Keep a song in your heart this holiday season...

Music teacher Ella Baker’s plate is already full. But when single dad Beckett McKinley’s wild twin boys need help preparing a Christmas song for their father, Ella agrees on one condition: they teach her to ride a horse. She’s hoping that’ll help mend her strained relationship with her rancher father; it certainly has nothing to do with the crush that’s lingered since her one and only date with Beck.

It isn’t disinterest spurring Beck to keep his distance—if anything, the spark is too strong, with Ella reminding him of his ex-wife. Soon what started as an innocent arrangement is beginning to feel a lot like family. But with the holidays approaching, Beck and Ella will have to overcome past hurts if they want to keep each other warm this Christmas...

Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author RaeAnne Thayne

“Romance, vivid characters and a wonderful story; really, who could ask for more?”

—Debbie Macomber, No.1 New York Times bestselling author, on Blackberry Summer

“Entertaining, heart-wrenching, and totally involving, this multithreaded story overflows with characters readers will adore.”

—Library Journal

“This holiday-steeped romance overflows with family and wintry small-town appeal.”

—Library Journal on Snowfall on Haven Point

“A sometimes heartbreaking tale of love and relationships in a small Colorado town.... Poignant and sweet.”

—Publishers Weekly on Christmas in Snowflake Canyon

“This quirky, funny, warmhearted romance will draw readers in and keep them enthralled to the last romantic page.”

—Library Journal on Christmas in Snowflake Canyon

“RaeAnne Thayne is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors.... Once you start reading, you aren’t going to be able to stop.”

—Fresh Fiction

“RaeAnne has a knack for capturing those emotions that come from the heart.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Her engaging storytelling...will draw readers in from the very first page.”

—RT Book Reviews on Riverbend Road

The Rancher’s Christmas Song

RaeAnne Thayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RAEANNE THAYNE finds inspiration in the beautiful northern-Utah mountains, where the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author lives with her husband and three children. Her books have won numerous honors, including RITA® Award nominations from Romance Writers of America and a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews. RaeAnne loves to hear from readers and can be contacted through her website, www.raeannethayne.com.

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To my dad, Elden Robinson,

who loved Westerns and cowboy music and who made the best popcorn west of the Mississippi.

I miss you more than words can say.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The twin terrors were at it again.

Ella Baker watched two seven-year-old tornadoes, otherwise known as Trevor and Colter McKinley, chase each other behind the stage curtains at the Pine Gulch Community Center.

In the half hour since they arrived at the community center with their father, they had spilled a water pitcher, knocked down a life-size cardboard Santa and broken three ornaments on the big Christmas tree in the corner.

Now they were racing around on the stage where tonight’s featured act was set to perform within the next half hour.

She would have to do something. As organizer and general show-runner of this fund-raising event for the school’s underfinanced music program, it was her responsibility to make sure everyone had a good time. People’s wallets tended to open a little wider when they were happy, comfortable and well fed. A gang of half-pint miscreants had the potential to ruin the evening for everyone.

She had tried to talk to them. As usual, the twins had offered her their angelic, gap-toothed smiles and had promised to behave, then moments later she saw them converge with four other boys to start playing this impromptu game of tag on the stage.

In order to tame these particular wild beasts, she was going to have to talk to someone in authority. She gave a last-ditch, desperate look around. As she had suspected, neither their uncle nor their great uncle was in sight. That left only one person who might have any chance of corralling these two little dynamos.

Their father.

Ella’s stomach quivered. She did not enjoy talking to Beck McKinley and avoided it as much as possible.

The man made her so ridiculously nervous. He always treated her with careful politeness, but she could never read the expression on his features. Every time she spoke with him—which was more often than she liked, considering his ranch was next door to her father’s—she always felt like she came out of the encounter sounding like a babbling fool.

Okay, yes. She was attracted to him, and had been since she moved back to Pine Gulch. What woman wouldn’t be? Big, tough, gorgeous, with a slow smile that could charm even the most hardened heart.

She didn’t want to be so drawn to him, especially when he hadn’t once shown a glimmer of interest in return. He made her feel like she was an awkward teenager back in private school in Boston, holding up the wall at her first coed dance.

She wasn’t. She was a twenty-seven-year-old professional in charge of generating funds for a cause she cared about. Sexy or not, Beck had to corral his sons before they ruined the entire evening.

Time to just suck it up and take care of business. She was a grown-up and could handle talking to anyone, even big, tough, stern-faced ranchers who made her feel like she didn’t belong in Pine Gulch.

It wasn’t hard to find Beck McKinley. He towered about four inches taller than the crowd of ranchers he stood among.

She sucked in a steadying breath and made her way toward the group, trying to figure out a polite way to tell him his sons were causing trouble again.

She wasn’t completely surprised to find her father was part of the group around Beck. They were not only copresidents of the local cattle growers association this year, but her father also idolized the man. As far as Curt Baker was concerned, Beck McKinley was all three wise men rolled into one. Her father still relied heavily on Beck for help—more so in the last few years, as his Parkinson’s disease grew more pronounced and his limitations more frustrating.

At least her father was sitting down, leaning slightly forward with his trembling hands crossed in front of him atop the cane she had insisted he bring.

He barely looked at her, too engrossed in the conversation about cattle prices and feed shortages.

She waited until the conversation lagged before stepping into the group. She was unwilling to call out the rancher over his troublemaking twins in front of all the others.

“Beckett. May I have a brief word?”

His eyebrows rose and he blinked in surprise a few times. “Sure. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Aware of curious gazes following them, Ella led Beck a short distance from his peers.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

She pointed toward the pack of wild boys on the stage, who were chasing each other between the curtains. “Your sons are at it again.”

His gaze followed her gesture and he grimaced. “I see half a dozen boys up there. Last I checked, only two of those are mine.”

“Colter and Trevor are the ringleaders. You know they are. They’re always the ones who come up with the mischief and convince the others to go along.”

“They’re natural leaders. Are you suggesting I try to put the brakes on that?”

His boys were adorable, she had to admit, but they were the bane of her existence as the music teacher at Pine Gulch Elementary School. They couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time and were constantly talking to each other as well as the rest of the students in their class.

“You could try to channel it into more positive ways.”

This wasn’t the first time she had made this suggestion to him and she was fairly certain she wasn’t the only educator to have done so. Trevor and Colter had been causing problems at Pine Gulch Elementary School since kindergarten.

“They’re boys. They’ve got energy. It comes with the package.”

