It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(42)
Her heart ached for the little girl and for Rush. But there was nothing she could do—despite what she’d learned online.
By the time she got home, made the cake and salad, and did some things around the house, it was time to get ready for dinner. She knew no one would be dressed up, but she put on clean jeans, black boots, and a new black sweater. After freshening her makeup and curling the ends of her hair, she added small silver earrings.
Why should it matter how she looked? Tracy asked herself. But she knew the answer to that question. She wanted to appear at her best for Rush.
As she checked her reflection in the dresser mirror, Steve’s photo on the nightstand seemed to gaze at her with sad blue eyes. It’s only paper, she told herself. But she couldn’t shake a prickle of guilt. The love of her life was gone, and here she was, with his picture still on display, primping to impress another man.
A man who would never be hers.
Never mind, she told herself, as she slung her purse on her shoulder and carried the cake and salad out to her car. She would go to dinner, be a good guest, make pleasant conversation, and leave. That would be the end of it....
Until tomorrow, when Rush brought Clara to play with the kittens.
The December sunlight was already fading as she took the south highway and found the turnoff to Christmas Tree Ranch. Tracy switched on her headlights, feeling the bumpy surface beneath her tires as she drove past the ancient cottonwoods that lined the left-hand side of the road. Their branches were bare now, their tops black tracery against the deepening indigo sky. She parked next to Maggie’s old Lincoln Town Car. The lights were on in the house, the breeze cool on her face as she stepped out of her vehicle, balanced the cake and salad in her arms, and mounted the front steps to the porch.
Rush opened the door before she could find a way to knock. “Here, I’ll take that.” He ushered her inside and eased the rectangular cake pan out of her grip and set it on the counter. “That looks downright decadent,” he said, looking at the cake. “You’re a woman who knows the way to a man’s heart—or maybe three men’s hearts tonight.” He leaned close to Tracy’s ear as she set the salad bowl on the table. “And you look pretty damned decadent yourself, lady,” he whispered.
Tracy felt the heat creep into her face. Rush hadn’t flirted openly with her before. Maybe he was doing it to impress his friends.
The table was set with six mismatched place settings. Maggie was just taking the lasagna and foil-wrapped bread out of the oven. The aroma was intoxicating. “Hey, you’re just in time,” she said. “And your salad looks yummy. Give me a couple more minutes, and it’ll be time to sit down.”
Clara, dressed in her new ranch clothes, came dancing down the hall with a clean, fluffy dog at her heels. “Doesn’t Bucket look beautiful?” she exclaimed. “Travis and I gave him a bath in the tub! Boy, was he dirty! Come and see our Christmas tree, Tracy!”
She took Tracy’s hand and tugged her into the living room, where a three-foot tree was set up on a wooden crate in the far corner. Lights, tinsel, and miniature ornaments, almost enough to bury the tree, decorated every branch and twig.
“Isn’t it the prettiest tree ever?” Clara asked. “I decorated it all by myself.”
Tracy smiled. It was impossible not to respond to the happy little girl. “I have some good news,” she said. “Tiger has found a home. She’s going to be a present for Katy, the girl who gave you the gingerbread cookie.”
“Yay!” Clara clapped her hands. “So now there’s just Midnight. Midnight’s the playful one. He’s so cute. He’ll find a home soon.”
And there’s one more. But Tracy decided against mentioning Snowflake’s uncertain future. That would only spoil a joyful moment.
“I want to show you something else.” Clara ran to the blue tent, unzipped the flap, and slipped inside. She emerged holding a fluffy white toy cat with blue glass eyes. “This is Snowflake,” she said. “I got him for my birthday. I have to keep him in the tent so Bucket won’t use him for a dog toy. Here, you can hold him.”
Tracy took the life-sized stuffed animal and stroked its silky fur. She recognized the exclusive brand, which she’d seen in high-end stores.
“I love him,” Clara said. “But he’s not as much fun as a real cat. That’s why I love the real Snowflake more.”
“He’s beautiful,” Tracy said. “Now you’d better put him back where he’ll be safe.”
*
“Come and get it!” Maggie called from the kitchen.
As they gathered around the table, Rush boosted Clara onto the box that had been added to her chair. When they were all seated, Clara recited a murmured grace. Then the bread and salad started around the table, while Maggie cut squares of lasagna and doled them out with a spatula. Bucket disappeared under the table to wait for a spill or a handout.
Seated across the table from Tracy, Rush stole furtive glances at her. Tonight she looked so tempting that it was all he could do to keep from devouring her with his eyes.
They’d been playing games since the night she’d called him about her cat—and Rush was getting tired of it. He wanted her, pure and simple. If she couldn’t get over her late husband, maybe it was time somebody gave her a nudge in the right direction.
As things stood, he had nothing to lose by trying. At best, he could move the relationship forward. At worst, she would freeze him out and slam the proverbial door in his face.