Mistletoe Bride

“We’ll do our best to get it back,” the chief said. “We’re beginning to get some information on the prison break now. I’ve had a phone call from a tourist who gave two guys in street clothes a ride from Cañon City to Clearwater. I’m pretty sure they were our men.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t clean out my savings account when we left Tulsa,” Ryan murmured with a shake of his head. “My boy and I’d be in a mess for sure—”

“You realize that your bank won’t be open again until Monday, don’t you?” The question fell off Dani’s tongue before she could stop it.

Ryan’s smile vanished.

“That’s three whole days away,” Dani continued. “What are you and your son going to do until then?”

“Oh, we’ll be okay,” Ryan told her, an idiotic reply if Dani had ever heard one.

How like a cowboy to play his cards close to his vest, Dani thought. Well, this time she didn’t need to peek over his shoulder to see what hand fate had dealt him. She knew. So did Cliff, if his frown was anything to go by. Dani waited for the kindhearted chief of police to invite Ryan and Sawyer home with him. Instead, he rose and motioned for her to follow him into the hall.

“How many horses are you boarding now?” he asked her when they were out of earshot of Ryan Given.

“Ten, counting mine,” she replied, wondering where on earth this was headed.

“Hmm. Running any cattle?”

“You know very well that I am.”

“Then I’ll bet you could use a little help around that place of yours…what with that big wedding of Barb’s just around the corner.”

Dani’s stomach began to knot. Surely Cliff wasn’t going to suggest—

“Why don’t you take Mr. Given and that boy of his home with you? They could help out for a while in exchange for room and board.”

Dani’s jaw dropped. This man, of all people, knew how she felt about cowboys, especially cowboys looking for homes on the range. “Are you kidding? I don’t even know this man. He could be a wife beater, a drug addict or a drunkard. He might have stolen that child in there from his mother—”

“He’s none of the above,” Cliff gruffly interjected.

“And how do you know that?”

“Motel had his truck license number. I ran a check on it and then on him.”

Dani sighed. Trust Cliff to be thorough.

“It’s destiny that’s brought him here. Destiny.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you living alone at that oversize ranch of yours, doing the work of two men.”

“I manage.”

“Now, yes. But you can’t keep it up, and you know it.”

“I knew this would happen!” Dani raged. “I should never have asked you for advice when Mick sold my timber rights to Duke Littlejohn. Now you think you can tell me how to run all my business.”

“Two heads are better than one.”

Dani sighed again. “In a crisis like that, yes. Everything is all right now—or will be once I finish that stupid wedding dress. I simply have no use for some deadbeat cowpoke and his kid.”

“He’s not a deadbeat. He’s just a little down on his luck. But forget him. Think of that boy of his…that eight-year-old boy. This is his first Christmas with his dad—”

“What?”

Cliff nodded. “I don’t know the whole story…just that Sawyer and his dad met for the first time in September. Do you really want them to spend their first Christmas together on the street?”

“So let them spend it with you and Ruth.”

“We’ve already got a houseful of her relatives or I would. You’re their only hope, Dani, girl. You, and you alone.”

“Don’t do this to me,” Dani groaned.

Cliff grinned, obviously sensing victory. “Just last week you were whining because you were going to be alone for the holidays. These guys’ll be company for you—company for Christmas—not to mention help when you need it most. Come on, honey. What do you say?”

“I say a cowboy is absolutely the last thing I wanted for Christmas,” Dani muttered as she turned abruptly on her heel and stalked back into the lounge. “Cliff seems to think you might be interested in working for room and board for a few days until you get your finances in order,” she said to Ryan.

“You mean, you’re looking for a hand?” he asked, perking right up.

“I haven’t advertised, if that’s what you’re asking,” she answered candidly. “I usually don’t need help around the place. Right now, though, I have another project going on…a wedding…and I could use a little assistance.”

Ryan sat in silence for a moment before he spoke. “When I left Oklahoma, I swore that the next ranch I worked on would be my own. Obviously that’s going to have to wait. I appreciate your job offer, and I accept.” Ryan stuck out his right hand, which she took after a moment’s hesitation. Firmly he shook it. “Thanks, um, I don’t believe I heard your last name.”

