The Rancher's Christmas Song. RaeAnne Thayne

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