"Holy mistletoe."

Amber Moore gulped as she took in the glittering white lights on the floor-to-twenty-foot-ceiling fir.

She'd known her friend Mallory Trudeau was rich. Mallory and her brother Cash owned the Double Cross ranch in Caldwell county, not far from Austin, Texas.

But this was... ostentatious.

Not usually a word that Amber associated with her friend. Mallory was down-to-earth and as nice as they came. When Amber had shown up in Sawyer Creek eighteen months ago with only a backpack to her name, Mallory had taken her under her wing and helped her find a nanny job for a nearby rancher, a live-in one. And Mallory had given her a character reference when Amber couldn't provide any references of her own.

Amber owed Mallory a lot. And Mallory never seemed to want to collect. Which worked for Amber, who had no way to pay her back anyway. Except it worried her.

When would her bill come due?

Nothing came for free.

She let her gaze drift to the large picture windows, where snowflakes swirled and battered against the glass. Surely the storm would let up soon. They were only supposed to have gotten a dusting of snow this evening. Not a storm.

Amber pulled her gaze away from the window and the snowstorm, which was only stressing her out, and focused on Mallory. "How many years has your family hosted the Christmas ball?"

She let her gaze sweep the room, looking for her boss, Jace. She was an expert at multi-tasking. Nannies—and moms—had to be.

"My grandma threw the first Cattlemen's Association Christmas Ball forty years ago,” Mallory said. “We've held it here almost every year."

Because Mallory's family had a legacy.

Amber had no legacy, and she'd rather forget the history she did have.

She blinked away those thoughts. Holidays always made her morose, thinking about what she'd never had.

And they made her angry.

Anger had no place at a party like this.

Neither did Amber.

She was pretty sure that everyone in the room could tell she was a fraud. Even the twinkling crystals strung through evergreen boughs seemed to mock her.

She'd spent her entire Christmas bonus—the one she'd never expected, the one that had made her cry—on this dress. She'd driven all the way to Austin to a high-end salon to have her hair styled in this intricate updo she'd never be able to replicate in a million years. She'd even had her makeup and nails done, a treat she'd never dared spoil herself with.

She'd really wanted to look like she belonged.

Because then maybe Jace would notice her.

But she kept getting looks from the other women, and some of the younger men, that made her think she'd gotten it wrong. Again.

"Ladies."

Amber jumped.

She'd recognize Jace's voice in a pitch-black cave filled with rushing water.

She wasn't ready.

But there he was, towering over her and looking more handsome than she'd ever imagined in a tuxedo jacket—no tie—and boots. His shoulders went on for miles. Broad enough for Bo to snuggle into when he jumped into his father's arms.

Her face flamed.

This was her chance to show Jace that she wasn't just a nanny, she was a woman.

His brown eyes barely flicked over her.

Say something witty, Amber. Say something. Anything.

She couldn't catch her breath.

He pushed a glass of champagne in her direction and handed one to Mallory, too, which meant he hadn't been thinking specifically of Amber.

"You look nice tonight." His words seemed to encompass them both.

Amber's heart sank even as her exposed chest and throat burned hotter. She didn't drink. Jace didn't know that, and she didn't want him to feel awkward, but she didn't know what to do with the flute. She held it away from her body and wrapped her other arm around her middle, cupping her elbow.

This was a disaster. She'd spent upwards of five hundred bucks to get ready for tonight, and he wasn't even looking at her.

Say something.

He was staring across the room, and she grasped for something, anything to catch his attention.

"Thanks for giving me the night off." How lame could she be? But now her mouth wouldn't stop moving. "Did Bo have any trouble with the sitter?"

Jace's face softened the way she'd come to recognize over the year-plus she'd worked for him. He loved his son deeply—a feeling she identified with. Bo was special.

Now Jace stopped scanning the room and looked directly at Amber for the first time. "Other than complaining for the seven hundredth time that you are 'way more fun' than Mrs. Ritter, he was fine."

Her heart pinched in a good way. The same way it did every time Bo did something to show that he cared about her. "Good."

And then she became tongue-tied again.

"The music just started," Mallory said. Amber had forgotten her friend was even standing there. "You two should catch a dance."

Amber's face flamed hotter. She glanced at the parquet dance floor, a mix of uncertainty and excitement thrilling through her. She had no idea how to dance. And hardly anyone was out there. Only two elderly couples.

But she'd dance with Jace anyway.

