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Ryan tried to remember if he’d seen an outside water spigot. He couldn’t, and had almost decided he’d have to carry the basket indoors, thus spoiling what he’d intended to be a surprise, when he heard the unmistakable trickle of water. He froze, straining to hear the sound again. When he heard it a second later, Ryan followed it into the woods, where he soon stumbled onto a spring.
He wished for his camera to capture forever the beauty of the winter scene—snowbanks, trickling stream, gnarled tree roots at his feet, a canopy of tangled bare limbs over his head. Enchanted, Ryan knelt and dipped his hand into the ice-cold water, then raised it to his lips so he could sip. He grinned. Delicious!
Next, he proceeded to wipe down the basket with his hands, which were now red and rough from the cold. When it passed inspection, he set it down so he could gather some of the colorful pebbles lying all around. They were smooth and round, thanks to time and water flow. He laid them inside the basket with the pinecones.
He gathered other natural artifacts, all of which he tucked into the basket. In his mind’s eye, he arranged and rearranged everything. By the time he walked back to get the tree, he had a good idea what he wanted to do.
Leaving the basket sitting behind a wooden chair on the side porch and placing the tree near the door, Ryan stomped the snow off his boots and stepped into the kitchen. On the floor just inside the door, a Christmas-tree stand waited.
“Finally!” Dani exclaimed from where she stood frying bacon at the stove. Her smile said she wasn’t scolding, just impatient to get started decorating the tree.
Ryan noted that Sawyer had risen and dressed and was now helping Dani by setting the table. The boy did a good job, arranging the colorful plates on coordinating place mats and placing napkins and silverware to the side while she instructed.
“Actually,” Dani said, “I don’t know why I’m so anxious about the tree. We can’t decorate it until after breakfast, and that won’t be ready for another ten minutes.”
“Then I think I’ll go ahead and get the tree set up in the living room,” Ryan told her, lifting the stand and heading outside. Several minutes after, he reentered the house via the front door and proceeded to situate the tree in the stand. That accomplished, he stepped back to examine it. Dani had chosen well, he realized, noting the symmetry of the branches.
“It’s ready!” she called out.
Ryan returned to the kitchen and washed his hands, then joined them at the small, wooden kitchen table. Dani held out one hand to him across the food. The other she held out to Sawyer, seated to her right, an action that baffled Ryan until he remembered the old custom of joining hands to return grace. Somewhat awkwardly, he took her hand and extended his other one to Sawyer. Taking his cue from his dad, Sawyer quickly completed the link. Dani bowed her head, and in a clear, sweet voice, thanked her maker for their food, their shelter and each other.
She tried to release his hand immediately after her soft “amen,” but Ryan wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he tightened his grip slightly, a move that earned him a questioning look.
“I want you to know how grateful I, uh, we are to be here. You didn’t have to take us in.”
“It’s no big deal,” she said, clearly uncomfortable with his thanks.
“Maybe not to you,” he said. “It is to me. And I’ll never forget it.” That said, he released her.
Cheeks stained an attractive pink that had nothing to do with the cold, Dani could only stare at him for a moment before coming to life and thrusting a plate stacked with pancakes in his direction.
Ryan took the food, but instead of helping himself, he offered the pancakes to Sawyer, who forked a stack, the next instant exclaiming, “Look! Christmas trees.”
Christmas trees? Belatedly, Ryan realized to what Sawyer referred—the pancakes. Somehow, Dani had shaped each like a Christmas tree and decorated it with blueberries. And she said she couldn’t cook….
“Some of them are a little lopsided,” she said, shrugging self-consciously.
“I like ’em just fine!” Sawyer gleefully assured her. His grin stretched from ear to ear.
Oddly pleased that she’d taken such pains to make Sawyer’s Christmas breakfast so special, Ryan helped himself to a short stack of the “trees,” then passed the plate back to Dani. Butter and syrup came next, then the bacon. Soon everyone ate in contented silence.
“I like this,” Sawyer suddenly announced.
“Pancakes are my favorite, too,” Dani said.
“I’m not talking about them,” Sawyer told her. “I’m talking about us eating together. It’s just like at my friend Robby’s house. He sits at the table every single morning with his mom and dad and eats stuff like this.”
His mom and dad? Ryan nearly choked at the comparison.
Dani, however, looked amused. “And what do you usually do for breakfast?”
