Santa In Montana (Calder Saga 11)

“I’ll pass.”

Sloan glanced at the closed doors to the den. “Should we check with Chase?”

Jessy waved aside the question. “Just make him a cup. If it’s fixed, he’ll drink it.”

“Will do.” He tucked a steering hand under Sloan’s arm and turned her toward the kitchen. “Come on, little miss cocoa maker, let’s get this show on the road.”

Jessy had been right when she guessed that Cat was in the kitchen. She was standing at the counter, pouring a dark liquid into an over-sized plastic bag containing a large roast. She spared the pair a glance when they walked in.

“How’s the filly?” she asked Trey.

“She’ll be fine. What’s that you’re fixing?” He bobbed his head, indicating the plastic bag.

“I ran across a new marinade recipe that I decided I wanted to try on tomorrow’s roast. It recommends letting it set overnight.” Cat zipped the bag shut. “So what are you two up to?”

“Sloan decided she wanted some hot cocoa.” Trey removed the jug of milk from the refrigerator and held the door open for Cat while she placed the pan with the marinating roast in its bag on a cleared shelf. “So far we have orders for three cups. Care to make it four?”

“Isn’t Dad having one?” She glanced at him in surprise.

“That’s who the third one’s for, although he doesn’t know it yet.” He let the door swing closed and handed the milk jug to Sloan.

“Didn’t you ask him?” Cat glanced his way with a questioning frown.

“Couldn’t. He was on the phone.” Trey paused a beat, a teasing light suddenly dancing in his eyes. “Actually he was talking to your future husband—at least, according to Jake.”

“My—” Cat broke off that phrase. “He was on the phone with Wade Rogers.”

“That’s the man,” he confirmed.

Was this a second chance? The question held Cat motionless for an instant. She honestly didn’t know whether it was or not. But she realized she would never find out if she didn’t take advantage of this opportunity. Ignoring the odd tingling sensation she felt, Cat moved toward the living room.

“Hey, you never said whether you wanted some cocoa,” Trey called after her.

“No, thanks.” The way her stomach was churning, she doubted she could keep it down.

When she walked into the living room, two things registered at once—the sight of Jessy sitting alone on the couch and the closed doors to the den. Immediately Cat altered her course and crossed to the latter.

She knocked once on the door and pushed it open. As she expected, Chase was seated behind the desk, the telephone to his ear. Irritation flickered in his expression as his gaze touched her.

“Just a minute,” he said into the mouthpiece, then cupped a hand over it. “Did you need something, Cat?”

Fighting back an almost paralyzing attack of nerves, Cat plunged ahead. “Trey said you were on the phone with Wade Rogers. I’d like to speak to him when you finish.”

He showed his surprise at the request with the lift of an eyebrow and a long, considering look. Without responding directly to Cat, he removed his hand from the receiver’s mouthpiece and said into it, “Before I let you go, Wade, my daughter wants to speak to you. Hang on.” He held out the phone to her.

For a moment her legs felt like jelly. Somehow Cat managed to cross to the desk and take the phone from him. “Mr. Rogers—”

“Wade,” he corr

ected, the deep, rich timbre of his voice spilling over and through her.

“Wade,” she said and started her speech again, aware that her voice sounded calm despite the chaos going on inside her. “I think I might have left you with the impression that I was only being polite when I said you would be welcome at the Triple C anytime. And that isn’t the case at all. If chance should bring you our way again, I do hope you’ll stop.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do. Really.”

“As it happens, I’ll be in Montana the first of the week. I’d like to take you up on that invitation.”