A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal

With both of them wanting to attend, he and Nora had struck a deal. She’d watch the kids for the first half of the open house, and then Owen would relieve her so that she could enjoy the second half. She’d insisted she didn’t mind, and Owen had begun to suspect the elderly woman had a real soft spot where kids were concerned.

“I’ll be good,” Cody whined, hanging on Owen’s arm.

He’d heard that promise before. Most recently this morning on the drive to Sweetheart Ranch from their mother’s house. Cody had started a fight with Marisa two miles into the trip. Owen couldn’t risk another incident ensuing during the open house. Molly and her sister were stressed enough as it was.

At least the girls were behaving, Owen thought. They’d taken a shine to Nora rather quickly. Possibly because they were young, and she reminded them a little of their mom’s neighbor who occasionally watched the kids.

No fooling Cody, though. He still suspected Nora might be a witch and shied away from her.

“We talked earlier,” Owen reminded Cody, determined to remain patient. His children had been through a lot for one day. They’d been separated from their mom and beloved dog, were living in a new place, sleeping on an unfamiliar bed, and had been left in the care of a father they’d seen only four times in the last three months.

Everything would be different soon, and Owen had his ex-wife, Jeanne, to thank for that. She’d been resistant at first, and he’d hesitated involving his lawyer to enforce their shared custody agreement. Taking a different approach, he’d convinced her the arrangement benefited them both. Owen got the chance to right past wrongs while Jeanne and her new boyfriend were able to have some alone time and go off on a short trip. Take-home lessons from Cody’s kindergarten teacher for the missed week of school had sealed the deal.

Now Owen needed to make the most of the opportunity and not screw up.

“When I’m working,” he said, “Miss Nora will watch you.”

“I wanna go to the party.” Cody screwed his face into a scowl.

Owen regretted describing the open house as a party. Cody was no doubt thinking games and prizes and cake and ice cream.

“The open house is for grown-ups.”

“She’s not a grown-up.” Cody pointed to Nora’s granddaughter Tracee, who’d been hired to serve refreshments and clean up afterward.

“She’s fifteen,” Owen said. “Plus, she’s working. That’s different.”

“Not fair.” Cody’s voice had gained considerable volume.

Nora came to the rescue. “How about you, me and your sisters go to the kitchen? I happen to know where there’s a secret stash of fresh-baked cookies. If your dad says it’s okay, you can have one.”

Owen felt compelled to warn Nora about his kids on a sugar high. “You might want to take them to the cabin afterward. Let them burn off their excess energy.”

“I was thinking along the lines of the clubhouse first and then an afternoon nap.” She rested a hand on Willa’s downy curls. “This one for sure is going to need some downtime.”

“I’m too old for naps,” Cody insisted.

Owen checked the arched entranceway leading to the foyer. No guests had arrived yet, which was a relief. His son was on the brink of throwing a fit.

“You don’t have to lie down,” he told Cody. “But you do need to behave for Miss Nora and can’t make noise while your sisters sleep.” He turned to Nora. “Their mom packed some games and movies and his truck collection.”

“Come on.” She captured the girls’ hands. “First cookies and perhaps a glass of milk to wash them down. After that, if you’re good, we’ll play a game of Ping-Pong or how about croquet?”

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

“You hit a ball with a mallet through little hoops.”

The idea of hitting balls clearly intrigued Cody, though he stubbornly held his ground.

“I’ll let you watch a movie while your sisters nap.”

“Which movie?” Won over at last, Cody reluctantly followed Nora and his sisters toward the kitchen.

“What one’s your favorite?”

“My Little Pony,” Marisa squealed with glee and skipped ahead.

“No.” Cody slapped his forehead in very adult frustration. “Not that one again.”

The remainder of their conversation was cut off when they disappeared around the corner. Owen was thinking he could learn a lot from Nora when Molly suddenly entered the room. Good thing he was alone. That way, no one witnessed his jaw going slack at the sight of her.

She looked amazing. Not that she hadn’t been pretty in her jeans and T-shirt. But the pale knit dress she wore and the way her soft, wavy hair framed her face elevated her appeal to a whole new level. She was, quite simply, lovely, and Owen felt his heartstrings stir.

Granted, Molly had a few funny idiosyncrasies. Like the way she flitted around the room, obsessing over the placement of coasters or holding her splayed fingers above her head to test the airflow from the AC ducts. Funny, but also amusing and sort of endearing. He could only assume those former husbands of hers were idiots for letting her go.

“Easy does it,” he muttered under his breath. He was here to restore his faltering relationship with his children. Not find his next romantic interest.

Must be Sweetheart Ranch. There was something about a place where love abounded. Hard to steel oneself against the effects.

“Thanks for your help earlier.”

Owen gave a start. Where had Molly come from? Last he’d seen, she’d been straightening pictures that didn’t need straightening and refanning the precisely fanned napkins.

“My pleasure,” he said, trying not to stare.

“And thanks for coming this afternoon. People will enjoy meeting you.”

“Do I look minister-y enough? I wasn’t sure what to wear. Marisa picked this.” He tugged on the hem of his leather vest, a recent gift from his mother. The brand for his brothers’ ranch was burned on the front. “Not sure I should rely on the opinion of a three-year-old.”

“Three-and-a-half,” Molly corrected him. “She was quite adamant about that when we were wiping down the folding chairs.”

“Six months is important when you’re her age.”

“She’s cute. All your kids are.”

“Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. Any good genes they got came from their mother.”

Molly studied him at length, long enough for him to feel the effects. “I think they take after you.”

“Is that a compliment?”

She didn’t answer, fussing with an imaginary wrinkle on her dress.

Owen suppressed a chuckle. She liked him. Liked his looks, anyway.

“Having planned two of your own weddings must come in handy for being in a wedding coordinator.” He admitted to himself that he was fishing for information.

Molly took the bait. “I’ve never been married.”