The Rancher's Christmas Song. RaeAnne Thayne
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Boston and not have to worry about me.”
He wasn’t sure he agreed with Curt’s assessment of the Ella factor. Yeah, she didn’t know anything about ranching and had only lived here with her father for a little longer than a year, but Ella was stubborn. She adored her father and had moved here to help him, though Curt seemed reluctant to lean on her too much.
“Anyway, we can worry about that later,” Curt said. “My priority is to make sure I sell the land to someone who’s actually going to ranch it, not turn it into condominiums. I’ve seen what you’ve done with the Broken Arrow since your father died and I have no doubt you’d give the same care to the Baker’s Dozen.”
“I appreciate that.”
“No need to decide anything right now. We have plenty of time.”
“You’ve given me a lot to chew on.”
“That was my intent,” Curt said. “Still need me to talk to Ella about taking your boys to the music thingy tomorrow?”
He winced, embarrassed that he’d even brought it up earlier. He was a grown man. He could talk to her himself, even if the woman did make him feel like he’d just been kicked by a horse, breathless and stupid and slow.
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I actually have a few things in town so should be able to take them tomorrow. When I get the chance, I’ll try to talk to her then about future rehearsals.”
He wasn’t sure why his boys were so set on being in this Christmas program, but they were funny kids, with their own independent minds. He had always had the philosophy that he would try to support them in anything they tried. Basketball, soccer, after-school science clubs. Whatever.
Even when it meant he had to talk to Ella Baker.
“Trevor. Colter. That’s the last time I’m going to ask you. Please stop making silly noises. If you keep interrupting, we won’t make it through all the songs we need to practice.”
The twins gave Ella matching guilty looks. “Sorry, Miss Baker,” Colter said.
“We’ll be good. We promise,” his brother added.
Somehow she was having a hard time believing that, especially given their track record in general and this practice in particular. After a full day of school, they were having a tough time sitting still and staying focused for the rehearsals, as she had fully expected.
She felt totally inadequate to deal with them on a December afternoon when they wanted to be running around outside, throwing snowballs and building snow forts.
Would it distract everyone too much if she had them stand up and do jumping jacks for a minute? She decided it was worth a try. Sometimes a little burst of energy could do wonders for focus.
“Okay, speed workout. Everyone. How many elf jumping jacks can you do in one minute? Count to yourself. Go.”
She timed them on her phone and by the end the children were all laughing and trying to outdo each other.
“Excellent. Okay, now close your eyes and we’ll do one more moment of deep breathing. That’s it. Perfect.”
That seemed to refocus everyone and they made it through nearly every number without further incident, until the last one, “Away in a Manger.”
The song sounded lovely, with all the children singing in tune and even enunciating the words—until the last line of the third verse, when Trevor started making noises like a certain explosive bodily function, which made the entire back row dissolve into laughter.
By the time they finished the ninety-minute rehearsal, though, she felt as wrung out as a dirty mitten left in the snow.
As soon as parents started arriving for their children, Hope popped in from the office of The Christmas Ranch with a mug of hot chocolate, which she thrust out to Ella.
“Here you go. Extra snowflake marshmallows. You deserve it. You survived the first rehearsal. It’s all uphill from here.”
“I hope so,” she muttered. “Today was a bit of a disaster.”
“I saw Beck’s boys giving you a rough time,” Hope said, her voice sympathetic.
“You could say that. It must be tough on them, coming straight from school to here.”
Eight rehearsals. That’s all they had. She could handle that, couldn’t she?
“Do you need me to find more people to help you?”
She considered, then shook her head. “I think we should be okay with the two teenagers who volunteered. Everyone is so busy this time of year. I hate to add one more thing to someone else’s plate.”
“Because your schedule is so free and easy over the next few weeks, right?”
Hope had a point. Between the Christmas show, the care center where she volunteered and the two schools where she worked, Ella had concerts or rehearsals every single day between now and Christmas.
“At least I’m not a bestselling illustrator who also happens to be in charge of the number-one holiday attraction for hundreds of miles around.”
“Lucky you,” Hope said with a grin. “Want to trade?”
“Not a chance.”
Hope wouldn’t trade her life, either, Ella knew. She loved creating the Sparkle the Reindeer books, which had become a worldwide sensation over the last few years. She also adored running the ranch with her husband, Rafe, and raising their beautiful son.
“Let me know if you change your mind about needing more help,” Hope said.
“I will.”
After Hope headed away, Ella started cleaning up the mess of paper wrappers and leftover sheet music the children had left behind. She was gathering up her own things when a couple of boys trotted out of the gift shop.
Colter and Trevor. Was she supposed to be giving them a ride? Beck hadn’t called her. He hadn’t said a word to her about it. Had he just assumed she would do it without being asked?
That didn’t really seem like something Beck would do. More likely, there was a miscommunication.
“Do you need me to call your dad to let him know we’re done with rehearsal?”
Colter gave an exasperated sigh. “We told him and told him about it last night and this morning at breakfast. We took a note to school so we could ride a different bus here, then our dad was supposed to come get us when practice was done. I don’t know where he is.”
“Maybe we’ll have to sleep here tonight,” Trevor said. “I call under the Christmas tree!”
“You’re not sleeping here tonight. I can give you a ride, but I need to talk to your dad first to make sure he’s not on his way and just running late. I wouldn’t want us to cross paths.”
At least he hadn’t just assumed she could take care of it. Slightly mollified, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you know his number?”
The boys each recited a different number, argued for a few moments, then appeared to come to a consensus.
She punched in the numbers they gave her without much confidence she would actually be connected to Beck, but to her surprise he answered.
“Broken Arrow,” he said, with a brusqueness she should have expected, especially considering he probably didn’t recognize her phone number.
Those two simple words in his deep, sexy voice seemed to shiver down her spine as if he’d trailed a finger down it.
“Beckett, this is Ella Baker. I was wondering...that is, your sons were