by Nicole Helm
He pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes still closed. “My wounds to heal, the case to be over, fifty years—take your pick.”
“No, I didn’t mean wait for what, I mean what would I yell at you for?”
His eyes opened, blue and vibrant. “You didn’t come here to yell at me?”
“No, I came here to tell you that I’m tired of waiting and being pushed aside and we will talk about everything on my time, and when I want to.”
“Okay,” he returned all too reasonably.
“And I don’t want to do it in this damn waiting room with all these people listening to me.”
“Okay.”
“And stop saying okay!”
He grinned at her again, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, tell him she loved him or kiss him a million times over no matter who they were in front of.
“All right,” he said, feigning seriousness. “This is where I point out I don’t have a car or any way of getting us out of here.”
“I guess you’ll have to ride on the back of my bike. If you think you’re up to it.”
“I guess it’s fitting punishment all in all.”
She frowned at him. “Why do you think I’m going to yell at you or you need to be punished? You recall saving my life earlier, right?”
“I’m the reason you were in that position. I let my father convince me to do something I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to leave you with him. It went against every gut feeling I had, but I let it go because...”
“Because he’s your father. You think I don’t understand the way loyalty and family love can screw with you? I trusted Oscar. I trusted CJ. They... Bennet, you want to love your family, and it’s an awful thing when they don’t deserve it. But it’s not our fault.”
His thumb brushed her cheek, back and forth, and all she wanted was to be in a bed somewhere with him and shut the world and their families and this awful day away for good. But his next words made her breath catch.
“I love you,” he said in the middle of a hospital waiting room, earnestly and looking her right in the eye as if there was no greater truth in the world.
Alyssa tried to make sense of those three simple words. Except, she hadn’t expected them, and they were anything but simple. “Wh-what?”
“‘What’ as in you didn’t hear me or you don’t believe me or you don’t want me to?”
“I...”
“Because I’m not sure how to talk you into loving me back without knowing which objection I’m fighting.”
“You don’t have to talk me into it,” she managed to say through her tight, scratchy throat.
“I don’t?”
“I may not have had very good luck with the kind of love a person is born with, but I’ve been pretty good about finding it myself these past few years.” With shaky fingers, she traced the impressive cut of his jaw. “I love you, Bennet.”
“Just took a week, a few kidnapping attempts and successes, a dramatic shootout.”
“Don’t forget the involvement of family members.”
“No, who could forget that?” He inhaled deeply, then let it out. He looked at her so intently Alyssa wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it, but she’d gladly spend a very long time trying.
“We managed to turn today around, I think,” he murmured, still touching her face, still looking at her in that heart-melting way.
Alyssa glanced at the clock. “It’s after midnight. It’s tomorrow.”
“Even better.”
Then he was kissing her in the middle of this waiting room again, and she didn’t care anymore at all.
Epilogue
One Year Later
“The timing is so funny,” Tawny said, attaching a golden hairpiece to Alyssa’s impossibly perfect updo. “I swear we were just doing this a year ago.”
“We were,” Alyssa returned. “Except I was wearing black.”
“And now you look positively radiant in white.” Tawny stepped back and studied her handiwork. “Please wear the heels. Please. I beg of you.”
“Sorry. Tennis shoes are tradition.”
“So is kidnapping. I’m hoping we avoid that this time around.”
“You and me both.”
Tawny pouted at Alyssa’s feet. “Well, at least they’re white. But everyone is going to see them when you walk down the aisle.”
“They’ll survive the shock.”
“Ready for the great unveiling?” Tawny asked.
Alyssa took stock of herself in the mirror. It was no different from how she’d felt a year ago getting ready for a Christmas gala, and yet it was completely different. As uncomfortable as she felt all dressed up, she was going to her wedding this time.
And that made all the difference in the world.
Tawny opened the bathroom door and ushered her out into the bedroom where the photographer and her bridesmaids waited. Natalie and Gabby were both dressed in beautiful forest green, Nat holding pretty little Sarah dressed in red toddler finery on her hip, Gabby lying miserably on the bed.
But both looked at Alyssa as she entered the room, brown eyes shiny.
“Oh, you look like a princess,” Natalie said with a little sniffle. “It’s perfect.”
“You look great, Lyss,” Gabby added. “I’ve got a bet with Jaime that Bennet cries, so do your best for me, okay?”
Alyssa managed a laugh, feeling a little teary herself. “You going to make it down the aisle?”
“Do you want me to go get you some ginger ale?” Tawny asked.
“No, I’d prefer a time machine so I can fast-forward out of morning sickness land,” Gabby replied.
“You’re getting there,” Nat offered.
Gabby simply groaned, but Alyssa had to grin. She’d spent much of her life alone and isolated, and now she was getting married surrounded by her surrogate family. Her sisters, her friends. And soon enough she’d be walking down the aisle to the man she loved.
She swallowed at the lump in her throat, because she did not want to go through the arduous process of redoing her makeup.
A knock sounded at the door, and when Tawny opened it she screeched and slammed it right back shut. “You are not supposed to see the bride, Bennet Stevens,” she scolded through the door.
“I’m not superstitious,” Bennet returned from behind the closed door.
“Well, I am,” Alyssa said, crossing to the door. “So get the hell out of here.”
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“Just a crack. We don’t have to see each other. I just want to give you something.”
“If it’s jewelry, I don’t want it.”
“It’s not jewelry. Open the door and hold out your damn hand, woman.”
She looked at the door, unable to stop grinning. How she’d gotten here, she’d never know, but she was so happy. So, so happy, and what’s more, she knew she darn well deserved it.
She cracked the door open and stuck her hand out the crack. Bennet placed something in her palm, and she curled her fingers around the slim piece of metal and pulled it to her.
