Yes, she’d walked out on him. But he could forgive her.
She wanted to be together now. Maybe she hadn't settled things with her dead ma, but that shouldn't keep them from being together.
By the time he'd sweated through the last of the pains, he figured he had most of his memory back. The mundane, the terrible, and the beautiful.
Dawn was lightening the horizon, and he couldn't wait any longer to tell Kelsey that he remembered.
And that he still wanted to be with her.
He showered the nasty sweat off. His hair was still damp when he pulled up to Katie's place. Kelsey's car wasn't in the drive. That gave him a little hesitation, but they'd cleaned out the old garage behind the house. Maybe she'd parked in there.
It was Katie's hangdog expression when she answered the door in an old bathrobe that told him first.
"She's gone?" he asked.
Katie nodded, gripping the doorframe, her own sorrow evident.
He reeled, returning to his truck as if in a trance. She'd left him. Again.
This time without a goodbye.
Chapter 11
A week after she'd left Taylor Hills, Kelsey stood in the center of her tiny efficiency apartment, hands on her hips.
She'd come home determined to find her way alone. Only to realize maybe she was more like her mother than she'd thought, because when she’d opened her closet to hang up some blouses, she’d nearly been toppled by a box wedged between two others. She’d ignored it for so long but… her closet was bursting with junk.
She’d ripped the boxes from the closet and began unloading the contents, tossing things across the surface of her bed. She was sure it was all trash, just like Mama’s had been.
But it wasn’t trash.
She’d unboxed all the paintings and sketches she'd done in her first two years of college. Before Professor Bernard's harsh criticism had humiliated her.
She'd spread them out across her apartment, feeling again the emotions she'd experienced as she completed each piece.
Back when Bernard had humiliated her, she’d stuffed them away with ruthless efficiency. She’d turned her entire focus to distance running and the Olympics. And she’d locked away all the feelings associated with them.
But her closet had exploded, and so had her once-hidden emotions.
There had been a piece portraying her mother, one hand cocked on her hip, the other on a coffeepot as she talked to a crowd of good ol' boys in the café. A close-up of Katie with a winsome smile. And several of Matt—with his horses, sitting on a rail fence, dancing in the moonlight, though Kelsey had purposely obscured her own features in that painting.
She’d been exhausted from her drive and the pain of abandoning Matt all over again, but she hadn’t been able to look away from the paintings. Not for hours.
The next day she'd unearthed her easel and paints.
She'd made a trip to the local art store and come home to throw herself into a painting of herself, crossing the finish line at the Olympics.
That painting was followed by one of her mother outdoors on a quilt, something Kelsey remembered from a special childhood picnic they'd taken on one of Mama's rare days off. There could've been so many more of those, but it was what it was.
She painted one of Matt sitting on his tailgate with a grin, hints of red paint smeared across his cheeks and forehead.
Now, she sat on the floor, staring at the three paintings and what they represented for her life. The emotions that had spilled out on the canvas.
Something had clicked inside her, something that had been missing for a long time. Professor Bernard had shaken her confidence, made her question her talent and self-worth. He’d rattled her enough to make her her listen to the tapes she’d thought long-buried, the ones of her mother’s words, her mother’s lack of faith.
She didn't have to believe Bernard anymore. She didn’t have to believe her Mama’s words, either.
And she knew what she wanted to do.
A knock on her door brought her to her feet—the Chinese takeout she'd ordered a half hour ago.
When she opened the door, it wasn't a deliveryman.
Matt's muscled frame filled the doorway.
Conscious of the painting in the living room behind her and what it said about what she felt for the man, she closed the door partially behind her.
"What are you doing here?" She crossed her arms over her middle.
He raised one brow. "You left without saying goodbye. Mind if I come in?"
He reached past her, as if he were about to slip inside.
"No! I mean, yes." She shifted to block him. "I mind." That painting...
He smiled, a dangerous, satisfied smile that made her stomach do a slow flip. "Fine." He propped one hand against the doorframe above her head and leaned close. "We can talk right here."
Too close.
She slipped out from the space between his body and the wall, backing through the door. "Come in then."
She did her best to angle her body between his view and the incriminating painting, moving quickly to turn it to face the wall. She left the other two paintings where they were.
Of course, he didn't miss anything, that brow arching again as he watched her.
He stood with feet braced apart, his presence making the tiny living area slash kitchen slash breakfast nook seem that much smaller.
He looked all around, taking in every detail of her life. The running shoes spilling out of her closet. The sticky notes that lined her fridge door, reminders of appointments and phone numbers for favorite take-out restaurants. The art supplies that covered her small kitchen table.
Was he ever going to speak? What was he doing here?
"I remembered," he said after a long silent wait. He looked right at her, and she could see it was true.
She swallowed.
"Everything."
She closed her eyes a moment, wishing she could sink into the floor. Here she'd been so hopeful...
But why had he come here? Surely not just to tell her he hated her.
"You remembered that I broke up with you? Broke your heart?"
"Broke both our hearts, if I'm guessing right." He stepped toward her, expression serious. "I also remembered that I didn't come after you."
She started to tremble.
He took another step forward. "You were right, back then. I was a boy. A man would've known to fight for the woman he loved."
She swallowed hard. Shook her head. "I—"
"You were scared. And we were both young. I can forgive you. If you can forgive me for letting you go."
He stopped right in front of her. "I'd like to see that painting you're hiding behind you."
This was her moment. She could keep running forever or...
She shored up her courage and stepped to the side. He squatted and reached out to turn the painting around. He propped it against the wall.
