Читать книгу A Texas Cowboy's Christmas - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 10

Chapter Three

This was Chance’s opportunity to make a graceful exit.

To his surprise, he wasn’t in a hurry to leave. In fact, he was sort of lamenting the fact that the time would eventually come. “Actually,” Chance admitted good-naturedly, “I was hoping I’d be able to see what the Christmas stollen looks like when it’s finished.”

“Yummy!” Braden declared, rubbing his tummy.

Chance chuckled. The little buckaroo’s enthusiasm was infectious. “You think so?”

Braden nodded magnanimously. “We share. Mommy. Me. You.”

Chance turned to Molly. “Is that okay?” he asked casually, wanting to give her the option of throwing him out—if that was what she wanted.

“You probably should see what you’ve been missing,” she said drily.

He had an inkling. And he wasn’t just thinking about baked goods.

“Outside?” Braden asked again, impatiently.

“Let’s go.” She grabbed a rain jacket for herself, then opened the door. A blast of unexpectedly warm air hit them. No doubt brought in by the front. “I was going to offer you a cup of coffee,” Molly said, looping the jacket over a wicker chair, “but maybe it should be iced tea.”

“Coffee’s fine.” Chance smiled. “Thanks.”

Molly watched her son march down the front steps and out into the light rain. They both grinned as Braden lifted his face to the sky and stuck out his tongue to catch a few raindrops. Fondly, Molly shook her head, then turned back to Chance. “Can you keep an eye on Braden for a minute? He knows not to go outside of the picket fence.”

“No problem.” Chance took the seat she indicated on the front porch. For the next few minutes, he watched Braden investigate everything from the water running out of the gutters to the drops pearling on the leafy green shrubs.

He’d forgotten what it felt like to look at the world with such unvarnished appreciation.

Maybe it was time he remembered...

“Sure you wouldn’t rather be at your mom’s watching football with your brothers?” Molly teased, returning with a tray containing a carafe, two mugs, sugar and cream. She set it on the table between them.

Chance grinned at her son, who was now hopscotching his way through a series of puddles on the front walk.

He turned his attention back to Molly. Her cheeks flushed with happiness, her auburn hair slightly mussed, a smudge of flour across one cheek, she had never looked more beautiful. Or content.

He liked seeing her this way.

“Oh, there’s no football at my mom’s on Thanksgiving.”

Her delicate brow pleated. “Seriously?”

As she neared, he caught the fragrance of her lavender hand soap mingling with the sweet, sexy scent of her hair and skin. Pushing the electric awareness away, Chance sat back in his chair. “She says that’s why DVRs were invented. Social events require socializing properly with each other, not tuning everyone out watching TV.”

Molly handed him a mug of steaming coffee. She wrinkled her nose at him. “Sounds like Lucille.”

Chance watched as she settled in the chair beside his. The hem of her knit dress rode up a little. She crossed her legs at the knee and tugged it down discreetly, but not before he had seen enough of her long slender thighs to make his heart race.

Chance worked to keep his mind on the conversation. “No doubt about it. My mother’s big on etiquette, always has been.”

Molly waved at her son, who was now marching around the perimeter of the inside of the fence. Braden stopped to lift his arms high and turn his face to the slowly clearing sky overhead. “Still, the menu would probably have been better...”

Chance couldn’t recall when he had enjoyed a holiday meal more. “I thought we had a fine meal at the cafeteria. Turkey. All the trimmings. Not to mention choice of dessert.”

She chuckled, holding her mug against the softness of her full lips. “You did have two pieces of pie.”

He watched her blow lightly on her coffee, then take a dainty sip. Shrugged. “Couldn’t make up my mind.”

He was certain about one thing, though.

He wanted to ravish Molly Griffith.

And would...

“Look, Mommy!” Braden shouted. “Rainbow!”

They both turned in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, there was one arcing across the sky.

“Come here, Mommy! Come see!”

“Just when I wish I had my camera out,” she murmured with a rueful grin, rising to join her son.