She completely agreed. That was one of the reasons she incorporated movement in her music lessons with all of her students this age. All children—but especially boys, she had noticed—couldn’t sit still for long hours at a time and it was cruel to expect it of them.

She was a trained educator and understood that, but she also expected that excess energy to be contained when necessary and redirected into proper behavior.

“Our performers will be taking the stage soon. Please, can you do something with the boys? I can just picture them accidentally ripping down the curtains or messing with the lights before we can even begin.”

Beck glanced at his boys, then back down at her. His strong jaw tightened, and in his eyes, she saw a flash of something she couldn’t read.

She didn’t need to interpret it. She was fairly certain she knew what he thought of her. Like her father, Beck thought she was a soft, useless city girl.

Both of them were wrong about her, but nothing she did seemed to convince them otherwise. As far as her father was concerned, she belonged in Boston or New York, where she could attend the symphony, the ballet, art gallery openings.

Since the moment she’d arrived here with her suitcases a little more than a year ago, Curt had been trying relentlessly to convince her to go back to Boston with her mother and stepfather and the cultured life they had.

Beck seemed to share her father’s views. He never seemed to want to give her the time of day and always seemed in a big hurry to escape her presence.

Whatever his true opinion, he always treated her with stiff courtesy. She would give him that. Beck McKinley was never rude to anybody—probably one of the reasons all the other ranchers seemed to cluster around the man in public. Everybody seemed to respect his opinion and want to know what he had to say about things.

The only thing she wanted from him right now was to keep his boys from ruining the night.

“I’ll talk to the parents of the other boys, too. I’m just asking if you’ll please try to round up Colter and Trevor and have them take their seats. I’ll be introducing our performers in a moment and I would like people to focus on what they came for, instead of how many straws Colter can stick up his nose.”

He unbent enough to offer that rare, delicious smile. It appeared for only a moment. His cheeks creased and his eyes sparkled and his entire face looked even more gorgeous. “Good point, I suppose. The answer is five, in case you wanted to know. I’ll grab them. Sorry they caused a ruckus.”

“Thank you,” she said, then walked away before she was tempted to make another joke, if only to see if he would offer up that smile again.

Better to quit while she was ahead, especially since her brain was now struggling to put together any words at all.

* * *

Beck watched Ella Baker walk away, her skirt swishing and her boot heels clicking on the old wooden floor of the community center.

He had the same reaction to her that he always did—sheer, wild hunger.

Something about that sleek blond hair and her almond-shaped eyes and the soft, kissable mouth did it to him. Every. Single. Time.

What was the matter with him? Why did he have to be drawn to the one woman in town who was totally wrong for him?

Ella wore tailored skirts and suede boots that probably cost as much as a hand-tooled saddle. She was always perfectly put together, from the top of her sleek blond hair to the sexy but completely impractical shoes she always wore.

When he was around her, he always felt exactly like what he was—a rough-edged cowboy.

Can you at least pretend you have a little culture? Do you have any idea how hard it is to be married to someone who doesn’t know Manet from Monet?

Though it had been four years since she died—and five since she had lived with him and the twins—Stephanie’s words and others she had uttered like them seemed to echo through his memory. They had lost their sting over the years, but, boy, had they burned at the time.

He sighed. Though the two had similar blue-blood backgrounds and educations, Ella Baker looked nothing like his late wife. Stephanie had been tall, statuesque, with red hair she had passed on to their sons. Ella was slim, petite and looked like an exotic blonde fairy.

Neither of them fit in here, though he had to admit Ella tried a hell of a lot harder than Stephanie ever had. She had organized this event, hadn’t she?

He should probably stop staring at her. He would. Any moment now.

Why did she have to be so damn beautiful, bright and cheerful and smiling? Every time he saw her, it was like looking into the sun.

He finally forced himself to look away so he could do as she asked, quite justifiably. He should have been keeping a better eye on the boys from the beginning, but he’d been sucked into a conversation about a new ranching technique his friend Justin Hartford was trying and lost track of them.

As he made his way through the crowd, smiling at neighbors and friends, he was aware of how alone he was. He had been bringing the boys to these community things by himself for nearly five years now. He could hardly believe it.

He was ready to get out there and date again. The boys had somehow turned seven, though he had no idea how that happened.

The truth was, he was lonely. He missed having someone special in his life. He was tired of only having his uncle and his brothers to talk to.

Heaven knows, he was really tired of sleeping alone.

When he did jump back into that whole dating arena, though, he was fairly sure it wouldn’t be with a soft, delicate music teacher who didn’t know a mecate from a bosal.

It might be easier to remember that if the woman wasn’t so darned pretty.

In short order, he found the boys on the stage and convinced all of them it was time to find their parents and take their seats, then led his own twins out of trouble.

“Hey, Dad. Guess what Thomas said?” Colter asked, as they were making their way through the crowd.

“What’s that, son?” He couldn’t begin to guess what another seven-year-old might pass along—and was a little afraid to ask.

“His dog is gonna have puppies right before Christmas. Can we get one? Can we?”

He did his best not to roll his eyes at the idea. “Thomas and his family have a miniature Yorkie that’s no bigger than my hand. I’m not sure a little dog like that would like living on a big ranch like ours with all our horses and cattle. Besides, we’ve already got three dogs. And one of those is going to have her own puppies any day now.”

“Yeah, but they’re your dogs. And you always tell us they’re not pets, they’re working dogs,” Trevor said.

“And you told us we probably can’t keep any of Sal’s puppies,” Colter added. “We want a puppy of our very own.”

Like they didn’t have enough going right now. He was not only running his horse and cattle ranch, the Broken Arrow, but also helping out Curt Baker at his place as much as possible. He had help from his brother and uncle, yeah—on the ranch and with the boys. He still missed his longtime housekeeper and nanny, Judy Miller, who was having double–knee replacement and would be out for six months.

Adding a little indoor puppy into the chaos of their life right now was completely unthinkable.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said firmly but gently.

“Maybe Santa Claus will bring us one,” Colter said, nudging his brother.

At seven, the boys were pretty close to understanding the truth about Santa Claus, though they had never come right out and told them. Every once in a while he thought they might know, but were just trying to hang on to the magic as long as possible. He was okay with that. Life would be full of enough disappointments.

He was saved from having to answer them by the sight of beautiful Ella Baker approaching the microphone.

“Hey! There’s Miss Baker,” Trevor said, loudly enough that she heard and looked in their direction.

Though families had been encouraged to attend the event and it was far from a formal concert, Beck was still embarrassed by the outburst.

