by Jennie Marts
She didn’t exactly hug Judith when she came in, but she touched her arm and helped take the piles of gifts she carried. Judith wore her trademark pearls, but today she had on jeans, short leather boots, and a bright-red Christmas sweatshirt. She seemed younger somehow, and her face didn’t have that severe, pinched look she usually got around Harper. She instructed Logan to bring in the slow cooker of stuffing she had on the floor of the car, then headed to the kitchen with an offer to help set the table.
Bryn and Zane showed up next with a turkey, a pie, and Rachel and Josh in tow. Etta’s red convertible pulled in after that, and Harper burst out laughing as the older woman came through the front door wearing a headband of blinking Christmas lights in her silver hair.
Etta passed Logan a pan of sweet potatoes, handed Romeo, decked out in a Christmas sweater, to Floyd, and gave Harper a hug. “I do love a good party. Got any eggnog? And by eggnog, I mean brandy.”
Harper laughed. “I’ll see what I can find.”
It felt like a real family gathering as the house filled with laughter. They spread the dishes on the counter, and everyone filled their plates and settled around the table to eat. Their conversation jumped from hockey to football, from cattle to the latest television show to binge.
After Rachel shared a funny story about a customer at the diner, Harper asked her if she’d figured out what she wanted to do.
“I’m not sure,” Rachel said. “It would be great to stay here, but I can’t afford to live in Colorado. I’d love to find a small house to rent in a quiet town where I could start over.”
Harper narrowed her eyes, the wheels in her head already turning. “How do you feel about Kansas?”
“I like Kansas. I have a sister who lives there.”
“Why don’t you rent my house? It’s in a small town in eastern Kansas and available in a couple of weeks. There’s a college student renting the basement for winter break, but she’ll be moving back to the dorms soon. It’s not big or fancy, but it has three bedrooms and a great kitchen.” She quoted her a sum, knowing it was much less than what a rental cost in Colorado, but that it would cover the monthly mortgage payment plus give Harper a few hundred dollars extra.
“I love the idea,” Rachel said. “Thank you.”
Logan was seated next to her, and he leaned his head toward her ear. His breath tickled her neck as he lowered his voice to ask, “Does this mean you’re staying?”
A grin tugged at the corners of her lips, but before she could answer, the front door opened and a tall cowboy wearing a leather duster, boots, and a ten-gallon hat stepped through. His arms were laden with brightly colored packages, and with his thick, white mustache and red flannel shirt, he looked like a cross between Sam Elliott and a cowboy Santa.
“Merry Christmas, Son,” he said, his voice deep and commanding as he looked at Logan. “Who the hell are all these people?”
“Hey, Dad.” Logan’s face broke into a grin as he got up to give the man a hearty handshake and a clap on the back. “You made it home. How’s Uncle Mac?”
“Ornery as ever. He practically kicked me out the door. Told me I needed to be home for Christmas, so I drove all night to get here.”
“Does Quinn know?”
“I called her when I hit town. I suspect she’ll be over here shortly.” He laid the presents on the sofa as most of the people at the table got up to greet him, and he almost smiled as Zane stepped toward him. “Good to see you, boy. You doing all right?”
Zane nodded and shook his hand.
“How’s your dad?”
“Same.”
“’Bout like I figured. Good to have you here.” He nodded to Judith and Ms. Etta. “Ladies. Merry Christmas.”
Bryn waved and introduced him to Rachel and Josh.
Harper wasn’t sure what to do. Her hands were sweating, and Floyd stood a little behind her as if he was suddenly shy. Logan’s dad was a little imposing, and he lived up to Logan’s description of a rough, tough cowboy.
Ham turned to her, and his expression softened. “You must be Harper. And Floyd.” He shook her son’s hand and nodded in her direction. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He chuckled when she peered at Logan. “Mostly from Quinn. But she told me you’re reported to make fried chicken that rivals my mother’s.”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.” Dang Quinn. She’d rather Logan’s sister would have said she cleaned the toilets well rather than insult this man’s mother’s home cooking.
“I look forward to testing the claim.” His lips curved into a roguish grin, and he offered her a wink before turning to look around the room.
He winced as he took in the tree. “Wow. What happened to this poor thing? Who picked this tree?”
Harper pressed her lips together to keep from laughing as Logan offered her a wink similar to his dad’s, then reluctantly told Ham, “Apparently I did.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m home. I hope you’ve been taking better care of the animals. Although I’m not sure. That momma cat is sittin’ on the porch, and she looks about half-starved.”
Harper breath caught in her throat as she jerked her head toward Logan. “Did he say ‘mama cat’?”
“It couldn’t be,” Logan said incredulously as they both rushed to the front door.
But it was. There on the front stoop sat the gray cat, her fur matted and her body thinner, but the notch in her ear unmistakable.
Harper leaned down and scooped the cat into her arms. “I can’t believe it. How did she get here?”
“It looks like she walked.”
“But didn’t you say Gus lived twenty miles from here?”
Logan’s eyes were wide as he stared in amazement at the cat in her arms. “At least. It must have taken her all this time to find her way back.”