Not wanting to intrude, Chance stayed behind to make her wish come true.

* * *

CHANCE LOCKHART WAS full of surprises, Molly thought minutes later, looking at the series of action photos he had taken on his cell phone while she and Braden had admired the burst of colors streaking across the late afternoon sky.

“Thank you for capturing that moment,” Molly said softly when they walked back inside a few minutes later to put the stollen in the oven. Chance had not only gotten several nice shots of her and Braden together—something that rarely happened on the spur of the moment since she had no other family member to do the honor—but he’d also managed to capture a close-up of the wonder on her little boy’s face.

Priceless.

“I thought you would want to remember it. Not every day you see a rainbow on Thanksgiving.”

Not every day she spent a holiday with such a sweet, handsome man. Not that this was a date. Even if it had started to feel like a date.

Molly finished getting Braden out of his rain gear, then showed her little boy the photos Chance had taken on his phone and emailed to her.

“That’s me,” Braden said gleefully. “And Mommy!” He pushed the phone away. “Can we dec’rate tree?”

That had been her original plan.

Chance shrugged his broad shoulders affably. “I’m up for it if you are,” he said.

“You’re really into Christmas, aren’t you?” She hadn’t met many single guys who were.

Or were this kind to her son.

“Hey.” Chance aimed a thumb at the center of his chest. “When the opportunity to be chivalrous presents itself...”

He was on board, Molly thought. Which just went to show how badly she had misjudged the gorgeous cowboy.

By the time the oven timer went off half an hour later, they had the lights strung and on. Half a dozen ornaments later, the fruit-and-nut-studded pastry was cool enough to finish.

Aprons went back on. Although this time Molly made sure that Chance had the larger garment. Together, they all brushed on melted butter, then sprinkled the tops of their masterpieces with granulated sugar.

“And now for the pièce de résistance!” Molly declared triumphantly, showing her son how to use the sifter to cover the pastry with a final snowy-white cover of confectioner’s sugar. She handed the sifter to Chance, watched as he did the same to his and then followed suit.

The three pastries made a lovely, Christmassy sight.

“Eat now?” Braden asked.

Molly grinned. “Let’s taste it.” She cut off a two-inch slice for Braden, a larger one for Chance and a slightly smaller one for herself.

They all bit down on the soft, citrus-flavored nut-and-fruit bread with the sweet and slightly crunchy exterior. “Wow.” Chance’s hazel eyes lit up. “That’s...amazing.”

“Yummy,” Braden agreed.

Molly had to admit, between the three of them they had done a good job. Before she could think, she offered, “Want to take a loaf home with you?”

Luckily he didn’t read any extra meaning into her impulsive gesture. An affable grin deepened the crinkles around his eyes. “Sure you don’t mind?”

Remembering what her late mother had told her—that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach—Molly shrugged off the importance. “I’ll be baking all month long.”

His gaze skimmed her appreciatively. “In that case—” he winked “—I’ll have to remember to come around more often.”

Molly caught her breath at the implication.

Was he truly interested in her?

She knew she desired him. Always had. Even though they were clearly all wrong for each other. Still...

“All done, Mommy!”

Switching quickly back to parenting mode, Molly gently wiped the sugar from her son’s hands and face. Braden reclaimed the Rudolph and sleigh, along with his favorite blue blankie. Yawning, he snuggled on the sofa.

Chance arched an inquisitive brow. “Nap time?”

“Two hours ago,” Molly confirmed softly, watching Braden struggle to keep his eyes open.

“Oh.” A wealth of emotion—and understanding—in a single word.

“Yeah. I was hoping—” Molly moved closer to Chance, whispering even more quietly “—he’d be able to get through the day without one. Especially since it’s so late.”

Chance shook his head fondly. Putting an easy hand on Molly’s shoulder, he nodded in the direction of the couch. “Looks like he’s already asleep.”

Molly took in the sight of her child, blissfully cuddled up, auburn lashes fanning across his cheek. She sighed. “Indeed, he is.”

