Her Cowboy Billionaire Beast

by Liz Isaacson

  “An off-site man-cave,” she said as she removed her helmet. “Do you come here often?”

  “Not as often as I thought I would,” he said. “Especially since I started taking the drugs.” He left his helmet on the seat too and walked toward the shop, all of his senses on high-alert. Well, as high as they could get.

  He stopped several paces away from the door. “Maybe this is too soon.”

  “Cy.” Patsy’s fingers slipped into his. She didn’t say anything else, and he appreciated that she could say so much with only one word. Two letters. He heard so much more than just his name, and her confidence and support gave him the courage to continue toward the door.

  He unlocked it, the familiar scent of wood, leather, and metal meeting him instantly. He needed his housekeeper to come here and freshen things up, but he also didn’t want anyone else in his space. Even bringing Patsy here was hard for him.

  He hadn’t planned to give her the gift this way. He’d planned to erect the sign at the orchard and sit beside it until she returned.

  “I just finished it,” he said. “But I can change anything you don’t like.” He stepped over to the wall, where the huge Foxhill Farms sign hung. He’d finished the painting last night, and he loved it as much now as he had then.

  “Oh, Cy.” Patsy sucked in a breath and pressed one hand to her heart. “Look at it. It’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect.” She stepped right over to the sign, which had an elegant yet chunky font for the letters. He’d made the O in Foxhill and the A in Farms with apples, and he’d painted those bright red.

  The fringed grass along the bottom of the sign added some color as well, as he’d done that in a dark green.

  “I’m not sure if it’s too Christmassy or what,” Cy said quietly. “Maybe it needs something else.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said. “It’s wonderful, even if it is Christmassy.” She spun back to him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Besides, Christmas is my favorite holiday.”

  She flung herself into his arms and cried for the second time that night. This time, though, Cy was happy about the tears wetting his shirt.

  “Love you, sweetheart,” he said.

  She tipped her head back and smiled at him through her tears. “I love you, too, Cy. And I love this sign.”

  “I’ll get it up before the snow comes,” he said.

  “Oh, we have tons of time before that,” she said.

  “Do we?” he asked. “Because it’s freezing.”

  “It’ll rain a lot before it’ll snow,” she said. “So, let’s plan to go riding tomorrow, okay?”

  “Absolutely,” Cy said, because he couldn’t think of anything better.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Patsy listened to Cy and her father talking in the other room, her focus half there and half on the turkey she’d just dressed. It needed to go in the oven, and she hefted it up to do just that.

  She’d brought in the twenty pounds of potatoes from the garage, but they needed to be peeled and diced. Her siblings and their families should be arriving soon, but Patsy wasn’t surprised Betty wasn’t there to help.

  Since Patsy had taken over the orchard, Betty had basically disappeared. She was busy with her teenagers, and her dramatic streak only amped up her pride. Patsy understood that, because she’d had to really take a bite out of her own pride in order to fix things with Cy.

  They’d been back together for almost three months now, and Cy was a saint for spending Thanksgiving here at the orchard with her family. She’d told him it wouldn’t be fun, but he’d said he’d be fine.

  They were spending a week in Colorado starting the day after Christmas, and Patsy couldn’t wait to spend more time with his parents and grandmother.

  She set the timer for the turkey and turned to get out a potato peeler. Cy came into the kitchen and said, “I can do that. It might be the only thing I can do, so let me.” He took the peeler from her, and Patsy smiled at him.

  “It’s going to be crazy.”

  “I like crazy,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “Remember?”

  She shook her head and let him get to work peeling the potatoes. She hated doing it, so she felt like she was winning on all fronts. She put together a roll dough while Cy peeled, and working with him in the kitchen sent satisfaction straight through her.

  She sometimes spent time with him in the shop too, and he was as amazing as she’d always known he was. Marissa ran the shop now, and Cy had found a new secretary, who was doing an amazing job.

