Page 3 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

JW

As evening approached, I made my way to their cabin. The porch light glowed against the gathering dusk, and through the windows, I could see the family moving about inside—Irish helping the boys out of their winter gear while Flynn tended to the baby.

I knocked, and Irish answered.

“Good evening,” I said. “I hope you’ve had time to settle in.”

“We have, thank you,” Irish replied. “Everything is perfect. The boys are already planning tomorrow’s snow fort construction.”

Flynn appeared beside him, the baby now calm in her arms. “Is there anything we need to know about the ranch? Any evening activities or protocols?”

“That’s why I’m here.” I shifted, feeling the weight of this invitation more than I’d expected. “Rather than having you dine alone in the cabin on your first night, I’d be honored if you’d join me in the main lodge. Chef Alton has prepared something special to welcome you to Sangre Vista.”

The couple exchanged one of those quick, wordless conversations that spoke of their close connection. Flynn’s eyebrows rose with a question, and Irish gave an imperceptible nod.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Flynn said. “Are you certain the boys won’t be too much disruption? They’re excited about being somewhere new, which translates to extra energy.”

“I’m looking forward to dining with the whole family,” I assured her. “Shall we say seven o’clock? That should give you time to get everyone ready.”

“Seven sounds perfect,” Irish confirmed.

I returned to the lodge, where the staff was putting the finishing touches on the evening preparations. The main dining room had been arranged with a single, large table near the massive stone fireplace. Warm lighting and fresh greenery created a welcoming atmosphere.

Sarah appeared with high chairs and booster seats. “Where would you like these?”

“Near the parents, but where the boys can see the fire,” I directed. “And make sure there’s space for them to move around if needed.”

Alton emerged from the kitchen, his face flushed from the heat of cooking. “The welcome dinner is ready. Herb-crusted salmon and beef tenderloin for the adults, with simple sides. For the children, I’ve prepared chicken strips and mac and cheese.”

“And something for the baby?”

“I have pureed vegetables and fruits standing by, in case the parents need them.”

At the designated time, the Warrick family appeared at the lodge’s entrance.

The twins had been cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes, though Rooker had a small stain on his shirtsleeve.

Flynn wore a burgundy sweater, while Irish had changed into a navy dress shirt.

The baby was alert in her carrier, dark eyes taking in the new surroundings.

“This is wonderful,” Flynn said as I led them into the dining room.

“Mr. JW!” Paxon exclaimed, running toward the fireplace. “There’s a big fire!”

“It is big,” I agreed, kneeling to his level. “And it’s very hot.”

Rooker joined his brother, both boys captivated by the flames. Irish moved to supervise while Flynn settled the baby in the high chair next to the table.

“You’ve gone to so much trouble,” she said, looking around the room.

“It’s my pleasure. Sangre Vista exists to create memorable experiences for our guests.”

As we took our seats, I watched the family interact.

Irish maintained a protective awareness of his surroundings while remaining relaxed with his children.

Flynn juggled multiple demands, yet she never seemed frazzled or overwhelmed.

The twins, despite their energy, responded to their parents’ instructions.

“How long have you owned the ranch?” Flynn asked as the first course was served.

“Several years now,” I replied. “I transformed it from a working ranch into the guest operation you see today.”

“What made you choose New Mexico?” Irish inquired, cutting food for Paxon while keeping one eye on Rooker.

“The mountains spoke to me,” I said, which was true enough. “Once you see these peaks, others seem less impressive.”

Flynn glanced toward the windows, where the light of the moon outlined the Sangre de Cristo range. “They are magnificent. Somehow more enchanting than Crested Butte.”

“Every range has its own character,” I agreed. “These have witnessed centuries of history—Native peoples, Spanish explorers, settlers seeking new lives.”

“Like us,” Rooker announced, his face serious. “We’re exploring.”

Irish chuckled. “That’s right, buddy. We’re adventurers, aren’t we?”

Both boys smiled before digging back into their food.

As the meal progressed, I was drawn into the family’s easy conversation.

“The boys have been talking nonstop about seeing your stables. They help with ours at home, but they’re still too young for riding,” said Flynn.

“We have some gentle horses that enjoy meeting children,” I said. “Perhaps tomorrow, we could arrange an introduction.”

