by Jodi Thomas
“Yes.”
I lifted an eyebrow, waiting. “How do you even know about that? And why would that bother you?”
Travis Mason had hosted a Christmas Eve party at his house every year for as long as I could remember. Adults only. He and my father would frequently plan it over cigars and whiskey. This year brought my first invitation, even though I’d technically qualified last year, turning eighteen that day. Although I generally avoided any event I wasn’t forced to attend, this invitation was something I’d waited my whole life to garner. It was a thing. Probably a really boring thing, but the mystery made me want to see for myself.
“Have you ever been?” I asked when he didn’t answer, something feeling off.
“No,” he said, blinking away. “Of course not. I’m new here.”
I brought his face back to mine. “Don’t lie to me, Ben. We have enough secrets to keep up with.”
That sentence looked to settle on him like a dark blanket as he met my gaze.
“I just have a little too much on my mind these days,” he said, caressing my cheek. I knew he was diverting, but I didn’t push. I wanted that smile back. “One being the thought of you paired off with some guy with manicured hands.”
I laughed, and the smile I needed so badly lit up his face.
“There aren’t too many of those around here,” I said. “Not to worry. Maybe in the city, but around here it’s mostly smelly cattlemen and ranchers.” I balled my fists, not wanting him to see the state of my unladylike hands. “They put on suits and forget about the manure under their nails.”
He took my left one in his hand, opening it and caressing my palm with his thumb. Tingles shot up my arm.
“I know you want to go,” he said, his gaze fixed on my hand. “Especially on your birthday.”
“My birthday means nothing to me, Ben,” I said, feeling the familiar cloud that always shrouded it. “It’s just a day when my father lost one girl and gained a faded version of her.”
“Josie Bancroft,” he said, his tone scolding. “Don’t you dare say that. There is nothing faded about you. And your birthday should be special. It’s the day you came into this world, and I for one am damn glad of it.”
My heart swelled at his words. “But you don’t want me to go.”
“I just—” He shook his head. “I hear the other hands talk. They don’t see you like I see you. They see this rebellious girl with her smart talk and riding breeches.”
“And they would be correct,” I said, watching that thumb of his work magic on my palm. “I’ve grown up with most of them. I’ve trained them well,” I whispered playfully.
“That’s only a very small piece of the amazing woman I see,” he said, meeting my eyes, completely serious. “A woman who’s making me crazier every day, and—” He stopped, as if weighing his words. “Other men will see you that way, too. Every party, every gala you have to go to—”
“Wearing silly, frilly dresses, flaunting on my father’s arm like a prized calf at auction,” I said. “It’s not glamorous.”
He chuckled. “I’d love to see you like that, all haughty with disgust while looking like a dream.”
“A nightmare.”
“I assure you,” he said, letting go of my hand to trace my bottom lip with a finger, “that every man there will trip over themselves to get close to this nightmare.”
“Ben, are you jealous?” I said, my heart skipping with delight.
“Ridiculously so,” he said, making me laugh again. “Avoid doorways with hanging greenery. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else kissing you under the mistletoe.”
“I don’t suddenly become dizzy with stupidity when standing under silly plants,” I said, dramatically putting the back of my hand to my forehead. “Nor do I allow any man’s lips to touch mine without permission.”
“I wish I could be there with you,” he said softly, gazing at my mouth and stealing all the breath from my lungs with his intensity. “Kissing you under that silly plant on your birthday in front of everyone and granting you any wish you’d like.”
I stared at him in awe. “That would be my wish.”
He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm. Sensations shot all the way to my heart, down to my toes, and straight to a place he’d woken up lately with his ardent kisses. My breathing quickened.
“So soft,” he whispered against my wrist, moving up. “Your skin is so soft.” The bell sleeve of my blouse was loose, and he moved it up farther, dragging his lips up the inside of my forearm, making me gasp. “Like velvet.” He stopped and placed that hand against his face, his gaze heavy with desire. “I love how you feel. How you touch me.”