“Sellica,” she told him.

“Miss Sellica,” Cliff added, a clarification that earned him a dirty look from Dani.

“But not for long…?” Ryan looked from one to the other of them, as though waiting for them to explain something.

For a second, Dani couldn’t imagine what, then she figured it out. “The wedding I’m involved with is a friend’s, not mine. I’m sewing her dress, which has to be ready by December thirty-first. I’ve had to neglect my ranch work while working on it.”

“And now that we’ve settled that,” Cliff said a little too heartily, “why don’t the three of you hit the road? By the time you get to Dani’s, it’ll be half past Christmas.”

“Damn!” Ryan blurted out, the next instant intercepting Dani’s glare. “I mean darn. Sawyer’s present was in the back of my truck with everything else.”

“I have a remote-control race car you can give him,” Dani said quickly, without thought, as she glanced at the young boy watching TV on the other side of the room. When Ryan looked at her in surprise, she realized what she’d said. Shrugging, she explained, “I bought it for the son of a friend.”

“I’ll pay you back.” Clearly, Ryan was not comfortable accepting charity.

In spite of everything, Dani sympathized. Independent recognized independent. “Of course,” she agreed. “Now, if we just had the Christmas tree your convicts stole from my trunk.”

“They’re not my convicts,” Ryan muttered.

The sudden glint in his eye, coupled with the set of his chiseled jawline, startled her and hinted that there were other sides to Ryan Given than the side she now saw. Dani felt her stomach knot with uncertainty and something very like fear, the results of her dealings with another mystery cowboy not so long ago.

Swallowing hard, she vowed that this one would take his mysteries with him when he left on Monday. How could she be so sure? Because she would take no chances this time. Not for a moment would she let down her guard.

And because she would not, when Ryan and his son moved on, her ranch, her land, her money, and, most important, her just-repaired heart would still be intact.

Chapter Two

“How far is it to your ranch?” asked Sawyer, now nestled among Dani’s groceries in the back seat of her car. Ryan glanced over his shoulder at his obviously excited son and smiled. Though working as a cowhand on some two-bit ranch wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind on leaving Oklahoma, his boy clearly had no objections.

“Just fifty miles,” Dani told him. “But it usually takes about an hour to get there because the last ten miles are steep and curvy. This snow isn’t going to help us, either.”

“Hey, Dad,” Sawyer then said. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” Ryan replied. He did not touch the wound, which had been cleansed and was remarkably tender to the touch.

“I see bologna and bread back here,” the boy said. “You want me to make you a sandwich?” Ryan had refused all offers of food at the police station.

“Those groceries belong to Miss Sellica,” Ryan quickly replied, with a glance of apology to Dani. Once he and Sawyer were alone, he’d make plain their destitute situation for the next few days and lay down the ground rules, the first of which was take as little charity as possible until Monday. That’s when he’d call his bank in Tulsa and have some money wired to him. Just how difficult such a transaction would be now that he didn’t have his savings book, his ATM card or even ID remained to be seen.

“Feeding you is part of the bargain,” Dani tartly informed him and then glanced back at Sawyer. “I have a regular picnic in those sacks—paper plates, napkins, cookies, chips. Why don’t you rummage through them and see what you can find for your dad to eat?”

“There’s no need, Miss Sellica,” Ryan began, even though his mouth watered at the thought of food.

“I insist,” Dani coolly replied, adding, “And you may as well call me Dani since I intend to call you Ryan. We don’t stand on formality around here.”

“Right,” Ryan murmured, once again put in his place. Damn, er, darn, but it rankled having a woman tell him what to do. Darn? Darn? Was he really censoring his very thoughts? Ryan flicked a glance of annoyance at Dani, the woman to blame.

Though not a beauty by any means, she had a nice enough face, what looked to be natural blond hair, cut short and shaggy, and big, brown eyes. Her shapeless denim jacket, which came nearly to her knees, hid what curves she had. A deliberate attempt to conceal her femininity? he wondered. And if so, why?

“Go ahead and make me a sandwich, Sawyer,” he said, though his son was already rustling through the plastic bags of groceries. Ryan said it to remind Dani who was the parent here. The look she gave him said he’d made his point.

