A Cowboy Under the Mistletoe

by Jessica Clare

  Eli rolled his eyes. “I could have guessed. Plans tonight? Roads are nasty.”

  “It’s not a bad drive,” Jason protested. It wasn’t a great drive in this weather, but if the difference was staying home or going to see his woman, he’d take his chances on the road. “She wanted to know if you and Cass liked the jams she sent over.”

  Eli clucked at his horse, easing it forward as they rode along the gently rolling hills, checking the fences. One of the cows had been slipping away from the herd on the regular, and they couldn’t figure out how she was getting out, which meant checking everything. It was a cold, blustery day, but Jason had finally come to an understanding with his horse, Buster, and it no longer felt like the damn thing was trying to buck him every time he sat in the saddle. Sage said it was because he’d had more practice and was no longer so stiff. Jason suspected it was the extra carrots and apples he slipped to the surly beast. Whatever it was, he was getting the hang of this cowboy stuff.

  “Cass liked ’em all right. Caught her spreading the jam on crackers at three in the morning last night. Scared the dickens out of me because I thought she was pregnant again and having those crazy cravings she used to get. Nope. Turns out she just wanted to eat my share and hers.” A hint of a smile tugged at his hard face. “I told her she could have mine. I ain’t interested in peach jalapeño jam. Jam shouldn’t be spicy. Cass is addicted to the stuff, though.”

  “That’ll make Sage happy. I’ll have her send more over. It gives me an excuse to go spend time with her.” Like he needed an excuse. Plus, the baking and cooking and canning were things Sage liked to do on the weekends, which meant she spent a lot of time in the kitchen . . . which meant there was a lot of time to distract her. He’d made love to her on every surface of that kitchen, and then she’d gone crazy cleaning everything with her cheeks bright red in a blush . . . so he’d had to help her dirty it up again. Naturally. She was always game, though, and he was starting to wonder if all the cooking projects she took on regularly were part of a silent tug-of-war. She’d deliberately pick projects in the kitchen knowing he’d distract her with sex.

  Well, that was all right with Jason.

  “Pay attention,” Eli told him. “You’re so busy grinning to yourself that you’re riding right past all the fences without even lookin’ at ’em.”

  “Got it.” Jason chuckled. Once, Eli’s surly manner had irked him, but he was used to it now. As long as you worked as hard as he did, Eli didn’t much care otherwise. He knew he worked hard enough to please Eli—Cass had mentioned several times how happy she was that Jason was around, and that made him feel good. Like he had a place.

  Like he belonged. Weird for an adult man to need to belong so badly, but after the last few years, he craved the belonging like he craved nothing else.

  Well, except for Sage. He craved her all the time.

  Two weeks after their first time, he still couldn’t get enough of her. Kissing Sage, caressing her, making her come? It all raced through his mind a dozen times a day. And while she’d declared her love for him—and usually declared it again every time he was balls-deep inside her—he’d held back the words. Maybe he needed to prove to himself that he wasn’t as broken as he thought, so he kept telling himself that if he went a week without an anxiety flare-up, then he’d tell her.

  It was getting harder not to say the words, but he didn’t want to trap her into a relationship with him. Not yet.

  Thinking about his nerves always made his anxiety ratchet up. It was like actually focusing on his problems summoned them, so he scanned the slushy ground, looking for Achilles. The dog was nearby, tail wagging as he followed behind two of the ranch dogs, Bandit and Jim. He wore the silly bright-blue sweater and booties Cass had given him, and the red neckerchief Sage got him. Dog wore more damn clothes than he did, but he was also wading through the snow, and Jason didn’t want him to get cold.

  He loved that damn dog.

