Page 100 of The Holiday Gift

Dinner wasn’t quite the ordeal she had feared.

By the time she reached the table, the only seat left was at the opposite end of the table from Ben, between Ridge at the head and Destry. Good. She needed a little space from Ben while she tried to figure out how she could possibly face the man after making a complete idiot of herself over him, again and again.

He was deep in conversation with her brothers and Becca when she sat down, and he didn’t look in her direction, much to her relief. After Ridge said grace, blessing the food and welcoming their guests to the ranch, various conversations flowed around her. Caidy moved her food around in silence, for the most part, until Destry, Gabi and Ava enlisted her opinion about how old she was when she started wearing makeup.

She didn’t wear much now unless she was dressing up for something. “I think I was about thirteen or fourteen before I wore anything but lip gloss. You’ve got a few years to go, girls.”

“I’m ready now,” Gabi declared.

“Me too,” Destry chimed in.

“My grandma let me keep some eye makeup and lip stuff at her house when we lived in California,” Ava said. “I could only put it on while I was there or when we went shopping or out to lunch. I had to wash it off before I left so my dad didn’t freak, which was totally stupid.”

Destry looked slightly appalled at the idea of keeping makeup—or anything else—from her father. “I could never do that!”

“My grandma said it was okay.”

In the mode of adults sticking together, Caidy gave the three girls a mild look. “Here’s a pretty good rule—if you can’t wear it, taste it or say it in front of your dad, you probably shouldn’t wear it, taste it or say it when he’s not there.”

“Agreed.” Ridge interjected into the conversation. “You hear that, Des?”

The three girls giggled and started talking about something from school, leaving Caidy’s mind to follow the conversation between the twins and Ben at the other end of the table.

“So, Dr. Caldwell, how are you finding Pine Gulch?” Trace was asking.

“Ben. Please, call me Ben. We’re enjoying living here so far. The town seems to be filled with very kind people. For the most part anyway.”

He didn’t look in her direction when he spoke but she cringed anyway, certain his pointed barb was aimed at her.

“It’s theleast partyou have to worry about,” Taft said with a wink. “I could name a few people in town whose bad side you want to stay far clear of. I’m sure Trace knows a few more on the law enforcement side. We’ve got our share of bad customers.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ben murmured. “Rude, arrogant jerks.”

“You better believe it,” Taft said.

Becca quickly cleared her throat. “Uh, can you pass the potatoes?” she asked Ben.

“Sure, if there are any left.” He picked up the bowl Caidy always served the mashed potatoes in, the flower-lined earthenware that had always been one of her mother’s favorites.

For the first time since she sat down, he looked in her direction, though his gaze was focused somewhere above her head. “Everything is really delicious,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Ava? Jack?”

“Supergood,” Jack said. He had a smudge of gravy on his cheek and looked absolutely adorable. “Can I have another roll? Ooh, with jam! Ilovestrawberries.”

Ben grabbed one of her cloverleaf rolls and spread some of her jam on it. When he handed it to his son, Jack gobbled it in three bites, smearing red along with the gravy. Ben shook his head, picked up his napkin and dabbed at the mess on Jack’s face. She watched out of the corner of her gaze as those big hands that had held her close attended to his child, and something soft and warm unfurled inside her chest.

He looked up at just that moment and caught her watching. Their gazes held for one long, charged moment while the conversation flowed around them. Then Ridge asked him another question and he looked away, breaking the connection.

He and his children fit in well with the family. Taft’s stepson, Alex, and Jack seemed like two peas in a proverbial pod, with Maya attending closely to their every word, and Gabi and Des had been quick to absorb Ava into their circle.

This was only temporary, she reminded herself. After the holidays, he would take his cute kids and his friendly housekeeper and move into the big house he was building. In a matter of days, he would be just a peripheral figure in her world. He wouldn’t even be that if she didn’t need to take one of the dogs for the occasional visit to the veterinarian.

She should be relieved about that, she told herself. Not glum.

“I love that painting over the fireplace,” Ben said into a temporary lull of the conversation. “I see the artist’s last name is Bowman. Any relation?”

The rest of the table fell silent—even the children. Nobody seemed willing to jump in to answer him except Ridge.

“Yes,” her oldest brother finally said. “She is a relation. She was our mother.”

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