Just then, they passed the Clearwater Café, now closed and dark inside. At once Dani stomped on the brake. Muttering an apology, she began to back up the car so that she could turn into the deserted parking lot. Moments later, she killed the engine and fumbled to unfasten her seat belt.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.

“I’m going to see if I can find my Christmas tree. Whoever stuffed you in my trunk had to have left it somewhere around here.” She felt all around on the floorboard of the vehicle. “What’d I do with my flashlight?”

“Forget the flashlight,” he told her. “Forget the tree. It’s too late to decorate it tonight, anyway. I’ll get you another one tomorrow.”

“With what?” she challenged, obviously referring to his lack of funds.

“With an ax,” he replied. “You do have at least one pine tree on your property, don’t you?”

“I have hundreds. I just prefer a Douglas fir for my Christmas tree. It’s sort of a Sellica tradition.” She sat in thoughtful silence, from all appearances in a real quandary about the switch in trees.

“For the sake of my aching head,” he said, “could you please dispense with tradition just this once?”

She looked at him with some alarm, no doubt remembering Cliff’s cautionary speech about possible concussions and certain headaches. “I guess a pine would be okay this year, but it’ll have to be perfect.”

“No problem,” Ryan said. “We’ll look until we find one, won’t we, Sawyer?”

“Yeah!” the boy exclaimed, clearly delighted with the idea. And no wonder—up until now, they weren’t going to have a tree at all.

Sawyer handed Ryan a paper plate that sagged with the weight of a thick sandwich, ridged potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and a giant dill pickle, plus a canned soft drink. The can, which had probably been in the car for hours, actually felt cool to the touch.

“Good job!” Ryan told his son, adding a proud grin to the compliment. Though times were a little tough now and might be for a while longer, he wanted Sawyer to feel secure in his love, at least.

While he set his plate in his lap and popped the top of the canned drink, Dani refastened her seat belt. Soon they were speeding down the asphalt two-lane again. Though little but the black of midnight could be seen through the window, Ryan nonetheless cherished what he could make out of the landscape whizzing by. Moving out West was the right thing for him and Sawyer. He felt it in his gut.

And even getting off to this bad start did little to dampen his enthusiasm. Certainly having his truck and all his worldly goods stolen amounted to a major setback, but the vehicle was insured, after all. As for his “worldly goods,” well, they didn’t really amount to much more than old clothes, a few hundred dollars in cash and a box or two of memories. It was the last he’d miss most, Ryan suspected. Clothes and cash could be replaced. The photographs, rodeo trophies and belt buckles that represented the high points of his life could not.

But he still had his son, Sawyer. Son. Though an undeniable reality—Sawyer had Ryan’s nose and his eyes—the concept of fatherhood continued to amaze him.

“Not far now,” Dani commented, words that brought Ryan back to the present with a jolt of surprise. A quick glance at the clock on her dash revealed that it was almost 1:00 a.m. Another glance confirmed that Sawyer was asleep, his head resting on Ryan’s jacket. Where had the miles gone? Had he, too, snoozed?

The car lurched sharply when Dani turned off the pavement onto a narrow, rutted and graveled road that disappeared into a dense stand of pines.

“We’re on my land now,” she said, pride in her voice. “A Sellica has lived on this mountain for ninety-four of the past one hundred years.”

“How may acres do you have?” Ryan asked.

“Only half of the original homestead, thanks to my stepfather’s getting the other half when my mother passed away three years ago.”

Ryan noted that her reply told him nothing about the size of the ranch. A deliberate evasion of his question? he wondered. “And you work the place alone?”

“Easily.”

They topped a small rise and her ranch suddenly lay before them, a loose gathering of buildings, all shapes and sizes, illuminated by a couple of strategically placed mercury vapor lamps. The main house was easiest to spot, since it was largest. There were several other buildings around it.

“That the bunkhouse?” Ryan asked as she braked the car to a halt near the side porch of the house. He pointed to a white frame building off to their left, which looked large for a ranch so small one woman could handle it alone.

Dani glanced off in that direction. “Yes.”

“Good.” He moved to get out of the truck.

“You and Sawyer can’t sleep in there.”

Ryan froze, his hand still on the door handle. “Why not?”

