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“Let me worry about my knee.”
“But...”
Zach shook his head. “You’re a substitute mother to sixty some kids at Big Heart Ranch. That’s plenty, don’t you think? Besides, I don’t need a momma.”
“I... I...” What was he saying? Didn’t he realize that she could not concentrate on the conversation while her hand was enveloped in his?
A long silence stretched between them as Emma worked hard not to tangle her feet and fall on her face.
When Lucy walked past the dance floor and her gaze connected with Emma’s, her sister stopped and did a double take.
“Lucy sure looks, um, ripe,” Zach said. “When’s she due?”
“Christmas.”
“Christmas. Everything seems to revolve around Christmas.”
“Only for eight weeks of the year.”
“Only eight weeks,” he murmured.
Emma turned her head and stared at her hand in his. His hand was so large, yet hers seemed to fit perfectly.
“This is quite the crowd,” he observed.
“This is nothing. Wait until Thanksgiving.”
“Was I supposed to bring a present?” Zach asked with a nod toward the guests who walked past with gifts tucked under their arms.
“They’re fun white elephant exchanges. I brought extras.”
He glanced toward the banquet room filling up with people. “Tell me about this Christmas party.”
She shrugged. “It’s a party. Eat food, make merry. Mingle.”
“I don’t—”
“Mingle,” she finished for him. “Somehow I thought you might say that.” Emma sighed. “But you know Dutch and Tripp and Travis. Chat with them.”
“Travis has his wife.” He raised his brows. “And it looks like they found the mistletoe.”
She turned in Zach’s arms to see Travis kissing his new bride beneath the mistletoe that he had hung in the doorway of the banquet room.
“Young love,” Emma said. “You know how it is.”
“Can’t say that I do.” He glanced around. “Looks like the single men are outnumbered around here.”
“That’s true. Tonight it’s just you, Tripp and Dutch.”
“No dates invited?”
“Dutch’s sweetheart is the ranch physician, General Rue Butterfield. Rue is out of town at the moment with a family emergency.”
“And Tripp? What’s his story?”
“Tripp? Oh, he’d never bring a date. He’s even more private than you are.”
“Am I private?”
“As locked up as a clam. If you want to pass the time, ask Dutch to tell you about the John Wayne impersonator he saw in Tulsa last week. By the time he finishes with his tall tale, dinner will be served, then we’ll get down to business.”
“What business is that?”
“The Holiday Roundup.”
The song ended and Emma stepped away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. Relief and disappointment crowded her at the same time.
“The Holiday Roundup,” he repeated. Zach rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It seems apparent that I showed up at Big Heart Ranch at the wrong time of year.”
“Or maybe it’s the right time, and you just don’t know it yet.”
When his dark eyes met hers, Emma’s heart stopped and everything seemed to be in slow motion as the words she had just uttered echoed through her while Zach Norman turned away.
Maybe it was the right time, and she just didn’t know it yet.
* * *
Zach downed his eggnog and turned to Dutch. “We’re doing what?”
Around them, holiday music continued to play as the party wound down. The old wrangler had just dashed his high hopes of slipping out of the party soon. Zach was certain he had a rash over most of him from being social tonight. He didn’t do social, and yet here he was.
Dutch grabbed the last broken cookies from a tray that only a few hours ago overflowed with Christmas cutout cookies and popped them into his mouth with a loud smack of his lips. “I’m telling you, Miss Emma makes the best cookies. Her chocolate muffins would take a blue ribbon anywhere.”
“Dutch, quit eating and answer me.”
“I told you. It’s chore-pickin’ time.” He nodded to the large box wrapped like a Christmas package that sat at the end of the banquet table.
“Miss Lucy and Miss Emma divide up the chores for the Holiday Roundup and you pick yours from that big box there. Everyone gets two.”
“I never heard of anything so unorganized. This is worse than being voluntarily told in the navy.”
“The gals say it keeps the program fresh. New ideas and perspectives and everyone owns the event.”
Zach released a breath. “I can guarantee there is nothing that resembles my skill set in that box.”
“Don’t matter. It’s the spirit of the season that counts. Making memories. Having fun.” Dutch’s gaze scanned the room. “Did I ever tell you how I was Mary in the living nativity one year?”
“Now you’re messing with me.”
The seasoned cowboy offered a slow shake of his head. “Wish I was. I had to shave my ’stache.”
Zach ran a hand over his face and swallowed.
“Come on.” Dutch nodded to the box. “Best get it over with.”
“You first,” Zach said as he followed.
Dutch put a hand in the box, pulled out two papers and stepped aside to allow Zach to do the same. “What did you get?” Dutch asked a moment later.
“I haven’t opened them yet,” Zach returned.
“I’ll trade you. Sight unseen.”
“Not a chance.” Zach gave a nod toward Dutch’s slips of paper. “What did you get?”
The cowboy grimaced. “Porta potty duty and horse-drawn carriage driver.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“Depends on which direction the wind is blowing.”
Zach stared at the seemingly innocuous papers in his own hand.
“Hurry up and open yours,” Dutch said. “Miss Emma’s coming around with her clipboard to document your assignment.”
“Then I better get moving.”
It would be a very good idea to keep his distance from both clipboards and the youngest Maxwell sibling. He was still trying to figure out what got into him earlier. Dancing with Emma. That came out of nowhere.
He was beginning to realize that if he wasn’t on guard at all times, history would be repeated. His history...of acting like a love-struck idiot when Emma was nearby.
Dodging around the buffet table, Zach headed to the other side of the room. He stooped behind greenery to examine the Christmas tree decorations, though his height made it nearly impossible to hide.
“Your envelope is near the back of the tree.”
She found him.
“I wasn’t looking for an envelope.”
“What were you doing?”
He raised a hand and decided against explaining. “How did anyone know to give me an envelope?”
“That’s a very good question,” Emma said. “Lucy’s admin, Iris, reads minds. You can thank her later.” Emma plucked a green envelope from the tree and handed it to him.
Zach shook his head. “This is really not necessary.”
“Deal with it. It’s a Christmas present.”
“Presents are for little kids.”
She scoffed. “Who told you that?”
My mother when I turned six and my parents divorced.
“It was understood at my home.”
“Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry. While the holidays aren’t simply about presents, certainly a child should experience the joy of giving and receiving.”
“It’s really a moot point, Emma. I don’t do Christmas.”
“You don’t believe in Christmas?” She offered a dramatic sigh. “Sort of makes you like Scrooge, doesn’t it?”
“Does that make you Tiny Tim?”
She cocked her head in thought. “I’d like to think of myself as one of the benevolent characters who show you the error of your ways.”
“Right. Right.” He stared at her ridiculous blinking reindeers. “For the record, I never said I don’t believe in Christmas.”
“Could you elaborate then? What is it about Christmas that you have a problem with? I mean besides presents and Christmas parties. And by the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you sure have a long list of things that you have issues with.”
“Emma, you’re sort of an overanalyzer. Anybody ever mention that?”
Her eyes rounded. “You have issues with me, too?”
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth.”
“I’m a therapist. I analyze. It comes with the territory.”
“You’re a child therapist and I’m not a child.”
Emma shrugged. “The same principles apply to grown-up children.”
“You aren’t my therapist.”
Her lips formed a thin line, and Zach could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“I’m trying to figure out what happened to make you so disillusioned. And why does it seem like you’re angry with me? We used to be friends.”
“That was a long time ago. We were kids.”
She jerked back as though she’d been slapped.
