Wild West Christmas. Lynna Banning

expression went sour.

      “There is no shame in asking for help.”

      “There is nothing but shame in it. You don’t know me at all.” He stared at her wide-eyed confusion. How could he make her understand? “I don’t take handouts.”

      Alice felt his arm tense and slid her hand down until she clasped his.

      “But we are not discussing you. We are discussing what is best for the boys. Perhaps you could wire Mr. Harvey and explain the changes in your domestic responsibilities. He might very well let you occupy this house until he returns.”

      Dillen chewed on that for a moment. A rich woman would think nothing of such a request. But Mr. Harvey was his employer, not his friend or his social equal. But Harvey was also a father. He might allow it, and Dillen could assure him that he’d take the best of care of this place and secure a new arrangement for his family, God knew what, before his boss’s arrival. He let the possibility glimmer before him like moonlight on calm waters before the problems rushed in.

      “Do it for their sakes, Dillen,” she whispered, and his pride melted away. He glanced to the boys, standing side by side, hands clasped, staring up at the buffalo head mounted above the mantel. He looked to Alice, dropping his voice.

      “Even if he went for that, I can’t watch over them. I got work and they need tending.”

      “So your trouble is not a lack of wanting these boys, but a fear that you are not up to the task?”

      He stared at her as he wrestled with the truth. “I want them.”

      Alice smiled. “This is a great relief to me.”

      “A relief? How do you figure?”

      “Well, for a time there, I feared you did not want them and that you were avoiding us.”

      “Amounts to the same thing.”

      “Would you be willing to ask Mr. Harvey’s permission?”

      “Alice...the boys are young. Wanting them isn’t enough. They need a mother.”

      Her eyes twinkled in a way that he recalled, and he found himself staring at her mouth again.

      “If it would be of assistance, I could stay for a few weeks, help you and the boys adjust to a new situation. But I must be home with my family for Christmas Eve.”

      Dillen drew back his hand and shoved it in his pocket. “No.”

      She gave an exasperated sigh and flapped her arms. “Why not?”

      He gave a harsh laugh and met her narrowing green eyes. Still, he told her the truth.

      “Alice, you can’t run a household.”

      “And why, pray tell, would you reach that conclusion?”

      He knew he should hold back, but he didn’t, just charged ahead like the damned fool he was. “You’ve been pampered and coddled your whole life. You’ve never rubbed your knuckles raw on a washboard. Why, you don’t know the first thing about raising two boys.”

      “I seemed to have managed until now.”

      “I’m not talking about ordering room service or tucking up at a table when you are called to tea. I’m talking about real work. The kind you’ve never done. You walk around in that armor.” He motioned to her mink coat and hat and the elegant dress he glimpsed beneath. “You wear gold rings on your fingers and tortoise combs in your hair. What do you know about work?”

      “I know how to run a household, Mr. Roach.”

      “You know how to manage a household, not run one. There are no servants here.”

      “As I am quite aware.” Her face was now flushed and her eyes glimmered as she took up the challenge. She actually raised her voice, remembered herself and lowered it to a rasping whisper, which made him straighten up and take notice. “I may lack experience, but I am here and offering you aid. If you won’t allow me to help you, then please consider what is best for them.” She motioned to Colin and Cody, both now studying the stuffed head of a pronghorn antelope mounted between the front windows.

      Dillen followed the direction of her gaze and felt his conviction waver. “I can see to these boys and run this house,” she assured.

      “It won’t work,” he said, but his words now lacked conviction.

      She stared at him, taking his measure and, no doubt, finding him lacking. “You won’t know unless you try. I can stay here for three weeks. That will give you time to become acquainted, time for them to become familiar with you and time for you to see if this will work or if they would be better off elsewhere.”

      He met the accusation in her gaze. “Aunt Alma, for instance?”

      She blew out her breath like a dragon spewing fire. “Ben’s only living relation is the sister-in-law of his grandfather and her name is Ella McCrery. Ella. I discussed this with your sister, and Sylvia was of the opinion that her age—she is in her eighties—precluded her from taking on such a responsibility. You were not her only choice, Dillen, but you were her best choice. Like it or not, you now have custody of Sylvia’s children and must do what you see fit. Either way, I will have delivered them to you. That ends my duty to my dearest friend. My offer is not for her sake or for yours, but for the boys.” She tugged her gloves on more securely. “So, Mr. Roach, will you accept my help or will you not?”

      The silence in the room stretched and yawned. Dillen scrubbed his face with both hands and then spoke. “I’ll wire Harvey and ask if you three can stay in the ranch house until Christmas.”

      Her expression held such joy and pride that he swallowed back his trepidation as Alice launched forward into his arms.

      “Oh, Mr. Roach. Thank God!”

      She squeezed him so tight that he felt the soft curve of her breasts pressed to him and the ridged sheath of her corset against his middle. He didn’t know how it happened because one minute she was holding his face in both her gloved hands and the next his arms were about her and he was bending her backward over his arm as he kissed her full on the mouth. She gave a startled cry, which parted her lips and he took advantage again. His body burned as her arms went about his neck and she strained to deepen the kiss. Their tongues danced and she gave a low moan that ripped through him like a spear point. His body grew hot and hard, ready for this woman he could never forget.

      He glanced, with his mouth still on Alice’s, to judge the distance to the sofa and met the stares of both Colin and Cody. Their mouths gaped and they stood as if witnessing a murder instead of a kiss. Dillen drew back.

      “Yuck,” said Cody, wiping his own mouth as if he’d been kissed.

      Colin repeated his brother’s words, “Yeah, yuck.”

      Alice blinked up at Dillen, a lazy, satisfied smile curling her full lips. She still had one hand looped around his neck and used it to pull him closer. He set her aside and steadied her with a hand at the small of her back, feeling the soft fur of the mink. She swayed as if drunk.

      She grinned at him and then turned to glance at the boys. Her eyes popped wide-open and her face flushed bright pink.

      “Oh, my,” she stammered. “I...” She glanced at him and then back to the children. “I... We had better be getting back. Say goodbye to your uncle, children.”

      Colin skipped forward and lifted his arms. Dillen glanced to Alice.

      “He wants you to pick him up.”

      “Yeah?” he said and then slid one hand under each armpit and hoisted the child up to eye level. Why, he weighed less than a sack of grain. “What’s on your mind, big man?”

      Colin leaned forward and planted a kiss on Dillen’s cheek, making a popping sound on contact.

      “That’s