  Achilles was the most attentive creature he’d ever met. Truck had been loyal to a fault and utterly competent, and Jason still couldn’t think of his old friend without a knot in his throat. Achilles was a different sort of creature entirely, though. Truck had been fierce and determined, and Achilles was less of a warrior than his name implied. He was a happy dog, gentle and easygoing, with a silly streak that showed up from time to time. More than that, though, he was utterly devoted to Jason. The dog followed him everywhere—even to the bathroom—and liked sleeping at his feet. At first he hadn’t known what to think of it, just because having Achilles nearby felt like a betrayal to Truck and his memory, but now he couldn’t imagine a day without Achilles at his side. The dog loved Sage, too, and she didn’t even mind when the dog crawled into bed with them . . . though he made sure to put the dog in the bathroom when he was going to make love to her. Achilles’s clinginess was oddly comforting. It was like the dog needed him as much as he needed the dog, and having him around helped ease Jason’s mind from the near-constant anxiety attacks that had plagued him after Truck’s passing.

  He was getting better, day by day, and he knew Achilles helped. He needed to talk to Annie about keeping him. Achilles got along with all the other ranch dogs, so that wouldn’t be a problem. He wasn’t much of a herder, but Annie had a white Boston terrier, so it wasn’t like pets were forbidden. If they gave him a hard time about it, he’d just tell them he’d fallen in love with his buddy and Achilles needed him.

  No one had to know his secret.

  They weren’t able to find the hole in the fence, much to Eli’s consternation, but eventually they went in. As they rode up to the ranch, Jason saw Dustin’s truck in the driveway. That meant the others were back from their trip. Heading into the barn, they dismounted and Jason was surprised when Eli grabbed Buster’s reins. “I’ll rub him down. You go inside and clean up so you can head out. It’ll be dark soon and you’ll want to be careful on the roads.”

  That was nice of him. “I’ll trade and do yours this weekend,” Jason said, then headed toward the house. He entered the mudroom quietly, carefully shutting the door behind Achilles as gently as he could. It tended to slam in the wind and woke the babies—and triggered him—so he made sure to ease it shut quietly and then started to remove his boots.

  He was bent over, pulling off one boot when he heard Annie’s voice. “So it went well? No problems? He didn’t suspect anything?”

  “No. At least, I don’t think so. They get along great. Achilles goes everywhere with him.” Cass’s voice.

  They were talking about him? Jason paused. He straightened and leaned in, listening.

  “Oh good,” Annie said. “I was worried he wouldn’t take to the dog. Is it helping?”

  “From what I can tell. He’s been less nervous lately, but I think some of that has to do with Sage, too. You know they’re in love?”

  “Good. She deserves someone who makes her happy.” Annie paused. “So how should we play this?”

  “Mmm, I’m not sure. Did you register him as an emotional support animal yet?”

  “No, not yet. It needs to be his idea. Achilles has the right personality, but he’s still untrained. If Jason wants to go through with it, he’ll need to take the final steps on his own. If I do it, it’ll seem too obvious.”

  Hot anger rushed through him as he realized what they were talking about. Achilles wasn’t a dog that Annie had rescued because he had attachment issues. They’d gotten Achilles deliberately to place with him on the sly. Which meant they’d known he had PTSD. It didn’t make sense, though. He’d only told one other person . . .

  His anger was quickly followed by betrayal.

  Sage had told them? But she’d sworn to keep his secret from everyone. She knew how it bothered him . . . but she’d never been surprised to see Achilles, had she? Even when he’d shown up with the dog in tow the first time, she’d taken it in stride. She never complained that the dog had to be
with him, always.

  The answer was obvious—it was because she’d known the whole time.

  Furious, he snagged his keys off the hook and slammed back out of the house. Achilles trotted after him, still in his ridiculous dog booties and jacket, and for a moment, Jason wanted to send him inside to be with Annie. He dropped to the ground, and Achilles automatically went into his arms, expecting petting. Some of his anger softened. Even if the dog was a trick, Achilles didn’t know it. He was a damn good dog, loyal and loving. He didn’t deserve to suffer just because Jason was furious at Sage and her betrayal. “Come on, boy,” he murmured to the dog, rubbing his head. “I think you and I have both been played by a pretty pair of dimples.”

  And he needed the truth. Because if Sage didn’t respect him, how could he trust her with anything ever again?