“I love you.”
The words were out of my mouth before I realized I’d said them, and I pressed my lips together as the flush came over my face. It was too forward. Everything with Ben was too forward, too much, too unexpected, too inappropriate. I knew that I had to go to the Mason party, whether he wanted me to or not, because of my father if nothing else. He’d know instantly that something was off if I didn’t.
But I’d just declared my love to this man in front of me, knowing that my father would be on a matchmaking hunt. Ben was right. It was insane. And the way he looked at me as I said it made me dizzy with a need I didn’t even know I had. It was like all decorum dissolved into smoke when we were this close.
He didn’t look put off by my forwardness. Or amused. Or afraid.
A long breath escaped his chest, and his gaze was loaded with every emotion I could ever imagine.
“Oh, God, I love you, Josie,” he whispered, as if to himself.
I was all reactive sensation as my hand wound into his hair and pulled his face to mine. Something in the back of my brain said to slow down, not to react to my thighs clamping together over the feel of his stubbled face against my tender skin, over the sound of those words, over the suddenly much deeper kiss we fell into, our tongues exploring desperately. Something said to resist as he pulled my body down to his and I felt all his hard lines and something else very hard pressing right against—oh, sweet Jesus, right against there. Something said that his hands on my body and his mouth tasting his way down my neck to the hollow of my throat and unbuttoning my top buttons was wrong.
But nothing felt wrong.
“Josie?” he groaned against my mouth.
“Yes,” I breathed.
We were in love. Everything felt incredibly right as I gave myself to the man I loved, body and soul, our murmurs of love and my moans of pain and pleasure being carried off by the sounds of the ever-trickling water below.
Chapter 3
1904
Benjamin
Looking around the large sitting room I rarely inhabited, along with the adjoining parlor and dining room—equally unimpressive to me—now spilling over with a bunch of starched-up people I barely knew, my opinion hadn’t changed over the last five years.
I tugged on my too-tight collar and glanced at my uncle’s old grandfather clock, mocking me from the corner. He knew. That damn codger knew from whatever direction he was watching that there was little in this world that I despised more than this godforsaken party.
“Benjamin.”
I closed my eyes.
Except for maybe that person.
I resisted the urge to roll my shoulders away from him or to duck out of sight the way I’d done when I was younger, but he and this place had sucked the life clean out of me. The only bright light in the whole place—in my whole world—was currently asleep upstairs with a homemade doll tucked under her arm. I wished I could go climb in with her. I felt double my twenty-seven years as I turned for the umpteenth time to see what Theodore needed.
“What?” I asked, knowing that it sounded clipped, and losing the will to care.
Theodore had run this house since long before I came, working for both my uncle and his parents before him. Even before my Uncle Travis made a name for himself in the horse ranching business, his father ha
d run a profitable farm there, and I was pretty sure Theodore was just spawned out of the woodwork or birthed in a stable. I had no illusions of whom the real master of the Mason Ranch was behind the scenes, but right now, I’d just about reached my limit of his hard, emphatic Ben-ja-mins at every turn.
“It’s seven on the hour,” he said, as though that was of vital importance. “It’s time to announce—”
“That the food is out,” I said, giving a tight smile. “Yes, I know. You’ve mentioned it. Also, I’ve done this once or twice.”
“Not like this.”
Theodore gave me his standard disapproving look, the same one he’d worn since the day my uncle passed and all this glory was shoved into my hands. He never thought I was worthy or able to take those reins, and he was right. I was fifteen shades of green back then, and only cared about the unthinkable manipulation that had just twisted my life.
I liked to think that I’d done it justice. That I’d taken on a ranch I didn’t know how to run, a woman I was forced to marry, and the hatred of the one person that ever mattered with some amount of grace. Because in all the chaos, God dropped the sweetest little angel into my arms.