“Because it’s full of junk, not to mention mice and who knows what other little varmints.”

He waved away her concerns. “Just loan us a couple of pillows and blankets, and we’ll be fine.”

“No way.” She killed the engine and shook her head. “The two of you sleep in the house tonight.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief and some irritation. He wanted to keep his debt to her to a minimum. “Lady, you don’t even know me.”

“So?” she retorted.

“So don’t you think a little caution is in order, here? I could be six kinds of psycho.”

“I could be, too.”

“All the more reason for Sawyer and me to sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“Are you saying you think I’d hurt you?”

“N-no, but—”

“We may as well clear this up right now,” Dani suddenly stated, turning sideways in her seat and hooking an arm around the neck rest. “Do you do drugs?”

“Never have, never will.”

“Ditto for me. Do you drink?”

“Only the occasional beer and not even that lately.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sawyer.

“Same here. Have you ever robbed a bank?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Me, neither. How about murder?” she asked next. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Not no, but hell no,” Ryan said.

“Hmm. Well, though sorely tempted at times—”

Like when he forgot himself and cursed? Ryan wondered.

“—I haven’t, either. But is safety really the issue here? Or is it some misbegotten macho notion that you don’t want to take more from me than you have to?”

Ryan winced. Women and their intuition! It drove him nuts.

“For the sake of that boy’s Christmas,” Dani continued, her voice little more than a loud whisper. “Please just do what you’re told and stay with me tonight.”

Ryan glanced back at Sawyer, still sleeping like a babe. At once all the fight went out of him, and he sagged with defeat. “For the sake of that boy’s Christmas and only for that, I will.”

“Thank you. Now, could we please go inside? I’d really like to get a couple hours’sleep before I have to get up again, and I still have to phone my friend, Jonni, who’s probably out of her mind with worry by now.”

“You’re the boss,” Ryan replied—truth that rankled, truth he suspected he’d rue long before Lady Luck smiled on him again.

Ryan woke around seven o’clock on Friday morning feeling rested. Try as he might to go back to sleep, he couldn’t, and so crawled out of the narrow bed in which he’d slept. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a thermal undershirt, he tiptoed up the hall to make use of the single bathroom, then headed to the kitchen. Not hearing a sound, he assumed that Dani and Sawyer were still sleeping.

In a matter of minutes, Ryan located the coffeepot and coffee. He made short work of measuring out the grounds and the water, then set the pot on the stove and turned on the flame. While the coffee perked, he explored the front half of the house, which consisted of a dining room turned office, and a living room.

He liked the look of the place, which was too young to be antique, too old to be stylish, but just right, all the same. He saw no carpet on the wooden floors, just the occasional braided rug. The walls, most of them wallpapered in soft florals, were dotted throughout with what looked to be dozens of framed family portraits.

In the living room, Ryan spotted a pasteboard box labeled Decorations. Reminded that it was Christmas—a fact that had not crossed his mind yet—he walked back to his room, retrieved a heavy wool shirt from his suitcase and his boots from under the bed, and headed outside to what he assumed was the toolshed. With luck, he’d find an ax and chop down a tree before Dani even got out of bed, saving himself much traipsing around in the ankle-deep snow looking for the perfect one.

Ryan checked out the weather as he walked to the shed, noting with childish pleasure the cloudy sky and the crisp, clean smell of threatening snow. How he’d missed that smell the past twenty-three years. It was good to be home.

Home? Not by a long shot. Wyoming was their next home and no place else would do…even this picturesque Colorado ranch, nestled in the foothills of the Rockies.

Ryan reached for the door of the shed, only to hear the distinct thwack, thwack of an ax already in motion not too far away. Curious, he set out for the sound and in minutes came upon none other than Dani, chopping down a headtall pine. She wielded the ax rather awkwardly, he quickly realized, but he didn’t offer to help at once. Instead, he watched as she put her back into each swing, giving her bottom a provocative little wiggle in the process.

Her jacket lay in a heap on the snow. Thanks to the light of day, he had a better view of her than he’d had last night and so he took in the fit of her jeans and turtleneck shirt. No secrets today, he realized, relishing the full feminine curves her clothing revealed. Suddenly, Ryan felt the strongest urge to walk up behind Dani and press his body close.

