A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal Read online

  Fortunately, he had enough money set aside from his Waverly stock options that he could wait a couple months at least for the right opportunity—one with limited traveling and decent wages, that would allow him to be close to his kids and also excited him. In his opinion, slaving away at a despised or boring job was like being slowly tortured to death.

  Moving on from the groom, Owen introduced himself to the various family members congregating at the back of the chapel. Taking an older, wheelchair-bound woman’s hand in his, he squeezed gently.

  “Mrs. Wilson, I can see where your daughter gets her good looks.”

  She covered her mouth with her other hand and laughed. “And I thought I was the one with poor eyesight.”

  “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Can’t recall ever being to a wedding with such a charming minister. Where’s your church, young man? Might drop in one Sunday and hear you preach.”

  Owen hadn’t expected this question, though, in hindsight, he should have. “I’m afraid I’m not that kind of minister. They only let me marry people. I leave the preaching to the professionals.”

  “A shame. You’d fill the pews.”

  “You’re very kind.”

  Giving her hand another squeeze, Owen greeted the next person. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Molly. She stood near the door, discreetly surveying the room. When she caught his gaze, she nodded approvingly.

  The ceremony had gone better than yesterday’s. Granted, he’d tripped over his words once or twice. Okay, three times. But all in all, a marked improvement.

  He was glad. Pleasing Molly had become important to him, and not because he liked her or wanted to impress her. Their relationship was entirely professional and needed to stay that way. Rather, her determination to make Sweetheart Ranch successful was contagious and had become Owen’s goal, too.

  Like him, Molly had no room in her life for dating, if she was even interested in him romantically. They’d both been burned and recently. From what Nora had told him, one of the reasons for Molly’s return to Mustang Valley was to heal her broken heart. Owen should, and would, respect that.

  Since no one had invited him to the reception, he began edging toward the door. The newly married couple and their guests sounded as if they were ready for cake and a toast before embarking on the night’s festivities.

  Owen signaled Molly that he was leaving.

  “Thanks, again,” she mouthed, nodding at the bride’s teenage son, who held his phone up, continuing to live stream events.

  Owen’s friend had come through for them—the hotspot booster worked perfectly. In return, Owen had promised to buy his friend dinner and a beer this coming weekend at the Poco Dinero where they’d watch the bull riding and reminisce about their former glory days.

  “Anytime,” he mouthed back to Molly. He almost added “See you later,” but stopped himself. Hadn’t he moments ago reminded himself they were coworkers and nothing more?

  He was saying goodbye to the groom’s parents when Marisa abruptly burst into the chapel, eyes searching frantically and her clothes disheveled. The sight of her was so unexpected, Owen didn’t initially react. Not until she spotted him and started wailing.

  “Daddy! Daddy! You said I could be the bride.”

  Not now, please, he silently begged.

  As if connected by invisible strings, the wedding couple and guests backed away from Marisa, expressions of alarm and confusion on their faces. The groom’s mother looked horrified.

  “Hi, peanut.” Owen stepped forward and reached for his daughter. Every pair of eyes in the room riveted on him, including Molly’s. “Let’s you and me get out of here, okay?”

  His hope that Marisa would go willingly and quietly was dashed when she wriggled free from his grasp.

  “I’m the bride,” she shouted. “You promised.”

  Had he? Oh, yes. This morning. During practice. “Your turn is next.”

  “Nooo!”

  To Owen’s horror, his darling, sweet daughter whirled in a circle, lifted her hands and gave the poor real bride a shove. She responded by glaring down at Marisa and demanding, “Hey, what are you doing?” Several people gasped.

  Before the situation could deteriorate further—if that was possible—Owen scooped a hysterical Marisa up into his arms. “I’m truly sorry,” he said and made for the doorway leading from the chapel. A last glance over his shoulder caused his gut to clench. While the photographer snapped picture after picture, the teenage son followed Owen and Marisa with his phone. Molly stood watching it all, shock draining every drop of color from her face.

  In his mind, he saw the video being posted online and it appearing every time someone searched Sweetheart Ranch. Not the sort of advertising the O’Malley family would appreciate.

  “No, no, no!” Marisa was far from finished with her outburst. Besides crying, she flailed her arms and legs.

  Owen swore he heard Molly saying, “I can’t apologize enough,” and, “Let me offer you a full refund,” over his daughter’s wails. Perhaps he should pay whatever she wound up reimbursing the couple. That would only be right.

  Whisking Marisa through the parlor and into the kitchen, he reined in his temper. Doubtful the bride and groom would laugh at his daughter’s tantrum—or their friends and loved ones who’d watched it via the live stream. Not like last night’s couple had laughed at his flubs.

  Entering the kitchen, he found Cody sitting at the table, separating a tangerine into sections. His head snapped up when Owen and Marisa entered.

  “Hi, Daddy.” He stared guiltily at Marisa.

  Owen was certain his son knew something and had possibly played a part in his sister crashing the wedding.

  “What are you doing here?” He’d left the kids in the cabin with Nora.

