Cowboys Under The Mistletoe: Five Christmas Christian Romance Novellas

by Kristen Ethridge

  “Those are the rules.” Ali’s laugh was soft.

  Rider twisted Hope to face him. “Well, thank God for tradition and rules then.” He slipped his fingers into her hair and gently drew Hope toward him. She instinctively lifted her face and met his lips. Her hands fisted into the folds of his coat and she pulled him against her, causing him to deepen the kiss. His lips were gentle and full of the careful, quiet type of love that she’d learned belonged to Rider and Rider alone.

  Everyone cheered as they broke apart.

  Slightly embarrassed, Hope buried her face in Rider’s coat. A warm laugh spread through his chest as he led her into the house and closed the door behind them.

  The kids rushed into the TV room and Jericho came to pull Rider away. She had given Rider her blessing when it came to filling Jericho and Ali in on everything she’d shared with him the other night. The Freeds deserved to know that there could be trouble. In the whirlwind of activity, Hope was left standing alone in the hallway. Kate spotted her and motioned for Hope to join her and Ali in the kitchen.

  Ali wore a goofy smile. “Okay, spill, woman. I knew he liked you but didn’t know things had gotten serious.”

  “They’re not.” Hope fiddled with the potato masher. “We’re just friends.”

  Kate offered an exaggerated eye roll. “That was not a just friends kiss.”

  Hope paused, unsure of how to proceed. Rider had told Hope that he’d had a crush on Kate for a long time. At the beginning of the year, he’d finally mustered up the courage to ask Kate out and she’d shot him down. So while it went to reason that Kate had no claim on Rider, Hope wasn’t sure if it was wise to discuss her feelings about the man openly with the girl he used to like.

  Maybe still liked.

  It wasn’t hard to see why Rider had developed feelings for her. Kate was adorable, petite with auburn hair. And from what Hope had seen, the woman was a complete spitfire. Not the cautious and hushed persona Hope possessed. How could Hope believe a man who had been drawn to someone bursting with personality could care for her, still struggling to find her footing in the world?

  There was no way Hope was Rider’s type. Not if Kate had been his ideal.

  The kiss that felt like a treasure only moments ago suddenly tarnished and felt... wrong.

  Ali turned and pulled a pan out of the oven. “How old are you anyhow?”

  Hope seized on the abrupt change of subject. “Twenty-three.”

  Ali flapped her oven mitt in the air over the steaming prime rib. “Rider just turned twenty-seven. I think four years is perfect.”

  Apparently, it wasn’t a change of subject after all.

  Kate touched Hope’s forearm. “He’s head over heels for you. I can tell.”

  Ali clasped her hands together. “And if you’re thinking about his old flame for Kate, that’s been over for a long time. I talked with him about it over the summer and he was already done with all that back then.”

  “It’s hard to know what to think sometimes, you know?” Hope asked.

  “Just keep trusting that God has you here for a reason,” Ali said.

  Hope caught Rider’s eye from across the room. “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearing.”

  *

  Rider woke up early on Christmas morning so he could arrange all the gifts under the tree. He and Hope had stayed up long past midnight wrapping all of them. She’d been more reserved once they got back from the Christmas Eve party at the Freeds’. Neither of them had mentioned their kiss, but Rider couldn’t help but wish for a repeat performance.

  In the four weeks Hope Beckett had been a part of his life, he’d fallen for her. Love. That was the only emotion that described what he felt for Hope and the twins. He loved them—all of them—and he wanted them to accept him as part of their family.

  Dare he even hope that was possible?

  Last night he’d almost blurted out Will you marry me? but he figured a declaration like that, after only knowing someone for a month, would have made even the strongest of women label him as crazy as she ran for the hills. People didn’t get married that quickly, even when they knew it was perfect. But Hope and her kids were perfect for him. They were everything he never knew he’d needed, but now that he’d met them, he’d never be okay without them.

  Rider rooted around in the fridge for the ingredients he needed to make waffles. Since it was Christmas morning, he planned on following a real recipe instead of using an instant mix like usual. It was a small way to make the morning special.