“Well, when I lived with Granny Wright in Arkansas, I always had cereal and milk,” Sawyer told her around a huge bite of pancake. Ryan bit back the urge to tell him not to talk with his mouth full. “Dad and I have doughnuts and cookies and stuff.”
Ryan felt Dani’s accusing gaze on him and squirmed in the chair. “That’s because you told me you didn’t eat cereal,” he said. “You know I don’t have time to cook in the mornings.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” Sawyer hastily assured Ryan, as if afraid he might have hurt his feelings. “I like what we have.”
Dani said nothing—at least not out loud. But her expression spoke volumes, and Ryan saw curiosity and speculation in her eyes. At once, he made two mental vows, the first to keep his personal business to himself. As for the second, well, that was to drag his butt out of bed a little earlier from now on to cook his kid some eggs or something.
“Tell me about your Granny Wright,” Dani said to Sawyer. “How long did you live with her?”
“Until she died.”
Ryan bit back a smile at Sawyer’s innocent answer, which didn’t begin to answer Dani’s question.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother, Sawyer. I’m sure you miss her.” Dani took a sip of coffee, then tried again. “Where did you stay until your dad came to get you?”
“At Granny Wright’s house with Erica.”
“Erica?”
“My mom.”
“Your mom?” The words were a squeak of surprise. As though aware she sounded like a parrot, Dani hastily explained, “I’d assumed she was dead or something.”
Sawyer giggled as only an eight-year-old boy can. “No way.” He said nothing else, but went on shoveling pancakes into his mouth, an action that left Dani visibly frustrated.
Apparently giving up on getting information from the boy, she raised her gaze to Ryan. “You and Sawyer’s mother are divorced?”
Ryan shook his head. “We never married.”
“I…see,” Dani murmured, even though she couldn’t possibly. Clearly, her curiosity battled the need to protect Sawyer from whatever truth Ryan so obviously resisted sharing.
“Erica’s a movie star,” Sawyer offered as he reached for his glass of milk. “She don’t have time to take care of a kid.” He spoke the words as if he was quoting them…no evidence of blame or pain, just a flat statement of fact that stabbed Ryan’s heart.
Dani caught her breath, a soft sound Sawyer didn’t appear to hear. Without uttering a word, she rose suddenly from the table and walked over to the counter to stand for several seconds with her back to them. Sawyer went right on eating.
Ryan barely acknowledged Dani’s action, himself, since familiar fury roiled inside him, hot as a volcano about to blow. He’d felt it before, this all-consuming rage, this bitterness, and realized that it seemed to be getting hotter, more intense with each passing day. How long until eruption? he wondered. How long until he lost control and verbalized truths that his son did not need to hear about Erica, the “movie star” who didn’t want to be called mom because it made her feel old?
“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas, Dad?” Sawyer suddenly asked, an innocent subject change that forced Ryan to ignore the pain in his heart.
He had to suck in a deep, calming breath before he could answer. “Um, cookies, I guess. My aunt Mabel used to make the best Santa-shaped ones. They had this red icing on them and these little sparkle things, all colors.” He faked a smile. “Er, Dani, what’s your favorite thing about Christmas?”
Slowly, she turned and walked back to the table. She didn’t sit, but reached for her plate. Holding it as though she’d lost her appetite and couldn’t bear to look at the food, she said after a moment, “I’d have to say the tree.”
Ryan noted that her eyes shimmered suspiciously. Tears? Almost certainly, and a sure indication of a very soft heart. Since he’d never met a woman with one of those before, he didn’t quite know what to make of it or what to do about it.
Oblivious to Ryan’s bemusement, Dani smiled at Sawyer. “What about you? What’s your favorite thing?”
“This Christmas it’s everything!” Sawyer exclaimed, throwing out his arms as if to encompass all the magic of the season.
Dani laughed then, a light, happy sound that did much to cool Ryan’s rage at Sawyer’s mother. “Why don’t we leave all these dishes for now and get busy on the tree? I don’t think I can wait another minute!”
“All right!” Sawyer said excitedly, slipping from his chair and dashing out of the room. Ryan stood, too, and slowly walked toward the door.
Dani caught his arm, stopping him. “Just tell me this, and I won’t ask another question. Before last September, did you know you had a son?”
He met her probing gaze without a blink. “I did not.”
“Somehow I knew that.” Dani sighed and stepped close to slip one arm around his waist, gently hugging him to her side. “And I’m so sorry.”
