A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Jessica Clare

He’d been thinking a lot about what to get her. Not that he’d had a lot of time to shop, but the idea had hit him when he’d been at her place, looking around at the big, empty house. “I’ve got most of an idea, but I still need to finalize a few things.” He reached down and stroked Achilles’s head, propped in its usual spot on his thigh. “Though if it falls through, I’ll definitely need ideas.”

  Eli lifted his chin at Jason. “How’s that dog? He bugging you?”

  He could have sworn that Cass kicked Eli under the table. Odd. Did they think it was a sore spot because Annie had imposed on him? He’d been bitter about it the first day, but Achilles was such a calming presence that he didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of looked forward to having the big yellow mutt at his side all the time. Jason rubbed Achilles’s ears. “We get along pretty good, him and I.” It was almost like having Truck back . . . almost. Achilles had a different personality than Truck had, of course. Achilles was more softhearted, more needy, whereas Truck had looked after Jason’s every need as if he were doing his sworn duty and Jason was his to take care of. It was different . . . but it was still nice, and having a dog at his side constantly made the ache of Truck’s loss bearable. “He’s good company,” he said, and glanced down at Achilles, who looked up at him with adoring eyes, as if Jason were his entire world.

  Eli just grunted. “Be glad you’re not a chicken.”

  Jason snorted with laughter.

  * * *

  • • •

  Three days passed before the weather got any better. His bad leg ached, and he wasn’t able to spend time with Sage because the roads were a mess of snow and ice, and then suddenly it was Christmas Eve. Since he hadn’t been able to leave the ranch to go shopping for her, he’d made a few calls in to the local souvenir shop and spoken with Nelson, who’d handled his request and wrapped it up, and Jason just had to pick it up for her. So that was one problem solved. He woke up earlier than usual and got to work, cleaning the barn and feeding the horses. By the time dawn hit, he’d loaded the spooler with hay and was spreading it for the cattle. He was a man on a mission—to spend time with his woman—and he needed to get done quickly so he’d have that much more time with Sage in his arms.

  At lunchtime, Eli clapped him on the back. “Get out of here. Tell Sage we said Merry Christmas.”

  He nodded at Eli and all but raced back into the barn to unsaddle and brush down his horse.

  Even if the weather was bad, he was staying with Sage tonight, because he was not going to leave her alone for Christmas.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sage hummed to herself as she put the finishing touches on the presents underneath her tiny tabletop Christmas tree. She had a ham cooking in the oven, with potatoes and stuffing and three kinds of Christmas cookies. She’d made treats for the dog and had even made a big batch of apple cider, since neither she nor Jason drank. The fireplace was full of wood, there were clean linens on the guest bed, fresh snow was on the ground, and she was just waiting for Jason to show up.

  After the last few days of being apart, when he’d suggested staying overnight in her guest room so they could spend Christmas together, she’d jumped at the idea. Even though they had text messages and FaceTime to keep connected, she still missed him intensely and dreamed about his kisses . . . and more. In her mind, she’d replayed their last make-out session over and over again, his hands in her panties as he made her come, her hands on his cock as he growled his release.

  She wanted to do so much more.

  Well, she wanted to do all that again, too, because it had been amazing. The last three days had been the longest that she could recall. Other than the mail, the municipal office was closed for Christmas week, and even the mailman had offered to sort the few envelopes and catalogs that had come in. There was nothing for Sage to do, and for someone that liked to stay busy, it was a special kind of hell. She’d cleaned the house from top to bottom and had gone through her father’s closet and maybe wept a little (okay, a lot) as she’d packed up clothing to donate. After all, if she was moving, she couldn’t take it with her. That would just be silly, and she knew there were people out there who could use it.

  Even if it did break her heart a little, it kept her busy. There was a lot to be done if she was truly going to sell the ranch in spring. Sage could think of a million ways to procrastinate, to wait until next fall, or the year after, or until Jason left . . . but her father would never want her to make her decisions around a man she’d only been dating for a short time. Even she knew that wasn’t wise. So yes, she was still selling the ranch in the spring even if she was dating Jason.

