Christmas with the Mustang Man. Stella Bagwell
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“It’s the least I can do for you so graciously putting me up tonight.”
While the coffee brewed, Dallas scraped the dishes and stacked them to one side of the porcelain sink. Just to her right, Boone pulled a lid from a plastic container and placed several cookies on a paper plate.
For some reason, standing near him like this, doing domestic chores together, felt even more intimate than when he was showing her the bedroom. Although she tried to ignore it, her heart was going at a fast clip and she feared her cheeks were flushed with color.
“If you’d like, we can take this in the family room,” he suggested. “You can use the phone in there.”
Clearing her throat, she was quick to agree. “Sounds good to me.”
After he placed the coffee and the cookies on a plastic tray, she followed him out of the kitchen and down to the family room. As she took in the simply furnished area, she noticed a huge fireplace took up the major part of one wall. A warm welcoming fire would have gone a long way in brightening the room, but presently the hearth was cold and dark.
As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “I’ve cleared away most of the underbrush on the ranch and there’s not much left to burn. To have a fire every evening, I’d have to drive up to Ely and buy firewood, so I’ve been rationing until my next trip.”
“And I’m sure it’s expensive,” she stated.
“Very.”
He gestured to a long green sofa and matching armchair. “Have a seat anywhere you’d like. The phone is there at the end of the sofa.”
“Thanks.” She sank down on the sofa, then reached for the phone and directory resting beneath it.
After a quick explanation to the hotel clerk, Dallas placed the receiver back on its hook, then helped herself to the coffee and cookies that Boone had left on the table in front of her.
“If you need to call your family—or anyone—to let them know you arrived safely, please do.”
Dallas looked over to see he’d settled comfortably back in the chair and crossed his ankles out in front of him. The jeans covering his long, muscled legs were faded nearly white, the hems slightly frayed. His snub-toed cowboy boots had once been brown roughout leather, but were now smooth and dark from countless hours of wear. Dallas doubted he’d ever seen the inside of a department store or mall and if he had, he’d gone there reluctantly. Still, he was the perfect image for a jeans commercial. An idea he’d no doubt laugh at, she thought.
“I called my family when I first arrived at Pioche. So they know I’ve made the trip safely. Right now I don’t want to worry Liam needlessly about the truck. At least, not until I can give him an exact problem.”
Boone said, “I hope he wasn’t planning on using the truck anytime soon.”
Dallas darted him a sharp glance. He made it sound like getting her vehicle running again was going to take days instead of hours. Oh, God, that couldn’t happen. She couldn’t spend days with this man. It would wreck her!
Trying not to think the worst, she replied, “Most of the tracks on the West Coast won’t be having any major races to speak of until after the New Year. So my brother won’t be doing much traveling. That’s one of the reasons why I planned the trip for this month. Plus with Christmas coming up, many of my kids won’t be visiting the stables. They’re involved with family holiday things right now.”
From the moment she’d arrived on the ranch, Dallas had noticed there were no holiday decorations to be seen in or out of the Barnett house. Maybe they practiced some sort of religion that didn’t celebrate Christmas, she thought, as she munched on an oatmeal-and-raisin cookie. But she seriously doubted that was the reason for the lack of festiveness. She was more inclined to think that Boone had forgotten how to celebrate anything.
“Are your stables closed while you’re away?” he asked.
“No. My sister-in-law, Lass, is my assistant and she’s keeping the place running for the few children who do show up.”
Earlier today, when Dallas had called home, her mother had given her breaking family news that amounted to a double whammy. At breakfast this morning Lass and Brady had revealed they were expecting a second child and before they’d hardly gotten the words out of their mouths, Bridget and Johnny had announced their first child was on its way. In a few months two babies would be arriving in the Donovan family at the same time. Dallas was thrilled for her brother and her sister, yet somehow the news had left her feeling a bit melancholy. She was already thirty-two. Would there ever come a day, she wondered, when she would become a mother? It didn’t seem likely. Not when the idea of giving her heart to another man made her want to turn tail and run.
Not wanting to dwell on that miserable thought, she turned her gaze back on Boone to see he was studying her with those dark, brooding eyes. Did he ever think about having a baby with another woman? The notion bothered her in more ways than she wanted to admit.
Swallowing to ease the tightness in her throat, she asked, “Do you have hired help on your ranch? Or do you do it all yourself?”
“I have a man who comes in three or four days a week to help with the ranch work. Depending on what’s going on.”
On the opposite side of the room, directly across from the couch, there was a small television. Presently the screen was black, a status that didn’t surprise Dallas. In fact, she couldn’t imagine this rugged cowboy sitting down to watch a drama or sitcom. Maybe the news. But nothing for the sole purpose of entertainment.
She was still speculating as to what he’d consider entertainment when the telephone beside her suddenly rang. The unexpected sound caused her to flinch and her head jerked toward the jangling instrument.
Making no move to answer it, he said, “Hayley will pick it up. It’s usually for her, anyway. You know how it is with kids.”
There was that subject again. Kids, children, babies. Normally she didn’t dwell on her single status. But something about Boone and his daughter, coupled with the news of Lass’s and Bridget’s pregnancies, had gotten to her, making her want to weep and scream at the same time.
Biting back a sigh, she gave him a wan smile. “I imagine you—”
Her comment was cut short as Hayley suddenly yelled from somewhere in the hallway. “Dad! It’s for you! Can you pick up the phone?”
“Who’s calling?”
The girl came trotting into the room, carrying a portable phone with her hand clamped tightly over the receiver. She started toward Boone, then stopped short when she spotted Dallas on the couch.
Her face a mixture of perplexed pleasure, she said, “Oh! Dallas! I thought you’d left.”
Dallas smiled at her. “I thought I was leaving, too. But my truck decided to call it quits.”
“Hayley, the phone. Who is it?”
Boone’s question jerked the girl’s attention back to her father. “It’s Billy Hopper. Something about welding on the hay loader.”
“Excuse me, Dallas,” he said, then quickly rose to his feet, took the phone from Hayley and exited the room.
Once her father was out of sight, Hayley walked over to the sofa and sank onto the edge of the cushion next to Dallas.
“What are you gonna do now?” she asked curiously. “Is Dad gonna drive you to Pioche tonight?”
Dallas shook her head. “No. I’m going to stay here for the night. I hope you don’t mind,” she added. “Your father assured me that you sometimes have guests on the ranch.”
Hayley’s features suddenly perked with interest. “Uh—we’ve had a few, but they’ve all been old men. But…well…gosh, it’ll be nice to have you stay!”
Dallas smiled with relief.