Cathy Gillen - A Texas Cowboy's Christmas

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.