The Cowboy’s Christmas Miracle by Thayne RaeAnne

Author:Thayne, RaeAnne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-09-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

She only saw Carson briefly again before he and his guests left for skiing, when she replenished the buffet-style breakfast dishes she had prepared into the dining room.

He didn’t look up at her from his spot at the dining table, where he seemed to be engrossed in conversation with the beautifully sophisticated Elle.

She was grateful, she told herself. She didn’t need another encounter with him to upset her equilibrium. She was already wasting entirely too much of her time thinking about the man.

They all left shortly after breakfast and the huge rambling house seemed to echo in their absence.

She cleared the breakfast dishes and did as much of the prep work for dinner as she could then stood for a moment in the kitchen.

She had Raven’s Nest to herself, and while she knew she needed to return to her children quickly, she couldn’t resist taking a moment to look around, as she had really only seen the kitchen and dining area.

She walked slowly through the great room, with its massive river-rock fireplace soaring two stories high and the Christmas tree Carson had cut with her boys.

Opposite the great room was the indoor pool and Jacuzzi, which had equally impressive two-story windows overlooking the ranch.

Like the kitchen, no detail had been spared in the house, from the carved interior doors to the remote-controlled window shades.

She couldn’t deny it was elegant, with graceful lines and comfortable furnishings. She believed they called the decor mountain chic. Sure, a designer might use homespun-looking fabric for the curtains but it no doubt cost a couple hundred dollars a yard.

Even the Christmas tree looked off, somehow. Melina Parker told her Carson had brought in a team of designers to decorate it. Perhaps that was why something about it didn’t look quite right. It was beautiful, but perhaps too polished. Or maybe it was the complete dearth of presents underneath it, a sight that sent a weird pang through her heart.

She wandered up the stairs, the railing polished and cool beneath her fingers. At the top of the stairs, she opened a door and realized with some chagrin that this must be the master bedroom.

The room was luxuriously appointed, with its own rock fireplace, a sitting area, a wide wall of windows overlooking her house and the valley and a huge four-poster log bed.

It was lavish and comfortable, she had to admit. But there were no personal mementos in sight. No photographs, no knickknacks, nothing to show the individual personality of the man who lived here.

She found it terribly sad, though perhaps his house in San Francisco was filled with those sorts of accoutrements. Somehow she doubted it. He struck her as a man who had created a self-contained life for himself, one without distractions or unnecessary details.

She trailed a hand over the thick designer comforter on the bed, then jerked herself out of her reverie and ordered herself to stop this fascination with the man and go back to where she belonged.

Christmas was three days away and heaven knows, she still had a million items on her to-do list.

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