  “Eating.” As if to prove his innocence, Cody lifted his glass of milk and took a swallow.

  “Why aren’t you in the cabin?”

  “’Cuz we came here.”

  Owen sat Marisa at the table in the empty chair next to her brother. In front of her was an uneaten tangerine and untouched glass of milk. By now, she’d lost considerable steam and her sobs had diminished to mere whimpers.

  “Where’s Miss Nora?” Owen asked.

  “The bathroom.” Cody popped a tangerine section into his mouth.

  “What about Miss Bridget?”

  “I dunno.”

  Owen scrubbed his face. How in the world was he going to fix this latest disaster?

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

  “Your sister...” He cast a glance at Marisa. She’d laid her cheek on the table and was twisting a lock of hair around her finger, a habit she resorted to when she was upset or afraid.

  Her forlorn appearance hit him hard and sucked the fury right out of him, though not the frustration. He’d be better equipped to handle this situation if he’d been home more and not on the road.

  Extending a hand, he patted her head. “She interrupted the wedding.”

  “Is she in trouble?”

  What Owen heard his son asking was “Am I in trouble?”

  “No,” he said, “no one’s in trouble.” Except me.

  Nora came into the kitchen, Willa toddling along beside her. “Wedding over?” she asked brightly. The next instant, her features sobered. “What’s wrong?”

  “Marisa intwupted the wedding,” Cody answered, his mouth stuffed with tangerine pieces.

  “She did what?”

  Owen conveyed to Nora what had happened. “It wasn’t a pretty sight.” He picked up Willa and balanced her on his knee.

  She immediately grabbed Marisa’s tangerine. “Mine.”

  Marisa showed no interest in having her snack stolen.

  “This is all my fault.” Nora shoved at her short gray curls. “I shouldn’t
have brought them to the house. I’ll talk to Molly.”

  “No, I’ll talk to her,” Owen said.

  “Willa needed her diaper changed. I told Cody and Marisa to stay here and be quiet, then I took her to the bathroom. I swear, we weren’t gone five minutes.”

  Marisa must have flown out of the kitchen the instant Nora’s back was turned. Owen knew how fast his kids could move, given the chance. Once, when Cody was Marisa’s age, he’d pushed a chair across the kitchen floor, used it as a step stool to climb onto the counter and then hauled himself to the top of the refrigerator. Owen had left the room for a total of three minutes.

  The sounds of voices carried from the parlor. Apparently the reception was underway. Owen pushed back from the table. He didn’t relish the prospect of making apologies to the bride and groom but it had to be done, and the sooner the better.

  “I’ll be back.” He gave Willa to Nora and then loomed over Cody and Marisa. “Stay put. I’m serious.”

  Cody nodded. Marisa just stared at him, her head still on the table. Guilt chewed a hole in Owen’s gut. If he’d been with his kids and not left them with Nora, this wouldn’t have happened.

  “I swear to you,” the older woman said, “no one will leave this room.”

  The bride and groom were far more gracious than necessary when Owen reiterated his apologies. That, or their happiness had dimmed the awful memory. They’d be reminded when they watched the video and possibly be mad all over again. But, for now, they told him not to worry.

  When he offered to reimburse them for the cost of his services, they refused. Owen didn’t insist, he was already planning on sending them tickets to a Diamondbacks game. The groom had mentioned they were huge baseball fans.

  Shaking their hands one last time, Owen went in search of Molly, intending to ask her for the bride and groom’s contact information. She was in the chapel and stood near the altar, her back to him. As he neared, he could hear her talking and realized she was on her phone. Deciding to return in a few minutes, he started to leave. Her words stopped him cold.

  “Yes, that’s right. Thursday evening. Six thirty. Uh-huh. Thanks so much for any help you can give us. We desperately need a substitute minister. No. Well, we did have one, but he’s not working out.”

  * * *

  THE SMELL OF diesel fumes filled Molly’s nostrils as she stood on the veranda and watched the chartered bus leave the ranch. Its red and amber lights glowed against the backdrop of a darkening sky, growing smaller and fainter as the bus gained distance.

  Relief washed over her in great, rushing waves. This day was finally over, thank goodness. The various highs and lows had left her emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted.

  Her plan included readying the parlor for tomorrow’s continental breakfast, rummaging through the refrigerator for a snack, taking a steaming shower that used every drop of hot water and sleeping in late the next morning. In that order.

  Except, she suddenly remembered, sleeping in late wasn’t an option. She had a full day ahead of her that included running errands, waiting on the internet service technician and hauling the Christmas decorations out of storage. Grandma Em wanted the entire house and outside decorated by the first week in December.

  Molly had also told Nora to meet her after lunch for her first lesson in guest relations duties. And, if possible, Molly wanted to start work on the cross-promotion plan she’d proposed to the owners of Powell Ranch and the Poco Dinero before every spare second was swallowed up by the holidays.

  Last, and most important, there was the matter of Owen and what to do about him. Talking with her sister earlier had prompted Molly to reevaluate the situation but there were still several things to consider.

