Megan was tired, too. She could have left and taken Daniel home herself. By now, she could be relaxing with her feet up, sipping herbal tea and reading a good book. But here she was, ignoring her weary feet, smiling as she chatted with customers and filled cup after cup of hot cocoa. She would be seeing those little floating marshmallows in her dreams tonight.

At least the burn on her fingers didn’t hurt much. Conner’s first-aid spray had taken care of the pain. But with people still coming in through the ranch gate, the work showed no sign of letting up.

By now, it was getting dark and cold. Conner had hung lanterns on the sleigh. Megan could see the approaching lights and hear the cheery jingle of sleigh bells as he returned from one more run. Stopping next to the house, he helped unload his passengers. Then, signaling for a break, he strode over to the fire.

“How are you holding up?” he asked Megan as he stripped off his gloves and held his hands to the heat.

“Fine. Want some cocoa?”

“Sure. No marshmallows.” He took the cup she handed him, his cold fingers brushing hers. “How’s the burn?”

“Not bad.”

“You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“I don’t mind, really.” Megan handed two cups to the older couple who’d just taken a seat by the fire.

“I’m going to owe you dinner for this—and not just at Buckaroo’s. There’s a nice restaurant on the way to Cottonwood Springs. Best steaks you ever tasted. We could go tomorrow if you’re free.”

Megan’s pulse skipped. Was the man actually asking her out on a date? “Aren’t you working tomorrow?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We decided to close on Sunday this year. Good idea, I think. We could use the break. So could the horses. And people can buy trees the rest of the week. So, are we good for dinner?”

She hesitated, but only for an instant. “That sounds fine,” she said.

“Great. If you’re still here when we close, we can make plans. If not, I’ll call you.” He glanced back toward the sleigh, where the next family was waiting for their ride. “Gotta go now.” He turned away and strode back across the yard.

* * *

By 8:15, a chilly wind had sprung up, and the stream of customers had dwindled to an end. Before leaving, Warren doused the fire in the pit, bundled up the willow sticks, and boxed the remaining bags of marshmallows. Following his example, Megan turned off the portable stove and covered it, put away the leftover cups, and washed the pan and ladle in the kitchen.

She was worn-out, but she’d stayed on the job. Was it to prove to herself, and maybe to Conner, that she could? Or was she acting on some deeper need?