I was bucking the system tonight, however, and Theodore wasn’t happy about it. Setting out the food on the long dining table I hated, with the small serving plates my late wife called dessert plates. I figured that guests could serve themselves and continue walking around and talking while they ate. I sure as hell did it all the time. I rarely sat down to eat anymore, except for breakfast with Abigail every morning.
But using dessert plates for regular food evidently wasn’t done in social settings.
Well, it would be done now.
I couldn’t abide another insufferable sit-down with these people, all pretending interest, when we rarely spoke the other 364 days. It was ludicrous, and if I had to have all these damn hypocrites in my house, whispering about my singleness and ability to raise a little girl by myself, then they could be grown up enough to walk, talk, and eat at the same time. If they didn’t like it, they could leave. Hell, maybe I was on to something.
“The dessert alone is reason to sit down and savor it,” he said, looking physically pained by the thought of not obliging it. “Imported chocolate cake, Benjamin. It’s divine. And not something one stands up to eat.”
“Why on earth would you import cake, Theodore?” I asked.
“Your sweet wife and uncle would—”
“—say nothing, because they can’t,” I finished for him. “They’re dead. Please go make sure our guests’ coats are secure.”
Striding away before Theodore could puff up again, I snatched the silver handbell from the sideboard.
“Friends,” I said loudly as I rang it, clearing my throat as the word stuck in my throat. “Ladies,” I said, nodding to a dapper older woman with a tall, intricate hat. “Gentlemen. Welcome to my home.”
There were murmurs and smiles and the rustle of dresses as people turned to face me from all around the room and the parlor doorway.
“I’m honored that you could all be here tonight,” I lied. “I know the weather looks like it could be stirring up something soon, so thank you for braving it. Some of you are new to the event, while others have been coming since my uncle kicked off this shindig in—” I narrowed my eyes toward an elderly man in a topcoat. “What was it, Mr. Alford? Eighteen seventy-five?”
“Before that,” the old man rasped with a grin. “After the war. Back before your father left Texas and the Mason brothers would do anything for a party.”
I joined the room in amused laughter, in spite of the sour taste the mention of my father left in my mouth. I felt nothing for the man who’d sold me out.
“Well, I’m sure you would know,” I said, raising a glass of bourbon, to which the older man smiled among the chuckling with a shrug to his wife. “But seriously, to you all, we’re a small community here, and this is one night every year that Uncle Travis loved. Having you all in his home to break bread and mingle for the holiday.” The front door squeaked from the other room as the bustling sound of a late arrival reached my ears. I heard Theodore’s tone pitch oddly as he asked for a coat or wrap, and I wondered if it was another of my investors from the city. He despised anyone who openly talked about money. “I realize we still have a few days left—”
“Four days,” called a young woman I recognized from the feedstore, where she worked with her father. It was her first time here and she was grinning ear to ear. I almost hated to short her of the full experience, but she was young. She’d be fine standing.
“Four days,” I said with a laugh, pointing at her and not missing the pink that flooded her cheeks. I hoped that Mrs. Shannon, my daughter’s nanny, wasn’t watching from a corner somewhere, or I’d never hear the end of that. “So, eat up and enjoy. Theodore will introduce our new dining style tonight,” I added, grinning wider at the look of repulsion on his face. “We’re going very modern. So, Merry Christm—”
My lips froze as my eyes fell on the newly arrived guest.
Dark hair hung in curled ringlets around her shoulders, grazing bare collarbones as a scalloped neckline and fitted bodice of a burgundy velvet gown hugged curves I could still feel under my fingers if I closed my eyes.
Dark-chocolate eyes met mine, her sun-kissed skin flushed with the cold, perfect brows lifting as she raised her chin haughtily.
“I apologize for being late,” she said in a stilted tone, adding with a pause, “Mr. Mason.”
My jaw twitched at the formality, and all I could do was tumble back five years since she’d last graced this room, to another night when words had failed me as well. And had turned my world upside down.
Chapter 4
1899
Ben
I tied the tie. Combed my short waves into submission. Pulled on the jacket and rolled my shoulders to let it settle.