Chance caressed her shoulder lightly. “That’s a problem?”

Molly’s heart raced at the casual contact. “He’ll be grouchy when I do wake him up before dinner and may have trouble falling asleep tonight.”

“Anything I can do?”

If you were here, sure. You won’t be. Molly looked up at Chance. Time seemed to suspend. Suddenly there was just the two of them. “Cross your fingers for me?”

His eyes darkened. He brushed his thumb across her lower lip and continued to regard her steadily. “How about something even better?” he said huskily, lifting her hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss across her knuckles. She caught her breath. And then she was in his arms. Wrapping both his hands around her small waist, he caught her against him, so they were length to length.

Molly’s breath hitched again.

“Chance,” she whispered.

His head lowered. Slowly. Purposefully. “Just one, darlin’...” He tunneled his hands through her hair and his eyes shuttered. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Molly saw the kiss coming, and she knew she should do something to stop it. She was attracted to Chance enough already. If his lips were to actually touch hers...

With a small, sharp intake of breath, she lifted both hands and spread them across the muscular warmth of his broad chest. His heart was beating, strong and steady. His head lowered even more. And then there was no stopping it. Their lips connected, and a shiver of pure delight went through her. Her usual caution gone, she opened her mouth to the seductive pressure of his. He tasted like rich black coffee and freshly baked stollen. And man. And she could no more deny him than she could deny herself. It was Thanksgiving, after all. A day to count blessings. Be happy. Thankful. At ease. And she’d never felt more at ease than she did at that very moment.

Chance knew he was taking advantage, that Molly deserved a lot better than the overture he was making. He also knew opportunities like this did not come along all that often.

Molly had a wall around her heart, strong enough to keep the entire male species at bay. She was driven by fierce ambition. And a robust little chaperone that kept her on the straight and narrow.

Had he spent time with her before now, he would have realized what a beautiful, complicated and magnificent woman she was.

He would have known there was a lot more to her than her need for tremendous financial security, and the social status that came with it. But he hadn’t, so he had squandered the two years he had resided in Laramie County. Two years in which he could have pursued her like she was meant to be pursued.

Fortunately, he still had a month left.

He wasn’t going to waste it.

Or make any more mistakes.

So he kissed her passionately until she kissed him back and curled against him. And it was only then, when they started to make the kind of connection that rocked both their worlds, that she suddenly gasped and wrenched her lips from his.

* * *

“IS THIS THE POINT where you haul off and slap me across the face?” Chance joked.

It was definitely the point where she gave herself a good hard shake, Molly thought. What in all Texas had gotten into her? She couldn’t start getting involved with someone! Or even have a fling. Not when she was getting ready to leave rural Laramie County and build a life in the city.

Reluctantly, she stepped out of the warm cocoon of Chance’s strong arms. She went to a drawer on the opposite side of the kitchen and pulled out a roll of plastic wrap.

Her lips and body still throbbing from the thrilling contact, she lifted a staying hand and admitted softly, “That was my fault every bit as much as it was yours.”

“Fault?” With displeasure, he zeroed in on her low, censoring tone.

“Holidays can be really lonely.”

He gave her a considering look. “They don’t have to be.”

Irritated he saw so much of her feelings when she wanted him to see so little, Molly admitted, “It’s easy to find yourself reaching out in ways you normally wouldn’t.”

His eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and compassion. “Is that what happened with Braden’s daddy?”

“No,” Molly said, trying hard not to succumb to the unexpected tenderness in Chance’s expression.

He leaned against the counter, arms folded in front of him, and continued to study her. “Then?”

Maybe if Chance knew the worst about her, he would forget the sizzling physical attraction between them and realize their backgrounds were too diverse for them to ever be more than casual friends.

Molly drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to go down the wrong path again.”

“With me.”

It upset her to bring this up, but she knew for both their sakes, it had to be said. Chance had to start facing the fact they were and always would be all wrong for each other. “With anyone who was born outside my social standing.”

