Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(51)

And right in the middle of that problem was his sweet, trusting, love-hungry Maggie.

Grace had told him about her issues, but he’d never told her how strongly he felt about her. They needed to lay everything on the line in a heart-to-heart talk. It couldn’t happen while he was in the hospital and she was taking care of his little girl. But it needed to happen soon, before damage was done and hearts were broken.

*

“I found the cookie recipe.” Maggie knelt on a chair at the kitchen table, the red and white five-ring binder cookbook spread open in front of her. “They’re called sugar cookies. Have you ever made them, Miss Chapman?”

“Never.” Grace’s mother had owned the same cookbook, but she’d never been much of a cook, especially after the breakup of her marriage.

“I’ve never made them either,” Maggie said. “But we can learn together. It’s too bad this recipe doesn’t have pictures.”

Grace looked over the little girl’s shoulder. The pages of the popular cookbook were stained, spattered, and worn where the binder rings passed through the holes. “Somebody must’ve used this book a lot,” she said.

“My grandma gave the book to my mom,” Maggie said. “I remember when Mom made these cookies. I was too little to help. But I’m big now, and the book is mine. I’m going to make them every year for Christmas.”

The words triggered a tightening in Grace’s throat. “Let’s get started,” she said. “You read me the ingredients. I’ll find them and set them out.”

“Shortening . . .” Maggie read. “Sugar . . . grated orange peel . . .” She paused.

“Here’s the orange we bought,” Grace said. “Do we have a grater?”

“Uh-huh. I know where it is. Let’s see . . . eggs, milk, flour, baking powder, and salt. Got it all?”

“Got it. Grace glanced at the recipe and decided to do some teaching. “This recipe makes two dozen cookies. Do you know how many that is?”

“Twenty-four. My dad taught me how much a dozen is. But that doesn’t sound like enough cookies.”

“We could make more. Do you want to make two batches, or one big one?”

“One big one. Come on, let’s turn on some Christmas music and get to work.”

Rolling up their sleeves, they let the fun begin. They sang and giggled as they worked, getting flour on their clothes, on their hands and faces, and all over the kitchen. Maggie was in heaven. Grace had never seen the little girl so happy.

The two balls of dough they’d made from the doubled recipe needed to be chilled in the fridge for at least an hour before rolling and cutting. After Grace and Maggie cleaned up the mess they’d made, they were both tired. They took the microwaved popcorn Maggie made into the living room, where they put their feet up and nibbled their way through a Christmas video they’d rented from the store. By the end of the movie, Maggie had dropped off to sleep with her head resting on the arm of the sofa.

Let her sleep, Grace decided. The cookies could wait. It was a pleasure just to sit here with the Christmas tree glowing in the corner, Christmas music drifting from the radio in the kitchen, and the blaze she’d lit crackling in the fireplace. She felt safe and warm in Sam’s cozy home, and she’d had a great time shopping and mixing cookies with Maggie.

But could she imagine a lifetime here, in this house, with the man and child who’d stolen her heart? Unless she could make it real, the kindest thing she could do would be to walk away.

She loved Sam—there, she’d finally put the words together. She loved being with him, hearing his voice, feeling his touch. But given Sam’s situation with a daughter to raise, she knew he wouldn’t settle for having her as a steady girlfriend—not for long, at least. What Sam needed was a wife.

Sam Delaney was an all-or-nothing man. If she wanted him, it would have to be all the way, with open eyes, an open heart, and no barriers to hold her back.

If she couldn’t let go of her fears, it was time for their story to end.

*

By Sunday, Sam was feeling stronger. He still had some pain, but the IV drip was gone. He was up, walking the halls, sitting in a chair to take his meals, and champing at the bit to go home.

Buck Winston, Sam’s deputy, dropped by to visit him that morning and catch him up on what was happening at work. Sam appreciated the visit. Young and cowboy tough, Buck was doing well as acting sheriff. Since Sam would be at home for at least a week, the job would be Buck’s for a while longer.

“I do have some good news,” Buck said. “I talked to Walt. He wanted me to tell you that he gave Hank a job at the hardware store. Yesterday was Hank’s first day, and he did fine.”

“That’s great. What a relief. Let’s just hope Hank can stay sober and keep going to those AA meetings.”

“My older brother went to AA,” Buck said. “It saved his life. He’s got a good job and a family now.”

“I never thought I’d miss being at work,” Sam said. “But I do, especially the people. Is there any good gossip going around?”

Buck’s tanned cheeks took on a little pink. “Well, since you’re bound to hear it from Helen, I’ll tell you myself. I’ve met this girl. And things are lookin’ good.”

“A girl, huh? Where does a homely cowpoke like you find one of those?” Sam was teasing. Buck was blond, blue-eyed, and good-looking enough to suit any woman.