  Everything with him seemed made of light and sunshine, and she wondered how he’d operated so well before the medication. Cy had insisted that Patsy come to therapy sessions with him, because he wanted her to go into the future with him knowing exactly what she was getting.

  She’d appreciated his concern for her, but even if she’d seen something to worry her, she’d also already received confirmation that she belonged with Cy. She loved him. Everything about him, even the imperfections, the mental illnesses, the anxiety. He loved her, despite her imperfections, and she’d never thought that would happen.

  They sat in church each week, each of them clutching the other’s hand as they healed, both spiritually and emotionally. Patsy had learned that church wasn’t about listening to a sermon or doing the right thing. It felt like a hospital now, where the spiritually sick needed to go to make it through another week.

  Every day she spent with Cy also built up her strength to face the tasks she had to complete on a daily basis.

  Just as she covered the bowl that held the dough with a clean tea towel, the front door opened and noise entered in the form of teenagers. Very loud female teenagers. And Betty was just as loud as she trilled, “Helllooo, everyone.” She came down the hall and into the kitchen, carrying a beautiful three-tiered cake on a decorative stand.

  Her husband followed, carrying a few bags of bread.

  “Thanks,” Patsy said as she took the loaves from Cory. “Wendy, you’re helping me with the stuffing.”

  “Sure thing, Aunt Patsy.” Her niece came into the kitchen and opened the cupboard above the microwave to get down an apron.

  “I hardly know what to do if I’m not stuck in the kitchen,” Betty said, glancing at Patsy and Cy. “Joe’s not here?”

  “Not yet,” Patsy said. “And Dad needs company.” Being in the living room entertaining their father was just as much work as peeling potatoes and making sure the roll dough rose properly. Betty would find out as soon as she had a conversation with their father that took longer than five minutes.

  Within that five minutes, though, Joe arrived with his two kids, one of whom was already crying. Cy glanced over to them as Joe tried to console his crying six-year-old daughter.

  “Angie, it’s time to stop.” Joe seemed at the end of his rope already, and Patsy actually felt dangerously close to hers too.

  “Michelle,” Patsy said, and that was all it took to get her niece to go take Angie from her dad. She said something about taking the little girl upstairs to see if there were any dolls there, and that got Angie to calm down enough to go upstairs.

  “I could give them rides on my motorcycle,” Cy said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Save it for later,” Patsy whispered back. “We have a long way to go.”

  She was right, and she knew she was right, and she hated that she was right. She hoped she could survive the next six hours with her family—and that Cy could too.

  She shouldn’t have been worried, because Cy could charm snakes and scorpions and even piranhas. He swooped in and saved the day with Joe’s son when he fell and hurt his ankle. He told Betty’s two youngest daughters what the teenage boys they liked were thinking, and that sent them into fits of giggles. All three of them, with Betty narrowing her eyes from across the room.

  He took her father his pills right on time, thanks to that alarm on his watch. He made sure he got down the hall safely when he needed to use the restroom. He took him whatever he w
anted to drink, even when Betty protested against the soda.

  “I can have one soda a year, Betty,” Dad had said, and Patsy swore the entire Earth had stopped revolving for a few seconds. Her father had never stood up to Betty, but he’d popped the top on that soda can and drank the whole thing.

  Patsy had muttered to Cy that he really could only have one, and Cy had steered their father toward water and fruit punch after that. Easily.

  He played cards with all the nieces and nephews, all seven of them exploding into a roar and laughter as Laura threw down her hand and won the game. Patsy stood on the sidelines, wondering how everything Cy touched turned to gold.

  Betty said, “He’s great, Patsy,” and that was the closest she’d ever come to complimenting Patsy.

  “Isn’t he?”

  “Is he going to ask you to marry him?”

  “I sure hope so,” Patsy said. “Should I ask him?”

  “No, sweetie,” Betty said, watching as her oldest daughter taunted everyone though she’d won. “He’s got a plan, that one, and it’s going to be amazing. Wait for him.”

  Patsy had only nodded, her steady pulse matching the steady stream of prayer moving through her mind.

