A Ranger For Christmas. Stella Bagwell

a son.

      “Hmmp. Onida was no wife or mother.”

      Although Nashota rarely voiced her opinion about anyone, she’d never beat around the bush when it came to Sawyer’s mother, Onida. From what he could remember, she’d not been family material, either. She’d liked to stay on the go and party. Unfortunately, Sawyer had been old enough to remember the squabbles and yelling matches between his parents. And then his father had died and everything had changed.

      “Vivian is not that kind of woman. She’s a good ranger.”

      Nodding, Nashota put the rocker into a gentle motion. “I’m happy to hear this.”

      Sawyer was happy, too. For the next few months, he’d be spending his days with the beautiful woman. To be handed such an opportunity was a gift. Or was it the good fortune his grandmother talked about? Either way, Sawyer planned to make the most of it.

      Kat was pregnant. Blake would soon have a baby of his own. Vivian was truly happy for her brother and sister-in-law. But she had to admit, at least to herself, that the news had hit her hard. Especially when her own daughter had dubbed her too old to have a baby. Later last night, after Vivian had retired to her bedroom, she’d changed into a pair of pajamas and stood gazing at herself in the dresser mirror. Was she getting to a point in her life where she needed to forget about having more children? Had she already passed the point of starting over with a man?

      The questions had haunted her until she’d finally fallen asleep. Yet even now, with Mort at the front of the room, reminding her and her fellow rangers of the upcoming holiday events to be held in the park, she still couldn’t push away the melancholy mood that had drifted over her.

       If it makes you feel any better you look a lot younger.

      Had Sawyer actually meant that as a compliment? Or had he only been mouthing platitudes because she was his partner and he wanted to get on her good side?

      The ridiculous questions were revolving around in her mind when Sawyer’s hand was suddenly touching her forearm, causing her to very nearly jump off the seat of the plastic chair.

      “Vivian, the meeting is over,” he said.

      She glanced around to see Mort had left his position behind the wooden podium, while the other rangers were already shuffling out of the conference room.

      Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she jumped to her feet and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair. “Oh. Sorry, Sawyer. I was thinking about something.”

      “Obviously not the park’s Christmas events,” he said drily.

      As she shouldered on her jacket, he reached to pull the fabric up and over her shoulders. The gentlemanly gesture shouldn’t have affected her, but just as it had yesterday it rattled her. Having him touch her, even in such an impersonal way, made her acutely aware of his tall, hard body and the utterly masculine scent surrounding him.

      “I didn’t miss the important issues,” she said, as she zipped up the front of the hunter green jacket. “Besides, this won’t be my first Christmas at the park.”

      “It’s a relief to know you’re on top of things.”

      She darted a glance up at him, then wanted to groan at the tempting little grin on his lips.

      “You look like you’re perfectly capable of walking without me leading you.”

      Chuckling under his breath, he nudged her toward the exit. “Ouch! You’re a regular little cocklebur this morning. Did you have enough coffee at breakfast?”

      Actually, she’d tossed and turned for hours last night. Then, sometime after she’d fallen into a fitful sleep, the electricity had apparently blinked on and off to cause the alarm clock to miss the five o’clock buzzer. She’d overslept and barely had time to shower and dress, much less drink a cup of coffee. But she wasn’t going to admit as much to this man. He’d probably remind her that she should’ve made sure to have fresh batteries in the clock for a backup system.

      “Not exactly. But I’ll be fine.”

      Outside, as the two of them walked to their vehicle, a cool north wind was whipping across the parking lot, while a bank of gray clouds in the western sky suggested there might be rain in store for them. But a tease was most likely all that would come from the clouds. Rain was a rare commodity in this part of the state, and snowfall even more extraordinary. The chance of seeing snowflakes was as far-fetched as the idea of her having another baby. It wasn’t going to happen.

      Trying to shove that dismal thought from her head, Vivian jerked a black scarf from the pocket of her jacket and tied it around her neck.

      “Have you ever seen a white Christmas, Sawyer?”

      “No. Have you?”

      “The only time I’ve ever seen snow was during a trip to the San Juan Mountains in Colorado,” she said.

      She opened the driver’s door to the SUV and slid behind the steering wheel. Sawyer quickly settled himself in the passenger seat and she started the engine.

      As he buckled his seat belt, he said, “I saw snow once. On a trip to Flagstaff. It was melting the moment it hit the ground. So I’ve never seen a pile of the stuff before. Can’t say that I want to.”

      She backed out of the parking spot, then pulled onto the asphalt road leading away from headquarters. “I couldn’t live in a northern state. I don’t like to be cold or housed in.”

      “I heard once that Onida was in North Dakota.”

      Surprised by his out-of-the-blue comment, she glanced at him. “That’s your mother?”

      He grimaced. “Onida is the woman who gave birth to me. I wouldn’t categorize her as a mother, though.”

      Vivian could understand his reasoning. If her mother had walked away from her and never returned, she’d probably be thinking in those same terms. “Did you try to search for her?”

      He shook his head. “Why would I want to find her?”

      “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to show her what she’s missed. To show her the fine young man you’ve grown to be. Even without her help.”

      From the corner of her eye Vivian could see him shrug one shoulder, as though the woman’s opinion didn’t matter to him. The idea was a sad one. Nearly as sad as the thought that she’d never have the big family she’d always dreamed about.

      “She’s dead, Vivian.”

      Her gaze left the road long enough to look in his direction, but all she could see was the back of his head as he stared out the passenger window.

      “You mean, literally?”

      He looked at her, his expression as bland as if they’d been discussing the weather. Either he held no emotion for the woman, or he was an expert at hiding his true feelings, Vivian decided.

      “Years ago, Grandmother was told by a mutual friend that she died in a car accident. But we never bothered to search for her whereabouts. Either way, she’s dead to me.”

      Deciding it would be best to let the subject drop, Vivian remained silent as she steered the vehicle into the first campground on their work schedule.

      The first three sites were quiet, prompting Sawyer to say, “Everyone must be sleeping late this morning.”

      “Not everyone,” Vivian replied as she spotted a young woman with a blond ponytail wearing a pair of short shorts hurrying to the side of the road. Behind her, a small girl was struggling to control a leashed black-and-white dog.

      When the woman began waving her arms at them, Sawyer said, “Looks like she wants us to stop.”

      Vivian parked in a safe spot out of the way of traffic, but before either of them could depart the vehicle, the woman raced up to Sawyer’s window.

      He