Lone Star Christmas. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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Nash gazed deep into her aqua-blue eyes and took another leap of faith. Maybe there was a helluva lot more to her than had first appeared. “Want to join me?”
Nash Echols was a man who was full of surprises, Callie acknowledged. The least of which was his current chivalry. Which seemed, at the moment anyway, to be as deeply ingrained as her own usual good manners.
Had she confronted him about the ruckus in any other way, she might have had a very different result. But she hadn’t, and now she had to deal with the consequences of her earlier outburst. And what was, at best, a very awkward situation.
Nash’s sexy smile widened as he continued in a silky smooth voice that ratcheted up the tension inside her even more, “I’m more than willing to share this delicious spread. I assume you brought enough?”
Glad she had one of the most effective chaperones ever put on this earth with her, as well as a reason to depart quickly once her mission was accomplished, Callie nodded. “Except...Brian doesn’t eat chili. It’s too spicy.”
His gray eyes twinkled. “Will he eat cornbread and fruit, and—” Nash paused, clearly thinking how to phrase it “ —the last course?”
Callie nodded, aware her son was listening intently now—and clearly a little enamored of Nash. Maybe this was a good time to work out a solution to their mutual problem. “Oh, yes. He loves c-a-k-e.”
“Cake, Mommy!” Brian yelled.
“Some things, he can spell,” Callie said dryly.
Nash chuckled. “Well, then, we’re all set.”
Callie studied him cautiously, trying—and failing—not to be turned on by the sleek, suntanned skin over his wide, inviting shoulders and nicely sculpted chest and abs. “You’re sure it’s not an imposition?”
A slow grin tugged at the corners of his sensual lips. “I wouldn’t have asked if it was. Dishes are in the cabinets. Help yourself. I’m going to finish getting dressed then I’ll be right back.”
Yes, dressed was a good idea.
Standing there talking with him, when he was only half-clothed, had conjured up a wellspring of longing that was destined to go unmet.
“Right back, Mommy,” Brian echoed, snapping her out of her reverie.
Callie knelt to help her son off with his coat.
Nash headed upstairs. By the time he came back down, Callie had set out the food, situated Brian on a stack of phone books and pulled his chair up to the table.
Nash extended his hand. “Let’s start over,” he said, every bit the Texas gentleman now. “I’m Nash Echols.”
Warmth spiraled through her. “Callie McCabe-Grimes,” she added with a smile. “And my son, Brian.”
Nash helped her with her chair. For the next few minutes, they talked about where they both grew up. Dallas for him, Laramie, Texas, for her. The conversation then segued into where they’d gone to college, and the fact that, after graduation, she’d had her first business experience in Dallas, whereas he had spent ten years working in the Pacific Northwest, before coming back to his home state.
Nash helped himself to more chili. He topped it with pico de gallo, cheddar and sour cream. “How did you end up in this part of the state?”
Callie cut her son’s cornbread into bite-size pieces. “My twin sister, Maggie, and I planned joint nuptials at the Double Knot Wedding Ranch on Sanders Mountain. She had second thoughts and bolted during the ceremony, so I was the only one to actually get married that day.”
Nash grinned at Callie over the rim of his iced tea. “That sounds like quite a story.”
Nodding, Callie returned his smile. “Maggie stayed on at the ranch after her failed wedding to work off her debt. Fell in love with their son, Hart Sanders, and his little boy, Henry. And then they eventually tied the knot.” She paused. “Do you know Hart?”
Nash smiled fondly. “We go way back. I used to play with him when I was kid whenever I visited my uncle. Although, I haven’t had a chance to see either Hart or his folks in the two weeks since I’ve been back.”
Callie continued, “Hart’s parents, Frank and Fiona Sanders, hired me to craft a new marketing campaign that involved utilizing social media for their wedding train business. I moved here to do that. Once I finished that, I decided to go into business for myself. Which is why I bought the one hundred acre ranch in the valley between Sanders Mountain and Echols Mountain last summer, and spent the past few months—” and almost all her savings “—turning it into a corporate retreat.”
He regarded her with respect, one business person to another. His glance fell briefly to the rings on her left hand, before returning to her eyes. “How’s that going?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“My first event is a week from today.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re worried about the noise from the tree-cutting.”
Callie forged ahead. “I advertise a peaceful setting for important meetings. If I don’t deliver that right out of the gate...” She’d be out of business before she even got started.
Nash rubbed a hand across his jaw. He clearly hadn’t shaved since morning, and the evening shadow gave him a sexy, rough-hewn allure. “How many bookings do you have?”
Seeing him push his empty plate and bowl away, Callie got up to cut them all a piece of cake. “I have four events planned from December first to December eleventh.”
He thought a moment. “Are they day-only events?”
“Yes.” Callie resumed her seat. “From eight in the morning till around ten in the evening, although if my clients’ meetings are slow to wrap up, it could run slightly later than that.”
Nash smiled, watching Brian dig into his cake. “I see where you are coming from.” He leaned closer. “But here’s my problem. I have been contracted to deliver four thousand fresh-cut Christmas trees by December seventh. I have a temporary crew of eighteen, coming in to help with the cutting and bundling and delivery, for the next two weeks.” There was a long pause. “However, today, for a lot of reasons, we only managed to get two hundred trees ready to go. And that doesn’t even include possible inclement weather because we can’t cut down trees if it gets too wet. So for me to suspend operations for four whole days—”
“Would likely mean you wouldn’t meet your business goals.”
A quirk of his dark brow. “Unless...”
Trying not to think what his steady appraisal and deep voice did to her, Callie cleared her throat. “What?”
“I’m not sure it would work.” His sensual lips thinned. “But...if I can get the guys to work through the weekends, including Thanksgiving Day, with the promise of equivalent days off during your events...” He paused to look her in the eye. “Would you be willing to bring in Thanksgiving dinner for everyone—if I order it and foot the bill?”
Callie was willing to do whatever necessary to facilitate peace. “I’ll do better than that,” she offered, beyond thrilled that they had found a solution at long last. “I’ll cook. You-all can come to my ranch and have dinner there.”
* * *
“I HAVEN’T SEEN you this excited since the first time you cooked dinner for Seth.”
Callie turned to her twin sister. The six-months pregnant Maggie had come over with her husband, Hart, and their three-year-old son, Henry, to aid in the preparations. Currently, Hart had both Henry and her son, Brian, out riding tricycles on the sidewalk that led from the converted bunkhouse, where the meal