Mistletoe Bride. Linda Varner
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his son, adding a proud grin to the compliment. Though times were a little tough now and might be for a while longer, he wanted Sawyer to feel secure in his love, at least.
While he set his plate in his lap and popped the top of the canned drink, Dani refastened her seat belt. Soon they were speeding down the asphalt two-lane again. Though little but the black of midnight could be seen through the window, Ryan nonetheless cherished what he could make out of the landscape whizzing by. Moving out West was the right thing for him and Sawyer. He felt it in his gut.
And even getting off to this bad start did little to dampen his enthusiasm. Certainly having his truck and all his worldly goods stolen amounted to a major setback, but the vehicle was insured, after all. As for his “worldly goods,” well, they didn’t really amount to much more than old clothes, a few hundred dollars in cash and a box or two of memories. It was the last he’d miss most, Ryan suspected. Clothes and cash could be replaced. The photographs, rodeo trophies and belt buckles that represented the high points of his life could not.
But he still had his son, Sawyer. Son. Though an undeniable reality—Sawyer had Ryan’s nose and his eyes—the concept of fatherhood continued to amaze him.
“Not far now,” Dani commented, words that brought Ryan back to the present with a jolt of surprise. A quick glance at the clock on her dash revealed that it was almost 1:00 a.m. Another glance confirmed that Sawyer was asleep, his head resting on Ryan’s jacket. Where had the miles gone? Had he, too, snoozed?
The car lurched sharply when Dani turned off the pavement onto a narrow, rutted and graveled road that disappeared into a dense stand of pines.
“We’re on my land now,” she said, pride in her voice. “A Sellica has lived on this mountain for ninety-four of the past one hundred years.”
“How may acres do you have?” Ryan asked.
“Only half of the original homestead, thanks to my stepfather’s getting the other half when my mother passed away three years ago.”
Ryan noted that her reply told him nothing about the size of the ranch. A deliberate evasion of his question? he wondered. “And you work the place alone?”
“Easily.”
They topped a small rise and her ranch suddenly lay before them, a loose gathering of buildings, all shapes and sizes, illuminated by a couple of strategically placed mercury vapor lamps. The main house was easiest to spot, since it was largest. There were several other buildings around it.
“That the bunkhouse?” Ryan asked as she braked the car to a halt near the side porch of the house. He pointed to a white frame building off to their left, which looked large for a ranch so small one woman could handle it alone.
Dani glanced off in that direction. “Yes.”
“Good.” He moved to get out of the truck.
“You and Sawyer can’t sleep in there.”
Ryan froze, his hand still on the door handle. “Why not?”
“Because it’s full of junk, not to mention mice and who knows what other little varmints.”
He waved away her concerns. “Just loan us a couple of pillows and blankets, and we’ll be fine.”
“No way.” She killed the engine and shook her head. “The two of you sleep in the house tonight.”
Ryan stared at her in disbelief and some irritation. He wanted to keep his debt to her to a minimum. “Lady, you don’t even know me.”
“So?” she retorted.
“So don’t you think a little caution is in order, here? I could be six kinds of psycho.”
“I could be, too.”
“All the more reason for Sawyer and me to sleep in the bunkhouse.”
“Are you saying you think I’d hurt you?”
“N-no, but—”
“We may as well clear this up right now,” Dani suddenly stated, turning sideways in her seat and hooking an arm around the neck rest. “Do you do drugs?”
“Never have, never will.”
“Ditto for me. Do you drink?”
“Only the occasional beer and not even that lately.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sawyer.
“Same here. Have you ever robbed a bank?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Me, neither. How about murder?” she asked next. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Not no, but hell no,” Ryan said.
“Hmm. Well, though sorely tempted at times—”
Like when he forgot himself and cursed? Ryan wondered.
“—I haven’t, either. But is safety really the issue here? Or is it some misbegotten macho notion that you don’t want to take more from me than you have to?”
Ryan winced. Women and their intuition! It drove him nuts.
“For the sake of that boy’s Christmas,” Dani continued, her voice little more than a loud whisper. “Please just do what you’re told and stay with me tonight.”
Ryan glanced back at Sawyer, still sleeping like a babe. At once all the fight went out of him, and he sagged with defeat. “For the sake of that boy’s Christmas and only for that, I will.”
“Thank you. Now, could we please go inside? I’d really like to get a couple hours’sleep before I have to get up again, and I still have to phone my friend, Jonni, who’s probably out of her mind with worry by now.”
“You’re the boss,” Ryan replied—truth that rankled, truth he suspected he’d rue long before Lady Luck smiled on him again.
Ryan woke around seven o’clock on Friday morning feeling rested. Try as he might to go back to sleep, he couldn’t, and so crawled out of the narrow bed in which he’d slept. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a thermal undershirt, he tiptoed up the hall to make use of the single bathroom, then headed to the kitchen. Not hearing a sound, he assumed that Dani and Sawyer were still sleeping.
In a matter of minutes, Ryan located the coffeepot and coffee. He made short work of measuring out the grounds and the water, then set the pot on the stove and turned on the flame. While the coffee perked, he explored the front half of the house, which consisted of a dining room turned office, and a living room.
He liked the look of the place, which was too young to be antique, too old to be stylish, but just right, all the same. He saw no carpet on the wooden floors, just the occasional braided rug. The walls, most of them wallpapered in soft florals, were dotted throughout with what looked to be dozens of framed family portraits.
In the living room, Ryan spotted a pasteboard box labeled Decorations. Reminded that it was Christmas—a fact that had not crossed his mind yet—he walked back to his room, retrieved a heavy wool shirt from his suitcase and his boots from under the bed, and headed outside to what he assumed was the toolshed. With luck, he’d find an ax and chop down a tree before Dani even got out of bed, saving himself much traipsing around in the ankle-deep snow looking for the perfect one.
Ryan checked out the weather as he walked to the shed, noting with childish pleasure the cloudy sky and the crisp, clean smell of threatening snow. How he’d missed that smell the past twenty-three years. It was good to be home.
Home? Not by a long shot. Wyoming was their next home and no place else would do…even this picturesque Colorado ranch, nestled in the foothills of the Rockies.
Ryan reached for the door of the shed, only to hear the distinct thwack, thwack of an ax already in motion not too far away. Curious, he set out for the sound and in minutes came upon none other than Dani, chopping