Sebastian began shaking his head. “Oh, man, Gracie. No, that’s not how I felt at all. You just startled me, because I’d made so many mistakes with you, I wanted to be the one to do the proposing. I wanted to sweep you off your feet the way you deserve. I wanted to show you how much you meant to me. I had this all planned out in my head, and so—”
“I jumped the gun.”
“I was thrilled you wanted to get married, but you deserve a beautiful wedding proposal. Can you understand that?”
Candles flickered, the fireplace shot blue and golden embers up, and Sebastian’s love surrounded her. “I can. I do.”
“Hold that thought, Gracie. Just hold that thought.”
Sebastian rose from his chair and walked to her side. Then he bent his knee and brought out a gorgeous red velvet ring box. Her heart began to pound, and her body trembled as she gazed down at Sebastian, love shining in his eyes. He lifted the box lid to reveal a stunning oval diamond ring surrounded by dozens of tiny diamonds. It was the prettiest ring Gracie had ever seen.
“Gracie, we started out right here in these rooms when I met a wonderful masked woman who knocked me for a loop. I’d never felt that way before, the instant connection we had, the way we responded to each other. It wasn’t a fluke that we’re together now. We were meant to be, Gracie. I believe that with my whole heart. I love you so much. I love the baby you’re carrying, too, and I want this love to continue on until we take our last breaths. Gracie Diaz, my love, will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”
Tears streamed down Gracie’s face. She’d wanted this since childhood, and now she believed in Sebastian and his love. She believed they belonged together. She believed in the beautiful family they’d created. “I love you, too, Sebastian. I want nothing more than to be your wife. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes. Yes. Yes!”
He took her hand and placed the diamond ring on her finger. Then he pulled her up from the seat and cradled her face in his hands. “I love you, Gracie.” And the kiss he bestowed upon her spoke of love and promise and forever. She’d never been happier.
“There’s more, sweetheart,” he said. He pulled a few papers out of his pocket. “This is the deed to your house. It’s in your name now, and all yours. And here’s an agreement proving I was never after your money. It says we each keep what we went into our marriage with, so there’ll never be any doubt.”
“There never will be, Sebastian. Because I’m never letting you go.”
He gave her another tantalizing kiss, and then took her by the hand. “Remember that little alcove, when we first—”
“Hooked up?”
“Made love,” he corrected and then nuzzled her neck, his mouth working magic on her.
She ached for him. It’d been too long. “Think we can find it again?”
“I’m sure of it, sweetheart.” He pointed to the far end of the room and the hidden space between the fireplace and a large bookshelf. “Right there.”
She opened her mouth in awe, surprise and delight, then threw her arms around his neck and kissed him for all he was worth.
He took her hand and led her to the alcove. “This is where it all began...”
“If you wanted to sweep me off my feet, you’ve succeeded. Sebastian Wingate, you just might be perfect after all.”
He touched her belly lovingly and his warmth brought joy to her heart. “That makes three of us, my love.”
Epilogue
One year later...
Gracie stood beside the podium, her husband at the helm, his voice deep and proud as he addressed the gathered crowd in the main dining hall of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. “Let me start out by saying my wife, Gracie Diaz Wingate, has accomplished so much in her life, and no one deserves this honor more than she does. She’s a dynamo, and frankly, this Wingate has trouble keeping pace with her. As you all know, she’s incredibly smart. Well, she married me, didn’t she?”
The small crowd, including his mother, Ava, and Lauren, Sutton, Beth and Cam, all chuckled at his little joke. The others in their family were off on their own adventures and couldn’t be there today.
“She’s also a wonderful mother to our beautiful infant son, Mateo.” Sebastian choked up and Gracie was one compliment away from tears spilling down her cheeks, as well. She had only to look down at the precious baby in her arms to realize how very fortunate she was. She had a loving husband, a baby she adored and a place in the Royal community now.
“But all personal feelings aside, Gracie Diaz Wingate is a capable businesswoman, restaurateur and horse breeder. She loves each enterprise equally, and has recently opened a new office in the downtown area, where she plans on starting up an events business. I know she’s thrilled to be the newest inductee to the Texas Cattleman’s Club. So, with that said, I invite my beautiful wife to say a few words before we let the president do the honors.”
Gracie handed the baby over to Sebastian, the transfer seamless. They’d been sharing baby duties ever since the little one took his first breath, and loving every second of it. Gracie’s mother and brother had been here for the birth and had helped out for weeks while she and Sebastian got the hang of parenting and schedules and sleepless nights.
She stood in front of the podium now, looking into the eyes of her new family and so many other community members and friends. “I stand here before you, humbled and grateful for all the good things in my life. So many of my dreams have come true, two of them standing right beside me.” Gracie looked upon Sebastian and Mateo lovingly and then turned back to the small crowd. “But to be here among all of you as part of this club, as part of the Royal community, is an honor I hope to live up to. I hope to make a difference in our town. And I plan to play a very active role at TCC. Thank you all for being here today. It means a great deal to me.”
