Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 3)

“I wouldn’t turn that down,” she said. “But I was planning to pay.”

Conner gave her a wink. “I’ll take a rain check on that.” What a charming rascal, Megan thought. She already had the man pegged.

Francine showed them to a table and brought two cups of coffee, along with a basket of fresh rolls and pastries. By now, it was after 10:00. Most of the customers had finished their meals and left. The dining room was quiet except for the Christmas music on the speaker and the muted sounds of kitchen work behind the swinging door.

Megan put a croissant on her bread plate, cut off a small piece, and popped it into her mouth. The flaky pastry literally melted on her tongue. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, cutting off a bigger bite.

Conner grinned at her over his steaming coffee mug. “See, what did I tell you? Wait till you taste the rest of the meal.”

“My mouth is watering already,” Megan said. “But I’m still going to owe you for helping me with my car.”

“And I know just how you can repay me,” Conner said.

“I’m listening.” She could always say no, Megan reminded herself. But, damn it, he was cute. If women found him hard to resist, she could certainly understand why.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “You’ll remember that Francine mentioned my two partners. Rush is married to Tracy, who’s a city judge. Travis is engaged to Maggie, who just finished a term as mayor.”

“So far, t

hat sounds pretty impressive,” Megan said. “But I don’t see what it has to do with my paying you back.”

“Let me finish,” Conner said. “Maggie’s having a little dinner tomorrow night—just the three of us guys and our partners. Since I’m the partnerless one, she said I’d be welcome to bring a date. I could go alone, but it would be less awkward, and a whole lot more fun, if you’d come with me.”

The invitation sounded harmless enough, Megan told herself. Still, she hesitated. “A mayor and a judge? I’m afraid I’d feel out of my league.”

“Oh no—they’re great women. Totally down-to-earth. I promise you, if you go, you’ll have two instant friends. They’ll treat you like a sister. How about it, Megan?” When she didn’t answer right away, he added, “Remember, you owe me.”

Megan sighed. “All right. But if I make a fool of myself—”

“I can’t believe you could ever make a fool of yourself.”

“Then you don’t know me very well,” Megan said. “At social dinners, I’ve been known to say stupid things, spill my soup, smile with spinach on my front teeth, use the wrong fork—you name it. If I embarrass you to death, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Conner laughed. “Don’t worry about it. If you embarrass me, I’ll just embarrass you right back—like maybe belch at the table. Hey, relax. It’ll be fun. Dinner’s set for seven. I’ll pick you up at quarter to. And don’t forget to give me your phone number in case anything changes.”

“I’ll write the number down for you.” Megan had business cards in her purse, but they had Lacy’s name on them. And Megan had learned the hard way that Lacy was best kept in the closet until showtime. Men who found out about Lacy soon forgot that Megan existed. Like, who cared about poor, mousy Diana Prince when Wonder Woman showed up in that sexy, armored bra?

“So, what does one wear to dinner with a mayor and a judge?” she asked. “Will it be black tie and evening dress?”

“You’re kidding, I hope. This is Branding Iron. What you’re wearing now will be just fine. The mayor and the judge will most likely be in jeans and sneakers. They might even let you help get the meal on the table.”

“I get the idea.” Megan surveyed the breakfast platter Francine had just set in front of her. Airy-looking scrambled eggs nestled alongside bacon, sausage, crisp hash browns, and a short stack of blueberry pancakes, served with a pitcher of warm maple syrup.

“Wow, Francine,” she said, “that looks absolutely decadent. I just hope I’ll have room for it all.”

Francine chuckled. “That’s what most folks say. But the plates that go back to the kitchen tend to be empty. Eat hearty, honey.” She bustled back to the kitchen.

Conner grinned at her. “Go ahead and dig in. You haven’t been to Branding Iron until you’ve eaten one of Francine’s breakfasts—every bite.”

Accepting the challenge, Megan picked up her fork. The food tasted as delicious as it looked and smelled; the eggs and pancakes were so light that they didn’t make her feel stuffed, as she’d expected they might.

Conner was making good progress on his own breakfast when Megan remembered something Francine had said. She’d resolved to ignore the remark, but she hadn’t forgotten it. As long as it was on her mind, she decided, she had nothing to lose by clearing the air.

“I’m curious about something,” she said. “I hope you won’t mind my asking you a personal question.”

If he was worried, he didn’t show it. “Ask away,” he said. “I’m a man with no secrets.”

“All right.” Megan rested her fork on the edge of the plate. “When we first came in here, Francine referred to me as your ‘lady of the day.’ What was that supposed to mean?”