by Maisey Yates
“I just needed a little bit of quiet,” she said, lifting her glass of champagne.
“Sure.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I’m not used to this kind of thing. I spent a lot of time on the road. In crappy hotels. Not a lot of time at these sorts of get-togethers.”
“Regretting the whole return-of-the-prodigal-son thing? Because it’s too late to unkill that fatted calf, young man. You’re stuck.”
He laughed. “No. I’m glad that I’m back. Because of you. Because of Colton, Sierra. Even Jack.”
“Rebecca?”
“Of course.” He took a deep breath, closing the distance between them. “So what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” she said, smiling.
“I have a feeling that everybody else usually buys that. Which is why you do it. But I don’t. Is it Jack? Is it having him here?”
She thought about that. Seriously thought about it. “No,” she said, truthful. “I’m glad. I’m so glad that we’re starting to fix some of this. I spent a long time holding on to my anger. My anger at Dad. At the past. All of my pain. And Jack got caught up in that. Because of the circumstances. We are all very different people. And getting to this point... I feel like we took five different paths. But here we are. And it isn’t for Dad. It’s for us. I think that’s good. I spent a lot of time doing things in response to him. In response to the pain that he caused me. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to act from a place of pain and fear anymore.”
“That’s quite a different stance. I mean, since last we talked at The Grind.”
She tried to smile again, wandering over to one of the wooden pillars. “I guess some things happened.” She pressed her palm against the cold surface, then her forehead. She took a deep breath. In and out, slowly, evenly.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “Not really. But I will be.”
“I know I missed your first big heartbreak. And I feel like I would have done that bastard some bodily harm. I have quite a bit of internalized rage built up. If you need me to hurt anyone... I will. Gladly.”
She laughed. “I appreciate that. Really, I do. It’s just that...it’s a good thing this is happening. It’s making me realize a lot of things. It’s making me change a lot of things. I just wish it didn’t hurt.”
“You know...when Rebecca told me that she loved me, it scared the hell out of me. And I said some things that I shouldn’t have said. That no one should ever say to anyone. I regretted it. But I was running scared, and I wanted to make sure she didn’t come after me. I’m so glad that she forgave me when I realized what an idiot I was.”
She lifted her head, turning to face him. “That sounds a lot like brotherly advice.”
“It is. And maybe it’s not relevant to your situation. I don’t know. But what I do know is that we both have a tendency to hold on to pain. On to anger. If you get a chance to fix this, I hope you forgive the bastard. As long as he’s worthy.”
“How will I know he’s worthy?” she asked, a bit of humor lacing her voice.
“Well, I’ll have to vet him. At some point.”
“Assuming he ever speaks to me again, I would be happy to arrange that.”
Gage nodded. “If he’s half as miserable as you are, trust me, he’ll be coming after you pretty quick.”
“And you think I should forgive him?”
“I think that men are a bunch of hardheaded dumb-asses. And some of us need more chances than others. And I thank God every day I got mine. With this family. With Rebecca. So it would be mean-spirited of me not to advocate for the same for another of my species.”
“I’ll keep that under advisement.”
Gage turned to go. “Do that. But if he keeps being a dumbass, let me know. Because I’ll get together a posse or something.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Hopefully the posse won’t be necessary.”
He shrugged, then walked back into the party. She felt fortified then. Because she knew she had people on her side. No matter what. She wasn’t alone. And that felt good. Even when most everything felt bad.
She let out a long, slow breath and rested her forearms on the railing, leaning forward, staring out across the darkened field. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she could see straight out to the ocean in spite of the fact that it was dark.
She was starting to get cold, even with the artificial heat. But it was entirely possible the chill was coming from inside her. Side effects of heartbreak and all of that.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
She straightened, blinking, looking out into the darkness. Afraid to turn around. That voice was familiar. And it didn’t belong to anyone in her family.
She turned slowly, her heart stalling when she saw Sam standing there. He was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a black jacket and a pair of black slacks. His hair was disheveled, and she was pretty sure she could see a bit of soot on his chest where the open shirt exposed his skin.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you.” He took a step closer to her. “Bad enough that I put this on.”
“Where did you get it?”
“The secondhand store on Main.”
“Wow.” No matter what he had to say, the fact that Sam McCormack had shown up in a suit said a whole lot without him ever opening his mouth.
“It doesn’t really fit. And I couldn’t figure out how to tie the tie.” And of course, he hadn’t asked anyone for help. Sam never would. It just wasn’t him.
“Well, then going without was definitely the right method.”
“I have my moments of brilliance.” He shook his head. “But the other day wasn’t one of them.”
Her heart felt as if it were in a free fall, her stomach clenching tight. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I agree. I mean, unreservedly. But I am open to hearing about your version of why you didn’t think you were brilliant. Just in case we have differing opinions on the event.”