“Yes!” both boys chorused, bouncing in their seats.

“After breakfast,” Irish added. “And only if you’re well-behaved.”

The baby had remained content throughout dinner. Now, as dessert arrived—chocolate tarts for the adults and sugar cookies shaped like stars for the children—she grew fussy.

“She’s usually asleep by now,” Flynn explained. “The travel and new environment have disrupted her schedule.”

Despite her best efforts, the baby’s cries began to fill the dining room. Irish stood to help, and I could see the parents’ embarrassment at the disruption.

“Why don’t you take her back to the cabin?” I suggested. “I’ll arrange for dessert to be delivered there, and you can all get settled for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Flynn asked, bouncing the agitated baby. “We hate to leave in the middle of dinner.”

“Family needs come first,” I assured her.

As they gathered their things, the twins protested leaving before they’d finished their cookies, but I arranged for the treats to be wrapped for them to take along.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Flynn said as they were leaving the lodge. “The dinner was incredible, and your hospitality has been beyond anything we expected.”

“My pleasure,” I replied. “Sleep well, and we’ll see about visiting the horses tomorrow.”

After they departed, I remained in the dining room, watching through the window as their figures moved along the illuminated path toward Pueblo Moon.

The evening had exceeded my expectations.

The family possessed a warmth and authenticity that made their company genuinely enjoyable, not merely an obligation.

Later, as I reviewed the day’s events in my office, I reflected on the questions they’d asked and the observations they’d made.

Flynn’s comment about the mountains feeling different struck me as perceptive.

Irish’s protective vigilance spoke of a man who took his family’s safety seriously, yet he remained open to new experiences.

My phone rang with a call from my security lead.

“Evening patrol complete,” he reported. “All quiet. The Warrick family’s lights are still on, but everything appears settled.”

“Thank you, Jim. Any weather concerns for tomorrow?”

“Clear skies predicted. Good day for outdoor activities if they’re interested.”

After hanging up, I walked through the lodge one final time, ensuring everything was secure for the night. The dining room still held the lingering scents of dinner and pine boughs, a pleasant reminder of the evening’s success.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, with its own traditions and activities. I’d begun planning ways to make the holiday special for our guests, especially for the twins, who seemed to find wonder in everything around them.

December 24 dawned clear and cold. I rose early, as was my habit, and began my rounds.

From my office window, I could see activity at Pueblo Moon—smoke rising from the chimney and movement behind the windows.

Sarah knocked on my door just after eight. “The Warricks called to ask about breakfast arrangements. Should I have it delivered to their cabin, or would they prefer the dining room?”

“I will ask what would make them most comfortable,” I responded.

“Also, Lisa wants to confirm the Christmas Eve activities you discussed. Farolito making this afternoon, carol singing this evening?”

“Yes, all confirmed. And make sure we have those wooden animals from Tomás ready for tonight’s gift exchange.” I’d commissioned gifts for the children from a local artisan and anticipated they’d arrive today.

I left the lodge and walked to Pueblo Moon to check on the family’s plans for the day. Flynn answered the door.

“Good morning,” she said, motioning me inside. “We were just discussing what to do with all this snow.”

“Any thoughts on breakfast?” I asked. “Sarah mentioned you’d called.”

“The boys are eager to explore, so we thought we might eat in the dining room if that’s convenient.”

“Of course. See you in thirty minutes?”

“Perfect.”

As I turned to leave, Flynn called after me. “JW? Thank you again for last night. It meant more than you know to have that kind of welcome on our first evening.”

I smiled, touched by her sincerity. “It was my pleasure. I hope today proves equally memorable.”

When the family arrived for breakfast, the twins were vibrating with excitement.

“What’s on the agenda?” Flynn asked as their meal was served. “The boys are dying to see those horses you mentioned.”

“After you’ve eaten and had time to digest,” I said, “we can visit the stables. Then this afternoon, I thought you might enjoy learning about farolitos —the luminarias we light on Christmas Eve.”

“What are those?” Paxon asked, syrup from his pancakes decorating his chin.

“Special lanterns that help guide the Holy Family to shelter,” I explained. “We make them from paper bags, sand, and candles.”

“Can we light them?” Rooker wanted to know.

“With supervision,” I assured him, earning approving nods from his parents.