“Shh,” he said to the boys. “This is a time to listen, not talk.”

“Like church?” Colter asked, with some measure of distrust.

“Sort of.” But more fun, he thought, though of course he couldn’t say to impressionable boys.

Trevor and Colter settled into their seats and Beck watched as Ella took the microphone. He figured he could watch her here without guilt, since everyone else’s eyes were on her, too.

“Welcome, everyone, to this fund-raiser for the music program at the elementary and middle schools. By your presence here, it’s clear you feel strongly about supporting the continued success of music education in our schools. As you know, programs like ours are constantly under the budget knife. Through your generous donations, we can continue the effort to teach music to the children of Pine Gulch. At this time, it’s my great pleasure to introduce our special guests, all the way from northern Montana. Please join me in welcoming J. D. Wyatt and his Warbling Wranglers.”

The introduction was met with a huge round of applause for the cowboy singers. Beck settled into his chair and prepared to savor the entertainment—and prayed it could keep his wild boys’ attention.

* * *

He shouldn’t have worried. An hour later, the band wrapped up with a crowd-pleasing, toe-tapping version of “Jingle Bell Rock” that had people getting up to dance in the aisle and in front of the small stage.

His twins had been utterly enthralled, from the first notes to the final chord.

“That was awesome!” Colter exclaimed.

“Yeah!” His twin glowed, as well. “Hey, Dad! Can we take fiddle lessons?”

Over the summer, they had wanted to learn to play the guitar. Now they wanted to learn the violin. Tomorrow, who knows, they might be asking for accordion lessons.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to see,” he said.

Before the twins could press him, Ella Baker returned to the mic stand.

“Thank you all again for your support. Please remember all proceeds from ticket sales for tonight’s performance, as well as our silent auction, will go toward funding music in the schools. Also, please don’t forget tomorrow will be the first rehearsal for the Christmas show and dinner put on by the children of our community for our beloved senior citizens at The Christmas Ranch in Cold Creek Canyon. This isn’t connected to the school and is completely voluntary. Any students ages four to sixteen are encouraged to join us.”

“Hey. That’s us!” Trevor said.

“Can we do it, Dad?” Colter asked, with the same pleading look on his face he wore when asking for a second scoop of ice cream. “We wanted to last year, remember? Only you said we couldn’t because we were going to visit our Grandma Martin.”

That had been a short-lived visit with Stephanie’s mother in Connecticut, who had thought she would enjoy taking the boys into the city over the holidays and showing off her grandsons to her friends. After three days, she had called him to pick up the boys ahead of schedule, sounding ages older than she had days earlier. She hadn’t called again this year.

“Can we?” Trevor persisted.

Beck didn’t know how to answer as items on his massive to-do list seemed to circle around him like buzzards on a carcass. He had so much to do this time of year and didn’t know how he could run the boys to and from the rehearsals at The Christmas Ranch, which was a good fifteen minutes away.

On the other hand, Ella Baker lived just next door. Maybe he could work something out with her to give the boys a ride.

Of course, that meant he would have to talk to her again, though. He did his best to avoid situations that put them into closer proximity, where he might be tempted to do something stupid.

Like ask her out.

“Please,” Colter begged.

This was a good cause, a chance to reinforce to them the importance of helping others. The holiday show had become a high point to many of the senior citizens in town, and they looked forward to it all year. If the twins wanted to do it, how could he possibly refuse?

“We’ll see,” he hedged, not quite ready to commit.

“You always say that,” Trevor said. “How come we never really see anything after you say we will?”

“Good question. Maybe someday, I’ll answer it. We’ll have to see.”

The boys laughed, as he hoped, and were distracted by their friend Thomas—he, of the tiny puppies—who came over to talk to them.

“Are you gonna do the Christmas show? My mom said I could, if I wanted.”

“We want to,” Trevor said, with another cajoling look at Beck.

“Maybe we can have a band,” Thomas said. “I’ll be J.D. and you can be the Warbling Wranglers.”

As they squabbled good-naturedly about which of them would make the better lead singer, Beck listened to them with a sense of resignation. If they really wanted to be in the Christmas program, he would have to figure out a way to make it happen—even if it meant talking to Ella Baker again.

The thought filled him with far more anticipation than he knew was good for him.

Chapter Two

“What a fantastic event!” Faith Brannon squeezed Ella’s hand. “I haven’t enjoyed a concert so much in a long time.”

“Maybe that’s because you never go out,” Faith’s younger sister, Celeste, said with a laugh.

“Newlyweds. What are you going to do?” Hope, the third Nichols sister, winked at their group of friends.

Ella had to laugh, even as she was aware of a little pang. Faith had married her neighbor, Chase Brannon, about four months earlier, in a lovely wedding in the big reception hall of The Christmas Ranch.

It had been lovely and understated, since it was a second marriage for both, but there hadn’t been a dry eye in the hall. They seemed so in love and so deserving of happiness.

Ella had managed to smile all evening long. She considered that quite an accomplishment, considering once upon a time, she had completely made a fool of herself over the groom. When she first moved to Pine Gulch, she’d had a gigantic crush on Chase and had all but thrown herself at him, with no clue that he had adored Faith forever and had just been biding his time until she came to terms with her husband’s premature death.

Ella had almost gotten over her embarrassment about events of the previous Christmas. It might have been easier to avoid the happy couple altogether except the Nichols sisters—all married now and with different surnames but still “the Nichols sisters” to just about everyone in town—had become some of her dearest friends.

They were warm and kind and always went out of their way to include her in activities.

“You did a great job of organizing,” Hope said now. “I couldn’t believe all the people who showed up. I met a couple earlier who drove all the way up from Utah because they love J.D. and his Wranglers. I hope you raked in the dough.”

“Everyone has been generous,” she said. “We should have enough to purchase the new piano we need in the elementary school with plenty left over for sheet music at the middle school.”

She still didn’t think it was right that the art and music programs had to struggle so much to make ends meet in this rural school system. Judging by tonight, though, many members of the community seemed to agree with her that it should be a priority and had donated accordingly.

“It was a great community event. What a great turnout!”

“Just think.” Hope grinned. “We get to turn around and do this again in a few weeks at The Christmas Ranch.”

Faith made a face. “You wouldn’t believe how many people have brought up that Christmas program to me tonight, and I’m not even involved in the show!”

“You’re a Nichols, though, which makes you one of the co-queens of Christmas, like it or not,” Ella said.

