Vicki Lewis Thompson - A Last Chance Christmas

Which meant she was already calling. If she mentioned that she’d heard about them from him, they could easily tell her that he’d made a couple of saddles for them. That, in itself, wouldn’t be bad unless she came down and asked about his saddle-making business in front of Sarah.

If Sarah learned what he did for a living, she’d probably put it all together. His only hope was that if Molly got the information from the Padgetts, she’d figure out the secret and keep it to herself.

Pete sat in the chair next to Sarah’s. That left one empty chair and the sofa. Ben noticed Molly’s wine glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa, so he sat there, too, hoping to be next to her. Close proximity would give him more options if he had to suddenly keep her from saying something incriminating.

“What’s this about Molly’s cousin?” Pete picked up his drink.

Sarah combed her silvery hair back with one hand. “She wants to pick up his trail in Sheridan, which was the last address they had for him and his mother. It’s a happy coincidence that Ben is from there. You’re sure you don’t know anybody named Marlowe, Ben?”

“I’m still thinking, and I’ll keep my ears open once I get back, but the name doesn’t sound familiar.”

“I haven’t paid much attention to rodeo stars over the years,” Sarah said. “So I wouldn’t recognize the name Rance Marlowe even if he had been well-known.”

Pete shook his head. “Me, either. Did Molly ask the boys?”

Ben got a kick out of Pete’s reference to three grown men as boys , but the Chance brothers would probably always be the boys to Sarah and Pete.

“I’m sure she asked them.” Sarah chuckled. “That girl is like a quiz-show host when it comes to questions. She has a million of them. And she loves to dig into what she calls archives . I let her look through Jonathan’s old trunk full of papers and souvenirs, which she adored, and then I let her read my mother-in-law’s diaries covering all the years she and Archie lived here. You’d have thought I’d offered Molly a sack of gold.”

“She’s fun to have around,” Pete said. “I’m going to miss her when she leaves on Monday. But getting back home for Christmas is important to her. She’s really big on family.”

“I gathered that,” Ben said.

“Well, so am I.” Sarah took another sip of her wine. “I’ll admit when I married Jonathan I didn’t realize how important the whole concept of family would become to me. I’m an only child, so my original family consisted of three people. Now I find myself surrounded with an entire clan and it’s wonderful.”

“And I’m lucky enough to be part of that clan,” Pete said. “I’m so thankful that Sarah agreed to let me into the club.”

Ben felt as if he’d stumbled into a foreign land where he could barely speak the language. He’d heard people talk about the importance of family, but he’d never understood it on a gut level. His experience growing up had taught him the destructive nature of family ties.

Sarah glanced over at him. “Speaking of that, do you have any siblings, Ben?”

“An older brother in Colorado.” He never knew what to say when such questions came up, or how to answer them so the questions would stop. But in this case, with all the talk about bonding, he might have a way out. “We’re not close.”

Sympathy flashed in Sarah’s blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Ben shrugged and used Molly’s earlier response, one he’d thought was brilliant at the time. He’d keep it in mind for any future conversations regarding his family. “That’s the way it happens sometimes.”

“I know it does, but...” Sarah hesitated. “I hope being in the middle of this crazy group doesn’t bother you.”

“Not at all.” This much he could say with conviction. “I like it.”

4 Contents Cover Back Cover Text A Christmas kiss from a cowboy… Ben Radcliffe reckons it’ll be a cold day in hell before he considers a serious relationship or family of his own—with good reason. When he delivers a “secret” present to the Last Chance Ranch, however, Ben catches a glimpse of what family could be. And suddenly this lone cowboy finds himself under the mistletoe…planting one heck of a kiss on a stunning woman! Genealogist and academic Molly Gallagher is all about family. And even if Ben’s secrets make him as skittish as a wild mustang, there’s nothing Molly loves more than an enigma. Especially a ridiculously sexy one! But the magic of Christmas—and the Last Chance Ranch—might not be enough to wrangle a cowboy who can’t trust himself… Praise Dear Reader Title Page A Last Chance Christmas Vicki Lewis Thompson www.millsandboon.co.uk About the Author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON’s passion for travel has taken the New York Times bestselling author to Europe, Great Britain, the Greek Isles, Australia and New Zealand. She’s visited most of North America and has her eye on South America’s rainforests. Africa, India and China beckon. But her first love is her home state of Arizona, with its deserts, mountains, sunsets and—last but not least—cowboys! The wide-open spaces and heroes on horseback influence everything she writes. Connect with her at vickilewisthompson.com , facebook.com/vickilewisthompson and twitter.com/vickilthompson . Dedication To the Lone Ranger, my first crush. A white horse, a deep voice and a mask. What more could a girl want? Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 Epilogue Extract Copyright

MOLLY KEYED IN the number for Thunder Mountain Ranch with some misgivings. Despite what she’d told Ben, she was conflicted about what she might uncover with this phone call. If Rosie Padgett had no knowledge of Heather or Cade, then Molly was back where she started.

But if the woman had heard of them, that meant they’d contacted social services and very likely had struggled to make a life for themselves. Molly didn’t remember her Aunt Heather much at all, but her dad sure did. Heather was his sister, after all, and the news might not be very good.

A woman answered the phone. “Thunder Mountain Ranch.”

Well, she’d come this far. Molly took a deep breath. “Hi. I’m Molly Gallagher, and I’m looking for information on my cousin, Cade Marlowe, or his mother, Heather. A friend suggested I call and see if you knew anything about them.”

“Cade Marlowe?”

“Yes. His father’s a bull rider named Rance, but I’m sure he’s retired from that by now. The last letter my family got from Heather was postmarked in Sheridan, but that was years ago. I’m trying to find out if anybody remembers them or has a forwarding address.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know anybody named Cade Marlowe.”

“Oh.” In spite of her desire for information, she was relieved.

“But if you want to leave your number, I could ask around. Someone might have heard something.”

“Thank you. You must be Mrs. Padgett. The friend who suggested I call is Ben Radcliffe.”

“Oh, Ben!” The woman’s voice warmed. “Yes, I’m Rosie Padgett. Ben’s such a great guy, and when it comes to making saddles, he’s a real artist.”

“Um, yes, he certainly is.” Ben was a saddle maker?

As she gave her number to Rosie Padgett and said her goodbyes, she kept thinking about Ben’s profession. His odd timing for coming to look at horses coincided with Sarah’s birthday—a significant one, at that. She’d wondered all along why Jack would agree to host a potential customer during his mother’s big celebration. Jack didn’t strike her as the kind of man who put business ahead of family gatherings.

Ben could have come after Christmas, or he could have waited until the weather warmed. Yet here he was, staying in the bosom of the family and attending Sarah’s birthday party. But if he’d designed a custom saddle for Sarah, then his sudden appearance the day before her birthday made perfect sense. And of course he’d be invited to stay so he could see her reaction to it.