The Cowboy Who Saved Christmas

by Jodi Thomas

  This inexperienced girl knew instinctively what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. And I was done for.

  The next three times—yes, three, over the last two weeks—had only gotten better. Just thinking of her face, now. Her smile, her beautiful body under my hands, her way of giving and receiving with complete abandon . . . unlike other women I’d bedded who remained stiff and compliant, like they were doing me some obligatory service. Like they all attended the same schooling for how to appropriately not enjoy sex. Even Winifred, who was going to be my wife, had just lay there sweetly, not daring to like it.

  Josie, on the other hand . . . Josie loved to be touched, and to touch me. She was all liquid warmth and breathless moans, shaking violently when she came undone around me. Alive, and exquisite.

  Any man would love that. But it was what followed, what came before and every in-between moment. The way she looked at me, touched my hand or my face or my arm, the way her whole face lit up when she’d see me. There was so much love there. So much raw emotion. We’d play a silly lovers’ game about who loved who the most, and it was all in fun, but at night when I lay in bed alone, the realization would hit me. It was so much more than just fun. And as that hard reality would wrap around my chest with a mixture of elation and fear, I’d be hit with a dark wall. We’d have the deepest conversations about life and love and the world, talks that shattered all our defenses and boundaries. Except for one.

  I was lying to her.

  Doubly lying. Not only did she not know that I was Travis Mason’s nephew, but being paid by him and her father to spy at the Lucky B. I hadn’t found anything, or heard one negative comment from any of the other hands, but that wasn’t the point.

  I knew enough about her to know she had a deep sense of integrity. Granted, she didn’t yet have any world experience to test it, but still. My instincts told me that she would walk away if I was honest with her. Possibly even lose respect for her father.

  I couldn’t stand the thought of losing her, but my own integrity was eating me alive.

  And now, with my uncle and Theodore insisting that I be at this ridiculous thing—for what? To blow my cover? It made no sense. No hands would be there, but it was a huge risk. Theodore didn’t know about the ruse; he just thought I was working elsewhere, but he was nosy and prone to eavesdropping.

  I was sure Josie would still come, regardless of my pleas. It was her birthday, after all. Of course, she’d want to come to a party. To try to bring a special memory to a day she dreaded every year. I’d swallowed my pride and the bitter bile that rose in my throat when I’d played the jealousy card, like a lesser man would, but I couldn’t think of any other way to get her to stay home. The real kick in the pants was knowing that it was that very streak of wild independence that made me so damn crazy about her.

  She would show up, on her father’s arm and look directly at me, and the whole room would know. She’d be surprised, and then confused, and then that thing we had would radiate off us and her father would punch me, and my uncle would kick me out, and chaos would ensue, and all the ridiculous Christmas decorations would be for nothing.

  But what could I do? Hide in the kitchen?

  No.

  I met my own eyes in the mirror with acute clarity. No more.

  “It’s done,” I murmured.

  I would tell her tonight. All of it. As soon as she arrived. She might get mad, but I had to hope that her feelings for me would win and she’d give me a chance to explain. We had no future if I kept up this lie, and no chance of being together at all if we didn’t come clean with her father.

  He might kill me.

  But I’d take that chance. Because—

  “Shit,” I muttered, realizing with a stab to the chest what came after that because. “You want to marry her.”

  “Ben-ja-min,” Theodore intoned outside my door, making my jaw clench.

  “What, The-o-dore?” I responded, pulling open the door to his perpetually unhappy expression.

  His right eyebrow lifted. “Your uncle asked me to come tell you that guests are arriving and you should come down.”

  Go down into hell, or the moment of truth. I blew out a breath.

  “Tell him I’m on my way.”

  “I’ll rush right to it,” Theodore said dryly. “And by the way, one of them is asking for you specifically.”

  My stomach flipped over. “The Bancrofts are here?”

  It was now or never. I’d pull her into the library and tell her everything. And then hit one knee and—God, that was terrifying. I’d done it before, and it was cold and awkward with no love and a lot of giggling, but I hadn’t been nervous. I hadn’t been anything. I had no idea it could feel like this. Like my whole life depended on her words.

  I had no ring, but that could come. Winifred kept hers, and that was a small price to pay for my freedom when I left. I couldn’t wait to see Josie now, my nerves shot to hell for a whole different reason. It would be okay. I had to believe that. And then afterward, I’d bring her here, to this room, and make love to her properly, in my bed instead of on a rock, watching her rumple my sheets. Well, no, that would have to come later, too. When her father wasn’t here.

  “Benjamin!” Theodore said, startling me.

  “What?”

  “I asked you why on earth the Bancrofts would be asking for you?”

  I blinked. “So, it isn’t them?” I asked. “Who is it?”

  “I believe it was a Miss Harwell,” he said, turning and continuing on.

  My feet took root in the wooden-planked floor, as his steps moved farther away.

  No.