  Ethan was the first one down the stairs. Rider offered him a donut since other food wasn’t ready, and while he ate, Rider pulled out one of his old board games and set it up at the kitchen table. Ethan excelled at games that require some sort of strategy, so Rider wanted to share his old Mouse Trap game with him. He thought Ethan would get a kick out of it.

  A sound on the porch drew Ethan’s attention.

  “That’s probably my old barn cat.” Rider turned his attention to his phone. His sisters had sent Christmas text messages. “The big tom cat is forever trying to sneak into the house.”

  The front door clicked and Rider turned in time to see Ethan clambering outside. The boy had a soft spot for animals. Anymore, he usually accompanied Rider whenever he checked on the horses. It wasn’t abnormal for Ethan to go onto the porch to give the farm cats some attention.

  But the screech Ethan released a moment later wasn’t normal.

  Phone still in hand, Rider bolted for the door. What he found outside iced his spine. A man who Rider immediately assumed was Cyprus Anders had dragged Ethan away from the house by twenty paces. He had a gun in one hand and used his other arm to hold the boy snug against him. Ethan struggled and writhed in his father’s grip. He moaned and let out a whine when he spotted Rider.

  God, help. Guide me. Keep Ethan safe.

  Rider moved his finger to the Emergency Call button, pressed it, and then quickly tucked his phone in his back pocket so it wouldn’t draw attention. He prayed the Dispatcher would recognize his name on the Caller ID and know immediately where to send help.

  Rider took cautious steps across the porch and started down the stairs. He had to shorten the distance between himself and Ethan before he tried anything. The gun Cyprus clutched made every second and every word imperative. Cyprus Anders had killed Esther out of anger. Rider didn’t trust that the man wouldn’t hurt his son, too. “Let him go, Cyprus.”

  “Ah, so you’ve heard of me have you?” The man narrowed his eyes. “Funny thing, that—seeing as I don’t know anything about you, other than you’re the man who took something that belongs to me.”

  Rider bit back the words he wanted to say. They didn’t ever belong to you. They want nothing to do with you. Unlike you, I’d never hold someone against their will. I love them and do anything for them and you have no clue what that even means. But Ethan needed him to keep Cyprus calm. Rider would need to choose what to say and how to interact carefully.

  Ethan let out a series of high pitched yells as he arched against Cyprus. Rider’s gut twisted. The pure fear in Ethan’s eyes made Rider’s pulse ring in his ears. He wanted to charge at them and barrel into Cyprus, so Ethan could have a chance to run away. Anything to get his little buddy out of the murderer’s clutches.

  Rider growled. “You’re scaring him.”

  “Maybe he should speak up about it then.” Cyprus grabbed the back of Ethan’s shirt and dragged him onto his tiptoes. “Got something to say, boy?” He shook Ethan. “I didn’t think so.”

  Rider fisted his hands. Gun or not, he was getting Ethan away from that monster. He tried to will Ethan to meet his gaze so he could communicate with him. If only he could send a message to the boy, tell him to kick back at Cyprus and run. If Ethan made one move like that, Rider would dive at Cyprus and he might be able to wrestle the gun away. But there would be no such opportunity. Ethan was kind to everyone. He’d never consider lashing out to get away. Rider’s boots made an insufferably loud crunch
ing sound with each step he took, announcing his progress toward Cyprus.

  Cyprus leveled the gun directly at him. “I’d stop right there if I were you, cowboy.”

  Rider obeyed and raised his hands.

  He prayed his emergency call had gone through. He prayed that the Dispatcher on the other line took whatever muffled conversation they could hear seriously. He prayed they’d get here in time.

  Every sound from Ethan made Rider’s heart twist painfully. “Please, please just let him go.”

  Cyprus cocked his head. “I’m probably not going to do that.”

  “No!” A strangled cry rang out behind Rider.

  He glanced back to see Savannah hanging onto the porch railing, her entire face skewed up in a sob. She jumped off the steps and ran out to Rider, hugging his legs.