He closed his eyes and imagined slipping his hands under her shirt and bra so he could cup his fingers around her bare breasts. Her skin would feel smooth as silk, he guessed, and her nipples soft…until he teased them to tautness, that is. Moving those same hands down her midriff in further exploration, he’d naturally encounter the barrier of her jeans. But what kind of barrier was a zipper or a snap to a man on fire?

“Hey, over there! Are you sleepwalking or what?”

With a guilty jolt, Ryan came to life and found that Dani had spotted him hiding behind the sapling just a few feet away. He felt his face glow crimson and could only hope that she didn’t notice the other physical evidence of his shocking, ill-timed fantasy, which now tested the buttons of his fly.

“Actually,” he said as he walked over to her, “I came out here for the same reason you did—to find a Christmas tree.”

“Were you going to pick it like a daisy?” She directed her gaze to his empty hands.

“Of course not. I heard someone out here and guessed it might be you. Naturally, I came to help.”

“So help,” she said, handing him the ax.

Immediately, Ryan tested the edge of the blade. “I could probably gnaw that tree down faster than this blade will ever cut it.”

Dani sighed. “The grinder is in the shed. Sharpening this ax can be your very first task as my temporary ranch hand.”

“Actually, making the coffee was my first task,” he retorted, adding, “Why don’t you go in and have a cup? You look as if you could use it.” In truth, her cheeks glowed scarlet with cold, and he noticed that her teeth had begun to chatter. Scooping up her jacket, probably shed for ease of movement, he held it out so she could slip into it.

Dani did, then gave him a smile. “I’m not the most wonderful cook in the world, but I’m pretty good with pancakes. Is that okay for breakfast?”

“Cook anything you like,” Ryan said. “We’ll never complain.”

They walked together as far as the toolshed, both silent. She did not stop since the door had been left ajar, but nodded a goodbye as Ryan veered off to duck into the building. He found the grinder, mounted on a sturdy wooden worktable, without any trouble.

While Ryan sharpened the ax blade, he tried to analyze the reasons for what had happened in the woods, from the sudden onset of his lustful fantasy, to its embarrassing physical result. Such an analysis proved next to impossible since Dani wasn’t the sort of woman who normally turned him on. As a rule, he preferred taller females, probably because of his own six-three height. Critical body parts—private parts—fit together best when the woman stood nearly heads even. Besides that, he favored brunettes, though, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had much luck with them so far.

Maybe it was time for a blonde.

Time for a blonde? Ryan nearly dropped the ax. It wasn’t time for a blonde. It wasn’t time for any woman. He had a son now, an impressionable son who needed food and clothing, a son whose upbringing would require dedication and full concentration. The last thing Ryan needed was the distraction of some female. Not that Dani could ever really distract him. She couldn’t. Clearly, the problem was him. Deprived of the pleasures of sex for too long now, his libido was just a little trigger-happy.

Trigger-happy.

Ryan laughed aloud at that unfortunate metaphor. So his libido was trigger-happy, huh? Well, something told him he’d damn well better keep it holstered lest it get him kicked off Dani’s ranch. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of Pike’s Peak, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that a man—maybe even a cowboy—had put it there.

When the blade of the ax felt sharp to Ryan’s touch, he switched off the grinder and turned to head back outdoors, but paused first, giving the room a cursory examination. He saw a mess—clutter that could only result from years of neglect. Ryan, who despised a disorderly workroom such as this one, placed the cleaning of it high on a mental list of tasks he intended to accomplish over the next few days.

Just before he stepped through the door, he spied a basket, one of the kind so often sold at craft fairs for use as decoration. Ryan paused again, then impulsively scooped up the basket, which looked fairly new, by its handle. He could make use of it to remedy a situation that had bothered him all night.

Ax and basket in hand, he walked back to the pine tree Dani had picked out and quickly chopped it down. He left the tree where it lay for a few minutes while he searched for pinecones, easily visible in the sparse snow beneath some of the larger pine trees several yards away. There were plenty to choose from, ranging from small to huge. Ryan picked up quite a few and put them into Dani’s basket, which looked pretty dusty now that he had it out in good light.