Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(30)
Hesitation almost overcame her as she climbed out of the car. What if Sam felt uncomfortable, having her stop by his house uninvited? What if he thought she was pushing for a relationship? For a moment she was tempted to leave the box on the doorstep, ring the bell, and leave. But the porch light had just come on. Someone in the house must’ve seen her drive up. They’d expect her to be standing there when the door opened.
But she wouldn’t have to stay. She could just hand over the doughnuts, explain why she’d brought them, and flee back to the car. Yes, that would work.
Clutching the pink cardboard box, Grace mounted the porch and rang the bell.
Chapter Eight
It was Maggie who opened the door. The grin on her small face would have lit up the gloomiest winter twilight. “I saw you drive up,” she said. “Come on in, Miss Chapman. I’ll tell Daddy you’re here.”
The little girl danced through an open archway and vanished into the kitchen. Grace had a moment to take in the cozy living room, the worn but comfortable leather furniture and the bookshelves along one wall. Unlit logs were stacked in the brick fireplace. The crooked tree, still untrimmed, stood in one corner. Three taped cardboard boxes were piled next to it.
“Hi.” Sam appeared in the archway, the kitchen light bright behind him. He was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show his muscular forearms. “I just set another place at the table. I hope you like spaghetti.”
Grace had prepared herself for something like this and had a ready response. “Oh, thanks, but I can’t stay. I just dropped by to bring you these.” She held up the box of doughnuts. “I wanted to thank you for finding me last night, and for the car. I don’t know what you said to that rental agency, but it worked.”
“I tried to put a little fear into them. But if you really want to thank me, you can stay for supper. Maggie will be downhearted for the rest of the night if you leave.”
Grace felt her guilt buttons being pushed, but there was no gracious way to refuse. “Well, at least I brought dessert,” she said, thrusting the box toward him. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” He set the box on the countertop. “It’s all ready. Just have a seat. I hope you don’t mind store-bought sauce. Maggie will tell you that I’m not much of a cook.”
“He’s not.” Maggie added a set of tongs to the bowl of pasta and put a shaker of dried parmesan on the table. “That’s why I’m going to learn. Everything I need to know is right in that big book.” She nodded toward the large, red checkered Better Homes and Gardens cookbook that lay on the far end of the table, next to her homework. “All I have to do is read it and do what it tells me.”
Grace glanced at Sam and saw the gleam of pride in his eyes. Teaching herself to cook might prove too much for a child as young as Maggie, but no one could fault her ambition. “My mom had that same cookbook,” Grace said. “I wish I’d kept it. It would come in handy now.”
“Dinner is served.” Sam pulled out a chair for Grace, then did the same for Maggie, who giggled. “I can get my own chair, Daddy.”
“I know. But sometimes I like to remind myself that my best girl is a lady.”
“Who’s your best girl, me or Miss Chapman?”
Sam took his seat. “Tonight I’m extra lucky. I get to have two best girls. So, let’s bless the food and eat.”
Grace had skipped lunch, so she was hungry; the spaghetti with meat sauce tasted good. Even the bagged salad with bottled dressing and the warmed-over garlic bread were edible. She was grateful for the invitation. After all, Sam and his daughter hadn’t been expecting company when the meal was prepared.
“We’re going to decorate our tree after supper,” Maggie said. “Can you stay and help us, Miss Chapman?”
Grace glanced at Sam. His expression revealed nothing.
“Thank you for asking, Maggie,” she said, “but I really need to go. I have things to do at home.”
“Oh, please!” Maggie begged. “We could decorate the tree and have hot cocoa with the doughnuts you brought. It would be so much more fun with you here than just Daddy and me. Wouldn’t it, Daddy?”
Sensing Sam’s discomfort, Grace spoke up before he could reply. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I know I’d enjoy it, but I really should leave. I’ll stay long enough to help clean up in here. Then I’ll be on my way.”
“But the tree wouldn’t take long.” Maggie’s expression would have melted the coldest heart. “Daddy already got the boxes down from the attic. And I’ll do most of the work. You can just hand me things, and Daddy can lift me up to put the star on top.” She turned to her father. “Please, Daddy. Tell Miss Chapman we want her to stay.”
*
“Of course we do.” Sam’s smile was forced. He’d been dreading this night for weeks, taking out Bethany’s cherished ornaments, each one holding a memory, and hanging them on the tree, where he’d have to look at them for the rest of the holiday season. And having Grace here wouldn’t make the ordeal any easier. It just meant he would have to keep an even tighter rein on his emotions.
Grace, he sensed, wasn’t keen on the idea either. She seemed anxious, as if she couldn’t wait to rush out to her car and drive away. But there was no way he could tell her that she wasn’t welcome.