The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle

by RaeAnne Thayne

Jenna was elbow-deep in muffin batter. She looked helplessly down at her daughter. “Oh, honey, I can’t pick you up right now. Give me a minute, okay?”

  “Mama! Up!” Jolie’s voice rose in pitch and intensity and her eyes started to brim with tears. She was such a cuddler when she just woke up and she wasn’t happy unless she’d been held for a few moments until she was ready to start the day.

  “Do you want me to get her?” Hayden didn’t bother to mask the reluctance in his voice.

  “No. Want Mama!” Jolie had that stubborn set to her jaw that Jenna recognized only too well, since she shared it with each of her three older brothers. She was just trying to figure out how she could possibly finish the muffins with one hand while holding her daughter in the other when Carson moved toward them.

  “Here. Let me try.”

  She stared in shock as Carson set down his coffee mug and scooped Jolie into his arms. Jenna waited for her daughter’s tantrum after finding herself confronted with a stranger. Though her eyes widened and she looked startled, she didn’t let out the wail Jenna had expected.

  “Um, thanks,” she murmured, aware of a weird tightness in her chest as she saw him holding her little girl.

  After another moment, Jolie apparently decided she didn’t mind her new position.

  “Hi,” she beamed after a moment, putting out her most adorable vibe.

  Now that he had offered to help, Carson looked as if he didn’t quite know what to do next with the squirming bundle of toddler. “Hi, yourself.”

  Jolie patted his cheek. “Nice,” she declared.

  Jenna knew she should be finishing breakfast but she couldn’t seem to look away from their interaction. She saw Carson blink a little at that, then he smiled back at Jolie, a heartbreak of a smile that made her forget everything she was doing.

  “Thanks,” he answered. “You’re pretty nice, too.”

  Oh, she was a goner.

  Jenna could handle a kiss that curled her toes. She could protect herself against shared confidences in the quiet of a kitchen while a soft snowfall drifted down outside.

  But she had absolutely no way to shield her heart from a man who could look so completely masculine and sexy—and so adorably flummoxed—holding one of her babies.

  Talk about your crazy impulses.

  He should have just turned around and walked out of the kitchen the moment this terrifying little creature wandered over to her mother, all big-eyed and soft and sleepy.

  He didn’t know the first thing about kids, especially girl kids. Jenna’s older boys were one thing. They could at least carry on a basic conversation and were somewhat capable of rational thought. At least he assumed as much.

  The little girl, though. She was something else entirely.

  Her hair was messy, with blond curls sticking in every direction, and she just watched him out of those big, dark-lashed green eyes that were so much like her mother’s.

  Just what was he supposed to do with her? She babbled something incomprehensible to him. He tried to interpret it so he could answer but she didn’t appear to need a response. She just giggled and continued babbling along.

  Not sure what to do, he just pretended to follow her gibberish and occasionally made a benign comment as if he understood her.

  “Is that right?” he said, which mostly just sent her off into more giggles.

  Somewhere in the middle of the nonsensical conversation Carson forgot about feeling foolish. He forgot about his guests and about Jenna watching him out of those wary eyes while she fixed breakfast and about the call to Carrianne he was hoping to find time to squeeze in before they left for the Jackson Hole ski slopes.

  All he could focus on was this curly-haired girl with the huge eyes and wide, toothy smile.

  He carried her around the kitchen, pointing out different things to her that he had never paid much attention to. The colorful tile backsplash behind the oven, the sprayer on the sink faucet, the ice maker on the refrigerator. She seemed to find everything fascinating as she jabbered at him.

  By the time Jenna opened the oven door several moments later and slid in the pan of muffins, little Jolie Wheeler had completely stolen his heart.

  “She doesn’t usually take to anyone like that, especially men,” Jenna said and he wondered if he ought to be insulted by her baffled surprise. “She’s just not used to them, I guess, since she really only has interaction with her uncle Paul. I really thought she would be crying by now.”

  “I guess that just proves not all females run away from me in a panic.”

  She quickly looked at her boys, who were too busy watching the end of a holiday show to pay them any attention. When she shifted her gaze back to him, she was glaring, her expression clearly conveying that she thought him ill-mannered to mention the day before.

  “I didn’t run away,” she muttered.

  “What would you call it?” he asked, while Jolie was occupied suddenly banging a wooden spoon on the countertop.

  “Mom, we can’t hear the song!” Drew complained and Jenna swiftly slid a silicone cutting board across the countertop to muffle the banging.

  “Using a little common sense.”

  He had promised himself after a sleepless night that he wouldn’t push her, that he would try his best to forget his attraction to her. He was a little astonished that he was finding that so difficult to do this morning, especially with all four of her children right there with them.

  She looked fresh and lovely this morning, with all her blond hair tightly contained in a French braid. She hardly looked old enough to be the mother of this little one in his arms, forget about three active boys.

  “Thanks for your help with her, but you really can give her to one of her brothers. They’re all a big help with her.”

  “She’s fine for now, aren’t you, bug?”

  The girl gave him that wide smile again. “Jolie bug.”

  He grinned and looked up to find Jenna gazing at his mouth again.