  Rather than go inside, she leaned a shoulder against the pine column beside her, feeling every ounce of energy seep slowly from her.

  This last week had taken a tremendous toll on her, between working like crazy preparing for the ranch’s grand opening and their frantic scrambling after learning Grandma Em had eloped. Then there was the arrival of Owen and his children and the debacle at this afternoon’s wedding when Marisa had caused a scene.

  Molly did feel for the child, who was away from home and her mother for the first time and clearly having trouble adapting to her father’s new role.

  But the ranch couldn’t afford another wedding interruption or negative publicity as a result. It was bad for business. Owen wouldn’t have appreciated an out-of-control child breaking into one of his client meetings when he was working for Waverly Equine Products.

  Molly had three days remaining before their next wedding to resolve the substitute minister problem. That was on top of seeing to their guests, her new client appointments and all her other work.

  Expelling a weary sigh, she leaned more heavily on the pine column. Wouldn’t it be nice if she had a booster, like the one Owen’s friend had lent them, that could restore some of her depleted energy?

  Wait. Maybe she did have a booster of sorts. Taking out her phone, she opened the file with the downloaded pictures Grandma Em had sent that morning. The next second, images filled the screen. She scrolled through them, brushing aside a tear or two. Her grandmother did look happy.

  Molly next watched the short selfie video her grandmother and Homer had made at their celebration dinner. They weren’t the most tech savvy people, and the video was hilarious in large part because of its mishaps.

  Like the wave of a magic wand, Molly’s spirits lifted. She was still exhausted and in desperate need of rest, but she felt better prepared to face the challenges that lay ahead.

  Hearing the front door to the house open, she quickly put away her phone and wiped her damp eyes. Recognizing Owen’s heavy boot steps crossing the veranda, she was even more determined not to be caught crying.

  He sidled up beside her, instantly reminding her of their close encounter on the bench in the foyer. Only now, lines of tension bracketed his mouth and there was a hesitancy about him.

  “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

  “No. I was just about to go inside.”

  “I have to apologize again for this afternoon. Marisa doesn’t normally misbehave like that.”

  Molly believed him, but that didn’t alter the fact the girl’s behavior was unacceptable.

  “Nora and I talked,” she said, cutting him some slack. “She feels terrible and told me the whole thing was her fault. She left Cody and Marisa alone in the kitchen.”

  “They’re my kids and my responsibility. Nora isn’t to blame.”

  He didn’t pass the buck. Molly was impressed.

  “I offered to reimburse Wayne and Tasha the cost of the service,” he said.

  “I did, too. They refused.” Molly hadn’t cared. She’d already gone into the system and discounted the cost of their wedding service.

  “Same here. So I ordered Diamondbacks tickets for them. Wayne mentioned they attend several games a year.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Owen. This is my problem to handle.” Though it had been nice of him.

  “I know someone who can get me good seats for a reasonable price.”

  He rested his back against the railing, crossing one boot over the other. The appealing pose he struck was enhanced by his Western jacket and the Stetson pulled low on his brow. Molly tried not to notice, but the more she tried, the more she stared.

  “Another rodeo buddy?”

  “What can I say? I’m likable.”

  He was, and Molly steeled herself. Owen had a way of affecting her unlike any other man, and she required all her wits about her for what she had to say to him.

  “I like kids. Really, I do.”

  “Just not when they crash your weddings.”

  She paused, carefully forming her next words. “That can’t happen again. Our customers pay good money for the services we offer.
They have a right to receive those services free of preventable problems.”

  “Absolutely. Believe me, I understand. And it won’t happen again. If necessary, I’ll have Nora drive the kids to the next town over during weddings.”

  “Don’t take this wrong,” Molly said, “but can you make the necessary commitment? You have a lot on your plate. Taking care of your children. Looking for a new job. Those are important and are distracting from your duties here.”

  “I know you’re trying to replace me. I overheard you talking on the phone after the wedding.”

  “Oh.” She wished he hadn’t heard her, but it was too late now.

  “Hey, don’t feel bad. I’m lucky you didn’t fire me on the spot.”

  “I thought about it.”

  His grin faded. “That was a joke, right?”

  “No, I really did think about it. At length.”

  “And why didn’t you?”

  She ran her hand down the smooth surface of the column. Owen wasn’t the only one who was a mass of contradictions. Molly had no problem being frank and forthright with customers. In the past, she’d often been too frank and forthright, unable to find the necessary balance between honesty and tact. That inability, directly or indirectly, had cost her three jobs.

  When it came to expressing her innermost feelings, however, she tended to clam up, a victim of her many insecurities. Good examples were her previous engagements. Molly hadn’t expressed her concerns or her needs or asked her fiancés what they needed from her. The resulting dissatisfaction on both sides might have been avoided with a little honest communication. And compromise, something else she’d been unwilling to do.

  But Owen wasn’t a fiancé. He was a ranch employee, and she should be able to speak plainly with him. Yet the same insecurities she’d suffered from in her former personal relationships kept rearing their ugly heads. Why was that?