  Winifred couldn’t have come here. All the way to Texas. Alone. But he didn’t mention my father being with her, and he would have known him, even after so many years gone. Suddenly propelled into panicked motion, I sprinted down the long hallway to the stairs.

  I heard her high-pitched laughter even before I reached the bottom. Saw her perfectly coifed blond locks and fake smile and head tilt that many perceived as graceful and quaint. I knew how much time she spent practicing that movement with her own reflection, so it was lost on me.

  “Winifred,” I said, a little more harshly than I intended.

  Her green eyes darted to me, her smile faltering a little, just for the span of a second before broadening into a dazzling greeting.

  “Benjamin!” she exclaimed, rushing to me. “It’s so good to see you!”

  I grabbed her hand and held her fast before she could hug me, stopping her show of affection. What I felt on that hand made me glance down. The ring.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay low. “And how did you—”

  “My cousin escorted me to Houston,” she said. “We arrived last week, actually, but I needed to rest and recover after such a long journey. I can’t believe you did that alone.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why did you make the trip, Winifred? And why is this”—I squeezed her finger discreetly, forcing my words through my teeth—“still on your finger?”

  “Because you gave it to me,” she said softly. “And I came because we need to—”

  Another hearty laugh divided my brain and turned me on my heel, shooting darts of worry straight through my chest. Henry Bancroft clapped Uncle Travis on the shoulder as they laughed mightily about something. As old friends do. All I could see was the vision on his arm.

  Josephine. My Josie. In a dress.

  I’d never seen her in a dress, oddly enough, and it was more than just an article of clothing on her. It was deep blue and fitted, and covered nearly every inch of skin, save for a frilly collar that she’d left partially unbuttoned. Purposefully, knowing her. The skirt flared out from her waist in a series of layers I instinctively knew she’d despise, but sweet Jesus, just looking at her made me forget my own name.

  “Benjamin,” Winifred reminded me.

  I walked straight past Mr. Bancroft, instead, to the stunning girl with the waterfall curls,
and hoped my trousers weren’t giving me away as I gazed down into her surprised eyes.

  “Ben,” she whispered.

  Chapter 5

  1899

  Josie

  So many thoughts bombarded at once, tumbling over one another. Contradictions clashing with what I knew as fact. The first being that Ben was here. My heart about leaped from my chest at the sight of him. The second was the automatic response to hide that feeling. Third—wait, why was he here? And looking like—good Lord, he was beautiful in a dark brown suit that made his eyes—but why would he be in a suit? How did he get an invitation?

  I glanced up at my father to see if he noticed, but . . . I was quite sure everyone noticed.

  Because Ben was standing directly in front of me. Holding out his hand. A very odd expression on his face.

  “What—I mean—” I stammered, unsure what tack to take.

  “Happy birthday, Josephine. May I speak with you for just a moment,” he said, darting a glance toward my father before meeting my eyes again.

  “Ben,” I said, licking my lips. It was okay. Of course we’d know each other. I knew all of the ranch hands at the Lucky B, but none of them would be at this party. “What are you doing?”

  “What’s going on?” my father said, his tone low. When I looked up, he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at Ben. Something was strange.

  “Josie,” Ben said. “Please. Just five minutes.”

  My hand was off my father’s arm in the next second, and onto Ben’s. Without another thought. Well, with quite a few thoughts, actually, and with the weight of a million eyes boring into me, but I didn’t care. I loved him so much. We’d been declaring our love since that first day under the bridge, when I’d given every part of myself to the only man I could ever imagine loving like this. I told him every time I saw him, and he’d pretend to be insulted and say I love you more. Then one day I’d gotten really brazen and told him to prove it. He had. That was quite pleasant.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to my father, daring to meet his gaze. “It’s—fine.”

  I had no idea if it was fine.

  “Benjamin,” called a female voice nearby. Something in the back of my brain said it might be relevant, but I was swimming too deeply in the fog.

  “Josephine.”

  My father’s voice. And my proper name. Never a good sign from his lips. But it landed at my back as I followed Ben into a library. And we closed the door to the outside world.

  Once again, it was just us, the way we knew how to be, but—nothing about this situation felt like us. Above my head, hanging from a hook on the nearest bookshelf, hung a branch of fresh mistletoe. It was the third one I’d seen since I walked through the front doors of Mr. Mason’s home. Someone here was a romantic.

  “What’s going on, Ben?” I asked, echoing my father’s question. “This is a bit much to steal a kiss, don’t you think? What on earth are you doing here?”

  Ben glanced fleetingly above our heads, and then closed his eyes, his hands warm on my upper arms. I felt goose bumps travel from the back of my neck down to the soles of my feet. Something big was happening. Something—possibly not good.

  “I love you, Josie Bancroft,” he said. “I swear on my life, I will love you until the day I die.”

  That was ominous. And the way he held me now, the way he looked at me—those goose bumps intensified.

