Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch 3)

Conner’s eyebrows twitched. He exhaled. “Boy, you play hardball, don’t you?”

“If that’s the way you want to put it.” Megan smiled as she said it. “So, are you going to answer me, or are you going to take the Fifth?”

“You’re entitled to an honest answer,” he said. “This is a small town. As a single man with no commitments, I’ve dated a lot of women, mostly as friends. In a big city like Nashville, I could do that without word getting around. But this is Branding Iron, a place where everybody knows everybody else—and everybody talks.”

“So I take it you’ve acquired a reputation as a heart-breaker.” Megan raised an eyebrow. She was enjoying this.

“I’ve never broken anybody’s heart on purpose—and I’ve never made promises I couldn’t keep.” He was actually blushing. “All I’ve ever wanted was a good time. But, yes, a few of the women have gotten other ideas.”

“So I’m your lady of the day.”

He looked like an adorable little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Megan, that doesn’t mean—”

“No—it’s all right,” she said. “I’m only here for the holiday break. I even have a sort of boyfriend in Nashville, so everything you’ve told me is A-OK. If we can enjoy a few laughs and part as friends, that’s fine with me.”

A breath of relief whooshed out of him. “Thanks,” he said.

Megan gave him a smile. “So let’s finish this delicious meal before it gets cold. Then you can take me back to my car.”

As Megan focused on her breakfast, she could sense Conner’s gaze on her. She’d done the right thing, she told herself, setting boundaries and letting him know she had no romantic expectations. She’d even mentioned Derek, who would be more than her “sort of” boyfriend if she chose to let him.

She’d set up a safe barrier between herself and the handsome cowboy sitting across the table. But she had to admit that he was an appealing man—honest, funny, vulnerable, and sexy as all get-out.

Glancing up at him, Megan couldn’t help wondering. What if she’d been too quick to draw the lines?

What if she could be missing out on something wonderful?

* * *

For Megan, the rest of the day, and the day after, flew past. The house needed a thorough cleaning. There were piles of laundry to be done, groceries to be picked up, and Christmas presents to be bought and wrapped. She knew that her father did more than his share around the house, and even Daniel helped as much as he could. But with her mother’s limited ability, the work tended to fall behind. Megan was only too happy to pitch in and take up the slack.

Maybe, she thought, if she budgeted her earnings as a teacher, or, better yet, if she could earn more money as a singer, she could hire someone local to come in and help her family for a few hours each week.

Or you could just move back home, the voice of guilt reminded her. But that would mean giving up her dream of a singing career, maybe forever.

“Don’t you have a dinner date tonight?” her mother reminded her. “Look at the clock. It’s almost six.”

Megan glanced down at her dirt-smudged jeans and sneakers, rubber-gloved hands and the ragged sweatshirt she’d worn to tackle the laundry and storage rooms in the basement. Conner would be here to pick her up in forty-five minutes, and she was a mess.

Rushing back to her room, she shed her dirty clothes, hit the shower, and dressed in clean jeans, a new blue sweater, and comfy leather loafers. She could only hope that Conner hadn’t been joking about casual dress for the evening. She wouldn’t put it past him, she thought. The man had a bit of the devil in him, which somehow made him all the more intriguing.

She didn’t usually wear much makeup. But tonight she opted for a little lipstick, blush, and mascara, as well as a pair of simple pearl earrings. Anything to make her feel more confident. Despite what Conner had told her, the thought of the women she’d be meeting tonight gave her the nervous quivers. What if she made a fool of herself? What if they didn’t like her?

But then, again, what did it matter? If Conner never wanted to see her again after tonight, that was his loss.

Megan emerged from her room to find that Conner had already arrived. He was in the studio with her mother, admiring the pictures and asking questions about her work. Danie

l was following him around like a puppy, interrupting him with talk about bull riding. Clearly, he’d already won them over. Only Megan’s father, Ed, grading a stack of papers at the kitchen table, seemed unimpressed.

Conner glanced around and saw her. His face lit in a grin. “Hey, you look great. Ready to go?”

“As soon as I get my coat—and something else.” Megan had picked up a bottle of the most expensive wine sold at Shop Mart, which wasn’t saying much, but it was the best she could do on short notice. Conner helped her into her coat and took her arm as they made their way down the icy sidewalk to his Jeep.

“I like your family,” he said. “Your mother’s artwork is amazing.”

“She’s done well with it. Her painting is what keeps her going.”

Conner didn’t answer at first. Megan imagined that he was thinking about her mother’s disabling illness and the challenges of raising a son with Down syndrome. “You’re lucky to have a family,” he said. “My parents split up when I was a teenager. They both went off, married other people, and had more kids. I just sort of fell through the cracks. I get a few Christmas cards from them. That’s about it.”