  Thank you for leading me to him, she thought. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  A month later, Patsy had her bag packed for Colorado. They were joining the celebration up at Whiskey Mountain Lodge on Christmas Eve. The next morning, Cy wanted her to come to his house for an intimate Christmas Day celebration, and then they were flying to Colorado with Wes, Bree, Michael, Colton, and Annie.

  Cy’s mother was making a Christmas Day dinner, and Patsy was excited to get out of Wyoming. She hadn’t left in years, and though Colorado was just one state south, it felt like an exciting trip.

  “Patsy’s here,” Beau bellowed the moment Patsy walked in behind Cy, and several women’s voices filled the air. Sophia was the first to greet her, and she gripped Patsy tightly as they hugged.

  Patsy had asked her about Ames several times over the past few months, but Sophia had been evasive and vague. Patsy had finally driven up to the cabin they’d used to share, because it was too cold and wet to ride a motorcycle safely. She’d waited in the cabin until Sophia came home from the lodge, and she’d demanded to know what was going on.

  Sophia had finally admitted that she didn’t want to “do the long distance thing” like Elise and Gray, and that she and Ames were “still friends.”

  Patsy let go of her friend but held her shoulders as they separated. “How are you?” In their few inches, she had some privacy.

  “Good,” Sophia chirped, which meant less-than-good. So Patsy would keep texting her and asking her to come down the canyon to lunch. Sophia never would, even on the weekends. So Patsy resolved right then and there to bring lunch up to the lodge on the weekends. She could borrow Cy’s truck if the weather was bad.

  No matter what, she wasn’t going to leave Sophia in the dust. She already knew her friend felt like that as it was. She tried to glance around for Ames, but then she remembered he hadn’t come. Why would he, for just one night?

  There’s no reason, he’d told Cy, and that had further cemented Sophia’s story that they weren’t seeing each other anymore.

  Patsy got swept away by Elise, who had come with Gray and Hunter—and their new baby.

  “Oh,” Patsy said as she laid eyes on the infant for the first time—at least in the flesh. Elise had sent plenty of pictures and several videos over the past two months. “Can I?” Patsy reached for the tiny, sleeping bundle of pure joy.

  The little girl gurgled during the exchange, and then she snuggled right into Patsy’s chest. Her heart grew five sizes in the time it took to breathe, and she couldn’t even look away from the baby’s angelic face to tell Elise how perfect she was.

  “Hello, baby Jane,” she whispered, Cy’s hand on her back warm and heavy. She glanced at him. “Look at her, Cy.” She looked back at Jane’s face. “How can you say you don’t want one of these?”

  “You don’t?” Gray asked. “Cy, I thought you wanted kids.”

  “He wants boys,” Patsy murmured so as to not wake the baby. Which was ridiculous, given the amount of noise filling the huge, two-story vaulted ceilings in this giant room.

  “Only boys?” Gray repeated. “I don’t get why. We’re loud and obnoxious.”

  “And you smell bad,” Elise said.

  “Hey,” Gray said.

  “What?” she asked. “Have you been in your son’s room? It’s disgusting.”

  “He’s fourteen,” Gray said. “They’re a special breed. We grow out of it, you know.”

  “Do you?” Elise asked, leaning into her husband’s side. “Because I think we just had a conversation about who should pick up who’s socks the other day.”

  Gray blinked at her and then looked at Cy. Even Patsy looked up from Jane to see his reaction. “All right,” he said. “Better start praying for girls, Cy. She’s right. We’re disgusting.”

  They laughed, and Patsy joined in. Patsy wouldn’t give up the baby to just anyone, but she did pass her to Bree when she and Wes arrived. It was okay, because Mikey adored Cy, and the boy wouldn’t leave his side. He’d just learned to walk, and he wanted to go everywhere with his uncle.

  Patsy took the opportunity to go around to all the stockings and drop in trinkets. Cy had made horseshoe keychains for the older boys and men in that welding shop of his. He’d told her he’d started working on “finer things” only a week or so after they’d gotten back together, and he’d learned how to make keychains.