Then the president came up to say a few words. After his speech, Sebastian invited everyone in attendance to enjoy their dinner and music afterward. It had been his idea to celebrate Gracie’s induction with a party for family and friends. Gracie loved him now more than ever. He’d proven himself to be the man she’d always hoped he was. The man she’d fantasized and loved for many years.
And now with Wingate Enterprises back on solid ground, Sebastian had only good things to look forward to. She sat beside him at a table, while dinner was being served. Piped-in music flowed throughout the room, and pastries would be served later. She got the feeling Beth had something to do with planning this party in her honor. As a sigh escaped her lips, Sebastian peered at her.
“What is it, sweetheart? Everything okay?”
She nodded and gazed at the two men in her life. “Yes, I’m great.” She whispered quietly, “Just a little tired. I can’t wait to go home with the two of you.”
She lived on the beautiful sprawling land of the Wingate Estate now, in the home she’d decorated with the slightest of touches to make it their own.
“Of course,” he whispered back. “It’s been a long day.”
“I love being with you and Mateo at our home. Maybe he will even sleep tonight.”
“If not, it’s my turn to rock him. Even though I think he prefers his mommy’s arms. Can’t say I blame him. I kinda like them, too.” Sebastian kissed the side of her neck, his warm breath making every cell in her body come alive. Her husband was such a deliberate temptation, and she loved that about him.
She knew in her heart that the day she and Sebastian fell in love was the day of her true lottery win.
She couldn’t get much luckier than that.
* * *
Don’t miss the start of the next series set in
Royal—Texas Cattleman’s Club: Heir Apparent
Back in the Texan’s Bed by Naima Simone
Available February 2021!
When Charlotte Jarrett returns to Royal, Texas,
with a child, no one’s more surprised than her
claim his son, he entices her to move in with him.
But can rekindled passion withstand the
obstacles tearing them apart?
SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
Read on for a sneak peek of No Holding Back, book one in New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster’s exciting new contemporary romance series, The McKenzies of Ridge Trail.
Available February 2021 from HQN Books!
No Holding Back
by Lori Foster
SHIVERS WRACKED HER body as she watched him drink. Curled in the corner, waiting, dreading the inevitable—even breathing was difficult with so much fear crowding in around her. She wanted to cry but knew it wouldn’t help. She wanted to let in the hysteria, but she hadn’t quite accepted her fate...not yet.
She couldn’t.
Outside the room, two other men stood guard. They’d told her she’d be forced to do this up to ten times a night, and she wasn’t sure she’d even survive this first time.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted to curl up and die.
Mostly she wanted to fight—but how?
Amused by her fear, the man watched her while tossing back another shot. He enjoyed her terror—and that amplified everything she felt.
What to do, what to do, what to do?
Her gaze frantically searched the second-story room. One small window, opened to let in a breeze, led to a sheer drop onto a gravel lot. Would she survive going out that window? At the moment, did it really matter?
The man stood near the door. He’d slid a metal bar into place, locking her in, ensuring she couldn’t get past him. But also ensuring no one else could get in. Not until he’d finished.
He’d paid for two hours but now didn’t seem in any rush to get started.
To the right of the door, a tiny table held a bottle of whiskey and a single glass. To the left, an empty wooden coat tree stood as a place for him to hang his clothes.
A bare mattress on a small bed occupied a wall.
Nothing else.
Only her fear, the reality, the terror, her hatred, the cruelty...her will to survive.
When his loose lips stretched into a smug grin, she braced herself—and noticed that he stumbled a little as he stepped toward her.
Her heart punched painfully. Slowly, she slid up the wall to her feet. An invisible fist squeezed her throat, but she sidled sideways, toward that barred door.
Toward the little table.
From the hallway, loud music played. Whatever happened in this room, they didn’t want to be bothered with it.
She kept her gaze locked on his, her hands clammy with sweat, so afraid that her limbs felt sluggish.
“Thinking to run?” he asked, his grin widening with anticipation.
“I... I was hoping I could have a drink, too?”
“You want to numb yourself? No, I don’t think so.”
He wanted her afraid. He wanted her to feel every awful second of this degradation. With a lot of effort, she tamped down the need to vomit and managed to ask, “Then...should I pour you another?”
Snorting, he propped a shoulder to the wall. “Want to get me drunk, huh? Sure, go ahead and try it, but you’ll see, I know how to hold my liquor.” Tipping his head, he narrowed his eyes and the grin turned into a sneer. “Alcohol makes me mean.”
Refusing to dwell on that possibility, she forced a nod, reaching for the bottle anyway, letting him see how badly she trembled. She filled the small glass, then lifted it...while keeping the bottle in her other hand.
The obnoxious brute paid no attention; he focused on watching her quake as she came to him, the glass held out as a feeble offering.
Instead of taking it, he caught her wrist in a painful grip, jerking her toward him, laughing as she cried out.
She swung the bottle with all her might.
* * *
STERLING JERKED AWAKE with a start, her heart racing and her throat aching with the need to scream.
