by Maisey Yates
Jackson let out a long, slow breath and rocked back on his heels. He didn’t know what the hell to do with any of this. Cricket looked at him and talked about fate. She had talked about him and her as if they were something preordained. And his dad was making this all sound a lot like choice. And a whole collection of hard ones at that.
But something else Cricket said burned bright inside of him.
They weren’t their parents.
And they weren’t. It was true.
Because Jackson didn’t feel conflicted or confused about whether or not he should be with Cricket because he had feelings for someone else. He’d never had feelings for anyone like he did for Cricket. And he wasn’t young and naive. But what he was, was damn tired of feeling like a sacrifice. And if he was truly honest with himself, he was angry at his mother. Because she’d made him feel that way. Whether she’d meant to or not. And hearing his dad say he wished she hadn’t dumped that on Jackson gave voice to all these things he’d tried not to think about.
“You know, son,” Cash said. “She was sick, not a saint. A wonderful woman to be sure, but flawed like any of us. I know she didn’t mean to hurt you. But the fact of the matter is…she did. Doesn’t mean she didn’t love you.”
“I know,” Jackson said.
“For what it’s worth, she would’ve walked into fire for you. Marrying me was only a hardship for part of the time.”
“Do you regret the way things happened?”
“I regret the way I handled them. I regret that I didn’t find a way to be a better husband. I’ve never regretted you. I’ve never regretted the life your mother and I built together. But I didn’t let go of the past the way I should have, because your vows say you forsake all others. And I never cheated, but I kept that desire and those memories in a special place inside myself. You make choices every day, Jackson. And I don’t know that you’ll ever be able to live a life with no regrets, but you should make sure you live a life that’s honest. Those games we all played, they were games. And games don’t amount to much. Nothing more than needless heartache, anyway.”
“I don’t want to feel like she has to marry me.”
“She seems like a modern enough girl.”
“I told her I wouldn’t marry her.”
“Well hell, boy,” Cash said. “I didn’t raise you to wimp out on your responsibilities.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to make sure she doesn’t see me as another responsibility.”
“Well, ask her if she does. Don’t just try to protect yourself. Ask her how she feels.”
“How will she know?”
“How will she know?” Cash repeated. “You want too much. You’re going to have to trust her. You’re going to have to believe her. Trust would’ve gone a long way in fixing my marriage. Trust, faith and honesty. If I could do more of any three things, it would be those. And we would’ve had a different life.”
Jackson loved Cricket. He did. He was sure of that, standing there in this house filled with all these memories. All those weighted, hurtful memories that had seen him silently carrying around a whole lot of baggage he hadn’t realized was there.
And she had been right. He was protecting himself. Because the burden of feeling like an obligation to his mother, a debt that he’d never been able to repay, haunted him. And the last thing he wanted was to be that burden for Cricket.
But he would have to ask. And he would have to trust.
And he would have to hope that…well, that Cricket really did know everything. And that she had faith in all those things she’d shouted at him before she left.
She was right. He’d lost the bet.
But it was one he was glad to lose.
* * *
The next morning, when Cricket opened her door wearing that red dress from the poker tournament, that oversized leather jacket, cowboy hat, but no cigar, Jackson was standing there. He looked haunted, like a man possessed. Like a man who hadn’t slept all night.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing?”
“Well, obviously I was on my way to stage a very serious scheme.”
“Very obviously. Do you have a pistol on you?”
“No pistol.” Her heart hammered, hard, as she looked up at him. As she tried not to hope what his presence meant.
“I fold,” he said.
“You…what?”
“I fold, Cricket. I’m done. I surrender to this, to you. And you’re right. I was afraid. I was a coward. A damn coward. Because I didn’t want to face the fact that I wasn’t really afraid of being my father, I was afraid of being my mother. Sitting all bitter and hollow at my kitchen table and telling my teenage child I was only in a marriage for their sake. That there was no love. No, the real thing I was afraid of was being the one who felt unloved. Because I have to tell you, when my mom said all that to me, that’s how I felt. Like a burden and an obligation that she should never have had to take on. And I couldn’t stand being that for the rest of my life. Not with you. But I love you, Cricket. And I’m willing to be that. I’m willing to do anything if it means being with you, having you. I’m willing to be an obligation, and to earn your love later. I know you want to be free. I know you want to start a life, and I know that having a child right now, and settling down with me, doesn’t have much of anything to do with that. But I think…this is fate. And far be it from me to go against her.”