  If they were still together at that point, they’d figure out how to make it work. She wouldn’t get too far ahead of herself.

  After all, look at Becca.

  She shuddered at the thought. Becca’d fallen in love, and it had ended disastrously, but at least she’d never given her business up for Greg. There was a lesson to be learned there.

  The sound of tires on the gravel road touched her ears, and she jumped up from her chair in the kitchen, putting on her last-minute “Christmas bow” pin, her heart fluttering. She’d thought long and hard about how best to “wrap” Jason’s biggest present of all—herself—but nothing sexy had come to mind. She’d fussed over her hair, curling the ends into soft ringlets, and put on a hint of makeup and perfume. She’d shaved everything—everything—and lotioned her skin until she smelled like roses. Underneath her plain white sweater, the red panties and bra itched against her skin, but she wasn’t wearing them because they were comfortable. She wore the bow on her sweater, pinned over her heart, because, well, she was his present, too.

  She just hoped he liked it.

  Nervous, she turned down the Christmas music playing in the kitchen and headed to greet Jason. It had been days since she’d last seen him in person, and my goodness, three days had never seemed so very long. Would he greet her with a kiss? Just say hi? How did this work exactly? Biting her lip, Sage opened the door, a beaming smile on her face—

  And was immediately swept into Jason’s arms.

  His mouth was on hers before she could even breathe his name. He dipped her low, as if they were dancing, kissed her hard, and then eased her back to her feet. “Missed you,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against hers.

  God, she loved him.

  The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, and Sage had to bite back a gasp.

  No, absolutely not. She couldn’t be in love with him, not that fast. Sure, he was so gorgeous he made her heart skip, and he was thoughtful and kind and protective, yet somehow vulnerable and . . . oh no. She had it so bad.

  She loved Jason Clements. And it wasn’t the same as the love she’d thought she’d had for Greg. That was a childish crush, the envy of wanting something you couldn’t have, and just sheer loneliness. The love she had for Jason? It was overwhelming. It made her chest hurt at the thought of leaving him.

  And it made her ache deep inside at the thought of being his forever.

  “You all right? You have a funny look on your face.”

  “I’m fine,” she told him quickly. Sage smiled at him. “Long time no see, stranger.” When he gave her another curious stare, she impulsively flung her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  He chuckled, his arms going to her waist. “Merry Christmas. I’m glad we’re going to spend it together.”

  Oh, she was glad, too. So glad. She’d never told anyone, but she was dreading this Christmas. It was her favorite holiday, and she loved making the magic happen for the town, but her father had died last fall, and her first Christmas alone had been . . . so lonely. She’d never felt so lost. Depressed. As if she’d never be happy again. Maybe that was why she’d thrown herself into the Christmas celebration in Painted Barrel this year—she was trying not to think about another lonely Christmas by herself.
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  Jason was an answer to all her prayers.

  She kissed him again, suddenly fiercely thankful for her gorgeous cowboy.

  “Is there mistletoe above me?” he murmured between kisses, his hands sliding to her butt and cupping it.

  “No,” she breathed. “I just like kissing you.”

  “Mmm, me too.” He pulled her against him, dragging her hips against his front, and she felt the steel length of his erection pressing against her stomach. Oh. He was hard with need, and suddenly Christmas was full of all kinds of things to look forward to.

  Something butted against their legs, and Jason chuckled as Achilles shoved past them. “He’s not a real big fan of the snow, it seems.”

  “It seems not,” she echoed, licking her lips. She could taste him on her mouth, and she wanted more kisses . . . oh, but she was getting greedy. “Come on inside.”

  He gave her one more quick kiss. “I will, but I need to get your present out of the car.”