Astonished by the unexpected display of sympathy, Ryan could do nothing more than return the embrace somewhat awkwardly by laying his arm over her back and shoulders. She hugged him harder in response. Almost instantly, Ryan felt the tension begin to drain from his body. Several seconds passed before Dani released him from the healing half hug and stepped away, tears on her cheeks.
“You saw the ornaments in the living room?” she asked, unselfconsciously swiping the drops away with her fingers.
He nodded.
“Then why don’t you go help your son get started. I’m going to pour myself another cup of coffee. Want one?”
“Sure.”
With a nod, she retrieved their mugs from the table and walked over to the stove. She poured one mugful, then turned to glance curiously at Ryan, still rooted to the spot near the door. “Something wrong?”
“Actually, I think something’s right,” he murmured-words straight from the heart and, therefore, uncensored. Words that seemed to surprise her as much as they did him. Embarrassed, he turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.
Only later, when the three of them worked at hanging colorful glass balls, homemade wooden stars and glittering icicles on the tree, did Ryan think about what he’d said to her in the kitchen.
Something was right at this moment. Or maybe a lot of somethings, now that he thought about it. For the first time in his young life, Sawyer was having a fun Christmas, something Erica’s stern, no-frills mother would never have tolerated. Ryan, himself, was seeing the holiday season through Sawyer’s eyes—a joyful, renewing experience he cherished.
And Dani…well, who knew about his mystery employer? From all appearances, she enjoyed having the two of them around to share her Christmas. Ryan couldn’t imagine why, since it was bound to mean more work for her. He silently vowed to make her efforts worthwhile by working his butt off for her until he hit the road. From the looks of the ranch, there was much to be done in the way of cleanup and repair, not to mention caring for the livestock.
On that thought, Ryan suddenly remembered the horses she boarded. “Do I need to feed and water the horses?”
“No ranch work on Christmas,” she told him, adding, “I put out extra feed yesterday,” as she hung a reindeer with a tiny light bulb for a nose on the tree. She threaded the green electrical cord attached to it up the branch then down the trunk, where she plugged it into the extension cord that would provide electricity to the rest of the twinkling tree lights when connected to the electrical outlet on the wall. Smiling with pleasure, Dani turned to Sawyer. “See Rudolph, here?”
The boy nodded.
“I won him at a school carnival when I was your age.”
“They had electricity then?”
His grin gave away the fact that he was joking, but Dani squealed and pounced on him all the same. They fell to the floor in a heap, both laughing hysterically as she paid him back for his teasing insult with torturous tickles.
“Save me, Dad! Save me!” Sawyer gasped.
Who could resist such a plea? Not Ryan, who instantly reached down and plucked Dani off his squirming son. She countered the move by reaching back to goose him in the ribs. With a yelp, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, immobilizing the attack and putting her exactly where he’d put her in his delicious fantasy—back to front with him.
The all-woman scent of her assailed him. Her breasts, crushed under his arms, tantalized beyond endurance, as did her derriere, brushing his manly front every time she struggled to be free. With a soft oomph! of pure sexual overload, Ryan released her as abruptly as he’d captured her.
Clearly unaware of the state of his libido, unholstered again in spite of all his good intentions, Dani turned. “What’s wrong?” she demanded between pants for air.
“You stepped on my foot,” he lied.
Breathless, flushed, beautiful—yes, God help him, beautiful—she eyed his foot with visible regret. “Oh. I’m sorry. That’s what I get for fooling around when I should be decorating the tree.”
Fooling around? Ryan, who could think of nothing he’d enjoy more, gulped audibly and had to look away. Though he actually ached with the need to be lying face-to-face with Dani in a bed somewhere private—bodies bare, legs tangled, hearts afire—he nonetheless feared her.
Warmhearted, caring, she had the innate potential to wreak havoc on his and Sawyer’s future by setting precedents impossible to maintain. And, inevitably, whatever life he made with his son would suffer by comparison.
Chapter Three
“Tell me about this ornament,” Sawyer said. He held up a decoration shaped like a candy cane and sporting angled red-and-white stripes.
“My mother and I made that from salt dough when I was about your age,” Dani told him.
“Where’s your mother now?”
The question, uttered in innocence, brought back painful memories of arguments, partings, regrets. “She died years ago.”
“Do you miss her?” Sawyer asked as he draped an icicle over a branch.
Ryan shook his head at his son, clearly trying to discourage further questions. With a wave of her hand, Dani told him it was okay. “Sometimes.”
“Can I put the star on the top of the tree?” the boy asked.