This was a bad idea.
For three months, I had stayed incognito at the Lucky B Ranch. Henry Bancroft and Uncle Travis were convinced that someone was stealing supplies from both ranches, and that it might be from the inside. When I first left Colorado to work for my uncle, it was to get away from my manipulative father and his incessant badgering for me to marry a wealthy girl and be set. For him to be set was what he really meant. My jaw couldn’t take the clenching anymore. While my uncle was pretty much a stand-up guy as far as I knew, his brother would do anything to help himself.
I’d even proposed marriage to a girl I’d tried to love for a year, just to placate him, and finally couldn’t stand for it. I had to go. I had to get away. Winifred was pretty and cultured and nice enough, and would probably make someone a very nice wife and give someone’s family a very sizable dowry, but that wasn’t for me. She wasn’t for me. Winifred Harwell was spoiled and high-strung and too entitled for her own good.
So, to Texas I went, to my father’s childhood home, to the horse ranch their parents and grandparents ran, that was now run by his brother. Uncle Travis had no children and no heir, so he took me in, showed me the ropes, and put me to work straightaway. It was exactly what I needed. Then things started disappearing at his best friend’s cattle ranch that bordered his property, and so they devised a plan. I’d go to work for his friend, and keep my eyes and ears open. See if anything sounded off. No one paid much attention to new hands—they were the lowest rungs of any working ranch—and I was new in town, so I’d just blend in.
In return, I’d be paid double wages, and if I listened up and learned well, I’d glean some excellent skills on the workings of two different ranch productions. Because while it wasn’t announced or even planned anytime soon, the two ranch moguls were talking about merging their assets. Horse and cattle ranching together in the same business could be hugely profitable for both of them in the upcoming year. The century was turning, and things were happening. Some people in the city had electric lamps lighting their homes, and a handful even owned the new electric automobiles. It was an exciting time
.
And then a beguiling creature named Josephine rode up with extra water canteens one day where I was working at the Lucky B, and everything I considered normal in my life blew up. She was breathtaking in a way I’d never seen before, beautiful and confident. Riding full saddle like a man, with breeches and a top shirt and a long duster riding jacket and knee boots. A black cowboy hat sat atop dark hair that she wore in a long braid down her back, with loose tendrils around her face. No makeup colored her dark, expressive eyes or pink, full lips.
There was no pretense or concern with her looks or societal standards. No coyness or games. She was comfortable in her own skin, easy to smile, with an infectious laugh that the other men seemed accustomed to, but that damn near knocked me to my knees. There were no words for the effect Miss Josephine “Just Call Me Josie” Bancroft had on me.
And she was the boss’s daughter.
I knew I was doomed.
When she started to come around more often and I knew it was for me, there was no turning back, and when I finally got the nerve to kiss her . . . God help me.
Nothing in this world was better than kissing Josie. Tasting her. Feeling her respond to me as her breathing quickened and she wanted more. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself and not take what her body kept offering with every close press and embrace. I had no intention of taking advantage or doing anything her father could shoot me over, but then she said those words, and—
Damn it, the second she said them, I knew. I knew it was more than just physical attraction with Josie Bancroft. I knew as the embarrassment took second place to the boldness in her eyes that all the conversations and banter and laughter and getting to know her had shoved me right over the edge. So the cursed words fell out of my mouth, too, and then it was on. Right there under the bridge on that slab of rock, in the most undignified way she could lose her virginity, she gave it to me, heart and soul.
I should have stopped it. I should have been the gentleman who saved her purity for her future husband, but it was out of both of our control. She was all fire, gasping with little moans at every new touch, and it lit me up inside like a volcano. Every taste of her skin as I exposed it was like a sweet dessert. Her body was perfect, soft and tight at the same time. Her muscles were toned from riding, making her movements glorious to watch. Beautiful pink nipples begged to be sucked, and I obliged, nearly losing my own control when she’d arched into me and fisted her fingers in my hair.
