A Last Chance Christmas. Vicki Thompson LewisЧитать онлайн книгу.
Nick smiled and shook hands with Ben. “You must be Radcliffe. I had a look at your website. Impressive work.”
“Thanks.” Ben’s eye for detail took in the similarities among the brothers—same height and build, same mannerisms. But there were marked differences, too.
Jack’s dark hair and eyes suggested he had some Native American blood, while Nick and Gabe showed no evidence of that. Gabe was the fairer of the two. He’d probably been a towhead once. Nick’s green eyes made him look as if he belonged in Ireland. Interesting.
“Ben outdid himself on the saddle for Mom,” Jack said. “But I hope she doesn’t happen to glance out the window when you two yahoos head down to the tractor barn together.”
“What about Ben’s truck?” Gabe smoothed his mustache. “It’s parked right in front of the tractor barn, but he’s supposed to be here to see horses, not tractors.”
“You can’t see the front of that barn from the house.” Jack crossed his arms. “But she could see you leave here and walk in that direction.”
Nick looked over at Gabe. “Did you say the tractor hitched to the snowplow has a bad starter?”
“No, I didn’t—oh, wait.” Gabe smiled. “Come to think of it, you’re right. You and I need to go check on that. They’re predicting a blizzard in a couple of days and we don’t want to be caught without a snowplow.”
“Just what I was thinking.” Nick turned up the collar of his sheepskin jacket.
Gabe did the same and pulled on leather gloves. “Hey, did you do your homework for Molly?”
“I did. Scanned it and emailed it to her this morning.”
“Loser.”
Nick laughed. “I take it you haven’t?”
“Jack hasn’t, either.” Gabe looked to Jack for backup.
“Haven’t found the time,” Jack said.
“Yeah, right.” Nick sent them both a knowing grin. “Just do it, okay? She’s very into this, even if you two aren’t.”
Gabe blew out a breath. “Yeah, I know she is. Morgan thinks it’s endearing. She also thinks Molly should be told about the saddle. You haven’t said anything, have you?”
“Nope. If she knows, she didn’t get it from me.”
“She doesn’t know,” Jack said. “And she might want to contribute if we told her about it, but we’ve dealt with the money situation already. Gabe and I think we should just keep it a secret since we’re this close and she wasn’t part of it from the beginning.”
“Fine with me.” Nick glanced at his two brothers. “But you really should fill out those forms for her. It’s not so much to ask.”
“You’re right.” Jack grimaced. “Otherwise, she’ll bug me until I do.”
“Yep, guaranteed she will,” Gabe said. “I like her okay, but she sure can be a bossy little thing.”
Ben listened to the conversation with amusement. Jack had said he’d be sharing the second floor with Molly, who sounded like a determined woman. This trip was becoming more interesting by the minute.
SOMEONE WAS PLAYING “Silent Night” on the harmonica. Nostalgia washed over Molly Gallagher and she paused, fingers resting on the computer keyboard. Her Grandpa Seth had played the harmonica, and the gentle sound, especially at Christmastime, always made her think of him.
Harmonicas and cowboys seemed to go together, and her grandpa had been an old-fashioned cowpoke who’d grown up right here in Jackson Hole. He’d even lived in this house for a little while with his sister, Nelsie, and his brother-in-law, Archie. If Molly believed in ghosts, she might think Grandpa Seth had taken up residence down the hall from her bedroom.
“Silent Night” was followed by “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Talk about atmosphere. Snow drifted down outside her window and the scent of pine filled her room. Yesterday she’d helped Aunt Sarah arrange fresh boughs all over the house. With her bedroom door open, she could hear the logs crackling in the giant fireplace downstairs.
Feeling all warm and cozy, Molly went back to entering data in her Excel file. The harmonica player was likely the guy Jack had mentioned was staying down the hall. His name was Ben something-or-other. He’d come to look at the ranch’s registered Paints and would be around for a couple of nights. Molly had offered to help out by making his bed and putting clean towels in his bathroom.
Being alone upstairs with four empty bedrooms had been a little spooky. She was glad to share the space with someone, especially if he chose to serenade her every so often with Christmas carols on the harmonica. Hard to believe she’d be leaving in four days. The time had flown by.
Although she’d love to stay and meet everyone who’d be coming in to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, that would mean she’d miss the big Gallagher family celebration in Prescott. So far, she had a perfect record—twenty-eight consecutive holidays spent at the Double Down Ranch. Her parents ran it now that her grandparents were gone, and it was her favorite place in the world.
“O Little Town of Bethlehem” came to a close with a long, drawn-out note embellished by some vibrato. Ben was pretty good on that thing. Then he switched away from carols to play the theme from Beauty and the Beast. She’d loved that movie from the first time she’d seen it as a little girl. Belle was the perfect heroine—pretty, brave and well-read.
Plus she was a brunette, and Molly had been thrilled about that, too. The scholarly Belle had been her role model for years. She’d never heard the theme played on a harmonica before, but it worked. It worked so well that she left her chair and moved into the hall so she could hear it better.
What a lovely sound. He really was talented. She moved a few steps closer and then a few steps more. He played with heart, and she could almost imagine him as the Beast longing for his Beauty to show up. That was plain silly, of course. The way her luck went, he’d be old as the hills, or middle-aged and balding.
His bedroom door was open. As the music continued, she edged closer. Now that her curiosity was aroused, she wanted to find out what the man who created such a heavenly sound looked like. But she decided to wait until he’d finished the song. She liked it way too much to interrupt him, and if she suddenly appeared, he’d probably stop playing.
The last note trailed away, and she walked up to the doorway, prepared with a little speech. “That was...” She forgot what she’d intended to say. Ben something-or-other was drop-dead gorgeous.
Why hadn’t she brushed her hair before walking down here? Why hadn’t she checked to see if she had anything in her teeth? Why hadn’t she taken two measly seconds to glance in a mirror and find out if her glasses were smudged?
Thinking of that, she whipped them off and cleared her throat. “I’m Molly Gallagher. I live down the hall.” What? “I mean, I’m sleeping down the hall. That is, my room’s...that way.” She actually pointed. Good God, now she was giving the beautiful man directions.
His eyes were the color of dark chocolate, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Good to know.”
Heat flooded her face. “I didn’t mean that as a...well, never mind. I don’t know why I said it. Mostly I wanted to tell you how much I like your harmonica. Your harmonica playing, that is.”
“Thanks. I didn’t know anybody was up here. You were quiet as a mouse.”
“Just nibbling away on my computer.” Her laugh sounded much too breathless, but he had such broad shoulders, and his dark hair curled gently around his ears in a very sexy way. She liked his chin, too, with its little cleft, and she adored his mouth.