“Jackson,” she whispered, her heart expanding in her chest. “You’re not a burden to me. I went to my sister’s house last night and I complained to her about how you rejected me. And then they asked me if I told you that I loved you, and I realized that I hadn’t. That was me protecting myself. I wanted to know what you felt, what you thought, before I put myself out there. It was easy to talk about marriage, and so much harder to talk about my heart. Because I’ve never done it. I’ve never seriously talked to anyone about how I felt. Except for you. And I’ve done more of that over the past month than ever in my life. Told you more about who I am, what hurt me, and what made me who I am. The bottom line is, above all else, and with everything else shoved aside, I love you. I have loved you for years. And I would want to be with you, pregnant or not. It was just the thing that got me up the mountain. It was just the thing that forced me to be as brave as I was, and even then, I wasn’t all that brave. So I didn’t really have a right to yell at you.”
“You had plenty of right.”
“Jackson,” she whispered. “I really, really love you. And I have never wanted much of anything in my whole life enough to fight for it. Except for you. Only you. I can’t imagine another person, another feeling, another anything that would ever be worth all this hassle. You’re not an obligation. You’re my inevitability.”
“Cricket Maxfield,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking at her, square in the eye. “You’re the surprise I didn’t see coming. Little Cricket, you’re the thing I’ve been missing. I didn’t know the right place to look to fill the hole in my heart. But you’ve known all along. You are wiser than me. Smarter than me. Braver than me. And I am going to love you today, and every day after. I don’t care if some days are hard. I don’t care if there are sleepless nights, or if I have to move out of my house and into your farmhouse. Because nothing matters but you. And that’s… My dad said to me, that obligation and love often go together, and I expect that he’s right. Love is what makes you want to fulfill that obligation. But this is different. Everything else feels like an obligation. You feel like breathing. And that’s as deep as I can explain it.”
“Is it in your blood?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“Yes,” he responded. “It’s in my blood. My bones. My heart.”
“Mine too.”
And then he kissed her, and she couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t breathe. She could only feel. And somehow, she knew she f
elt the same thing he did. Somehow, she knew that in this moment they were one. And it wasn’t a pregnancy or marriage vows that would make it so. They could never have parted even if they’d wanted to. Because it was too late. The chips had already gone down. The game was over.
And in the end, they had both won.
Cricket Maxfield had won any number of specious prizes in her life. And she had often felt uncertain about her place in the world. But the biggest and best prize she’d ever won was loving Jackson Cooper and having him love her back. And if all the years of feeling misfit and frizzy and gap-toothed and like she didn’t belong was what it had taken for her to get here, then she counted them all worth it.
She wouldn’t change a single thing, not about herself, not about anything. Because it had brought her here. To this man, to his arms.
And that was truly the greatest prize of all.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488070334
The Rancher’s Wager
Copyright © 2021 by Maisey Yates
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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She lifted her veil as she made her way toward him, and his heart slammed into his chest.
“I love you! I cannot go through with this wedding.” She leaped into his arms. He instinctively placed his hands on her waist as she clung to him.
“What the…” But he didn’t finish what he was going to say because she pressed her lips to his and all rational thought left his brain. His arms tightened around her and the silence of the stunned crowd matched the skip in his heartbeat.
She broke the kiss a bare second after it had begun, leaving him feeling shorted.
“Do not say a word.” Her warm breath teased his ear, rousing a fire in his belly. “If you tell them you have the wrong wedding, my brothers will beat you to a pulp for kissing me. I suggest we take advantage of the surprise and run.”
* * *
Running Away with the Bride
by Sophia Singh Sasson is part of the
Nights at the Mahal series.
Dear Reader,
Fear is one of the most powerful emotions we feel when we fall in love. It’s often hard to trust another person not to break our heart, to let them peer into our soul and hope that they like what they see.