The Nichols family had been running The Christmas Ranch—a holiday-themed attraction filled with sleigh rides, a life-size Christmas village and even their own herd of reindeer—for many years. It was enormously successful and attracted visitors from around the region.

The popularity of the venue had grown exponentially in the last few years because of the hard work of the sisters.

A few years earlier, they had come up with the idea of providing a free catered dinner and holiday-themed show presented by area children as a gift to the local senior citizens and the event had become legendary in the community.

“We are so lucky that you’ve agreed to help us again this year,” Celeste said now to Ella.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

The event—more like an old-fashioned variety show—wasn’t professionally staged, by any means. Rehearsals didn’t even start until a few weeks before the performance and there were no auditions and few soloists, but the children had fun doing it and the attendees enjoyed every moment.

The previous year’s performance had been a wonderful growing experience for Ella, serving as an icebreaker of sorts to help her get to know the local children better.

She hoped this year would only build on that success.

“Wait until you see some of the songs we have planned. It’s going to knock your socks off,” she said.

“How can you be so excited about wrestling seventy schoolchildren already on a Christmas sugar high?” Faith shook her head. “You must be crazy.”

“The very best kind of crazy,” Celeste said with a smile.

“You fit right in with the rest of us,” Hope assured her, then changed the subject. “Hey, did you see that good-looking guy who came in with Nate and Emery Cavazos? His name is Jess Saddler and he’s temporarily staying at their cabins. Em said he’s single and looking to move in and open a sporting goods store in town. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

She followed the direction of Hope’s gaze and discovered a man she didn’t know speaking with Nate and Emery, as well as Caroline and Wade Dalton. Hope was right, he was great-looking, with an outdoorsy tan and well-styled, sun-streaked hair that looked as if it had never seen a Stetson.

He also had that overchiseled look of people who earned their strength at the gym instead of through hard, productive manual labor.

“I suppose.”

“You should go introduce yourself,” Hope suggested, ignoring the sudden frown from both of her sisters.

“Why?” Ella asked, suspicious.

Hope’s innocent shrug didn’t fool her. “He’s single. You’re single. Em said he seems like a great guy and, I don’t know, I thought maybe the two of you would hit it off.”

“Are you matchmaking for me?”

“Do you want me to?” Hope asked eagerly.

Did she? She wasn’t sure how to answer. Yes, she was lonely. It was tough to be a single woman in this family-oriented community, where everyone seemed paired up. There weren’t very many eligible men to even date and she often felt isolated and alone.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about being the latest pity project of her friends. Did she seem desperate to them?

That was an uncomfortable thought.

“I don’t need a matchmaker. I’m fine,” she told Hope. “Even if I met the right guy today, I’m not sure I would have time for him, between working at two schools, doing music therapy at the senior citizen center and taking my dad to doctor appointments.”

“When you care about a man, you make time,” Celeste said.

“I don’t think the guy is going anywhere. After Christmas, you should think about it,” Hope added.

“Maybe.” She could only hope a bland nonanswer would be enough for them.

Hope looked disappointed but was distracted when another neighbor came up and asked her a question about a private company party scheduled the following week at The Christmas Ranch.

While she was occupied, Faith turned to Ella with a frown on her soft, pretty features.

“It sounds like you have too much on your plate,” Faith said. “Now I feel guilty we roped you into doing the Christmas show again.”

“You didn’t rope me into anything,” she assured her. “I meant what I said. I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“When will you have time to breathe?”

She didn’t mind being busy and loved teaching music. It had been her passion through her teen years and pursuing a career in music therapy was a natural fit. She had loved her job before she came here, working at a school for students with developmental disabilities, but there was nothing like that here in this small corner of southeastern Idaho. Teaching music in the schools was the next best thing. She had to do something with her time, especially considering her father continued being completely stubborn and unreasonable about letting her take over the ranch.

She was busy. She just wasn’t that busy.

“If you want the truth,” she admitted, “I may have slightly exaggerated my overloaded schedule to keep Hope from making me her next project.”

Faith looked amused. “Very wise move on your part.”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s sweet of her and everything. It’s just...”

“You don’t have to explain to me. I totally get it.”

“I’m just not looking for a male right now.”

“Too bad. Looks like a couple of cute ones are headed this way.”

She followed Faith’s gaze to find the twin terrors barreling straight toward her at full speed. To her relief, they managed to stop inches from knocking her and Faith over like bowling pins.

“Hey, Miss Baker. Miss Baker! Guess what?”

The boys’ faces were both covered in chocolate, a fairly solid clue that they’d been raiding the refreshments table. How many cookies had they consumed between the pair of them? Not her problem, she supposed. Their father could deal with their upset stomachs and sugar overload.

“What’s that, Trevor?” She directed her question to the one who had spoken.

He hid a grin behind his hand. “I’m not Trevor. I’m Colter.”

“Are you sure?” She raised an eyebrow.

He giggled. “How come we can never fool you? You’re right. I’m Trevor.”

The boys were the most identical twins Ella had ever seen and they delighted in playing those kind of switch-up games with the faculty and staff at the elementary school. From the first time they met, though, Ella had never struggled to tell them apart. Colter had a slightly deeper cleft in his chin and Trevor had a few more freckles.

“Guess what?” Colter finished his brother’s sentence. “We’re gonna be in your Christmas show.”

Beside her, Faith gave a small but audible groan that completely mirrored Ella’s sudden panic.

On the heels of that initial reaction, she felt suddenly protective of the boys, defensive on their behalf. It really wasn’t their fault they misbehaved. None of it was malicious. They were high-spirited in the first place and had a father who seemed more interested in taking over her father’s ranch than teaching his two boys to behave like little gentlemen.

But then, she might be a tad biased against the man. Every time she offered to do something to help Curtis, her father was quick to tell her Beck would take care of it.

“Is that right?” she asked. The show was open to any children who wanted to participate, with no auditions and guaranteed parts for all. They wouldn’t win any talent competitions, but she considered the flaws and scenery mishaps all part of the charm.

“Our dad said we’ll see,” Colter informed her. “Sometimes that means no, but then I heard him asking your dad if he thought you might be able to give us a ride to and from practice on the days no one from the ranch could do it.”

Her jaw tightened. The nerve of the arrogant rancher, to go to her father instead of asking her directly, as if Curt had any control over the matter.

“And what did my father say?”

“We didn’t hear,” Trevor confessed. “But can you?”

Their ranch was right next door to the Baker’s Dozen. It would be no great hardship for her to accommodate the McKinleys and transport the twins if they wanted to participate, but it would be nice if Beck could be bothered asking her himself.