  Rider laid his hand on her head and spoke softly, “Go back inside, sweetheart. Have your mom call the cops.” Then at least he’d know for certain that a call had gotten through.

  “She’s on the phone now,” Savannah whispered against him.

  A surge of hope washed through him. At least he knew for sure that Hope would get through. All Rider had to do now was bide his time and distract Cyprus for as long as he could.

  “Good. Back inside,” Rider said gently.

  Cyprus snorted and aimed the gun at Rider’s chest again. “Awful chummy with everyone, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t hurt him,” Savannah’s little voice rose.

  Cyprus dropped the aim of the gun down toward Savannah. “Where’s your ma? Why isn’t she out here yet? Tell her if she isn’t out here in the next two minutes I’m going to put a hole through her new little boyfriend.”

  Rider sidestepped and brushed Savannah behind him. He didn’t care about the threat to his own person, but what kind of monster aimed a gun at children? Everything had become too much for Ethan to handle and he’d started to wail. And every sound seemed to drive Cyprus closer to the edge.

  “Savannah. Inside. Now,” Hope’s voice rang out strong and stern. Savannah let go of Rider’s legs and took off toward the house. Rider breathed a sigh of relief when she disappeared into the house, but his relief was short lived because Hope stepped down off the porch. Tears coursed down her cheeks.

  No. No. No.

  Rider instinctively tossed up his arm to block her, even though she was still a good five to ten paces behind him. He wished she’d stayed in with Savannah and let him handle Cyprus. Rider didn’t want her to have to deal with the man who had made the last five or six years of her life miserable, who had used and abused and manipulated her. Rider had wanted to protect her—them—from as much pain and hurt as he could.

  If something happened to Ethan, Hope, or Savannah, Rider wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. They had become his family, his heart, and he couldn’t stand the thought of someone hurting them.

  “You’re mad at me,” Hope said, all her attention on the man with the gun. “Not Ethan, not Rider. Let them go.”

  Rider shot her a look that said he wasn’t going anywhere. Hope was closer now, only a few feet behind him and to the left. Rider angled his body so he was in between her and Cyprus.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rider caught sight of police cars blazing toward them. They weren’t running lights or sirens—clearly trying not to tip Cyprus off to their presence until the absolute last moment. He’d learned about that during his fire training. Ethan’s cries had masked the sound of the approaching cars. Five cop cars—ten—flew up his drive. Policemen swarmed out of their cars, rifles aimed at Cyprus. However, that didn’t ease Rider’s fears. Cyprus still had Ethan in his grasp and the gun he kept pointing at everyone.

  A few seconds later, Cyprus became aware of the police inching closer and he swore loudly.

  “Put your weapon down,” an officer’s voice carried through a loudspeaker. “Drop your weapon and put your hands up.”

  “Just put the gun down,” Hope pleaded. “Let Ethan go.”

  Cyprus’s nostrils flared, he shoved Ethan onto the ground, stepped over him, and then zeroed in on Hope. “You’re the reason I’m in this mess. This is all your fault. I wish I’d never met you, but at least I can make sure I’ll never have to see your nasty face ever again.”

  He leveled the gun straight at Hope and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Six

  Hope sat in a seat near Rider’s hospital bed and wrung her hands. The doctors had said that Rider would be fine, that he’d heal, but she wouldn’t believe it until she could hear his voice again. Until he told her he was fine.

  For as long as she lived, the image of Rider tossing himself in front of her would stay seared in her mind. Throughout her life, most people had pegged her as a worthless dropout, some immoral teen mom, a wretched person who didn’t deserve a second look. But Rider had been willing to die for her.

  Rider moaned. His hand came up to scrub at his face and he winced as the IV pulled against him.

  “Hey, shh.” Hope hesitantly touched his arm. She didn’t know what hurt and didn’t hurt for him.

  His eyes parted, his gaze zeroed in on her, and he smiled. “You’re okay.” His hand found hers and he held it as if it was his lifeline. “Thank God, you’re okay.” He tried to sit up and winced again. “I feel like I got trampled.”