  His insides clenched and he suddenly wanted to shove all the children out of the kitchen and take their mother in his arms. He stared at her for a long moment that was only broken by a knock on the back door off the kitchen.

  Jenna blinked a few times and he watched her swallow. Then she set down her spoon and hurried to answer the door.

  A woman and a teenage girl who looked about fifteen stood in the doorway.

  “Sorry we’re so late, Aunt Jenna. The papers were delivered to us late and they were huge and took us a long time to roll.”

  “Lots of last-minute Christmas ads,” the woman added as she walked into the room. “So this is the castle kitchen. Swank.”

  “And the lord of the manor,” Jenna muttered, gesturing toward Carson.

  He stepped forward to greet them and he saw surprise flicker in the older woman’s eyes when she saw the little pajama-clad bundle in his arms.

  “Hi.” He smiled. “Welcome to Raven’s Nest.”

  “Carson McRaven, this is my sister-in-law, Terri Patterson, and my niece, Erin. Without their help you would be eating dry cereal and peanut butter sandwiches right now.”

  The woman gave him a guarded look. “Hello,” she answered.

  Jolie wasn’t nearly as restrained. “Auntie!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands in delight.

  “Hi, pretty girl.” She held out her hands and Jolie lunged into them.

  His arms felt curiously bereft without the little girl in them and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

  Jenna watched Carson shove his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and she tried to decipher his odd expression.

  On a different man, she might have thought him hesitant to relinquish the toddler. But that certainly couldn’t be true, she decided. The sooner Terri and Erin took the kids out of his hair, the better Carson would probably like it.

  “Thanks again for watching the boys today,” Jenna said to Erin. “I know you have a million things to do before you leave for the cruise on Christ
mas Eve.”

  “I don’t have anything else to do. I’m already packed,” Erin assured her with a grin. “I have been for two weeks. And with what you’re paying me, I’ll have even more money to spend in the duty-free stores onboard the ship.”

  She smiled. Erin was a world-class shopper and often lamented the tragic fact that Pine Gulch didn’t have its own mall.

  “I should be back at the house in a few hours and then I don’t have to be back at Raven’s Nest until early afternoon to start the dinner prep.”

  “No problem,” Erin assured her. “Come on, you guys. We can watch the rest of the show at your house.”

  “This TV is bigger,” Kip complained.

  “Sorry, you’re just going to have to slum it at home,” Erin told him with a grin.

  As she kissed each of her children goodbye, Jenna was aware of Carson still standing in the kitchen watching out of those blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

  The next few moments were a flurry of activity—finding coats, grabbing the DVD, ushering everyone out the door.

  “Be careful, the steps are a little icy.” Jenna offered one last warning, then closed the door behind her family.

  Carson was still there, one hip leaning against the kitchen counter. He had picked up his coffee mug again and he sipped at the contents, which must surely be lukewarm by now.

  “This really has been a hassle for you to help me, hasn’t it?” he said. “I don’t know if I fully realized the logistics of it all until right now, watching you herd them all out the door.”

  “Yes,” she said without equivocating. “But you’re paying me extraordinarily well to compensate for any inconvenience.”

  His mouth compressed a little. “That still doesn’t make it any easier for you. I suppose you’re glad you’re only committed to a few more meals. Dinner tonight and then breakfast in the morning and then everything can return to normal.”

  “Right,” she murmured, though she couldn’t quite figure out why that prospect should depress her.

  Chapter Eleven

  She only saw Carson briefly again before he and his guests left for skiing, when she replenished the buffet-style breakfast dishes she had prepared into the dining room.

  He didn’t look up at her from his spot at the dining table, where he seemed to be engrossed in conversation with the beautifully sophisticated Elle.

  She was grateful, she told herself. She didn’t need another encounter with him to upset her equilibrium. She was already wasting entirely too much of her time thinking about the man.

  They all left shortly after breakfast and the huge rambling house seemed to echo in their absence.

  She cleared the breakfast dishes and did as much of the prep work for dinner as she could then stood for a moment in the kitchen.

  She had Raven’s Nest to herself, and while she knew she needed to return to her children quickly, she couldn’t resist taking a moment to look around, as she had really only seen the kitchen and dining area.

  She walked slowly through the great room, with its massive river-rock fireplace soaring two stories high and the Christmas tree Carson had cut with her boys.

  Opposite the great room was the indoor pool and Jacuzzi, which had equally impressive two-story windows overlooking the ranch.

  Like the kitchen, no detail had been spared in the house, from the carved interior doors to the remote controlled window shades.

  She couldn’t deny it was elegant, with graceful lines and comfortable furnishings. She believed they called the decor mountain chic. Sure, a designer might use homespun-looking fabric for the curtains but it no doubt cost a couple hundred dollars a yard.

  Even the Christmas tree looked off, somehow. Melina Parker told her Carson had brought in a team of designers to decorate it. Perhaps that was why something about it didn’t look quite right. It was beautiful, but perhaps too polished. Or maybe it was the complete dearth of presents underneath it, a sight that sent a weird pang through her heart.