“I’ll have to talk to your father first,” she hedged.

The boys seemed to take her equivocation as the next best thing to a done deal.

“This will be fun,” Colter said, showing off his gap-toothed grin. “We’re gonna be the best singers you ever saw.”

To reinforce the point, Trevor launched into a loud version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and his brother joined in. They actually had surprisingly good singing voices. She’d noticed that before during music class at school—though it was hard to confirm that now when they were singing at the tops of their lungs.

They were drawing attention, she saw. The cute guy with Em and Nate was looking this way and so was Beck McKinley.

Ella flushed, envisioning the nightmare of trying to keep the boys from trying to ride the reindeer at The Christmas Ranch, or from knocking down the gigantic sixteen-foot-tall tree inside the St. Nicholas Lodge.

“You can be in the show on one condition,” she said, using her best teacher’s voice.

“What’s that?” Colter asked warily.

“Children of all ages will be participating, even some kindergarten students and first graders. They’re going to need someone to set a good example about how to listen and pay attention. They’ll be watching you. Can you show them the correct way to behave?”

“Yeah!” Trevor exclaimed. “We can be quiet as dead mice.”

That was pretty darn quiet—and she would believe that when she saw it.

“We can be the goodest kids in the whole place,” Colter said. “You’ll see, Miss Baker. You won’t even know we’re there, except when we’re singing.”

“Yeah. You’ll see,” Trevor said. “Thanks, Miss Baker. Come on, Colt. Let’s go tell Thomas.” In a blink, the two of them raced off as quickly as they had appeared by her side.

“Those boys are quite a pair, aren’t they?” Faith said, watching after them with a rather bemused look on her features.

Ella was again aware of that protective impulse, the urge to defend them. Yes, they could be exhausting but she secretly admired their take-no-prisoners enthusiasm for life.

“They’re good boys. Just a little energetic.”

“You can say that again. They’re a handful. I suppose it’s only to be expected, though.” Faith paused, her expression pensive. “You know, I thought for sure Beck would send them off to live with family after their mother left. I mean, here was this tough, macho rancher trying to run his place while also dealing with a couple of boys still in diapers. The twins couldn’t have been more than two.”

“So young? How could a mother leave her babies?”

“Yeah. I wanted to chase after her and smack her hard for leaving a good man like Beck, but he would never let anybody say a bad word about her. The only thing he ever said to me was that Stephanie was struggling with some mental health issues and needed a little time to get her head on straight. I think she had some postpartum depression and it probably didn’t help that she didn’t have a lot of friends here. We tried, but she wasn’t really very approachable.”

Faith made a face. “That sounds harsh, doesn’t it? That’s not what I mean. She was just not from around here.”

“Neither am I,” Ella pointed out.

“Yes, but you don’t constantly remind us of how much better things were back east.”

Because they weren’t. Oh, she missed plenty of things about her life there, mostly friends and neighbors and really good clam chowder, but she had always felt as if she had a foothold in two places—her mother’s upper-crust Beacon Hill society and her father’s rough-and-rugged Idaho ranch.

“Anyway, she left to get her head on straight when the boys were about two and I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Beck on his own. A year later, Stephanie died of a drug overdose back east.”

“Oh, how sad. Those poor boys.”

“I know. Heartbreaking. Her parents are high-powered doctors. They fought for custody of the boys and I think it got pretty ugly for a while, but Beck wouldn’t hear of it. He’s a good dad. Why would any judge take the boys away from father and the only home they’ve ever known and give them to a couple of strangers?”

“He strikes me as a man who holds on to what he considers his.”

“That might have been part of it. But the truth is, Beckett adores his boys. You should have seen him, driving to cattle sales and the feed store with two toddlers strapped in their car seats in the crew cab of his pickup truck.”

Her heart seemed to sigh at the picture. She could see it entirely too clearly, the big, tough rancher and his adorable carbon-copy twins.

“He’s a good man,” Faith said. “A woman could do far worse than Beckett McKinley. If you’re ever crazy enough to let Hope fix you up, you shouldn’t discount Beck on account of those wild boys of his.”

That wouldn’t be the only reason she could never look seriously at Beck, if she was in the market for a man—which she so totally wasn’t. For one thing, she became nervous and tongue-tied around him and couldn’t seem to string together two coherent thoughts. For another, the man clearly didn’t like her. He treated her with a cool politeness made all the more striking when she saw his warm, friendly demeanor around others. And, finally, she was more than a little jealous of his close relationship with her father. Curt treated his neighboring rancher like the son he’d never had, trusting him with far more responsibility than he would ever consider giving his own daughter. How could she ever get past that?

She was saved from having to answer when Faith’s husband, Chase, came over with Faith’s daughter and son in tow.

Chase smiled at Ella and she tried to ignore the awkwardness as she greeted him. This was all she wanted. A nice man who didn’t make her nervous. Was that too much to ask?

“Mom, can we go?” Louisa said. “I still have math homework to finish.”

“We’re probably the only parents here whose kids are begging to leave so they can get back to homework,” Chase said with a grin.

“Thanks again for the great show, Ella,” Faith said. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Now that we’ve been warned the McKinley twins are coming, we’ll make sure you have reinforcements at practice tomorrow.”

She could handle the twins. Their father was another story.

* * *

As much as he enjoyed hanging out with other ranchers, shooting the, er, shinola, as his dad used to call it, Beck decided it was time to head out. It was past the boys’ bedtime and their bus would be coming early.

“Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure but I need to call it a night,” he said.

There were more than a few good-hearted groans of disappointment.

He loved the supportive ranching community here in Pine Gulch. Friends and neighbors came through for each other in times of need. He couldn’t count the number of guys who had stepped in to help him after his father died. When Stephanie left, he had needed help again until he could find a good nanny and more than one neighbor had come over without being asked to lend a hand on the ranch.

The Broken Arrow would have gone under without their aid and he knew he could never repay them. The only thing he could do now was help out himself where he could.

As Beck waved goodbye and headed away from the group, he saw Curt Baker climb to his feet with the aid of his cane and follow after him. Beck slowed his steps so the older man could catch up.

“Thanks again for stepping in today and helping Manny unload the feed shipment.”

“Glad I could help,” he answered.

It was true. He admired Curt and owed the man. After Beckett’s father died, Curt had been the first neighbor to step in and help him figure out what he was doing on the ranch. Now the tables were turned. Curt’s Parkinson’s disease limited his ability to care for his own holdings. He had reduced his herd significantly and brought in more help, but still struggled to take care of the day-to-day tasks involved in running a cattle ranch.

