“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.
“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