He looked at it for a long moment, finally straightening with his gaze still on the painting. "That's me, right?"
She reached to pinch him on the arm, but he intercepted her, turning at the same time so they faced each other. His hands rested on her waist.
"I figured out what I want to do with my life," she blurted to the collar of his shirt, too afraid to say it to his face. Not yet.
"Oh yeah?"
She nodded. "I want to do art therapy. Help children and young adults express themselves through art."
She looked up enough to see the twitch of his mouth.
"This a personal quest?" he asked.
She shrugged the tiniest bit. "Art always helped me express myself. Until I started second-guessing myself, and then I sort of... forgot. Started running away from my problems instead of solving them. Like with my mom. I think I... I think I could help kids not to do the same."
His smile broke through. "That sounds rewarding. I'm happy for you."
He brushed a kiss across her forehead. "If your paintings express your emotions, you want t
o tell me what that picture of me means?"
Heat flared in her cheeks. Cocky man. She pushed slightly against his chest. "You know."
"Maybe. I'd still like to hear it."
She looked him full in the face, gathered all her courage. "I love you, Matt."
He pressed his lips to hers lightly. "I love you too. Never stopped."
It was so unbelievable that tears pricked her eyes. "Really?"
"Really. And I don't want to freak you out again"—he leaned back and made a pretense of checking whether she was wearing shoes. She was barefoot—"but I still think we should get married."
She laughed, albeit a little soggy. "If I do this art therapy thing, I'm going to have to finish my degree. Maybe have a second major or get my Masters." She'd have the money, thanks to Mama.
He shrugged, his brawny shoulders moving beneath her hands. "Whatever you need to do, I'll be there for you."
This time, she kissed him.
When they were both good and breathless, they broke apart.
"I can probably find a school closer to Taylor Hills," she told him.
"That's good, ’cause I just lost one of the cowboys, and the Triple H is depending on me."
She played with the collar of his shirt. "The ranch would be a beautiful place to get married...in the spring." She could bunk down with Katie until then.
His smile rivaled the sun. "Yeah? Is that a hint? Good thing I brought this."
He pulled back, reaching into his right hip pocket. Her breath caught as he pulled out something sparkly.
Then it felt as if she'd inhaled too many paint fumes; her mind spun as he sank to one knee. "Kels, I can't live without you. Please marry me and make my life whole."
She nodded, tears coming as he slipped the band on her finger. He gathered her in for another deep kiss and then let her loose to gaze at the ring.
"This is your grandma's ring," she said, realization falling over her. The trio of small diamonds in the middle of a plain gold band was familiar.
"Kinda fitting, since you'll be a Triple H bride and all."
A Triple H bride.
Matt's bride.
She itched—but not to run. To paint. To create because of the man who'd never stopped believing in their love, who'd never stopped believing in her.
A Triple H bride.
Yes, please.
Dear Reader
Thank you for picking up Kissing Kelsey. This book starts a new spin-off series, Triple H Brides. I love writing about men in uniform and when I “met” Matt in Once Upon a Cowboy, I knew he had to have his own story. And then, of course, Carrie started speaking to me as well… (Gideon’s siblings are surprisingly pushy). I hope you enjoyed falling in love with Matt and Kelsey.
Thanks for reading!
Connect with me online:
www.lacywilliams.net
[email protected]
Courting Carrie sneak peek
There’s a little matchmaker on the loose...
“What do you want to get your mama for Christmas?”
“A husband.”
Cowboy Trey Markson might have quit his job as a hand on the Triple H, but he still has a soft spot in his heart for seven-year-old Scarlett—and her mama, part-owners of the Texas ranch. When Scarlett pulls him in on a Christmas caper, all his old feelings for Carrie reignite, and he’s afraid he’s going to get burned all over again.
Breaking up with Trey was the hardest thing single mom Carrie Hale has ever done. But after the small town stylist escaped from a horrific marriage, she’s too afraid to put her trust in a man again. Even one as upstanding as Trey.
Will one little girl’s Christmas wish bring these two wary hearts together?
Buy now
Also by Lacy Williams
Wild Wyoming Heart series (historical romance)
Marrying Miss Marshal
Counterfeit Cowboy
Cowboy Pride
Courted by a Cowboy
Triple H Brides series (contemporary romance)
Kissing Kelsey
Courting Carrie
Stealing Sarah
Keeping Kayla
Cowboy Fairytales series (contemporary romance)
Once Upon a Cowboy
Cowboy Charming
The Toad Prince
The Beastly Princess
The Lost Princess
Heart of Oklahoma series (contemporary romance)
Kissed by a Cowboy
Love Letters from Cowboy
Mistletoe Cowboy
Cowgirl for Keeps
Jingle Bell Cowgirl
Heart of a Cowgirl
3 Days with a Cowboy
Prodigal Cowgirl
Wyoming Legacy series (historical romance)
The Homesteader’s Sweetheart
Courted by a Cowboy
Roping the Wrangler
Return of the Cowboy Doctor
The Wrangler’s Inconvenient Wife
A Cowboy for Christmas
Her Convenient Cowboy
Her Cowboy Deputy
Not in a Series
Love’s Glimmer
How to Lose a Guy in 10 Dates
Santa Next Door
The Butterfly Bride
Secondhand Cowboy
Wagon Train Sweetheart (historical romance)
Copyright © 2017 by Lacy Williams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Kissing Kelsey: a Cowboy Fairytales spin-off (Triple H Brides Book 1) Page 8