His brow furrowed. “You really think I’m that much of a snob?”

She flushed and dropped her gaze to his muscular chest. “I think, in this respect, you might be as naive as I once was.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

Molly grabbed the spray cleaner and paper towels, then began scrubbing down the counters. “I never really dated much after my dad died. I was too busy trying to put myself through school and get my business going.”

He moved so she could reach behind him. But not quite enough. As she reached, her shoulder lightly brushed his bicep. “Sounds like you had to grow up pretty fast.”

Molly straightened. “All that changed when Aaron Powell III came to Laramie to look for lakeside property that could be flipped.” She grimaced at the memory. “I was asked to give a bid. I did and won the work on several houses that he and his family purchased.” She removed her apron and hung it back on the hook. Recalling her first taste of unfettered luxury, she admitted reluctantly, “I’d never been friends with anyone that ostentatiously wealthy, and Aaron swept me off my feet.”

Chance’s expression relaxed in understanding. “How long were you together?”

“About three months.”

Taking her by the hand, he guided her onto the stool. Sat down beside her. “You didn’t expect it to end?”

Molly shrugged, still wishing she hadn’t been quite so naive. Shifting so the two of them faced each other, she said, “I knew Aaron’s life was in Houston, that his shuttling back and forth continuously would stop when my work was done and the lake properties were listed. But I was okay with that. I was perfectly willing to move where he was.”

Chance’s expression darkened. “He didn’t want that.”

Humiliation clogged Molly’s throat. “He didn’t think that would go over so well with his fiancée.”

An awkward silence fell.

“You had no idea,” Chance guessed in a low, even tone.

“None,” Molly was forced to admit. Restless, she got up and began to pace the confines of the kitchen. “Unfortunately, I was pregnant by then. And I’d already told him.”

Giving Chance no more opportunity to ask questions, Molly rushed on. “The next thing I know the Powell family lawyer is at my door with a contract for me to sign. All I have to do is agree—in writing—not to ever publicly acknowledge paternity and a nice six-figure check is mine.”

Jaw taut, Chance stood. “I’m pretty sure that’s not legal.”

Molly nodded as he circled the counter and strode closer.

“I could have forced the issue in court. I also knew if I did that, Aaron and his attorneys would use my modest financial circumstances to allege I was a gold digger and make our lives a living hell. My only priority was to protect my child from hurt.”

The compassion in Chance’s hazel eyes spurred her to go on.

“So I hired a lawyer and countered with an offer of my own. I would never pursue any claims of paternity, or child support, if Aaron would promise to do the same and allow me to raise Braden completely on my own.” She drew a breath. “Aaron was more than happy with that, since he didn’t really want children, never mind a bastard son from a woman from a lower social echelon.” Molly wrung her hands and lifted her chin defiantly. “So we signed an agreement...and that was that.”

Chance searched her face. “Did you ever regret it?”

Wasn’t that the million-dollar question!

Molly shrugged, the barriers coming up to protect her heart once again. Steadily, she held Chance’s gaze. “I regret mistaking big, expensive romantic gestures for love. And the fact that Braden doesn’t have the devoted daddy he deserves.”

His gaze drifted over her, igniting wildfires wherever it landed. “The latter could be fixed,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

Maybe someday. For the first time, she was beginning to see that.

In the meantime, she had the next phase of her life plan to execute. Molly handed Chance the wrapped, freshly baked stollen and escorted him to the door. Wary of her still-sleeping son, she eased it open, then stepped with him all the way out onto the porch. It was unseasonably warm, and the sun sparkled down on them.

“The point is, even if fate works against us and Braden never gets the loving daddy he deserves, I still have to support my son to the very best of my ability.”

“Which means?” Chance prodded, suddenly looking a lot less pleased.

Molly said determinedly, “I’ve got to move to a place where I can make a lot more money than I am now. And give Braden the kind of boundless future that he deserves.”

And that meant no more getting too friendly with Chance.

And definitely no more kissing him!