“Sure,” Dani murmured, amazed by the agility of the eight-year-old mind, which could leap from death to tinsel stars in the blink of an eye. “Want the ladder, or can your dad lift you up there?”
“Dad can do it,” Sawyer said. Ryan obliged, a move that demonstrated impressive upper body strength and made Dani long to be captured in those powerful arms again.
Quite a sensation, that. Her heart rate still hadn’t slowed to normal.
“Ready to turn on the lights?” she asked.
“Yes!” Sawyer exclaimed.
Ryan did the honors, plugging the cord into the socket even as Dani turned off the overhead light. At once the tree twinkled red, blue, green and yellow. Sawyer whooped his delight and made it a point to see if Rudolph’s nose glowed red. It did.
“Do you suppose it’s too late for old Santa to find us?” Dani asked.
Sawyer’s smile faded just a little. “Probably, but that’s okay. We’ll have lots of presents next year in Wyoming, won’t we, Dad?”
“Sure thing,” Ryan agreed, exchanging a glance with Dani.
Later? she asked without words, hoping Ryan would allow her to surprise the boy by slipping the present under the tree sometime during the day. Ryan nodded as if he instinctively understood her plan.
Pleased, Dani excused herself to the kitchen, leaving the men to clean up what mess had been made and stash the decoration box in the toolshed. A woman with a plan, she made short work of clearing the breakfast things. She then mixed up sugar cookie dough, which she set in the refrigerator to chill, all the while keeping out an ear and an eye for the pair.
The sounds of their voices out back reassured her. Busy with who knew what, they laughed, talked and argued good-naturedly for the better part of the morning, during which she baked three dozen cookies, all shaped like Santa Claus and decorated with red icing and sprinkles. She didn’t examine her motives for trying to give Ryan something he’d said he loved for Christmas. It was enough that she could do this little thing for him. While the cookies baked, she stewed a hen for dinner, just as her mother and grandmother had always done on this special day. Christmas without hen and dressing would not be Christmas at all.
Just as she tucked the last cookie into a decorated tin, Sawyer burst into the room. “Do you have any construction paper?” he asked.
“Look in the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk in my office,” Dani told him, wisely not asking why he needed them.
“And scissors?”
“Middle drawer of the desk.”
“And glue?”
“Top left.” Still, she didn’t ask a single question. Sawyer rewarded her for her reticence with a smile as bright as the lights on their tree, then charged from the room.
I could get used to having this kid around, Dani realized, a thought that made her sad. Ruefully, she acknowledged that inviting Ryan and his son into her home probably wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. By nature a people person, Dani had struggled hard to gain independence the last few years. Three days with these guys could well result in a crash landing back on square one and a resurrection of dreams long dead.
Was it worth it, just to have company for Christmas? Dani wondered. Nowhere near knowing the answer to that question, she peeked into the hall trying to locate Ryan and Sawyer. Since she heard their voices in the office, she felt safe to slip the tin of cookies and the remote-control car, originally purchased for Ricky, under the tree.
Then, suddenly inspired, she headed to her bedroom at the back of the house. In the walk-in closet, a ladder led to the attic. Armed with the flashlight she always kept by her bed, Dani climbed up into the spacious storage area. There, she perused an old bookshelf loaded down with board games, books and other toys saved from childhood—further evidence of her “sentimental softie” tendencies.
Armed with a like-new Monopoly game and a shoe box full of baseball cards—she’d been a tomboy from the get go—Dani descended the ladder again. Cleaning up the boxes took seconds, after which she wrapped them in colorful paper and added them to the stash under the tree.
The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur of activity. They snacked on cheese and saltines for lunch, watched Miracle on 34th Street and A Christmas Story, then drank hot chocolate while they stood on the front porch and exclaimed over the silver-dollar-size snowflakes that began to drift to the ground around 4:00 p.m.
One eye ever on the Christmas tree and the packages that kept appearing so mysteriously under it, Sawyer fairly bounced off the walls in anticipation of the special dinner Dani had promised, not to mention the thought of opening his presents.
At last, dinnertime rolled around. When they finally laid down their forks and moved into the living room, all three of them were stuffed with hen and dressing. Dani, by now a little tired, settled into her favorite recliner and let Ryan run the show. He did so by allowing Sawyer to play Santa Claus and pass out the presents, the total of which had somehow multiplied again, this time without her help.
Her jaw dropped in surprise when Sawyer handed her a homemade Christmas card and something else, rather large, roundish and wrapped in newspaper.
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