He blinked. As if the idea of dancing hadn't even occurred to him. "I don't think so."

He raised his champagne glass to salute them and excused himself.

Oh gosh. Double gosh.

Tears pricked her eyes, and Amber had to turn away so the same people who kept looking at her wouldn't see. She knew the tip of her nose was turning red—it always did when she cried.

She widened her eyes. Blinked, trying to stem the flow.

Mallory didn't say anything, even though she could've. She was such a good friend. Better than Amber deserved.

Maybe it was time. "I have to give up, don't I?"

Mallory winced. "He's either really oblivious, or..."

Or he doesn't want you.

Amber blinked harder. Her hope was spiraling hard. "I've been waiting for him to notice my existence, but if he can't see me in this dress...?" She was more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Amber shook her head. "Maybe he's just too polite to tell me I'm not his type."

She waited for Mallory's agreement. Amber wasn't Jace's type. He didn't know her at all, thought she was something completely different...

Even though she’d tried so hard to be a woman he'd want.

Mallory was distracted. Amber followed her gaze to a striking cowboy across the room who’d put her friend on high alert.

Amber didn't need to bother her friend with her problems. Not on a magical night like this one.

"I think I might go home," Amber said quietly. "Before the weather gets any worse."

Mallory's gaze snapped back to her. "Oh, you can't!"

Amber's tears were still too close to the surface. Her eyes felt hot, the skin stretched too tightly across her face.

Mallory's hand closed over hers. "Don't give up yet. At least stay for the party. Give him a chance to see the dress in all its glory. Dance with some other guys. Make him jealous."

Jace would have to be interested to be jealous, wouldn't he?

And which of these other guys would want to dance with her?

But Mallory was watching her with an intense look, and Amber knew her friend wasn't going to just drop it.

She could sneak out when Mallory got distracted again.

"Okay. I'll stay. For a while."

Jace Cantrell walked away from Amber, glad he hadn't worn a tie.

He already felt like he was suffocating.

He waded through the ocean of friends and acquaintances, nodding and smiling even though he’d rather be at home, reading fifty-seven books to Bo before bedtime.

How long until he could get out of here? At least the snowstorm brewing outside would make it an early evening. Up until a few seconds ago, his mind had been on the chores still waiting for him when he got home—including checking on the Golden Retriever puppies his neighbor had talked him into caring for while the Nelson family traveled for the holiday.

Everyone had the Christmas spirit, except him. He'd been pretending since Patricia's death two years ago. In the beginning, it'd been all he could do to just breathe. Christmas and all the trappings had been last on his list.

Something inside him had come back to life tonight. With a vengeance.

And it was because of Amber.

Which was a disaster.

She was his son's nanny. His employee.

Not to mention about a decade his junior.

It wasn't fair that the first spike of attraction he'd felt since Patricia's death was directed at a woman one who was off-limits.

What was she doing wearing a dress like that? The red sheath hugged her slim curves and highlighted just how fair her skin was.

He swallowed hard, bellying up to the bar where both champagne and coffee were being served.

"Could I have a glass of ice water?" he asked the bartender.

He didn't need to dull his senses. He needed to cool off.

That dress. He'd barely been able to keep his eyes off of her.

Lecher.

Why did it have to be her?

He couldn't afford to mess up a good thing. She'd come along when he'd needed someone desperately. She’d become indispensable in his son's life.

Bo would be lost without her.

Which meant that Jace couldn't screw things up. The fact that he'd discovered just how attractive she was didn't matter. Couldn't.

She was nothing like Patricia.

He tried to dredge up the grief that had been so overwhelming in the beginning.

But after two years, what he felt was... sadness. He doubted the ache would ever go away completely.

But it no longer felt like he was drowning.

Had he moved on without even meaning to?

He'd quickly found in those first dark days that he couldn't afford to stay in bed. Bo had to eat. Three meals a day. And his son never missed it when Jace didn’t eat, too, so he forced himself to join his son at meals and swallow a few bites even when he'd had no hunger pangs.

And the ranch didn't run itself. Animals needed to be fed. They couldn't care for themselves, and Patricia would've kicked his butt—even from the grave—if he'd squandered the savings they'd worked so hard to put away for Bo's future.

So he'd worked, even though he'd had to numbly fight his way through it.

Then Bo's maternal grandmother had offered to bring Bo to live with her because Jace had to work such long hours on the ranch.

He'd hired Amber within the week. She'd been a godsend when he'd needed her most.