He cursed. “I’m not good at this.” He took two steps toward her, then reached out, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I hate this, in fact. I’m not good at talking about feelings. And I’ve spent a lot of years trying to bury them down deep. I would like to do it now. But I know there’s no good ending to that. I know that I owe you more.”
“Go on,” she said, keeping her eyes on his, her voice trembling, betraying the depth of emotion she felt.
She had never seen Sam quite like this, on edge, like he might shatter completely at any moment. “I told you I thought I didn’t deserve these feelings. And I believed it.”
“I know you did,” she said, the words broken. “I know that you never lied on purpose, Sam. I know.”
“I don’t deserve that. That certainty. I didn’t do anything to earn it.”
She shook her head. “Stop. We’re not going to talk like that. About what we deserve. I don’t know what I deserve. But I know what I want. I want you. And I don’t care if I’m jumping the gun. I don’t care if I didn’t make you grovel enough. It’s true. I do.”
“Maddy...”
“This all comes because we tried to protect ourselves for too long. Because we buried everything down deep. I don’t have any defenses anymore. I can’t do it anymore. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Which you can see, because I’m basically throwing myself at you again.”
“I’ve always been afraid there was something wrong with me.” His dark eyes were intense, and she could tell that he was wishing he could turn to stone rather than finish what he was saying. But that he was determined. That he had put his foot on the path and he wasn’t going to deviate from it. “Something wrong with what I felt. And I pushed it all down. I always have. I’ve been through stuff that would make a lot of people crazy. But if you keep shovin
g it on down, it never gets any better.” He shook his head. “I’ve been holding on to grief. Holding on to anger. I didn’t know what else to do with it. My feelings about my parents, my feelings about Elizabeth, the baby. It’s complicated. It’s a lot. And I think more than anything I just didn’t want to deal with it. I had a lot of excuses, and they felt real. They even felt maybe a little bit noble?”
“I can see that. I can see it being preferable to grief.”
“Just like you said, Maddy. You put all those defenses in front of it, and then nothing can hurt you, right?”
She nodded. “At least, that’s been the way I’ve handled it for a long time.”
“You run out. Of whatever it is you need to be a person. Whatever it is you need to contribute, to create. That’s why I haven’t been able to do anything new with my artwork.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “It’s hard for me to...”
“I know. You would rather die than talk about feelings. And talk about this. But I think you need to.”
“I told myself it was wrong to make something for my dad. My mom. Because they didn’t support my work. I told myself I didn’t deserve to profit off Elizabeth’s death in any way. But that was never the real issue. The real issue was not wanting to feel those things at all. I was walking across the field the other night, and I thought about grief. The way that it covers things, twists the world around you into something unrecognizable.” He shook his head. “When you’re in the thick of it, it’s like walking in the dark. Even if you’re in a place you’ve seen a thousand times by day, it all changes. And suddenly what seemed safe is now full of danger.”
He took a sharp breath and continued. “You can’t trust anymore. You can’t trust everything will be okay, because you’ve seen that sometimes it isn’t. That’s what it’s like to have lost people like I have. And I can think about a thousand pieces that I could create that would express that. But it would mean that I had to feel it. And it would mean I would have to show other people what I felt. I wanted... From the moment I laid my hands on you, Maddy, I wanted to turn you into something. A sculpture. A painting. But that would mean looking at how I felt about you too. And I didn’t want to do that either.”
Maddy lifted her hand, cupping Sam’s cheek. “I understand why you work with iron, Sam. Because it’s just like you. You’re so strong. And you really don’t want to bend. But if you would just bend...just a little bit, I think you could be something even more beautiful than you already are.”
“I’ll do more than bend. If I have to, to have you, I’ll break first. But I’ve decided... I don’t care about protecting myself. From loss, from pain...doesn’t matter. I just care about you. And I know that I have to fix myself if I’m going to become the kind of man you deserve. I know I have to reach inside and figure all that emotional crap out. I can’t just decide that I love you and never look at the rest of it. I have to do all of it. To love you the way that you deserve, I know I have to deal with all of it.”
“Do you love me?”
He nodded slowly. “I do.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a notebook. “I’ve been working on a new collection. Just sketches right now. Just plans.” He handed her the notebook. “I want you to see it. I know you’ll understand.”
She took it from him, opening it with shaking hands, her heart thundering hard in her throat. She looked at the first page, at the dark twisted mass he had sketched there. Maybe it was a beast, or maybe it was just menacing angles—it was hard to tell. She imagined that was the point.
There was more. Broken figures, twisted metal. Until the very last page. Where the lines smoothed out into rounded curves, until the mood shifted dramatically and everything looked a whole lot more like hope.
“It’s hard to get a sense of scale and everything in the drawings. This is just me kind of blocking it out.”
“I understand,” she whispered. “I understand perfectly.” It started with grief, and it ended with love. Unimaginable pain that was transformed.