The cat struggled in Harper’s arms as she heard the tiny meows of the three kittens who raced in from the kitchen. Harper set her on the floor and choked back tears as she watched the kittens tumble over their mother as she furiously licked their fur.
The group gathered around as Logan filled them in on how the cat had been gone for days. Harper made a saucer of shredded turkey and set it on the floor, and they all watched Nacho gobble it down, then go back to washing her kittens’ heads.
Logan took Harper’s hand and pulled her toward the Christmas tree. “I have something for you and figured now would be the time to give it you while everyone else is watching the cats.” He took a small, flat box wrapped in silver from under the tree and pressed it into her hands.
Harper shook her head. “This is too much. You’ve already given me more than I could have ever imagined.” She turned the box over in her hands, marveling at the pretty paper. “When did you even have time to shop?”
“I didn’t. This belonged to my grandma. I thought of it last night and knew it would be perfect, so I dug through the boxes in the attic until I found it. I checked with Quinn and my dad, and they were both good with me giving it to you.”
Her hands trembled as she unwrapped an antique jewelry case. She gasped as she released the gold hinge and opened the box, revealing a delicate silver chain with a pendant in the shape of a star. A small diamond in the center of the star caught the light from the Christmas tree, and Harper felt like she couldn’t breathe.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“We talked about stars the other night and how they represented whatever it was you really wanted, like your deepest desire, and my deepest desire is standing right in front of me. I want to have a life with you, and Floyd. You said the Christmas star led the wise men to everything they would ever need. And I might not be the wisest man—in fact, I’ve done some pretty stupid things—but this thing with you, asking you to stay, believing we can really have something here, is the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”
He lifted the necklac
e from the box, and she turned and raised her hair. The chain was cool on her heated skin, and she clutched the pendant in her hand as Logan fastened the clasp, then turned her back around to face him.
His voice was soft, earnest, as he cupped her cheek in his palm. “You said you see the star as a promise of something amazing ahead, so I’m giving you this star with the promise that we’ve got a lot of amazing things ahead. I’m in love with you, Harper. And I want a life with you. With you and your son. So, will you stay here? With me?”
She nodded, a smile pulling at her lips as she finally found her voice. “I love you too. I tried not to. I swear I did, but you won me over with your terrible singing, and your relationship with your marshmallow-eating girlfriend, and your awesome air-guitar moves. I’ve spent the last several years feeling like I couldn’t depend on anyone but myself, like the only shoulder I had to lean on was my own. But I was wrong, because you’ve got some pretty broad shoulders, and you’ve proven that you’ll be there for me. And for my son. I don’t have to do everything on my own. I want to stay. I want to stay and build not just a life, but a family with you and Floyd. I want my son to have a relationship with Judith, and I want to introduce him to Star. I want to watch him play a hockey game with you as his coach. I want to fix mashed potatoes and your favorite gravy and sit at the table and eat meals with you. I want to wake up with you every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. Is that what you meant by ‘stay’?”
“That sounds perfect. You’re perfect.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not. I’ve done all sorts of terrible things. But I’m trying to make up for every one of them.”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “I don’t care about all that. I meant you’re perfect for me.”
She gazed into his eyes, searching for a trace of uncertainty, but all she saw was love. “And you’re perfect for me. And so is this necklace. I love it.”
She looked down at the pendant, then back up at him. “You said we’ve always used the stars to guide us. That if we’re ever lost, or can’t find our way, the stars will lead us home. And I look around this room—at your dad, at the sweet mama cat who traveled so far to be with her babies, at my baby as he stands there laughing with his grandma—and it feels like I’m witnessing a true Christmas miracle. Like we all somehow found our way home.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Logan pulled her to him and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “Merry Christmas, Peaches.”
The End…
…and just the beginning…
Acknowledgments
As always, my love and thanks goes out to my family! Todd, thanks for always believing in me and for being the real life role model of a romantic hero. You cherish me and make me laugh every day and the words it would take to truly thank you would fill a book on their own. I love you. Always.
Thank you to my sons, Tyler and Nick, for always supporting me and listening to a zillion plotting ideas. I love you both more than my heart could ever imagine.
I can’t thank my editor, Deb Werksman, enough for believing in me and this book, for your amazing editing talents, and for always making me feel like a rock star. Thanks to Dawn Adams for this incredible cover that perfectly captures Logan Rivers and the setting of Rivers Gulch. I love it so much! I also love being part of the Sourcebooks Sisterhood, and I offer buckets of thanks to the whole Sourcebooks Casablanca team for all of your efforts and hard work in making this book happen.
Huge shout out thanks to my agent, Nicole Resciniti at The Seymour Agency, for your advice and your guidance. You are the best, and I’m so thankful you are part of my tribe.
A big thank you to my parents—all of them. I appreciate everything you do and am so thankful for your support of this crazy writing career. Thanks to my mom, Lee Cumba, for so many lunches where we talk writing and plots. And thanks to my dad, Bill Bryant, for spending hours giving me ranching and farming advice and plot ideas.
Ginormous thanks goes out to my plotting partner and dear friend, Kristin Miller. The time and energy you take to run through plot ideas with me is invaluable! Your friendship and writing support means the world to me—I couldn’t do this writing thing without you!