  Her . . . present? A giddy rush of excitement coursed through her. “You got me a gift?”

  Jason’s brows furrowed. “Well, yeah. It’s Christmas, sweetheart. It’s not much, but I wanted to get you something. Wait here, all right?” He winked at her and then crunched back out to the car. Snow was starting to drift down from the clouds, but she didn’t care. Let it snow all night long, because Jason was going to be here with her. She hugged her arms to her chest and felt the press of the lace and underwire of her bra, and remembered that she’d gotten Jason a little something special, too.

  Oh, except her shoes were upstairs. She had her thigh-highs on underneath her jeans, and she was wearing slippers. Whoops. Her toes curled. Maybe she’d be able to slip away and put on the stilettos that she’d bought for such an occasion.

  To her surprise, Jason came to the door with a large, flat box. It had been wrapped in plain brown paper, a twine bow at the front. “It’s not a fancy wrapping job,” he told her, dusting the snow off his shoulders as he stepped inside. “But I hope you like it anyhow.”

  Her lips parted and she took the package from him. “You didn’t have to do this.” She was so touched that tears threatened to overflow and ruin her careful eye makeup. “Jason, just having you here with me has made this the best Christmas, truly. You didn’t have to get me anything—”

  “Sweetheart, I got you this because I wanted to. Because you’re amazing and you think of everyone except yourself, and I wanted you to realize that someone out there thought you needed a little Christmas cheer directed your way.” He cupped her face and leaned in and kissed her while she hugged the box to her chest. “Open it now, though. I want to see if you like it.”

  Shyly, she tugged at the bow on the front of his gift. “I got you a few things, too. Just small things, though. Nothing big.” She hoped he hadn’t spent too much on her, because suddenly, wearing lingerie and getting him a belt seemed like the lamest Christmas gifts ever. Sage pulled off the twine and then tugged at the wrapping paper. Whatever it was was inside a large, plain white box that was no taller than an inch or two, and she wondered about it. Did he get her . . . a clock for the wall? A calendar? What?

  Nothing could have prepared her for what was inside the box. Sage sucked in a breath as she pulled the picture out, and then a hot, choked sob erupted from her throat.

  It was a picture of her daddy.

  Winston Edward Cooper stared out at her from the old newsprint photograph that had been framed. He was young in the picture, maybe thirty-five or forty. He had a bridle in his hand and stood next to a horse, and an enormous cowboy hat was perched atop her father’s head. The ranch spread was in the background, and her father wore a brilliant, dimpled smile.

  She’d never seen this photo before. Oh, her heart hurt at the sight of it.

  “I know you mentioned you’re going to leave in the spring, and I wanted you to have a little something to remember this place by, so I called and talked to Nelson at the souvenir shop, and he said there was an old newspaper article about the Cooper Ranch, and he was able to get me a copy . . . Are you crying, sweetheart?”

  “No,” she sobbed, her nose running. She swiped at her face, smearing makeup all over it, but she didn’t care. “Jason . . . this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. Ever.” It was like he’d given her back a little bit of her father this day, and she ached with missing her daddy, even as much as she loved the photo. She couldn’t stop touching the glass covering it, or crying.

  “It’s all right,” Jason murmured, and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry it made you sad—”

  “It’s wonderful,” she sobbed, curling up against him. “I love it. I just . . . miss him so much.”

  “I know.” He stroked her hair. “I should have told you that you looked real pretty today. You still do, just ah . . . a bit messy.”

  Sage choked on a giggle and sniffled, wiping at her tears with her sleeve. Oh, her pale, pretty white sweater was covered in makeup and mascara. “I’m sorry. This probably wasn’t what you wanted to see today.”

  “All I wanted to see was your dimples,” he told her, hugging her close. “I don’t care if you wear a bit of makeup or if you wear heaps of it. I just like seeing your smile.”

  She leaned back and smiled up at him through her tears. “You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met, Jason Clements.”

