Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(20)

“A long time,” he said. “Somebody at work gave me this little book. I don’t want Mom and Dad to see it. They might take it away.”

Daniel’s struggle tore at Megan’s heart. She could imagine how badly he wanted to be independent and have his own car; and she knew he was going to need help. But taking his side would mean going against her parents’ wishes. She would have to handle the situation carefully.

“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed for work?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s my day off. Maybe you can help me learn this book. I can read the words, but some of the ideas are hard to understand.”

“I’ll think about it. For now, why don’t you go and get dressed.” She wouldn’t go behind her parents’ backs. But maybe she could talk them into letting Daniel try the written test. If he couldn’t pass, that would be the end of the argument. But she would do her best to give him a chance.

After Daniel had gone to his room, taking the forbidden booklet with him, Megan busied herself with setting the table and gathering the ingredients for her blueberry waffles. She’d spent much of the night lying awake, remembering Conner and that restrained but blazingly sensual kiss that had felt like an invitation for more to come.

Would he call her again? But never mind that, she told herself. She’d come home to be with her family and help out in any way she could. The last thing she needed was the distraction of a new, if temporary, man in her life—especially a man who’d already fallen for Lacy.

She was pouring batter into the waffle iron when her parents came into the kitchen. Both of them were dressed for the day, Ed pushing her mother’s wheelchair to the table before he took his seat. There was no sign of Daniel, but she could hear the shower running in the bathroom. This might be her best chance to talk about letting Daniel study the driver’s handbook.

She filled their mugs with fresh coffee, then cleared her throat and plunged ahead. “I’ve been talking with Daniel. He wants me to help him study for the driver’s written test.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows, a sign of disapproval. “But why go to the trouble? I can’t imagine he’d pass.”

“But he wants to try. Why not let him? I’d be happy to help. If he fails or gives up, he won’t be able to drive, and you two won’t have to be the bad guys.”

“And if he passes the test?” her mother asked.

“It’s not an easy test. If he passes it, I’d say he deserves to go on to the next step.”

Dorcas frowned. She’d always been protective of her vulnerable son. “I don’t know about that. What if he has an accident?”

“Why not let the boy try,” Ed said. “It’s not likely he’ll pass. But if he’s willing to study, he deserves a chance, at least.”

“Well, if you’re sure . . .” Dorcas trailed off as Daniel walked into the kitchen. He was wearing his bathrobe, his dark hair still damp from the shower. He looked at Megan, then from one parent to the other, as if expecting to be scolded.

“Son, Megan tells us you want to study for your driver’s test,” Ed said. “We’ve talked about it. It won’t be easy, but if you want to try, we’re willing to let you.”

The change in Daniel’s expression was like the sun coming out. Grinning, he held up his hand and gave Megan a high five. “I’ll study hard. I’m going to pass the test. You’ll see. This is the best day ever!”

A knot of worry tightened in the pit of Megan’s stomach. She understood how much Daniel wanted to drive. For him, having a car was the key to becoming a man. She would do anything she could to help him. But what if he’d taken on too much? What if her beloved brother was headed for a crushing disappointment?

*

When Conner came into the kitchen the next morning, Travis was standing by the open stove, warming his backside. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes rumpled, his jaw shadowed with stubble.

“You look like hell,” Connor said.

“I feel like hell.” Travis had made coffee. Conner poured a fresh mug.

“When did you get in?”

“Maybe twenty minutes ago. Too late to think about going to bed. I let Bucket out. It’s cold and he hasn’t been fed, so I figure he’ll be back soon.”

As if in response to his words, there was a scratching at the door. Conner opened it for Bucket, who came romping in, tracking snow and shaking it off his fur. Conner filled the empty dish with kibble. “Rough night?” he asked his partner.

Travis muttered a curse. “You might say that. I spent half the night arguing with Maggie, and the rest of it sleeping on her damned hard couch because she wasn’t in the mood to cuddle, and I was too tired to drive home.”

“Arguing with sweet Maggie? I can’t imagine that,” Conner said.

“Then you don’t know her. When she gets her mind set on something, sweet Maggie can be as stubborn as an undertaker’s mule.”

Undertakers didn’t usually have mules, but Conner got the idea. “I’m listening if you want to talk,” he said.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were the crackle of the fire in the stove and the crunch of Bucket wolfing down his breakfast. At last, Travis spoke.

“All I want is to get married,” he said. “The less time and fuss involved, the better. Hell, for all I care, I could elope tonight, fly to Vegas, and get married by an Elvis impersonator, or maybe just walk into City Hall and ask Tracy to do the honors.”