Christmas On The Ranch: The Rancher's Christmas Baby / Christmas Eve Cowboy

She had just finished reading when Dixon walked in. Freshly shaved, he looked younger and strikingly handsome. He went straight to the coffeepot and took down an insulated travel mug from the cabinet above it.

“You’re up early.”

“Your sister likes breakfast early.”

“Let me guess who fixed the bottle.”

“Bella can’t fix her own.”

He filled the mug and screwed the top onto it before turning to face her, leaning his hip against the counter. “My mother is so unwell she can’t manage a bottle of formula?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and sipped his coffee, his gaze carefully averted. Then he broke off a banana from a bunch on the counter and began to peel and eat it.

“I’ll gladly make your breakfast,” she offered, starting to rise from her chair.

Waving her back down, he shook his head. “No time.” He went to the refrigerator, took a packaged sandwich out of a box in the freezer and carried it to the microwave. A minute later he tossed the banana peel, plucked the sandwich from the microwave oven and grabbed his travel mug. “Gotta go.”

“You work on Saturday?”

“Yep.”

“Uh, Dixon, I was wondering...”

He paused in the doorway to the mudroom. “Yeah?”

“A Christmas tree for the house would be fun and really cheer up Jackie.”

Shrugging, he turned. “We usually just cut a red cedar. I’ve tried to eradicate them on the range, but there are a few around the house. I really don’t have time for cutting one right now, though.”

“Do you have ornaments?”

“Sure. Up in the attic.”

“Okay. Now, about the fireplace. Jackie loves a fire. Would you mind if I brought in some wood and—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted, “I do. Since it’s a propane fireplace. Just flip the switch on the side of the mantel.”

“Ah.”

“Now, I gotta go.” He turned away.

“One more thing.”

Sighing, he turned back. “Make it quick. I have to doctor an injured cow before I can get to work.”

“How can I reach you? In case of an emergency.”

For a moment he merely glared, but then he barked out ten digits. She whipped out her phone and quickly tapped them in, repeating them aloud. A second later his phone started to ring.

“Now you have my number, too.”

Nodding, he turned and walked into the mudroom, the phone in his hip pocket still ringing. After a moment she tapped the icon that ended the call. She heard him pulling on his outerwear and mere seconds later he left the house. She returned to her chair and sat down to think, then called her sister. Dawn didn’t have any more experience with men than Fawn did, but Grandmother was already at work, and Dawn was far more careful and suspicious of the opposite gender than Fawn. Surely between them they could safely discern Dixon’s likely reactions if Fawn did what she was contemplating.

Dawn answered groggily. “I’m the sister who sleeps in. Remember?”

“Your alarm goes off in five minutes.”

“Then this had better be a five-minute-long conversation.”

Chuckling, Fawn told her twin what Dixon had said about the Christmas tree. Dawn agreed that he, conveniently, hadn’t told Fawn that she couldn’t cut down a tree herself and likely wouldn’t be upset if she spared him the effort.

“Send me a pic when you get it decorated.”

Fawn promised, but privately she was more concerned about pleasing Dixon Lyons. She told herself that it was because he hadn’t committed to taking care of Jackie and Bella yet, but she feared that the reason was more personal, and that frightened her. Was she more her mother’s daughter than she knew? Even when he was being contrary, she liked Dixon. Was she ignoring the warning signs, as her mother must have done with her father? When Dawn’s alarm went off, Fawn felt a sense of relief. If her overprotective sister ever suspected how strongly Fawn was attracted to Dixon, she’d be on the road to War Bonnet within the hour to judge him and the situation for herself.

After changing, feeding, bathing and dressing the baby, then getting her down for her nap and making Jackie comfortable, Fawn found it was late morning before she was able to go out in search of the tree. Thankfully, Dixon didn’t seem to lock anything, and she found the tools she needed, along with a wheelbarrow in the little shed built into the end of the carport. The task was more laborious than she’d imagined, and to make matters worse, the tree fell on her. It wasn’t large enough to do any damage, but cedar needles proved surprisingly sticky and itchy.

Lunch had to be handled and the baby and Jackie seen to again before Fawn could decorate. Desperate for a shower, she worked quickly, getting the tree into the stand in front of the living room window, stringing the multicolored lights, hanging the ornaments and threading wide, wired, red ribbon through the branches. Finding no angel for the top, she used a tinsel star that had seen better days. All in all, she thought it turned out well. Sitting in front of a cheery fire, Jackie seemed to agree.

“That really takes me back. So much has changed around here, but that really takes me back.”

Fawn snapped a picture with her phone and texted it to her sister, then rushed off to shower and change her sticky, itchy clothes just in time to start dinner.

Dixon came in as she was getting the bread ready for the oven. “That smells good.”

“Homemade chicken noodle soup and my grandmother’s biscuits. They’ll take about twenty minutes if you want to shower first.”

“That’ll work. Took care of that stubborn old heifer on my way in.”

“What’s wrong with the heifer?”

“Nasty cut on her rear leg. It’s been stitched, but it doesn’t look good.”

“I can ask my grandmother what she recommends.”

“Your grandmother’s a vet?”

“No, a nurse, but she has a healing way with all living things.”

“Huh.”

She’d seen that skeptical look before, but she made no comment. Neither did he, not then and not after he walked into the living room and pointedly looked at the Christmas tree. In fact, he must’ve noticed it when he’d driven in. The lights would undoubtedly show through the front window, but he simply walked past the fireplace and into the hallway without a single word.

When tears of disappointment sprang to her eyes, Fawn felt like kicking herself. Or him.

* * *