  “You stole my line,” he murmured, wiping away her tears. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

  “It’s a good cry,” she promised him. “Though I feel guilty, because what I got you isn’t nearly as awesome.” Sage wiped the corners of her eyes and grimaced when her fingertips came away coated in mascara. “Ugh.”

  He cupped her face and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “If you want to clean up, I should probably take Achilles’s snow boots off before he chews them up.”

  “Give me five minutes,” she promised and then headed upstairs to repair the damage.

  Sage grimaced at the sight in her bathroom mirror. She looked dreadful. Not only were her eyes red and swollen, but her makeup was smeared under her eyes and all over her face. She looked like a sad clown. She scrubbed all of her makeup off, put in eye drops, and then changed her now-ruined sweater. She’d picked out the soft, clingy white top just because it made her feel sexy, and she hunted in her closet for something similar. Not finding anything, she went for a plain white T-shirt and then fastened her bow corsage on it once more. It wasn’t ideal, but she doubted Jason would care. It was what was underneath that counted, right?

  And what she was wearing underneath was impressive . . . she hoped.

  She headed back downstairs with her stilettos and paused in the doorway at the sight of Jason lying on the rug with Achilles. The dog’s jacket and booties had been discarded, and Jason was spread out in front of the fire, a hand tucked behind his head. Achilles lay alongside him, leaning on Jason’s chest, eyes closed as Jason stroked his head. They looked so peaceful and sweet that her heart squeezed with love. She carefully tiptoed to the kitchen, determined not to disturb them. She knew from Jason’s texts that he’d been working hard over the last few days, and ranching wasn’t easy work even with a full staff. With Dustin gone for the next two weeks, he was going to have his hands full just trying to keep up with Eli, but he hadn’t complained. He never would.

  Sage sat in the kitchen and drank a cup of coffee while Jason dozed in front of the fire with his dog. She regarded the picture of her father thoughtfully. He’d been so handsome back then, and so happy. He’d always been a happy man, even after the death of her mother. Maybe she’d been too little to see him grieving, but she remembered his brilliant smile and how much everyone in Painted Barrel had loved him. She’d always wanted to be like him, a cornerstone of the community, there for everyone to depend on and always able to extend a helping hand. She thought of the stream of cowboys and ranchers who had worked on the Coo
per Ranch over the years—some had questionable histories, some were just desperate for work, and her father had never asked questions. If they needed help, he helped them. If they needed a job, he gave them one. The ranch had been a special place growing up, and even though it was just her and her father and an endless merry-go-round of ranch hands, she’d always felt loved. Special.

  That was one of the things she loved most about Jason. He made her feel special, too, but in different ways. Her father would have liked him a lot.

  She stared at the picture of her father as an uneasy realization occurred to her. He would have liked Jason . . . but he wouldn’t have liked that she was going to sell the ranch. That she’d sold off the livestock and was busy denuding the walls of memories so she could move in the spring. He’d worked hard to establish this place. He’d sunk his entire savings into the land and had built the house himself with a bit of help. He wouldn’t understand her loneliness or her need to leave and start over.

  The thought was a sobering one. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to start over anymore, not when things were finally feeling as if they’d slid into place with Jason at her side. Why did life make things so hard? Why was Jason coming into her world just after she’d decided to let Greg put the ranch up for sale in the spring?

  Inwardly, she grimaced at the thought of Greg. Her father would hate that she was using him as her Realtor, too. He’d liked Greg—he liked everyone—but he’d also always, always told her that she could do better than a “lazy boy” like that. And maybe Greg was lazy at times, but it was her ranch and she would keep control of the sale. She wouldn’t let Greg ruin things, and he needed a win in his column for his real estate business. Really, it was just more helping people out, and wouldn’t her father have approved of that?

  But she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t. She knew what he would say. You stay in Painted Barrel. You stay where you’re at home. You stay with your people. If things aren’t the way they should be, you make the changes.