“I lost a lot of things, Maddy. I would hate for you to be one of them. Especially because you’re the one thing I chose to lose. And I have regretted it every moment since. But this is me.” He put his fingertip on the notebook. “That’s me. I’m not the nicest guy. I’m not what anybody would call cheerful. Frankly, I’m a grumpy son of a bitch. It’s hard for me to talk about what I’m feeling. Harder for me to show it, and I’m in the world’s worst line of work for that. But if you’ll let me, I’ll be your grumpy son of a bitch. And I’ll try. I’ll try for you.”
“Sam,” she said, “I love you. I love you, and I don’t need you to be anything more than you. I’m willing to accept the fact that getting to your feelings may always be a little bit of an excavation. But if you promise to work on it, I’ll promise not to be too sensitive about it. And maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle. One person doesn’t have to do all the changing. And I don’t want you to anyway.” She smiled, and this time it wasn’t forced. “You had me at ‘You’re at the wrong door.’”
He chuckled. “I think you had me a lot sooner than that. I just didn’t know it.”
“So,” she said, looking up at him, feeling like the sun was shining inside her, in spite of the chill outside, “you want to go play Yahtzee?”
“Only if you mean it euphemistically.”
“Absolutely not. I expect you to take the time to woo me, Sam McCormack. And if that includes board games, that’s just a burden you’ll have to bear.”
Sam smiled. A real smile. One that showed his heart, his soul, and held nothing back. “I would gladly spend the rest of my life bearing your burdens, Madison West.”
“On second thought,” she said, “board games not required.”
“Oh yeah? What do you need, then?”
“Nothing much at all. Just hold me, cowboy. That’s enough for me.”
* * *
Meet all the cowboys in Copper Ridge!
Shoulda Been a Cowboy (prequel novella)
Part Time Cowboy
Brokedown Cowboy
Bad News Cowboy
A Copper Ridge Christmas (novella)
Hometown Heartbreaker (novella)
Take Me, Cowboy
One Night Charmer
Tough Luck Hero
Last Chance Rebel
Hold Me, Cowboy
If you can’t get enough Maisey Yates,
try her bestselling books
from Harlequin Presents!
Don’t miss
The Prince’s Pregnant Mistress
Second in her fabulous
Heirs Before Vows series.
Keep reading for an excerpt from Cowboy Christmas Redemption by Maisey Yates.
New York Times bestselling author
MAISEY YATES
invites readers to celebrate Christmas in Gold Valley with
COWBOY CHRISTMAS REDEMPTION
As snowflakes fall in Gold Valley, Oregon, will this rugged cowboy finally win the woman of his dreams?
* * *
“Fans of Robyn Carr and RaeAnne Thayne will enjoy [Yates’s] small-town romance.” —Booklist
* * *
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Cowboy Christmas Redemption
by Maisey Yates
CHAPTER ONE
ELLIE BELL COULD sometimes imagine that she lived an entirely different life. Not because she didn’t love so much about what she had, but because it was nice, even for a little while, to set down the various burdens that she carried around with her and jus
t focus on the moment.
Getting chickens had been an interesting endeavor, one that had proved to be quite a bit more sanity-preserving than she had anticipated.
Sometimes when she was out collecting eggs, she felt like she’d fallen through a time warp. Where she was younger than twenty-eight. Not a woman with a heavy burden of responsibility, or the crushing weight of loss deep inside her.
But somebody liked. Somebody carefree. Whose only responsibility was to collect eggs and look out at the beautiful view that stretched out before her.
Her little farmhouse was modest, and it was old, with a porch that had white peeling paint that she hadn’t been able to rally herself to fix. But she’d hung baskets of flowers from the rafters, and she supposed that was something.
At least it was something she was much more up for than painting.
Maybe someday she would get it together and do all the renovation that the place needed.
She took a deep breath, and she focused her gaze on the horizon. On the long stretch of emerald field that faded into the evergreen-covered mountains, currently bathed in a rose-gold glow from the setting sun. The days were getting shorter, heading into the Christmas season, and honestly, that was something else that just made her tired.
She had to do things.
For Amelia’s sake.
Well, handily, Tammy Dalton was always around to do something. The Daltons had been her late husband’s surrogate family, and after Clint’s death, had become hers and Amelia’s, as well.
Tammy always made a wonderful Christmas dinner, and the gathering that they had was spectacular. And it gave Ellie an excuse not to make a big fuss about Christmas at her house, which always felt vaguely sad to her.
She didn’t want to drag out the ornaments that she had gotten with Clint. And she didn’t want to get rid of them and get new ones, either. They’d had cozy Christmases in their apartment back by the high school in town. Their own ornaments. First Christmas, with a bride and groom. The Bells, on a big silver bell...
She’d loved him so much. Right from the beginning. He was just a nice man. In spite of the fact he’d had a rough upbringing. He’d been open, and he’d laughed easily. He’d taught her to laugh a little easier.