly would never detract attention from the bride. It nonetheless hinted at her lovely figure when she walked and showed off enough of her gorgeous legs to keep his gaze riveted.

  “One, two, three,” she said.

  They each pulled on their end of the antique table. It was stiff at first and then gave. A little like Molly when Owen had kissed her.

  He needed to stop thinking about her and the other night. It wasn’t easy when she stood next to him smelling like a bouquet of fresh flowers.

  When he took the leaf from her, their fingers brushed, resulting in a small jolt of awareness. Owen quickly manufactured an excuse to distance himself before all the arguments against them getting involved stopped making sense.

  “Where do you want this?” he asked.

  “The hall storage closet.”

  “Incoming!” Bridget called, entering the parlor shortly after Owen returned. She carried a glass vase filled with red tulips in each hand.

  He almost groaned with relief, grateful for the distraction. He’d been completely absorbed with staring at the generous expanse of Molly’s legs that was revealed as she reached high to smooth and rearrange the drapes.