To Trust a Rancher by Debbi Rawlins

Author:Debbi Rawlins [Rawlins, Debbi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-02-06T19:59:17+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Dinner was a big hit—the food, the conversation, the laughter, all of it. Noah’s wide-eyed wonder at the size of the turkey and how much food was on the table at one time, Wiley’s affection for Gail evident in every word and gesture...and the calm and warm presence of Ryder who sat at Becca’s side made the meal perfect. Even Otis had left his grumpiness outside and basked in the compliments to his cornbread dressing.

Becca could have done without stuffing herself so much. She’d secretly unbuttoned the top of her jeans halfway through the meal.

Gail, who’d been in such high spirits all evening, looked over at the counter, where the old landline phone still sat. The hint of sadness dulling her eyes told Becca exactly what Gail was thinking.

“You all right?” Wiley asked.

Gail nodded. “I thought she’d have called by now.”

“It’s still early in LA,” Becca said, even though she was reaching. “She might have forgotten the time difference.”

Gail gave her a look that didn’t hold much hope, but then she pulled out a smile. “Becca and I will get the desserts ready if you gents will clear the table. I’ve already put on some coffee and Noah can have a glass of milk.”

“No pumpkin pie,” Noah said, accompanied by an emphatic fist on the table.

“Noah, that’s not nice,” Becca said. “Aunt Gail went to a lot of trouble to make us this wonderful meal. If you don’t care for something, you say ‘no, thank you,’ and that’s it.”

“But—”

“That’s it.”

His lower lip went out, although his pout wasn’t as effective with his little gravy mustache. Becca dabbed at it with her napkin before she got up.

She was on her way to the kitchen with a few plates when she heard Gail say, “Later, I’ll need someone to bring the Christmas boxes down from the attic.”

It got so quiet that Becca glanced back.

All three men were staring at Gail.

“What? It’s tradition. I always start decorating the day after Thanksgiving so we have a whole month to enjoy it.”

“You haven’t decorated in years,” Otis spoke first. “Not since—ow.” He glared at Wiley. “Why’d you kick me?”

Wiley didn’t say anything, but even Becca could see the silent signal he was giving Otis to shut it. Of course, Gail hadn’t decorated since her husband died, and probably even before that, when it became clear Amy wasn’t coming home.

Gail smiled. “You’re right, Otis, and there’s no need for violence, Wiley, however well intended. But this year,” she said, glancing at Noah, who was trying to peek under the table, probably hoping to get in on the kicking action, “I think a certain little munchkin might like to have the place look a bit festive.”

Becca’s heart sank. Not sure what to say, she put the dishes in the sink and got out the bowl of fresh whipped cream from the fridge. Surely Gail knew they weren’t going to be here until Christmas.

Becca had to get back to work while she still had a job. She’d told Warren it would be at least a week, but maybe a few days more.

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