My Kind of Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 1)

“We could whip up some more bacon and eggs,” Travis said. “Maybe an omelet this time. I was planning to stop by Shop Mart on the way home, but then we got talking about the business and it didn’t happen.”

“Well, that’ll have to do, I guess.” Conner opened the back door. “You know I’m not counting on you to handle all the cooking and shopping. We need to work out a plan so I can do my fair share.”

“One more plan.” Travis shook his head. “Hell, I’ve got plans running out of my ears, and you haven’t slept since you got here. Maybe we should just make peanut butter sandwiches and call it a night.”

Travis was about to follow Conner inside when he happened to glance toward the road. Through the gathering dusk, he could see headlights approaching. A moment later he heard the smooth purr of the old Lincoln’s motor.

“Maggie’s here.” He passed the word to Conner through the back door. “Gather up that paperwork and get it out of sight. I’ll stall her outside.”

“Roger!” Conner responded.

As Maggie pulled up to the front gate, Travis was there to open it for her. As she pulled in and climbed out of the car, Bucket came tearing around the house to greet her. She fended the dog off, laughing.

“I only wish you were that happy to see me.” Her humor sounded forced.

“If you’ve come for the box, I can get it and load it in your car,” Travis said.

The wind stirred her hair and fluttered the scarf around her neck. Damn it, but she was beautiful.

“Actually, I brought something,” she said. “Call it a welcome to Branding Iron gift for Conner, if you like. It’s chicken enchiladas, still warm. The dish is on the other side of the car, on the floor. And I brought a salad with brownies and ice cream for dessert. If you want to get the box for me, I’ll carry the food into the house.”

“Sure.” Travis walked around the car and opened the passenger door for her. The foil-covered dish, a lidded bowl, and a paper grocery sack were on the floor. The savory aroma wafting from the dish made Travis’s mouth water.

She picked them up, doing her best to balance everything between her hands and her arms, but clearly struggling.

“Here.” He took the bowl and the sack from her and headed for the porch. “Come on inside. We can get the box later.”

* * *

So far, so good. Maggie followed Travis inside the house, carrying the warm casserole dish by its handles. Francine had given her excellent advice—including the admonition to bring the hot food in a nice ceramic dish, big enough for leftovers, that would need to be returned.

Conner’s face lit in a grin as she walked in the door. “Wow! That smells heavenly! Is it for us?”

Maggie gave him her most gracious smile. “Well, you did buy my lunch. And I wanted to give you a proper welcome to Branding Iron. I hope you’ll invite me to join you.”

“Hell yes—excuse me, ma’am. You’re just in time for supper. Have a seat.” He pulled out a mismatched chair. Maggie set the enchilada dish on the table, hung her jacket on the back of the chair, and sat down. Conner pulled three clean plates from the dishwasher, along with a handful of cutlery, and began hurriedly setting the table.

Travis, quiet as usual, set the salad bowl on the table, put the ice cream in the fridge, and set the bakery box of brownies on the counter.

“Napkins?” Maggie asked.

Travis tore three paper towels off a roll on the counter and tossed them onto the table. “Best thing we’ve got, I’m afraid,” he muttered.

“No need to apologize. My father used to do the same thing,” Maggie said.

Conner lifted the foil off the enchiladas. “Hot damn, but these do look good!” He took a fork and scooped two onto his plate. “And you made a lot. Does that mean we get leftovers?”

“That’s the idea.”

“This was a thoughtful thing to do. Thank you, Maggie.” As he held the dish for Mag

gie to serve herself, Travis spoke the words like lines from a movie. Was he thinking she’d come to manipulate him again? Was he right?

Knowing this wasn’t the time to pry for information, she turned her attention to Conner, asking him about his growing-up years and how he became a champion bull rider. Conner was easy to talk to. He was as open and friendly as Travis was guarded. Prison could make that difference in a man, she reasoned.

“Travis and I went to high school together back in Oklahoma,” he told her. “He was a town boy, football and track hero. I was one of the farm kids. Even then, all I cared about was rodeo. But we hit it off somehow and became friends. We’ve kept in touch ever since. When I got hurt and was down on my luck, he invited me to come here.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t all one-sided.” Travis cleaned up the last bite on his plate. “I needed his help. When I called him, I didn’t even know he’d been hurt.”