He had actually talked Curt into running with him to be copresidents of the local cattle growers association. It wasn’t a tough job and gave Curt something else to focus on besides his health issues.

“Have you thought more on what we talked about over lunch?”

As if he could think about anything else. As much as he enjoyed cowboy folk songs, he’d had a hard time focusing on anything but Curt’s stunning proposal that afternoon.

“You love the Baker’s Dozen,” he said. “There’s no rush to sell it now, is there?”

Curt was quiet. “I’m not getting better. We both know that. There’s only one direction this damn disease will go and that’s south.”

Parkinson’s really sucked.

“I’m not in a hurry to sell. So far Manny and the other ranch hands are keeping things going—with help from you and Jax, of course—but you and I both know it’s only a matter of time before I’ll have to sell. I want to make sure I have things lined up ahead of time. Just wanted to plant the seed.”

That little seed had certainly taken root. Hell, it was spreading like snakeweed.

The Broken Arrow was doing better than Beck ever dreamed, especially since he and his brother, Jax, had shifted so many of their resources to breeding exceptional cattle horses. They still ran about 500 cow-calf pairs, but right now half the ranch’s revenue was coming from the equine side of the business.

He would love the chance to expand his operation into the Baker’s Dozen acreage, which had prime water rights along with it. He wasn’t trying to build an empire here, but he had two boys to consider, as well as Jax. Though his brother seemed happy to play the field, someday that might change and he might want to settle down and become a family man.

Beck needed to make sure the Broken Arrow could support him, if that time came. It made perfect sense to grow his own operation into the adjacent property. It would be a big financial reach, but after several record-breaking years, he had the reserves to handle it.

“How does Ella feel about this?” he asked.

Curt shrugged. “What’s not to like? You take over the work and we have money in the bank. She’ll be fine. She could go back to Boston and not have to worry about me.”

He wasn’t sure he agreed with Curt’s assessment of the Ella factor. Yeah, she didn’t know anything about ranching and had only lived here with her father for a little longer than a year, but Ella was stubborn. She adored her father and had moved here to help him, though Curt seemed reluctant to lean on her too much.

“Anyway, we can worry about that later,” Curt said. “My priority is to make sure I sell the land to someone who’s actually going to ranch it, not turn it into condominiums. I’ve seen what you’ve done with the Broken Arrow since your father died and I have no doubt you’d give the same care to the Baker’s Dozen.”

“I appreciate that.”

“No need to decide anything right now. We have plenty of time.”

“You’ve given me a lot to chew on.”

“That was my intent,” Curt said. “Still need me to talk to Ella about taking your boys to the music thingy tomorrow?”

He winced, embarrassed that he’d even brought it up earlier. He was a grown man. He could talk to her himself, even if the woman did make him feel like he’d just been kicked by a horse, breathless and stupid and slow.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I actually have a few things in town so should be able to take them tomorrow. When I get the chance, I’ll try to talk to her then about future rehearsals.”

He wasn’t sure why his boys were so set on being in this Christmas program, but they were funny kids, with their own independent minds. He had always had the philosophy that he would try to support them in anything they tried. Basketball, soccer, after-school science clubs. Whatever.

Even when it meant he had to talk to Ella Baker.

Chapter Three

“Trevor. Colter. That’s the last time I’m going to ask you. Please stop making silly noises. If you keep interrupting, we won’t make it through all the songs we need to practice.”

The twins gave Ella matching guilty looks. “Sorry, Miss Baker,” Colter said.

“We’ll be good. We promise,” his brother added.

Somehow she was having a hard time believing that, especially given their track record in general and this practice in particular. After a full day of school, they were having a tough time sitting still and staying focused for the rehearsals, as she had fully expected.

She felt totally inadequate to deal with them on a December afternoon when they wanted to be running around outside, throwing snowballs and building snow forts.

Would it distract everyone too much if she had them stand up and do jumping jacks for a minute? She decided it was worth a try. Sometimes a little burst of energy could do wonders for focus.

“Okay, speed workout. Everyone. How many elf jumping jacks can you do in one minute? Count to yourself. Go.”

She timed them on her phone and by the end the children were all laughing and trying to outdo each other.

“Excellent. Okay, now close your eyes and we’ll do one more moment of deep breathing. That’s it. Perfect.”

That seemed to refocus everyone and they made it through nearly every number without further incident, until the last one, “Away in a Manger.”

The song sounded lovely, with all the children singing in tune and even enunciating the words—until the last line of the third verse, when Trevor started making noises like a certain explosive bodily function, which made the entire back row dissolve into laughter.

By the time they finished the ninety-minute rehearsal, though, she felt as wrung out as a dirty mitten left in the snow.

As soon as parents started arriving for their children, Hope popped in from the office of The Christmas Ranch with a mug of hot chocolate, which she thrust out to Ella.

“Here you go. Extra snowflake marshmallows. You deserve it. You survived the first rehearsal. It’s all uphill from here.”

“I hope so,” she muttered. “Today was a bit of a disaster.”

“I saw Beck’s boys giving you a rough time,” Hope said, her voice sympathetic.

“You could say that. It must be tough on them, coming straight from school to here.”

Eight rehearsals. That’s all they had. She could handle that, couldn’t she?

“Do you need me to find more people to help you?”

She considered, then shook her head. “I think we should be okay with the two teenagers who volunteered. Everyone is so busy this time of year. I hate to add one more thing to someone else’s plate.”

“Because your schedule is so free and easy over the next few weeks, right?”

Hope had a point. Between the Christmas show, the care center where she volunteered and the two schools where she worked, Ella had concerts or rehearsals every single day between now and Christmas.

“At least I’m not a bestselling illustrator who also happens to be in charge of the number-one holiday attraction for hundreds of miles around.”

“Lucky you,” Hope said with a grin. “Want to trade?”

“Not a chance.”

Hope wouldn’t trade her life, either, Ella knew. She loved creating the Sparkle the Reindeer books, which had become a worldwide sensation over the last few years. She also adored running the ranch with her husband, Rafe, and raising their beautiful son.

“Let me know if you change your mind about needing more help,” Hope said.

“I will.”

After Hope headed away, Ella started cleaning up the mess of paper wrappers and leftover sheet music the children had left behind. She was gathering up her own things when a couple of boys trotted out of the gift shop.

Colter and Trevor. Was she supposed to be giving them a ride? Beck hadn’t called her. He hadn’t said a word to her about it. Had he just assumed she would do it without being asked?