Special acknowledgment goes out to the women who walk this writing journey with me every single day. The ones who make me laugh, who encourage and support, who offer great advice and sometimes just listen. Thank you, Michelle Major, Lana Williams, Anne Eliot, Ginger Scott, Cindy Skaggs, and Beth Rhodes. XO
Big thanks goes out to my street team, Jennie’s Page Turners, and for all of my readers: the people who have been with me from the start, my loyal readers, my dedicated fans, the ones who have read my stories, who have laughed and cried with me, who have fallen in love with my heroes and have clamored for more! Whether you have been with me since the first book or just discovered me with this book, know that I write these stories for you, and I can’t thank you enough for reading them. Sending love, laughter, and big Colorado hugs to you all!
About the Author
Jennie Marts is the USA Today bestselling author of award-winning books filled with love, laughter, and always a happily-ever-after. Readers call her books “laugh out loud” funny and the “perfect mix of romance, humor, and steam.” Fic Central claimed one of her books was “the most fun I’ve had reading in years.”
She is living her own happily-ever-after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two dogs, and a parakeet who loves to tweet to the oldies. She’s addicted to Diet Coke, adores Cheetos, and believes you can’t have too many books, shoes, or friends.
Her books include the contemporary western romances of the Cowboys of Creedence and the Hearts of Montana series, the cozy mysteries of the Page Turners series, the hunky hockey-playing men in the Bannister Brothers books, and the small-town romantic comedies in the Cotton Creek romance series.
Jennie loves to hear from readers.
Connect online:
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If you can’t get enough of the cowboys of Creedence, read on for a sneak peek at
A Cowboy State of Mind
Book 1 in Jennie Marts’s new series, Creedence Horse Rescue!
Chapter 1
The still-nameless dog jumped into the cab as Zane Taylor opened the door of his pickup. The late spring sun warmed his back, but the heat was light compared to the weight of the decision he bore on his shoulders. His former boss, Maggie, had been nagging him to come back to Montana, to his old job on the ranch. She’d texted him the day before to say she’d taken in a herd of wild stallions who needed to be broke. He’d texted back with a vague reply, but knew it was time to give her an answer. Time to get back on the road and out of Creedence. But the reason he was so fired up to leave was also the reason he wasn’t quite ready to walk away.
He shrugged the soreness from his shoulders. He’d had a good morning with the horse—maybe Rebel, the black stallion he’d been trying to break for weeks, could feel the warmth in the air as well. Although it was Colorado, so they could still get a snowstorm or two before spring reluctantly slid into summer.
“Nice job today, Horse Whisperer,” Logan Rivers, his current boss, and one of the few people he called a friend, hollered from the corral where he was putting another horse through the paces.
Zane waved a hand in his direction, ignoring the comment, as he turned the engine over and pulled the door shut. He wasn’t fond of the nickname, even though Logan had been using it since they were in high school and Zane had started working summers at Logan’s family’s ranch, Rivers Gulch.
He could grudgingly admit he did have a gift with horses, especially the ones deemed dangerous or wild, somehow connecting with the animals better than he ever had with people. Maybe because he knew what it was like to be labeled and to endure abuse or trauma and something in his manner told the horses they coul
d trust him—that he wouldn’t hurt them. Or maybe because animals didn’t care about or judge him for the two-inch ragged scar streaking down his face.
That damn scar. His fingers itched to cover the coarse skin that started at his eyebrow and ran a jagged course across his cheek and down toward his jaw. Instead, he brushed a hand over the dog’s ear and focused on counting his breaths, an exercise he’d learned in the military.
The black-and-white border collie mix rested her head on Zane’s leg, and he absently stroked her neck as he drove toward Creedence, the small town nestled in the mountains where no one was a stranger and everyone knew not just your business, but your cousin’s as well.
He lowered the windows and turned on the radio, hoping to banish the dredged up memories now riding shotgun in the pickup. Instead, he contemplated the few errands he needed to run after grabbing a plate of biscuits and gravy at the diner. And maybe hoped to see a certain blonde waitress who had been taking up way too many of his thoughts the last few months.
He slowed, his brow furrowing, as he recognized that same waitress’s car sitting empty on the side of the road. The car was an older nondescript blue sedan, but there was no mistaking the colorful bumper stickers stuck to the trunk. A bright blue one read, “What if the hokey pokey really is what it’s all about,” and the hot pink one above the back tail-light read, “It was me, I let the dogs out.”
His heart rate hastened as his gaze went from the empty vehicle to a hundred yards up the road where a woman walked along the side of the highway, her ponytail bouncing with each step and a light-colored dog keeping pace at her heels. Which was pretty impressive, in and of itself, since the dog only had three legs.
But then, everything about Bryn Callahan was kind of bouncy, and she was just as impressive as her dog. The woman was always upbeat and positive. Even now, with her car sittin’ busted on the side of the road, her steps still seemed to spring. The light glinted off her blonde hair—like the rays of the sun were drawn to her. Unlike him—who felt like the light was repelled and could only shy away from the dark places living within him.