Lone Star Christmas. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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she felt like she had won it, too.
“In the meantime,” he went on, stepping over the threshold, “it’s supposed to rain tomorrow. So we probably won’t be working.”
Callie lounged in the doorway, arms crossed, aware he had planned for weather delays.
“So if you and Brian are up for it,” Nash continued genially, “I was going to see—”
Callie held up a hand, cutting him off. “Actually, we already have a get-together planned for tomorrow. But maybe some other time?” For a moment, Nash looked like he wanted to say something else. Then he stopped himself, nodded. “Some other time, then,” he said.
And, looking more cheerful than ever, left.
“Bad day?” Maggie asked, when Callie and Brian showed up at her home the following afternoon.
“Unbelievably bad so far.” She carefully hung up their rain-spattered coats on the tree in the hall. Then watched her son stomp off to join his cousin in the family room, where Hart was busy setting up a child-size table and chairs.
It had been one temper tantrum after another since the moment Brian had gotten up that morning. And, as it turned out, the steady, pouring rain and ever-present gloom hadn’t helped either of their moods.
Maggie hugged Callie as tightly as her pregnant-form would allow. “Well, this, too, shall pass,” she promised cheerfully. “At least that’s what Hart and I tell ourselves whenever Henry is overtired and out of sorts.”
Appreciating the support, Callie smiled, then took a moment to admire the decorations her sister and her husband had put up. A beautiful wreath hung on the front door, and a big tree in front of the bay window dominated the formal living room. Garlands laced the staircase, stockings the mantel. Colored lights and a Santa sleigh and reindeer set adorned the exterior of the house. Clearly, they had gone all out. Which only reminded her of the work she had yet to do.
The trees Hart had previously delivered for the bunkhouse and her home remained undecorated. As did the rest of the interior of her home. Callie bit her lip, wondering when she was going to find the time to get everything done.
Drawing a deep breath, she moved farther into the house. “Anyone else here yet?”
Maggie shook her head. “You’re the first. Although the cookie dough I made is ready to roll out.”
Callie carried the two containers of spritz dough, baking sheets and the cookie press she’d brought with her into the kitchen. “Mine is ready to go, too.”
Before they could talk further, the doorbell rang, again and then again. The other two couples came in out of the rain, their preschoolers in tow. Callie was still saying hello to the other four adults when the doorbell rang a third time.
Hart went to get it.
“Hey, buddy,” her brother-in-law said cheerfully. Callie turned, and her heart did a little somersault in her chest as she came face-to-face with Nash Echols. What in the world was he doing here? At a gathering of preschool kids and their parents, no less?
“Glad you could make it,” Hart told Nash, slapping him on the back.
Recognition dawned. Suddenly, she had to know. “Was this what you were talking about last night?” Callie asked Nash, moving closer. When he had off-handedly tried to make plans with her for today, then backed off without ever saying what it was he had been wanting to do?
Nash took off his jacket and hung it up. He was wearing jeans and a gray-and-black-plaid flannel shirt that brought out the dark silver of his eyes Beads of water clung to his face and shone in his hair. Once again, he had shaved closely.
“Yeah. I was going to offer you and Brian a ride, but I could see you wanted to drive yourself.” His glance moved over her lazily, appreciatively taking in her cowl-necked sweater and jeans. “And if it hadn’t rained, as predicted, I wouldn’t be here.”
He would have been working on the mountain cutting down trees with the rest of his crew, Callie knew.
He regarded her affably. “So, I figured we’d just each do our own thing.”
Which, for Callie, now included feeling warm and tingly all over...
Oblivious to her overtly sensual reaction to their guest, her brother-in-law urged Nash forward. “The Texas game’s on. Come on in, let me introduce you to everyone,” Hart said. The two men headed off to the family room.
Callie sighed with relief and made a beeline for the kitchen. Taking advantage of the momentary privacy, Callie whispered to Maggie, “Is this a fix-up?”
Her twin scoffed and adjusted the racks in the double convection ovens so three pans of cookies could be baked in each simultaneously. “No.”
“Really?” Callie countered. “Because everyone else here is married, except Nash and me, and everyone has a child in the Country Day Montessori Preschool, except Nash. So...”
Maggie pulled an apron out of a drawer and handed it to Callie. “It’s just the holidays can be a hard time to be alone,” she explained.
Callie knew that better than anyone. Still... Starting any kind of romantic dalliance, no matter how causal, this time of year wasn’t wise, either. And if Nash were equally at loose ends—because he had just moved to the area—then it was a doubly bad idea.
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