That didn’t really seem like something Beck would do. More likely, there was a miscommunication.

“Do you need me to call your dad to let him know we’re done with rehearsal?”

Colter gave an exasperated sigh. “We told him and told him about it last night and this morning at breakfast. We took a note to school so we could ride a different bus here, then our dad was supposed to come get us when practice was done. I don’t know where he is.”

“Maybe we’ll have to sleep here tonight,” Trevor said. “I call under the Christmas tree!”

“You’re not sleeping here tonight. I can give you a ride, but I need to talk to your dad first to make sure he’s not on his way and just running late. I wouldn’t want us to cross paths.”

At least he hadn’t just assumed she could take care of it. Slightly mollified, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you know his number?”

The boys each recited a different number, argued for a few moments, then appeared to come to a consensus.

She punched in the numbers they gave her without much confidence she would actually be connected to Beck, but to her surprise he answered.

“Broken Arrow,” he said, with a brusqueness she should have expected, especially considering he probably didn’t recognize her phone number.

Those two simple words in his deep, sexy voice seemed to shiver down her spine as if he’d trailed a finger down it.

“Beckett, this is Ella Baker. I was wondering...that is, your sons were wondering, uh, are you coming to pick them up?”

Darn it, she hated being so tongue-tied around the man. She had all the poise and grace of a lumbering steer.

There was a long, awkward pause, then he swore. He quickly amended it. “Uh, shoot. I totally forgot about that. What time is rehearsal done?”

“About twenty minutes ago,” she answered, letting a bit of tartness creep into her voice.

He sighed. “I’ve got the vet here looking at a sick horse. We’re going to be another ten minutes or so, then I’ll have to clean up a bit. Can you give me a half hour?”

He still couldn’t seem to bring himself to ask for her help. Stubborn man. She glanced over at the boys, who were admiring the giant Christmas tree in the lodge. She wasn’t sure she had the physical or mental capacity to keep them entertained and out of trouble for another half hour.

“I can give them a ride home, if you would like. It’s an easy stop on my way back to the Baker’s Dozen.”

“Could you? That would be a big help. Thank you.” The relief in his voice was palpable.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to drop them at the barn or the house?”

“The horse barn, if you don’t mind. That’s where I’m working.”

She was suddenly having second thoughts, not sure she was ready to see him two days in a row.

“All right. We’ll see you shortly, then.”

“Thank you,” he said again.

She managed to round up the boys in the nick of time, seconds before they were about to test how strong the garland over the mantel was by taking turns dangling from it.

How had Beck’s house not burned down to the ground by now, with these two mischievous boys around?

“Why are you driving us home?” Colter asked when they had their seat belts on in her back seat. “Where’s our dad?”

“He’s taking care of a sick horse, he said. The vet’s there with him and they lost track of time.”

“That’s Frisco. He was our mom’s horse, but he’s probably gonna die soon.”

She wasn’t sure how to reply to that, especially when he spoke in a matter-of-fact way. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s really old and too ornery for us to ride. He bites. Dad says he better not catch us near him,” Trevor said.

She shivered, then hoped they couldn’t see. She had to get over her fear of horses, darn it. After more than a year in horse and cattle country, she thought she would be past it—but then, twenty years hadn’t made a difference, so why should the past year enact some miraculous change?

“You better do what he says.”

“We don’t want to ride that grumpy thing, anyway,” Trevor said. “Why would we? We both have our own horses. Mine is named Oreo and Colt’s is named Blackjack.”

“Do you have a horse, Miss Baker?”

She remembered a sweet little roan mare she had adored more than anything in the world.

“I used to, when I was your age. Her name was Ruby. But I haven’t been on a horse in a long, long time. We don’t have any horses on the Baker’s Dozen.”

In one bold sweep, her dad had gotten rid of them all twenty years ago, even though he had loved to ride, too. Thinking about it always made her sad.

“You could come ride our horses. We have like a million of them.”

Familiar fear sidled up to her and said hello. “That’s nice of you, Colter, but I don’t know how to ride anymore. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in a saddle.”

“We could teach you again,” Trevor offered, with a sweet willingness that touched something deep inside. “I bet you’d pick it up again easy.”

For a moment, she was very tempted by the offer but she would have to get past her phobia first. “That’s very kind of you,” she said, and left it at that. The boys didn’t need to know about her issues.

“Hey, you know how to sing, right?” Colter said suddenly, changing the subject.

Considering she had one degree in music therapy and another in music education, she hoped so. “Yes. That is certainly something I do know how to do.”

“And you play the guitar. You do it in school sometimes.”

And the piano, violin and most other stringed instruments. “That’s right.”

“Could you teach us how to play a song?” Colter asked.

“And how to sing it, too?” Trevor said.

She glanced in her rearview mirror at their faces, earnestly eager. “Does either of you know how to play the guitar?”

“We both do, kind of,” Colter said. “Uncle Dan taught us a couple chords last summer but then he said he wouldn’t teach us anymore because we played too hard and broke all the strings on his guitar.”

“Oh, dear.”

These boys didn’t do anything half-heartedly. She secretly hoped they would continue to be all-in as they grew up—with a little self-restraint when it was necessary, anyway.

“But we would never do that to your guitar, if you let us practice on it,” he assured her with a grave solemnity that almost made her smile.

“We promise,” his twin said. “We would be super careful.”

She couldn’t believe she would even entertain the idea for a moment, but she couldn’t deny she was curious about the request. “What song are you trying to learn how to play and sing?”

“It’s a good one. ‘Christmas for the Cowboy.’ Have you heard that one?”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s about this cowboy and he has to work on Christmas Eve and ride his horse in the snow and stuff,” Trevor informed her.

“He’s real mad about it, and thinks it’s not fair and he wants to be inside where it’s warm, then the animals help him remember that Christmas is about peace on earth and stuff.”

“And baby Jesus and wise men and shepherds,” Trevor added.

“That sounds like a good one.”

She combed through her memory bank but wasn’t sure if she had ever heard it.

“It’s our dad’s favorite Christmas song in the whole wide world. He hums it all the time and keeps the CD in his pickup truck.”

“Do you know who sings it?” she asked. It would be much easier to track down the guitar chords if she could at least have that much info.

The boys named a country music group whose name she recognized. She wasn’t very familiar with their body of work.

“So can you teach us?” Colter asked as they neared the turnoff for the Broken Arrow. “It has to be with the guitar, too.”

“Please?” Trevor asked. “Pretty please with Skittles on top?”