  * * *

  • • •

  Sage checked her phone for messages from Jason and then put the pan of homemade enchiladas back in the oven to warm. Normally, if he was running late, he’d send her a text, but she hadn’t heard anything for hours. A twinge of worry hit her, but the weather had been bad and that was likely keeping him at work longer. He was probably just out arm-deep in the mud retrieving a stray heifer or something. Well, she’d keep dinner warm for him. Sage drifted in and out of the kitchen, her thoughts on Jason and the few hours of time they’d have together tonight. He always came to see her, but lately, the stolen moments after work and on weekends didn’t feel like enough. It always made her sad when he left, and she always craved more.

  Was a month of dating enough time before you asked someone to move in with you? Actually, it hadn’t even been a month. It had been three weeks . . . but she was so comfortable with Jason she didn’t care. The amount of time didn’t matter. She loved him and trusted him, and she wanted to be with him always. Maybe it was time to sell the ranch after all and stop stalling. She could get an apartment in town and be that much closer . . . but the thought made her heart hurt. This was her home. Her father had loved this place with every ounce of his being. It made no sense to sell it just to move a half hour closer to town . . . but it also made no sense to have this big ranch and not use it.

  But while she was here, she still felt close to her father. And Sage wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. She touched the framed picture Jason had given her for Christmas, in its place of honor in the front hallway, and then drifted back toward the kitchen.

  The doorbell rang, and her heart leapt with excitement. That would be Jason. Turning around, she raced for the door and threw it open. There was Jason, his gorgeous frame filling up her doorway, Achilles at his feet. She beamed at him and wanted to fling herself forward for a kiss in greeting . . .

  Except he wasn’t smiling. In fact, he wasn’t happy at all. His face was grim, the lines of his mouth hard as he stared down at her. Instinctively, she knew something was wrong. “Jason . . . what is it?”

  “Did you tell Annie and Cass that I’m fucked-up?”

  She winced at the harsh tone of his voice, at the choice of his words. “I would never say such a thing—”

  “Did you,” he continued, enunciating slowly, “tell them I have PTSD?”

  The knot forming in her stomach seemed to go directly to her throat. “Jason . . . it’s not what it looks like.”

  “Really?” She’d never seen him so angry. His hands clenched at his side, and he paced back and forth on the porch, as if unwilling to enter her house. “Because it looks like you’re working with them to try and ‘fix’ me. Is that what this is? You decided I’m broken enough for a new project and took me on, Sage?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Jason, I’m just trying to help—”

  “So you helped by telling everyone what a mess I am? How a loud noise will turn me into a shivering mess? How I’m messed up and need to keep my job out of pity? Is that why they never fired me?” He laughed, the sound hard and bitter. “Here I thought it was because I worked my ass off. Nope, turns out it was all for pity.” His jaw clenched and he stood still, as if trying to compose himself. “How could you, Sage? I trusted you.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “Jason, I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did. How long have they known? How long has everyone known behind my back?”

  Her heart hurt. “Since your second day.”

  He just stared at her, and she felt ashamed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I trusted you, Sage. More than I’ve trusted anyone in years.” He shook his head. “I can’t be with you if I can’t trust you.”

  “Jason,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry—”

  But he turned around and left. She watched in silence as he stormed back out to his truck, Achilles at his heels, his tail waving uncertainly, as if he didn’t know what to make of his master’s mood. Sage watched his stiff back as he retreated, waiting for him to turn around, to say how angry he was but that he forgave her, that he still loved her and wanted to make things work . . .

  He didn’t turn around, though. He got back into his truck and left, disappearing into the snow.

  Sage sank to her knees and wept. Was the world ending? Because her heart felt like it was. The only thing he’d ever asked of her was to keep his secret . . . and she’d spilled that quick enough, hadn’t she? She’d conspired against him.

  He was right to hate her, and she sobbed in misery.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  She slept on the couch, her phone next to her head, and stared at the front door, hoping vainly that he’d show up and tell her that he’d forgiven her. That he understood why she’d done it. That she’d been trying to protect him and he got it.