Divya is a traditional Indian woman who was ready to get married to a suitable Indian boy until a wedding crasher makes her realize she wants more out of life. But when she pictured her future husband, he was tall and dark, not white and sandy blond with eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea. It’s about more than looks—it’s about whether he can understand her culture and her family. Can he understand who she really is?
For Ethan, his heart is already in pieces and he can’t trust Divya not to shatter it further. He’s going to have to decide whether she’s worth the risk.
I hope you enjoy this book and the pieces of my Indian heritage that I’m sharing with it.
To get free book extras, visit my website at sophiasasson.com and please follow me on BookBub, @sophiasinghsasson.
I love hearing from readers, so please find me on Twitter (@sophiasasson) or Facebook (sophiasassonauthor) or email me at [email protected].
Enjoy!
Sophia
Running Away with the Bride
Sophia Singh Sasson
Sophia Singh Sasson puts her childhood habit of daydreaming to good use by writing stories that will give you hope, make you laugh, cry and possibly snort tea from your nose. She was born in Mumbai, India, and has lived in India and Canada. Currently she calls the chaos of Washington, DC, home. She’s the author of the Welcome to Bellhaven and State of the Union series. She loves to read, travel to exotic locations in the name of research, bake fancy cakes, explore water sports and watch Bollywood movies. Hearing from readers makes her day. Contact her through sophiasasson.com.
Books by Sophia Singh Sasson
Harlequin Desire
Nights at the Mahal
Marriage by Arrangement
Running Away with the Bride
Harlequin Heartwarming
State of the Union
The Senator’s Daughter
Mending the Doctor’s Heart
Welcome to Bellhaven
First Comes Marriage
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or sophiasasson.com, for more titles.
You can also find Sophia on Facebook, along with other Harlequin Desire authors, at Facebook.com/harlequindesireauthors!
To all those who have been afraid to go
for what they really want.
Acknowledgments
This book, and the entire Nights at the Mahal
series, would not have happened without my
awesome editor, Charles Griemsman, and my
agent, Barbara Rosenberg.
Most of all, thank you to my readers.
Your reviews, emails and letters keep me writing.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
<
br /> Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER ONE
“Stop this wedding!”
Ethan Connors searched the stage on the back lawn of the Mahal Hotel where a mandap had been set up. The couple was seated on floor-level settees under a pergola-like structure in front of a small fire. A priest dressed in loose orange clothing chanted and threw things into the fire, making it crackle and smoke.
Ethan wished he’d paid more attention to the wedding sequence the one time he’d been to an Indian wedding with Pooja. He had no idea if he’d made it in time to stop hers.
At his outcry, the bride, groom and the dozen or so people surrounding them looked at him with surprise. The priest froze and the chatter of the crowd behind Ethan died. He could feel the stares of hundreds of guests on him. He tried to catch Pooja’s eyes but the heavy bridal veil covered her head and fell halfway across her face. The smoke from the fire swirled around her. He looked at the older Indian couple seated next to her. Were they Pooja’s parents? If the glare they were shooting him was any indication, they were.
A knot twisted in his stomach. After six months of dating, including three months of living together, she’d never introduced him to her parents, and he couldn’t pick them out based on the pictures he’d seen on her bookshelf.
A younger man seated next to the bride stood and made his way to Ethan. “I don’t know who you are but you’re interrupting my sister’s wedding. You best leave quietly before I call security.” The man’s voice was low and icy.
But Ethan was determined he wasn’t going to lose her again. He may have come to his senses in the eleventh hour, but he was going to save himself, and Pooja. She’d known the guy sitting next to her for three months. How could she marry him? I want to know my husband and be sure that we’re compatible, she’d said to Ethan. He and Pooja were compatible. Why hadn’t he seen that sooner? When she’d first brought up marriage—and how her family wouldn’t approve of her relationship with a white Midwesterner unless he put a ring on her finger—he’d thought he needed more time to figure things out. But what was left to think about? He was pushing forty. His brother was ten years younger and had been married for nine years and had two kids. Pooja was the only woman who had deemed him worthy enough to even discuss marriage. He wasn’t going to let her get away a second time.