A Cowboy's Christmas Proposal. Cathy Mcdavid

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СКАЧАТЬ of Molly were six cabins, spaced approximately twenty yards apart. Constructed of pine to resemble the main house built in the 1880s, the cabins were new and blissfully without quirks. Rule number one in the hospitality industry: guests didn’t like being disturbed by clanging pipes, the periodic flickering light and a furnace that grumbled like an old man.

      The stables and carriage house were a short distance away. Also part of the original homestead, the twin structures had been refurbished by the same contractor who’d built the cabins. Two draft horses resided in the stables, their job to pull the wedding carriage on romantic rides through town—Sweetheart Ranch’s signature amenity for the happy couple. In addition to the carriage, the ranch also had an old farm wagon used for hayrides.

      Big Jim, a semiretired wrangler from one of the many cattle ranches in the area, worked part-time for the O’Malleys. He saw to the horses’ care and drove the team. He was in the stables now, cleaning stalls in preparation for the open house, which would include tours of the cabins and the horse facilities.

      Grandma Em had insisted on everything being spic-and-span. Except she wasn’t here to see it.

      Molly fought against the rush of tears threatening to fall. She wasn’t about to let Owen Caufield see her cry. She was on the verge of enjoying her first successful job of a thus-far lackluster hotel administration career. Without her grandmother’s guidance and support, history might well repeat itself.

      Could this be a test? Was Grandma Em attempting to determine if Molly had the necessary skills to assist managing Sweetheart Ranch and potentially take over one day? For all Molly knew, her grandmother could return tomorrow morning after the open house had bombed and tell Molly her previous employers had been right to let her go.

      Failures. Her life was full of them. Failed relationships. Failed engagements. Failed jobs.

      “Not this time,” Molly promised herself and headed toward cabin number six.

      Owen had already parked in front of the cabin when she arrived. His son immediately jumped out of the back passenger seat and landed on his feet with a thud. He then bolted for the cabin’s shaded front stoop.

      “Cody, get back here,” Owen hollered.

      Molly suspected Cody misbehaving and Owen reprimanding him was a regular occurrence.

      “I gotta go, Daddy. Bad.”

      Ah. A bathroom emergency. Molly hurried, the key jangling in her hand. Sweetheart Ranch didn’t use plastic cards. Grandma Em had been firm on that issue. Keys enhanced the old-fashioned ambience.

      “Hold on,” Molly said, glad to set her emotions aside. Climbing the stoop, she nudged Cody’s hand away. He’d been repeatedly twisting the uncooperative knob.

      “If you wait a minute, I’ll be right there.” Owen had managed to lift the toddler from her car seat. His other daughter refused to stop fidgeting despite his requests, making freeing her difficult.

      “It’s okay. No rush.” Molly opened the door. “I’ll watch him.”

      Watch him like a hawk. She’d bet money Cody would find trouble if left unsupervised.

      “You stay here,” Cody demanded and charged inside. “Going to the bathroom is private.”

      “Of course.” Molly nonetheless kept an eye on him as he stomped through the front room and down the hall.

      A moment later, she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Owen and the girls come inside, a cold gust following them.

      “Nice.” Owen paused and surveyed the room with its overstuffed sofa, oak coffee and end tables, lamps that resembled lanterns, antique oxen yoke hanging on the wall, and lacy curtains. “Very cozy.”

      “There’s a kitchenette with an under-the-counter fridge, a three-burner stove, microwave and sink.” Molly pointed out the various features with pride and satisfaction. The cabins were indeed nice, and she’d contributed significantly to their design. “The sofa is a sleeper with a queen-size mattress.”

      “That’s good.” Owen let go of the girls’ hands, allowing them to explore. “I brought a portable crib for Willa. I’m thinking Cody and Marisa can sleep out here while I take the bedroom.”

      “I don’t wanna sleep with Cody.” Marisa made a face and glared at the offending sofa.

      “But this bed’s special,” Owen said. “It pops out of the sofa like magic.”

      Marisa wasn’t mollified. “I want Oreo.”

      “Oreo,” Willa agreed and dropped onto her bottom in the middle of the floor.

      “Their dog,” Owen told Molly. “She sleeps in the girls’ room on Marisa’s bed.”

      “I’m sorry. Only service dogs are allowed at the ranch.” Molly admired his patience with these three. They were a handful.

      “Wow!” Cody exploded from the bathroom. “Daddy, come look. The tub is huge.”

      “Each cabin comes with a built-in two-person spa tub,” Molly explained to Owen. “And an enclosed courtyard in back for privacy.”

      “I’m intrigued.” His gaze caught hers and lingered.

      Molly glanced away first but not before her heart gave an unexpected leap. Really?

      She checked Owen’s left hand for a wedding ring before she could stop herself. There was none, not that she cared.

      “Daddy!” Cody insisted. “Come look at the bathtub.”

      “I’m hungry,” Marisa complained from the kitchenette where she was opening every lower cabinet and drawer within her reach.

      “I’ll leave you to get unpacked.” Molly seized the chance to escape and inched toward the door. “Let me know if there’s anything you require. Extra towels or pillows. Assistance connecting to the complimentary Wi-Fi.”

      “Can we ride the horses?” Cody asked.

      Owen reached out and tousled his son’s hair. “We noticed the stables.”

      Molly gave an apologetic head shake, neatly slipping back into guest relations mode. “I’m afraid Moses and Amos are for carriage and hayrides only. But Powell Ranch is a half mile up the road, and they rent horses by the hour for trail rides and lessons. There are also plenty other family-friendly activities in the nearby area. They’re listed in the binder.” She pointed to the coffee table. “Hiking trails and the OdySea Aquarium. There’s even recreational bull riding at the Poco Dinero Bar and Grill.”

      “I’ve heard about that,” Owen said. “Maybe I’ll take a spin.”

      “You’ve rodeoed before?”

      “In my previous life. Before I became a marketing rep for Waverly Equine Products.”

      That was interesting. Despite his Western dress, Molly hadn’t pictured him riding bulls. Must be the pressed jeans. She’d pegged him as more of a weekend cowboy.

      “Daddy СКАЧАТЬ