  For the younger boys, Patsy had brought sticky hands—exactly what she knew their parents hated. But they’d last the day, and then they could go in the trash. All the children under six years old got those, and any women above that got an apple charm.

  Cy had tried to make them, but the work was too delicate and the design too small. So Patsy had bought them. She thought of the gifts she had for Cy at home, and a sudden wave of panic hit her. What if they weren’t good enough? How could she ever get him something as good as what he’d gotten her?

  She pushed the doubts aside and finished with the presents. She stayed out of the way while final preparations were made, and then Andrew got up and called everyone to attention

  “Welcome to the lodge,” he said. One thing about Andrew—he didn’t say much if he didn’t have to. “We’re glad to have old friends back with us this year.” He looked at Elise, then Patsy, and finally Bree. “And we welcome our new members of the family.”

  Patsy cut her eyes to the two new women loitering near the doorway. They looked like someone had smacked them with two-by-fours. She knew the feeling, because a family celebration like this couldn’t be adequately described. It had to be experienced.

  “I’m not one for big speeches,” he said. “I think I can speak for all the Whittakers when I say that the Lord has been good to us this year. We’re blessed beyond measure, and though not everything has gone exactly right, we’re still here. It’s an amazing gift to be able to learn new things. An amazing blessing to be able to fail and take something from it.”

  He paused for a moment, and Patsy simply watched him. She’d always liked Andrew, who was a bit more serious than the other brothers. He knew how to have fun too, but he carried a lot of responsibility, even now. She had been gone from the lodge for a while, and she didn’t know of all the things he spoke about.

  But she felt the love of God in that moment, and she reached for Cy’s hand. He squeezed hers, and she inched her feet closer to him, needing and craving the nearness of him. If someone would’ve told her she’d be snuggling up to the long-haired man last Christmas, she’d have laughed.

  Of course, she hadn’t expected to be managing the orchard either.

  God really was good, and Patsy had plenty to be grateful for.

  “Our tree lighting this year is going to be done by—”

  “Andy, you forgot the snowman building contest.” H
is wife got up and touched his arm, their toddler following her.

  “Oh, right. The snowman building contest,” Andrew said, speaking into the mic, which came over the PA system so everyone could hear. He grinned out at everyone. “We had an amazing snowman building contest this morning, and the winner is none other than Team Minecraft, which is Ronnie—”

  Patsy couldn’t hear the other names, because three boys started cheering as they came forward. Ronnie, Graham’s son. Stockton, Eli’s son. And Charlie, Beau’s son, who was much younger than the other two. Still they all high-fived and stood at the front of the crowd with huge grins on their faces.

  Patsy clapped along with everyone else, because she knew those boys and she loved them. Beside her, Cy’s phone rang, and he said, “I have to take this. It’s my vet.” He stepped past her, and Patsy worried that he’d miss the tree lighting. She told herself it was a ten-second thing.

  But it meant a lot to the people here at the lodge—to Patsy. She knew what it was like to have to put some things above others, and she supposed one of Cy’s vets was very important to him.

  “All right,” Andrew said. “All right. You boys go sit down. Celia’s shooting daggers from the kitchen.”

  “I am not,” Celia called from the doorway, and several people laughed. She loved all the children at the lodge as if they were her own grandchildren, and though Patsy wasn’t close to grandma age, she loved the Whittaker children too, just like she adored her nieces and nephews.

  Andrew chuckled and hesitated for another moment, still looking toward that doorway. Patsy swung her attention that way too, and Andrew cleared his throat. “Okay, I think we’re finally ready to light the tree. Then we’ll do stockings and move into the newly remodeled dining room for what is sure to be the best Christmas Eve dinner of our lives.”

  “Oh, boy,” Patsy heard Graham say, but no one objected. Patsy had eaten Celia’s cooking, and it was amazing.

  “Okay, so this year, the tree will be lit—”