  “I love you, too, Ben,” I said, winking at him. “I love you more.” My hands rested on his suit coat, bringing down my gaze to the fine leather I was touching. Nothing like the work clothes he wore every day. But then, I didn’t normally don fancy dresses either, so . . . But maybe it was about my birthday? It felt so off-balance. “Why are you here? How—”

  His lips were on mine, stopping my words. Soft. Bold. Incredibly needy, as his hands moved to hold my face as he kissed me as though he were memorizing the feel and taste of me.

  This wasn’t about a birthday surprise. Or Christmas anything. Something was wrong. Or big. Or both.

  I pulled back and looked into his eyes, narrowing mine.

  “Tell me,” I said. “Whatever it is. Tell me, right now.”

  Ben took in a long breath and released it slowly, while never breaking my gaze. My last thought as he opened his mouth to speak, was that nothing would ever be the same again.

  “Travis Mason is my uncle,” he said.

  Blinking, I pulled back an inch.

  “What?”

  “His brother, Lawrence, is my father,” he said. “and the long and the short of it is that I came here to work and—”

  “Wait,” I said, pushing back against the leather suit that suddenly felt foreign under my touch. “You told me—how did you end up at our—”

  “The theft at the Lucky B,” he said. “The food. The supplies.”

  “That’s you?” I cried, pushing harder against his hold.

  “No!” he said, shutting his eyes briefly. “Damn it, this isn’t going right,” he muttered. “Please just listen.”

  My mind was going in every direction but in listening mode, but I tilted my head to let him continue.

  “I was new in town, so they—”

  “They, who?”

  He sighed, frustration working on his patience. “My uncle. Your father. They sent me to your ranch to see if I could learn anything. Keep my eyes and ears open.”

  I felt my jaw drop.

  “You are at the Lucky B to spy on us?”

  “Not you,” he said. “The other hands. They think it’s someone working there.”

  “You lied to me,” I breathed.

  Ben—or whoever he was—stared at me.

  “I just told you, my uncle and—”

  “I don’t care what you did for them,” I said, the burn building behind my eyes. “I care that you didn’t tell me.”

  “It was a secret,” he said. “Strictly forbidden.”

  “So was I, but you broke that rule with no problem,” I said. “You could have confided in me.”

  “Josie.”

  “We talk about everything,” I said, tears spilling over my lashes that I angrily swiped away. “Everything. Our pasts, our dreams. I gave you—” I sucked in a breath as a heat wave washed over me. “I gave you all that I have. All of me.”

  “And I love you for that,” he said, crossing the space I’d put between us. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but I’m telling you now, love—”

  “Only because you’re caught,” I said, backing toward the door as realization dawned. “That’s why you didn’t want me here. It wasn’t about other men’s attention on me. It was about my seeing you here.”

  “No,” he said. His eyes said otherwise.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  “I trusted you,” I said, my breath hitching.

  “Josie, please,” he said, his jaw tight. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “No? How was it?”

  “It was doing a job and ending up falling in love with the boss’s daughter,” he said roughly, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I maybe should’ve told you, but I won’t apologize for feeling the way I do.” He took my face in his hands again, his large thumbs wiping away tears. “Damn it, Josie. I mean it when I say I’ll love you forever.”

  He dropped to a knee.

  “What—what are you doing?” I cried, covering my mouth with my hand. “Get up.”

  This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t possibly be—no—not after everything he’d just told me. Not after knowing that I’ve been lied to and played for a pathetic fool for months. This man who I gave my heart and virginity to, who I’d loved beyond reason—it was as if a knife kept turning in my chest with every second that passed.

  “God is my witness,” he said, looking up at me with something so passionate and palpable that the naïve girl of ten minutes earlier would have believed it. He looked like he loved me to his very soul. “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, Josie. I know t
his is smack in the middle of chaos, but I need you to believe me and trust me that this—right here,” he gestured between us, “is real. You’re the other half of me. I don’t know what we’ll do or how we’ll do it. We can stay here on either ranch, or go anywhere you want to go. Any town. Any state. I don’t care, as long as you’re by my side.”

  It was dizzying. Was he actually saying these things in the same breath as the other horrendous sentences?

  “Marry me, Josie,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as his eyes pleaded with me, so full of everything I thought I knew about him. His hands gripped my hips softly, and he bowed his head against my stomach. “Please be my wife.”

  Hot tears flowed freely down my face as my every breath trembled and hitched. I gazed down at his beautiful head, my shaking hands touching his hair tentatively. I needed the grounding sensation to balance the horrible twisting ache in my heart.

  His fingers tightened on me at my touch, and I felt him exhale a rough breath.

  Nothing made sense. Nothing would ever make sense again, but—

  “Benjamin Mason!”

  I jumped at the shrill female voice and whirled. I’d never heard the door open, or the whispers of the crowd peering in around her. The blond, petite, impeccably put together woman standing in the doorway, her cat-green eyes fixed on Ben. Who was still on his knee.

  Then she raised that gaze to me.

  I knew instantly who she was. Or some version of it anyway.

  Benjamin Mason.

  She knew his last name.

  Ben rose to his full height, stepping in front of me protectively. That told me the rest.