She didn’t. She never did—no matter what. Silence kept her safer than a scream ever could.
In just seconds, she absorbed the low light of the bar, the ancient rock and roll playing on the jukebox, the clamor of a few dozen voices talking low to one another.
God. She swallowed heavily, looking around at the familiar sights. Her gaze landed on the bartender.
He watched her. Always.
Nothing got by that man.
He could pretend to be an average guy, he could wear the trappings of a simple bar owner, but she knew better. He hid something, maybe something as monumental as her own secrets, but she wouldn’t ask. The Tipsy Wolverine bar was her haven from the road. She could sleep in her truck, and sometimes did, but she didn’t truly rest.
Here, in the little Podunk bar in the small mountain town of Ridge Trail, Colorado, she knew no one would bother her.
Because of him.
Again her eyes sought him out. She guessed him at six feet five. Really big, but solid head to toes. Posture erect. Awareness keen. He wore his glossy dark hair neatly trimmed, precisely styled...but it was those piercing blue eyes that really caught and held her attention.
His gaze had veered away from her, but that didn’t make him unaware. Sterling pegged him as ex-military, or maybe something deadlier. He was too damn physically fit to be anyone ordinary.
Her nostrils flared a little as she looked him over. In the seedy area of town where locals slumped in their seats and laughed too loudly, he was always...mannered. Contained. Professional but not in the way of a suited businessman.
More like a guy who knew he could handle himself in any situation. A guy who easily kicked ass, took names and did so without a scratch. Those thick shoulders... Studying his body left a funny warmth in Sterling’s stomach, sending her interested gaze to his pronounced biceps, watching the fluid bunch and flex of them with the smallest movement. His pullover shirt fit his wide chest perfectly, showing sculpted pecs and, letting her attention drift downward, a flat, firm middle.
Lord, the man was put together fine. Add in a lean jaw, a strong but straight nose, and those cool blue eyes fringed by dark lashes, and she assumed he broke hearts on a daily basis.
Not her heart. She wasn’t susceptible to that kind of stuff. She could take in the exceptional view and stay detached. She could.
Only...this time she had to really concentrate to make it true.
His gaze locked to hers, catching her perusal, and his firm lips quirked in a small “you’re not immune” smile.
It made her mouth go dry.
He couldn’t know that, could he? Yet he looked as if he’d just read her every admiring thought.
Feeling oddly exposed, she held up her glass, realized it was still full and hastily mouthed, “Coffee?”
With a nod, he moved away to a service counter behind the bar. Less than half a minute later, he strode over in his casual yet confident way with a steaming cup.
He knew how she took it, with one sugar and a splash of creamer. He knew because he missed nothing. Ever.
Setting it before her, he asked, “Done with this?” indicating the shot she’d ordered—and hadn’t touched.
Usually, to justify her lengthy naps, she bought a couple of drinks. This time, exhausted to the bone, she hadn’t lasted long enough.
“Thanks.” Sterling sipped her coffee.
That he didn’t move away set her heart tripping. Defiant, she glanced up and caught a slight frown carved from what appeared to be concern. She was good at reading people—except for him. Most of the time she didn’t know what he was thinking, and she didn’t like that.
Suspicion prickled. “What?”
Heavy lashes lowering, he thought a moment before meeting her gaze again. “I’m worried that anyth
ing I say might put you off.”
Sterling stiffened with accusation. “What do you have to say?”
“Such a lethal tone,” he teased—as if they knew each other well. “You don’t have to order drinks just to be in here. You want a place to kick up your feet—”
Abruptly, she dropped her feet from the seat of the chair across from her. She unconsciously braced herself—to act, to react, to protect herself if necessary.
“Or to rest without being disturbed,” he continued, ignoring her tension. “You’re always welcome.” As if he knew her innate worry, as if he could see her automatic response to his nearness, he took a step back. “No questions asked, and no drink order necessary.”
Before she could come up with a reply, he walked away.
For twenty minutes, Sterling remained, but he didn’t look at her again.
Not until she walked out. He watched her then. Hell yeah, he did. She felt his gaze burning over her like a physical touch. Like interest. It left her with heightened awareness.
Of him.
Damn, damn, damn.
* * *
CADE WANTED TO kick his own ass.
She’d been coming into the bar for months now. She hadn’t yet given her name, but he knew it all the same. He made a point of knowing everyone in the bar, whether they were important to his operation or not.
Sterling Parson. Star for short.
Privately, he called her Trouble.
At a few inches shy of six feet, her body toned, she walked with a self-possessed air that he recognized as more attitude than ability. She wore that swagger like a warning that all but shouted Back off.
Her long wavy brown hair was usually in a ponytail, occasionally in a braid and sometimes stuffed under a trucker’s cap.
Despite the loose shirts she wore with straight-legged jeans and mean lace-up black boots in an effort to disguise her body, she’d be hard to miss. For sure no one in his bar had missed her.
The woman was unique in so many ways. Bold but somehow vulnerable. Composed, yet temperate. Beautiful...but only to a discerning eye, because she did all she could to blend in.
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