And he would not repay her by hitting on her. She needed to feel safe in her workplace, which happened to be his home. And hers.

He gulped his water.

It didn't help.

He turned to face the room.

Chuck Randolf approached the bar.

Jace nodded his hello. He was four or five years the man's senior. Chuck owned a small spread on the other side of town.

Jace didn't know the man well, which is why he was surprised when Chuck sidled up, a glass in hand.

"Cantrell. Happy holidays."

"Same to you," Jace answered.

"How'd your alfalfa crop fare this year?"

Jace forced a smile. Chuck was a distraction. He could use one of those right now.

"A little dry this summer, but we made it all right. The herd should be fine for the winter."

Jace hadn't grown up on a ranch. His mom and dad had lived in the city—still did—but he'd read so many westerns as a kid that he'd begged his parents to send him to a summer camp hosted on a working ranch. He'd fallen in love with the life.

"And you?" He had to keep his mind from wandering, because it kept wanting to wander right back in Amber's direction...

"It might be a little tight this winter," Chuck said. "I've made it through worse."

Ranching was certainly a fickle business. One year you might break even. The next, go in the hole. And if you were really lucky, you might have a banner year.

But Jace had never wanted to do anything else.

"I was wondering..." Chuck scratched the back of his neck and, if Jace wasn't mistaken, flushed a little.

He waited for whatever was coming. The community of Sawyer Creek helped each other. Chuck was probably going to ask to use his tractor or some such—although the man did live kind of far away for a borrow like that.

"Do you know if Miss Moore is seeing anybody?"

"Amber?" Jace asked dumbly. Of course the man meant Amber. Jace had noticed her tonight. Why wouldn't other guys?

And Jace realized he didn't know. Was there someone she cared about?

"I don't know," Jace said. "But I take it you're interested?"

The other man shifted his boots. "Yeah, I... I am. She taught my niece in Sunday school a while back, and..." Chuck scratched that itch again.

No. Jace squelched the jealous voice that wanted to shut the man down.

He took a good look at him. Chuck was all right. Somebody Jace had known casually for years. The age gap between him and Amber wasn't too big.

The only thing making Jace want to squash him like a bug was his own jealousy.

Which was out-of-place, considering he hadn't even noticed Amber as a woman before tonight.

"So what do you want? My blessing?" he grated out.

Chuck's skin had gone from a healthy tan to cherry-red. "No, I—" He sounded almost strangled.

It was almost enough for Jace to feel sorry for him. Almost.

Chuck took a deep breath. Braced himself. "I've had this problem since, well... forever."

What?

"I can't talk to women. Especially pretty ones. I get all jammed up, and it's really awkward."

"So, you want an introduction?" This was getting better and better. No way.

"I was hoping you'd... I don't know. Woo her a little for me and then introduce me."

Like Cyrano de Bergerac?

Instinctively, Jace reached up and touched his nose.

Nope. Normal-sized honker.

It might've been a good fifteen years since high school, but he remembered the play they'd been forced to read in English class. Mostly because Patricia had loved the romance.

He'd just thought Cyrano was a loser.

And now Chuck was asking for his help.

Chuck watched him with a look that was both hopeful and knowing. Like he expected Jace to reject his request outright.

"You've got to be kidding, man," Jace said.

He did feel a little sorry for the guy, but...

He let his gaze wander over the crowd, because his crazy awareness of Amber hadn't gone away, and he knew right where she was standing, half-out of sight behind the huge Christmas tree.

She was talking with an older woman. Mrs. Pickles—no, Mrs. Pritchard. She was a librarian, one who read to the kids in a reading hour every week. The kids called her Mrs. Pickles.

Amber was smiling at something the older woman had said, the

lights from the tree catching golden highlights in her hair.

She deserved someone special in her life, didn't she? A love like the one he'd shared with Patricia.

And it couldn't be him. He knew that better than anyone else.

Why shouldn't it be Chuck?

But really. Why did he have to be the "helper" here?

Maybe it was a good thing. If he set her up with Chuck, his attraction for her would have to wane, wouldn't it?

He rubbed one hand down his face, suddenly weary.

"Look, I don't know if she's seeing someone. I can ask. Maybe tell her some things about you. But I'm not going to romance her for you, all right?"

Chuck lit up.

And Jace felt a little like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Once I get going, you come over and introduce yourself, got it?"

Chuck nodded enthusiastically.

Jace set his shoulders and started to find a way through the crowd.

What had he just signed up for?