  She wandered up the stairs, the railing polished and cool beneath her fingers. At the top of the stairs, she opened a door and realized with some chagrin that this must be the master bedroom.

  The room was luxuriously appointed, with its own rock fireplace, a sitting area, a wide wall of windows overlooking her house and the valley and a huge four-poster log bed.

  It was lavish and comfortable, she had to admit. But there were no personal mementos in sight. No photographs, no knickknacks, nothing to show the individual personality of the man who lived here.

  She found it terribly sad, though perhaps his house in San Francisco was filled with those sorts of accoutrements. Somehow she doubted it. He struck her as a man who had created a self-contained life for himself, one without distractions or unnecessary details.

  She trailed a hand over the thick designer comforter on the bed, then jerked herself out of her reverie and ordered herself to stop this fascination with the man and go back to where she belonged.

  Christmas was three days away and heaven knows, she still had a million items on her to-do list. She certainly had things she ought to be worried about other than Carson McRaven. The man could buy and sell whatever he wanted and she was fairly certain he would not appreciate her sympathy.

  Dinner on his guests’ last night was a rousing success, even more spectacular than the night before.

  Jenna outdid herself with a choice of roast wild turkey or pork medallions so flavorful he was certain he had never tasted anything so delicious. In addition to creamy mashed potatoes and a fresh green salad with roasted pecans, she provided three kinds of dessert—mocha crème brûlée, cherry brownies with homemade vanilla ice cream and key lime pie.

  She had a definite gift, he would give her that much. Most of the time he didn’t even think about what he was eating, but Jenna’s food was too memorable to ignore.

  She could find a job as a personal chef anywhere. If not for the weird currents between them, he would offer her a full-time position at Raven’s Nest. As a chef, she was creative and innovative and took risks that still somehow worked.

  And amazingly, she presented the entire meal without meeting his gaze one single time.

  Melina actually served most of the meal but Jenna came in a few times, once to bring the Nutella out to Amalia and once to answer a question from Antonia about an ingredient in the soup that turned out to be saffron.

  Both times, she acted as if Carson didn’t exist. So much for the friendship she claimed she wanted with him, though he refused to wallow in the self-pity that seemed, oddly, to hover at the edges of his consciousness.

  It had been a strange day all the way around. Though the snow had been light and perfect and the skiing hard and aggressive, he had felt off his stride. He blamed it on the two Wheeler females. He couldn’t seem to get Jenna out of his head. The sweet, heady taste of her, those soft, womanly curves, the unexpected heat of her response.

  He didn’t know when a simple kiss had affected him so profoundly.

  But he also blamed some of his distraction on a twenty-five-pound little sprite with curly blonde hair and her mother’s green eyes. He didn’t like the tug in the vicinity of his heart whenever he thought of little Jolie Wheeler.

  “You, my friend, are an excellent host.”

  Carson jerked his attention back to his guest, sitting across from him in the other plump leather armchair in the Raven’s Nest library.

  Carson lifted his scotch, forcing himself to focus on his goals at hand. “Thank you. I’ve very much enjoyed having you and your family at Raven’s Nest. I hope you feel welcome to use my home anytime, even when I’m not in residence.”

  “I wonder if you would be as gracious if I decide not to sell you Hertzog Communications.”

  Carson raised an eyebrow as he refilled the man’s drink. “Am I to take that as some sort of announcement?”

  Frederick studied him for a long moment while the fire in the grate crackled between them and then he chuckled. “You
are a cool one, McRaven. No, it’s not an announcement. The truth is, I made my decision before we even came to Raven’s Nest. The company is yours if you still want it. Your offer is generous. I know your record and I’ve seen how you treat other companies you have acquired. I believe you will treat my employees with great care. They are what matters most to me.”

  He had won. Carson should be celebrating. This was the heady moment he always savored, the taste of victory on his tongue, more potent than even the finest aged scotch.

  Right now he felt rather hollow and had an insane wish that he had someone to share the news with.

  “Do you not have anything to say?” Frederick asked.

  This wasn’t turning out the way he expected. He should be jubilant, not fighting this discordant feeling that everything he thought he wanted had been shaken on its head the last few days.

  “Sorry. I’m thrilled. Of course I am. Thank you. Your decision is wonderful news, exactly what I had hoped. You can be sure I will do my best to take good care of all you have worked so hard to build over the years. I’ll make a call to the attorneys first thing in the morning and have them start the paperwork.”

  Frederick made an impatient gesture. “It’s Christmas. Do you not think that can wait? Let your people enjoy the holiday. My decision won’t change between now and December twenty-sixth.”

  Carson forced a smile, unused to feeling chided, especially by someone he respected as much as he did Frederick Hertzog.

  “You’re right,” he said after a long moment. “All the details can wait until after the holidays.”

  Frederick studied him while the fire crackled and hummed. “And how are you spending Christmas after we leave in the morning?”

  Carson wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. His plans for a long, solitary ride into the mountains on one of the horses would probably seem rather staid and solitary to a man like Frederick Hertzog, who lived for his family.

  “I’m not sure yet,” he said, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

  “Ah. Too many choices?”

  “Something like that.”