Well, she did like Skittles. She hid a smile. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you want to learn the song so badly?”

As she glanced in the rearview mirror, she saw the boys exchange looks. She had noticed before they did that quite often, as if passing along some nonverbal, invisible, twin communication that only they understood.

“It’s for our dad,” Trevor finally said. “He works hard all the time and takes care of us and stuff and we never have a good present to give him at Christmas.”

“Except things we make in school, and that’s usually just dumb crap,” Colter said. “Pictures and clay bowls and stuff.”

Ella had a feeling the art teacher she shared a classroom with probably wouldn’t appreciate that particularly blunt assessment.

“When we went to bed last night after the concert, we decided we should learn that song and play it for our dad because he loves it so much, but we don’t know the right words. We always sing it wrong.”

“Hey, maybe after we learn it, we could play and sing it in the Christmas program,” Colter said.

“Yeah,” Trevor said, “Like that guy and his wranglers last night.”

She didn’t know how to respond, afraid to give the boys false hope. She didn’t even know what song they were talking about, let alone whether it was appropriate for a Christmas program designed for senior citizens.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that song—” she began.

“You could learn it, couldn’t you?” Colter said.

“It’s probably not even too hard.”

As she turned into the ranch, they passed a large pasture containing about a dozen horses. Two of them cantered over to the fence line, then raced along beside her SUV, their manes and tails flying out behind them.

She felt the familiar panic, but something else, a long-buried regret for what she had lost.

“If I can find the song and agree to teach you, I need something from the two of you in return.”

“Let me guess. You want us to quit messing around at rehearsal.” Colter said this in the same resigned tone someone might use after being told they faced an IRS audit.

“Absolutely. That’s one of my conditions. You told me you could behave, but today wasn’t a very good example of that. I need to be able to trust you to keep your word.”

“Sorry, Miss Baker.”

“We’ll do better, we promise.”

How many times had the boys uttered those very same words to one voice of authority or other? No doubt they always meant it, but something told her they would follow through this time. It touched her heart that they wanted to give this gift to their father, who had sacrificed and struggled and refused to give up custody after their mother died.

She wanted to help them give something back to him—and she wanted something in return, something that made her palms suddenly feel sweaty on the steering wheel.

“That is one of my conditions. And I’m very firm about it.”

She paused, sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush and spoke quickly before she could change her mind.

“I also have one more condition.”

“What?” Trevor asked.

Her heart was pounding so hard, she could barely hear herself think. This was foolish. Why did she think two seven-year-old boys could help her overcome something she had struggled with for twenty years?

“You said you could teach me how to ride horses again. I would like that, very much. I told you it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a horse. I...miss it.”

More than she had even dared acknowledge to herself.

Once, horses had been her passion. She had dreamed about them, talked about them, drew pictures of them, even during the months when she was living in Boston during the ten months out of the year her mother had custody of her. It used to drive Elizabeth crazy.

Everything had changed when she was eight.

“You really can’t ride?” Trevor said. “You said that before but I didn’t think you meant it. You’re a grown-up.”

These boys probably spent more time in the saddle than out of it. She had seen them before as she was driving by the ranch, racing across the field and looking utterly carefree. Until now, Ella hadn’t realized how very much she had envied them.

“Not everyone is as lucky as you two,” she said as she pulled up to the large red indoor horse barn and arena. “I learned how to ride when I was a child, but then I had a bad fall and it’s been...hard for me ever since.”

Hard was an understatement. What she didn’t tell the boys was that she had a completely reasonable terror of horses.

She had been only a year older than the boys, on a visit here with her father. Her sweet little Ruby had been nursing an injury so she had insisted to her father she could handle one of the other geldings on a ride with him along their favorite trail. The horse had been jittery, though, and had ended up being spooked by a snake on the trail just as they were crossing a rocky slope.

Not only had she fallen from the horse, but she had also tumbled thirty feet down the mountainside.

After being airlifted to Idaho Falls, she had ended up in a medically induced coma, with a head injury, several broken vertebrae and a crushed leg. She had spent months in the hospital and rehab clinics. Even after extensive therapy, she still limped when she was tired.

Her injuries had marked the final death knell to the marriage her parents had tried for years to patch back together. They had been separated on and off most of her childhood before then. After her riding accident, her mother completely refused to send her to the ranch.

The custody battle had been epic. In the process, a great gulf had widened between her and her father, one that she was still trying to bridge, twenty years later.

If she could only learn to ride, conquer her fear, perhaps Curt Baker wouldn’t continue to see her as a fragile doll who needed to be protected at all costs.

“I know the basics,” she told the boys now. “I just need some pointers. It’s a fair trade, don’t you think? I teach you a few chords on the guitar and you let me practice riding horses.”

The boys exchanged looks, their foreheads furrowed as they considered her request. She caught some furtive whispers but couldn’t hear what they said.

While she waited for them to decide, Ella wondered if she was crazy. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this. What could these boys teach her, really? She was about to tell them she had changed her mind about the riding lessons but would still teach them the song when Trevor spoke for both of them.

“Sure. We could do that. When do you want to practice? How about Saturday?”

“We can’t!” Trevor said to his brother. “We have practice Saturday, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. But maybe in the afternoon, when we’re done.”

Why was she even considering throwing one more thing into her packed schedule? She couldn’t do it. Ella wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. “We can forget this. It was a silly idea.”

“Why?” Trevor asked, his features confused. “We want you to teach us how to play and sing a song for our dad’s Christmas present and you want to learn how to ride a horse better so you don’t fall off. We can teach each other.”

“It will be fun. You’ll see. And maybe you could even buy one of our dad’s horses after you learn how to ride again.”

That was pushing things. Maybe she first ought to see if she could spend five minutes around horses without having a panic attack.

“So can you come Saturday afternoon?” Trevor asked.

“Our dad won’t be home, so that would be good. Then he won’t need to know why we’re teaching you how to ride horses. Because otherwise, we’d have to tell him it’s a trade. That would ruin the surprise.”

“I...think I can come Saturday.” Oh, she was crazy.

“Yay! This will be fun. You’ll see.”

She wasn’t so sure. Before she could come up with an answer, the door to the barn opened and Beck came striding out with that loose-limbed, sexy walk she always tried—and failed—to ignore.

He had someone else with him. Ben Caldwell, she realized, the veterinarian in town whose wife, Caidy, had a magical singing voice. She barely noticed the other man, too busy trying not to stare at Beckett.

Her hands felt clammy again as she opened her car door, but this time she knew it wasn’t horses making her nervous.

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