When she uncurled her fingers, she was staring at a Swiss Army knife. A monogrammed Swiss Army knife, with her soon-to-be initials on it.
“If I’m not fishing that out of your dress later, you’re going to be in very big trouble,” Bennet said from behind the door.
Tawny peered into Alyssa’s palm and wrinkled her nose. “What kind of gift is a knife?”
Alyssa slid the knife into the top of her dress, making sure it was secure before she flashed a grin at Tawny. “The perfect gift.” She cleared her throat and peeked out the crack in the door.
Bennet was standing there looking all too pleased with himself, polished and
perfect in his tux.
She kept her body hidden behind the door, but stuck her head out the crack.
“Hi,” he offered.
“Hi,” she returned. She stuck her finger out the crack and crooked it at him so he’d step closer.
“If I come closer, I’m going to kiss you,” he warned.
“On the cheek,” she said, offering her cheek, but as he moved closer, he only cupped her face with his hands and bent his face close enough their noses were touching.
“Not the cheek,” he whispered, touching his lips to hers. It would ruin her lipstick, but she was a little too happy to care. She kissed him right back.
There were protests from inside, but Alyssa didn’t care. Today she was marrying the man she loved, and no luck—good or bad—could stand in her way.
“I love you, Ranger Stevens,” she murmured against his mouth.
“And I love you.” He pulled away, that charming grin firmly in place. “See you soon, wife,” he offered, heading back down the hall toward the grand staircase. They would be getting married at the bottom of it, then having their reception in the huge living room decorated with the giant gold tree she’d admired last year.
Bennet hadn’t loved the idea of getting married at the Stevenses’ house, what with his father being in jail, but Alyssa thought it was fitting. It was where they’d had their first real kiss, where they’d made love for the first time, where they’d spent all that time together that had led them to this wonderful moment.
Yes, it was perfect, even in all its glitz and glamour, and when they went home tonight to Bennet’s less flashy house that he’d insisted she help decorate over the past few months, they’d have their low-key, very naked wedding night, and celebrate the start of a very wonderful, loving life together.
And if everything in her life had led her to this wonderful point, she wouldn’t trade any of it and risk missing out on that. Because the life she’d built in her newfound freedom wasn’t perfect, but it was full of love, and love, it turned out, wasn’t a weapon.
It was freedom.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from ROUGH RIDER by B.J. Daniels.
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Rough Rider
by B.J. Daniels
Chapter One
Boone McGraw parked the pickup at the edge of the dark, deserted city street and checked the address again. One look around at the boarded-up old buildings in Butte’s uptown and he feared his suspicions had been warranted.
Christmas lights glowed in the valley below. But uptown on what had once been known as the richest hill on earth, there was no sign of the approaching holiday. Shoving back his Stetson, he let out a long sigh. He feared the information the family attorney had allegedly received was either wrong or an attempted con job. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to cash in on the family’s tragedy.
But he’d promised his father, Travers McGraw, that he would follow up on the lead. Not that he believed for a moment that it was going to help him find Jesse Rose, his sister, who’d been kidnapped from her crib twenty-five years ago.
Boone glanced toward the dilapidated building that reportedly housed Knight Investigations. According to the family’s former lawyer, Jim Waters, he’d spoken to a private investigator by the name of Hank Knight a few times on the phone. Knight had asked questions that supposedly had Waters suspecting that the PI knew something more than he was saying. But Waters had never met with the man. All he’d had for Boone to go on was a phone number and an address.
The phone had recently been disconnected and the century-old brick building looked completely abandoned with dusty for-lease signs in most of the windows and just dust in others. No lights burned in the building—not that he’d expected anyone to be working this late.
Boone told himself that he might as well get a motel for the night and come back tomorrow. Not that he expected to find anything here. He was convinced this long trip from Whitehorse to Butte had been a wild-goose chase.
His father had been easy prey for twenty-five years. Desperate to find the missing twins who’d been kidnapped, Travers had appealed to every news outlet. Anyone who’d watched the news or picked up a newspaper over the past twenty-five years knew how desperate he was since each year, the amount of the reward for information had grown.
Boone, suspicious by nature, had been skeptical from the get-go. The family attorney had proven he couldn’t be trusted. So why trust information he said he’d gotten? His father hadn’t trusted the lawyer for some time—with good reason. He swore under his breath. All he could think about was how disappointed his father was going to be—and not for the first time.
But he’d promised he would track down the PI and follow up on the information no matter what it took. And damn if he wouldn’t, he thought as he started his pickup. But before he could pull away, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A dark figure had just come around the block and was now moving quickly down the sidewalk. The figure slowed at the building that housed Knight Investigations. He watched as the person slipped in through the only door at the front.
Across the street, Boone shut off the truck’s engine and waited. He told himself the person he’d seen could be homeless and merely looking for a place to sleep. It was late and the fall night was clear and cold at this high altitude. Butte sat at 5,538 feet above sea level and often had snow on the ground a good portion of the year.
Boone hunkered in the dark, watching the building until he began to lose patience with himself. This was a waste of his time. The cab of the truck was getting cold. What he needed was a warm bed. A warm meal didn’t sound bad, either. He could come back in the morning and—
A light flickered on behind one of the windows on the top floor and began to bob around the room. Someone was up there with a flashlight. He squinted, able to finally make out the lettering on the warbled old glass: Knight Investigations.
He felt his pulse thrum under his skin. It appeared he wasn’t the only one interested in Hank Knight.
Copyright © 2017 by Barbara Heinlein
ISBN-13: 9781488013126
Stone Cold Christmas Ranger
Copyright © 2017 by Nicole Helm
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