Lois Richer - Mistletoe Twins

She peeked into the pail Mac held out. “Thanks.”

“Jake said you can use them. I’d spare you and take these weeds home to my mother but then she’d make something with them and I’d have to eat it.” He looked dubious.

“Not weeds. Basil, dill and parsley are always useful in my kitchen.” Since Mac’s grin did funny things to Adele’s stomach, she turned away to rinse the herbs before storing them in a drying dish. “Did you two have fun?”

It was obvious from the children’s excited chatter that they had.

“We found punkins,” Franklyn exclaimed.

“How many?” Adele asked.

“Tons and tons.” Francie waved her hands wildly.

“How many did you find, Francie?” Adele prodded, arching an eyebrow.

“Three,” the little girl admitted with a sigh.

“’Nuff so you c’n make punkin pie again?” Franklyn hinted hopefully, then high-fived Mac.

“Because everyone needs more pie right after our Thanksgiving feast?” Adele shot Mac a look, certain he’d come up with that plan.

“Uh-huh. Mac says everybody needs more pie all the time.” Franklyn nodded, unabashed.

“Does he?” She angled him a look. “Well, good work finding those pumpkins. Now you two go and wash up. Aunt Tillie and Aunt Margaret are waiting to tell you the next installment of their story about Africa.” She watched them leave, a happy glow inside. So far, Adele was loving motherhood.

“They’re cute, those two. But they sure keep a guy on his toes.” Mac sat down with a sigh and flexed his leg.

“Are you in pain?” Adele studied his face, wondering how she could help.

“No. Just a little stiff. I tried riding this morning.” Mac’s face gave nothing away.

“Great!” Riding was a sign he was staying, wasn’t it? “And?”

“No big deal. Cowboys ride and I am just a cowboy after all.” His wink reminded her of a long-ago argument when she’d given vent to her frustration at his show-off tendencies.

“And as you replied, I’m just a cook,” she reminded with a cheeky grin. Then she added, “Of course it’s a big deal that you got back on a horse, Mac.” Another thought occurred. “Did riding help you decide anything?”

“Adele.” His glower scolded her. “I haven’t decided anything yet, even though my parents are as eager as you to know if I’ll take over running the place. Dad wants to retire.”

“I saw him in town. He looked tired,” she murmured sympathetically.

“He has to slow down and it’s obvious he can’t do that as long as they live on the ranch because he won’t leave anything to their hired man, who is eminently capable.” Mac raked his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “Me—take over the ranch—I don’t know.” His troubled sigh touched her.

“What concerns you most?” She could at least encourage him to talk about his fears.

“It’s a total life change.”

“Because you’ll miss flying.” She nodded.

“It’s not just that. You of all people should know that I haven’t been the most stable guy in the world. I wasn’t very good at after-school jobs, remember?”

“Because you wanted to be on the ranch.” She waited, knowing there was more.

“I also dumped college, remember?” His mouth tipped down in a self-deprecating frown. “And I blew my last job. But I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down yet.”

“You had to be responsible when you were flying, Mac,” she reminded. Something in his expression altered. Was it her reminder about flying? “Anyway, you just said the Double M has a capable ranch manager in Gabe Webber. He knows as much about ranching as your dad. Can’t you leave most of the routine stuff up to him? Isn’t that why ranchers have hired men?”

“I guess. You make it sound like I don’t even really need to be there.” Her bestie didn’t look at her, so Adele knew there was something else.

“Talk to me, Mac.”

“You’ve changed since you left The Haven, Delly.” Those gorgeous eyes of his seemed sad. “You’ve matured. I’m not sure I have. Not enough.”

“Why do you say that?” Surprised to see Mac fiddle with a napkin, she pressed him. “How have I matured? Do I look old?” Her glance in the kitchen mirror produced a laugh from Mac.

“No! But you’re more focused, more determined than before. Your plan took a hit with your breakup, but you haven’t given up. You’re going after a new dream. I don’t even have a dream.” His grin was wry.

“So dream one.”

“I wish I could. It’s just—flying is like living life on the edge,” he mused aloud, struggling to give words to his feelings. “If things get too boring or too staid I might regret taking on the Double M, or worse, make a mess of it, which will then make my parents ashamed of me.”

“Like that would ever happen. They’re so proud of you,” she praised. “And don’t think I have all the answers or any cast-in-stone plans. All I know is I can’t give up my motherhood dream.” Confused by Mac’s now-glowering look she asked, “Tell me about flying your jets. What was it like?”

Immediately his slouch disappeared. His backbone straightened and his shoulders came to attention. His turquoise eyes sparkled with excitement, as if someone had switched on a light inside him.

“Oh, Delly, it’s amazing. There’s such freedom—nothing’s scripted. You have to think fast and improvise to survive. When I’m soaring through the clouds I feel like I can handle anything. And then I land.” Just as suddenly the light in him was snuffed out. “I guess I’m addicted to that adrenaline rush.”

“You don’t think you’ll find that on the Double M?” Oh, Lord, how can I help him?

“Maybe I could.” He didn’t sound convinced. “ If I hadn’t lost my hand or injured my leg.”

“Did you feel a thrill like that when you lived here before?” she wondered aloud.

“Sometimes. Mostly at the rodeo or when I was breaking a very stubborn horse.” Mac’s troubled face sent a pang through her. “Remember how if I got restless I took off to the mountains. If I needed excitement, I’d hike the badlands. Or ski the backcountry. Or climb where tourists never go.”

All very risky activities, Adele mentally noted. Was he running to or away from something?

“I don’t have those options anymore,” he muttered.

“Mac, you can still ski—”

“I don’t want to go to Marmot Basin and stand in line while people gawk at me as I struggle to figure out how to manipulate myself on and off the chair lift with one hand,” he interrupted bluntly, his face dark. “I don’t want to have to always have someone with me to watch out for me when I white-water raft or climb a rock face. If you want the truth, Delly, if I can’t have what I had, I just want to hide.” His shoulders slumped. “Maybe the ranch is the best place to do that.”

Shocked by the despair in his words and voice, Adele was at a loss. It was no use telling her pal that he’d figure it out or find something else to give him the same high. This was Mac. He’d always gotten his high from life lived on the edge, and now he felt he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dump my frustrations on you.” His hand covered hers and his gorgeous smile flashed, hiding the loss she’d seen revealed in his eyes mere moments earlier. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”

“Stop it, Mac.” She jerked her hand from under his and rose, facing him as annoyance surged through her. “Stop pretending everything’s fine. I can take your honesty. I can’t take your fake acceptance of what life has handed you.”

To her complete exasperation he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, hands on hips.