Western Christmas Wishes. Brenda Minton
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usually am nice,” he reminded. “And it isn’t as if Laurel can put a tree in her car, can she?”
“It’s just... You usually avoid town like the plague. But since you’re being so nice, you can make sure Rose gets to church on Sunday, too.”
Cam frowned. “I think I’ve just been set up.”
“It’s important to Rose,” Gladys insisted. “She’s so excited about being in the Christmas program. There are also a couple of programs at school that she will attend. Now you have to make sure you ask because she’s so used to not being able to do those things that she’ll probably just assume that no one is interested in going or taking her.”
“I’ll make sure she gets to church and I’ll take her to the school programs,” Laurel assured her grandmother. “I won’t let you down.”
Gladys patted her hand. “I know you won’t. And now, the two of you should go. I need a nap.”
Once they were outside, Laurel turned to him. “You don’t have to take me to get a tree.”
Walking toward his truck, she was on his left side. He slowed, and with his hands on her arms, he guided her to his right side.
“I like to see the person I’m talking to and I don’t like walking with my head constantly turned to the left.”
Pink tinged her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”
“There’s no reason you should have. I just thought I’d let you know.”
When they reached his truck, he opened the door for her. She looked surprised by the gesture. “Do men in Chicago not open doors for women?” he asked.
“I’m sure they do. I just haven’t met any of those men.”
“Well, now you’ve met one.” He closed the door, needing that solid piece of metal between them.
He counted to ten, then got in behind the wheel. “I don’t mind taking you to get the tree but do you think we should wait till after school and let Rose help pick it out?”
“That sounds great, except I’m starving.”
He started his truck. “We can have lunch at the café in Hope.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He glanced her way before pulling from his parking space. “I don’t mind.”
“I think you do.”
He sighed. “I think you like to argue. This back and forth is making me dizzy.”
She laughed. “I guess maybe I do like to argue. But I also don’t want you to feel like I’m making you do this.”
They drove in silence for several minutes before he responded. “It’s okay to be pushed from my comfort zone. When I moved into the cottage at Gladys’s, I knew she’d push. It’s her nature. She pushes herself and everyone around her.”
“Yes, she certainly is a force to be reckoned with. And now you have Rose.”
“Capital T,” he reminded her. “And she is a force. But so are you.”
Surprise flickered through her hazel eyes. “Me? I’m not a force.”
He laughed at her. “Oh, you’re a force, all right. Kittens, Christmas trees, trips to the nursing home.”
“I’m not making you do any of those things,” she reminded him.
How well he knew that. The problem was that she didn’t have to force him out of his den—he came willingly for her. He used his music to soothe his horses or to gentle an unexpectedly shy or difficult animal. She was his music.
That was probably the most dangerous thought he’d had in a long time.
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