The Rancher's Christmas Princess by Christine Rimmer Read Free Book Online Page B

The men sat and slid to the
window side of the booth. Charlotte hung up her heavy coat and took the
remaining seat on Silas’s side of the table. Belle got Ben out of his warm hat
and fat coat.
    When she eased him into the high chair, he smiled up at her,
sweet as any angel, his earlier misery completely forgotten. “Belle. Eat!” He
pounded his hands flat on the chair tray—but not too hard. Just enough to
punctuate his excitement at the thrilling prospect of breakfast. He loosed a
happy string of nonsense noises.
    She laughed low as she took off her coat. It was so good to see
him back to his cheerful little self again. “Yes, Benjamin. We shall eat.” She
gave him a biscuit to keep him occupied until his meal arrived and then took the
seat next to Preston, who wore a winter-green corduroy shirt and a look both
stern and completely stunned.
    The waitress from yesterday, Selma, arrived with a coffeepot
and an order pad. She poured coffee for all of them. Belle and Charlotte
ordered.
    Selma glanced at Silas and then at Preston. Both of them said,
“The usual.”
    The meal was a strange one, which really wasn’t all that
surprising under the circumstances. Charlotte bravely tried to contribute
something resembling conversation. She spoke of the weather and of the beauty
and majesty of the local forests and mountains. Belle agreed with her companion
that Montana was wild and rugged and beautiful. Charlotte had purchased a copy
of the most recent edition of the Elk Creek Gazette. She’d read about the various holiday events that were coming up in the next few
weeks.
    “If we’re still here, we must attend the craft fair,” she
said.
    Belle agreed that, indeed, they must.
    Preston methodically shoveled in food. He had nothing to say.
Neither did the previously talkative Silas. Both men continued to seem astounded
by Ben. They would glance in the child’s direction and then blink and gape.
After a moment or two, they would catch themselves at it and resolutely return
to devouring the enormous breakfasts they’d ordered.
    Ben watched the two rugged ranchers warily at first. But then,
after fifteen minutes or so, he seemed to realize that they presented no threat
to him. He grew accustomed to their staring and he ignored them. He ate his
cereal and fruit with gusto and drank watered-down apple juice from the sippy
cup Belle carried along wherever they went.
    There was so very much to discuss. But every time she glanced
at Preston’s battered face and saw his blank-eyed expression, she realized she
didn’t know where to start. And even if she had known what to say, the busy
diner didn’t seem the right place to talk. So she said nothing—except to agree
with Charlotte that the scenery in Montana was spectacular and she would love to
visit the Christmas Craft Fair.
    When the meal was finally over, Preston claimed the check,
piled some bills on top of it and cleared his throat. “Belle, I’d like a few
words. Alone.” Grudgingly, he added, “Please.”
    She took a wet wipe from a pocket of Ben’s diaper bag and
cleaned the little sweetheart’s face and hands. “Charlotte, could you take Ben
back across the street with you?”
    “Of course.”
    “Thank you.” She faced Preston again. “How about a stroll?”
    “Fine.”
    Charlotte rose, put on her coat and scooped Ben out of the high
chair. She put him in the stroller and bundled him up again.
    He laughed, a delighted chortling sound that warmed Belle’s
heart. “Shar-Shar. Kiss.”
    “Oh, yes.” Charlotte leaned close to him and he made a loud
smacking sound with his little mouth against her cheek. She beamed at him.
“Thank you, young man—now let’s put on this nice, warm hat.” She put it on him
and tied the yarn ribbons under his chin. “There. Are we ready?”
    “Yes!” declared Ben.
    “Bundle up,” she instructed Belle in that motherly way she
sometimes did as she got behind the stroller and aimed it at the door. “It’s
bitterly cold