  Instead, she woke up with a crick in her neck, and the world went on around her. Miserable, Sage fed Lucy and Ethel, cried, showered, cried, got dressed, cried some more, and went in to work. She wept all over the outgoing mail. She wept on the mayor’s shoulder. She went through an entire box of tissues until her nose was red and her eyes swollen, and she still couldn’t stop crying.

  When she’d dreamed of being in love with Jason, she’d never thought she’d lose him so soon. That he’d reject her like this and make her feel as if the world had ended when he’d walked out the door. It hadn’t ended, of course. Life went on, and Sage did, too. But it hurt. Oh, it hurt. And she didn’t know if she’d ever get over this hurt. Her heart felt like a hollowed-out shell.

  Hannah showed up at the office to pick up her mail, took one look at Sage’s red eyes, and immediately pulled her in for a hug. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentle. “I hate to see you hurt. There’s no one kinder than you, and it pains me to see you crying.”

  And because that was so nice, Sage sobbed on her shoulder as Hannah rubbed her back and told her about how hard it had been for her to go on after her first husband died. It was not the right story to tell at the moment, but Sage knew Hannah was trying, and she appreciated it even if the tale just made her feel worse.

  “I just love him so much, Hannah,” Sage said in a wobbly voice, balling up her tissue in her hand.

  “He loves you, too,” Hannah replied, and Sage’s heart skipped a beat. How did she know? But Hannah went on, patting her back. “I’m sure he had a reason for breaking your heart.” The woman watched her closely.

  Sage just nodded. There was a reason, and Sage couldn’t fault it . . . but she also wouldn’t tell Hannah what it was. “I messed up,” she said simply.

  “Well, no relationship is without mistakes. He’ll come to his senses, or you’ll move on. You’re the sweetest girl, Sage, and so pretty. You’ll find someone else.”

  “Thanks, Hannah.”

  The old woman beamed at her. “Maybe you rebound with Greg, hmm? Maybe it’s fate that you’re both single again after all these years.”

  All these years? As if Sage hadn’t been single this entire time, waiting for Greg, only for him to ign
ore her? Again, she managed to keep smiling, somehow. “I appreciate the pep talk.”

  “Of course. If you need me, just holler. I’ll be across the street.” She took her mail . . . and instead of heading back to her hotel, she went down the street to the salon, no doubt so she could tell everyone the gossip of the day. Sage bit back a sigh. Even tigers didn’t change their stripes.

  That was all right. She’d manage.

  Somehow.

  You could still function with a broken heart, right? Her dad had done it all those years . . . but he’d had Sage.

  She had no one.

  She pulled out another handful of tissues and mopped her eyes miserably.

  * * *

  • • •

  After a few more days of silence from Jason, Sage’s misery compounded. She knew what she had to do. That change she’d been putting off for so long? It was time to make the leap. Her heart utterly heavy, she texted Greg.

  SAGE: Hey. I know we talked about putting the ranch up for sale in the spring when the market was best, but I think I need to sell it now.

  GREG: I am absolutely ready to help you—but what made you change your mind?

  SAGE: Long story. What do you need from me to start the listing?

  GREG: I’ll send you some paperwork, but let’s get together and start the ball rolling. Can I come to your place? Say, tomorrow night? We’ll do a walk-through and I’ll take a few preliminary pictures.

  SAGE: Sure. 7 p.m. okay?

  GREG: Great. Shall I bring dinner?

  SAGE: No, it’s okay. My appetite hasn’t been much lately.

  GREG: Everything okay???

  SAGE: Just fine. I just need to make a change.

  She wasn’t going to tell him that her heart was broken. Everyone in town already knew that anyhow. Sage had been given so many sympathetic looks over the last few days. She kept hoping the rumors to turn, that people would say, “Oh, but what do you expect? It’s Sage Cooper.” But they never did. Everyone was kind and gracious to her, and that made things worse.