  “I’m sure you do.” He’d take a bullet in the shoulder and had landed on the frozen ground hard afterward. The memory of his blood all over the snow would bother her for years to come, but at least he was here and awake.

  Ever since they paramedics had loaded him into a helicopter, one thought had bugged her again and again. The cops might have Cyprus right now—but what if he escaped? Now he knew where Rider lived. He knew where to find Ethan and Savannah. He knew exactly where to show up to exact his revenge.

  Guilt nipped at Hope’s heart. Rider should have never been placed into this position. The fault for his injury lay at her doorstep. She should have left weeks ago.

  Hope gathered some pillows and put them behind his back as she helped him sit up. He flinched during the process.

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “I’m fine.” Rider let out a shuddering breath. He touched the top of the bandages that wrapped his upper torso. “Everything’s pretty foggy though. This arm’s not working.” He looked down at his right arm.

  “They said full movement should return in six to eight weeks.” The doctors had warned that there was a small chance that he could lose some range of movement forever and would possibly need further surgeries or his shoulder replaced in the future. But she’d explain all that to him later.

  “Cyprus?”

  “He’s in police custody, thanks to you.”

  He found her hand again. “You’re the one who actually talked to 9-1-1.”

  She shook her head. “They got there so quickly because of your call. When they received a call from you and no answer on the line, they sent people to your house. They would have never gotten to us in time with just my call. We couldn’t have held off Cyprus for that long.”

  Rider glanced down at his body. “Did the doctors say what my damage is?”

  “Have you ever broken your collarbone before?”

  “Twice. A horse named Jimbo is to blame for both times. The second time they installed a titanium plate to hold the bone together and …” his voice trailed off. His brow rose. “Did that stop the bullet?”

  Emotion formed a tight ball in Hope’s throat and made it impossible to speak for a moment. She nodded as tears slipped from her eyes.

  He’d been saved by a freak accident.

  No, he’d been saved by God.

  The head surgeon had shown her Rider’s x-ray. The doctor had pointed out how the titanium plate had stopped what would have more than likely been a lethal bullet. He’d pointed out in detail on the x-ray where the bullet had been headed toward Rider’s major blood vessels, spine, and heart.

  “Had it struck the spinal column we’d be dealing with a situati
on where the best case scenario would have been him becoming a paraplegic and the worst but more likely case would have been death,” the surgeon’s words rang in her ears.

  Rider let out a long breath. “I always hated that thing. I have a big, ugly scar running over my shoulder from it. All my classmates made fun of me for it in high school. All the teasing made me quit basketball.”

  Ever so lightly, Hope traced a line on his bandaged shoulder. “I love that scar and think it might be the most beautiful thing on this earth because it saved your life.” His collarbone was broken again and they’d had to install a new plate, but he’d heal.

  He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingertips.

  “I’m so sorry I put you in danger,” Hope whispered. She wished he wouldn’t have kissed her. That only made potentially leaving more difficult.

  “Hope, no.” He must have sensed her pulling away.

  But she pressed on anyway. She was doing this for him. Leaving so he could have a normal future with a girl who wouldn’t bring a murderer to his front door. “Now that I know you’re going to be okay, I think me and the kids need to head out.”

  A muscle in Rider’s jaw popped. “Back home, right?”

  “No, Rider. This.” She waved her hand to encompass his injury. “You getting hurt, almost dying, that proves my point that the kids and I need to leave. You should have never been in this position. If Cyprus escapes—”

  He snagged her arm before she could leave. “All this proves is that I’m in love with you and I’m willing to do anything to keep you safe.” He turned pleading eyes on her. “Stay with me, Hope. Stay forever.”

  “Rider, are you—”

  “Marry me? That’s what I’m trying to ask. This.” He gestured toward his shoulder. “Means nothing to me. The only thing that would really hurt me is to lose you. Will you marry me?”

  In a swift movement, she rested her knee on the bed so she could bend over to him without putting any weight on his injuries. So she could kiss him. His good hand slipped into her hair to cradle the back of her head. Her fingers traced his jawline. She didn’t know when it had happened, but she loved this man. Oh, how she loved him.