by Liz Isaacson
But he didn’t want to live in that giant lodge by himself anymore. She had a perfectly good house in town, and he liked her dog, and the commute to Springside would be much less.
Graham met him on the porch, and said, “All right. Let’s get this beast inside.” He took in the length of the downed tree. “Andrew, it’s going to be great.” He clapped his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “It’s a beautiful tree.”
Andrew’s chest filled with warmth though he was sure he was only moments away from frostbite. And when Becca slipped her hand into his, he just knew this was going to be the best Christmas ever.
A few days later, he woke when Otto started licking his fingers. He jerked away from the slobbery tongue and took a moment to realize he’d fallen asleep on Becca’s couch, Becca curled into him.
“Hey,” she said. “I knew you’d fall asleep.”
“You sound like you did too.”
“Maybe.” She grinned, and Andrew let the soft, lazy moment between them linger.
“I should go,” he said, wondering what time it was. It would be frigid outside, and the thought already had his muscles tight.
“I wish you never had to go.” She snuggled deeper into his chest so he couldn’t see her face.
“Yeah? Does that mean you want to talk about getting married?”
She tensed in his arms for a quick moment, a breath, and then she relaxed. “Yeah, I think we should probably get married.”
Andrew leaned back though he didn’t have much room. He gained enough to be able to look into her eyes. “Yeah?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah. I love you, and I don’t want you to go up to that lodge at night anymore.”
“I don’t either.” He kissed her, letting the love he felt for her stream through him. “I love you, Becca.”
Happiness romped through him, and he thought this might be the closest to joy he’d ever experienced. “Do you see yourself as a winter bride? Or are we waiting for spring? Summer?”
“I can get a shawl or a cape,” she said. “Because I want to marry you as soon as possible.”
“All right then.”
“We better go ring shopping,” she said. “I bet they’re having some good sales right now.”
Andrew blinked, and she said, “What?”
“Um, I may have already bought you a ring.”
That got her to pull away from him a bit more. “You did?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged, though he wasn’t trying to be convincing at all.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“It’s in your stocking at the lodge.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes searched his, and he couldn’t tell if he’d made a mistake or not. “I was hoping you’d be ready by then. Turns out, I was right.”
Becca gave him a playful push against his chest and started laughing. “I’m so glad you told me,” she said. “I can’t imagine pulling that out in front of your family.”
“My family loves you. Why would that be a problem?”
“It’s just…feels like this is an intimate moment. Something private between me and you.”
“So you’d like me to get that out of your stocking before tomorrow night.”
“Yes, please.”
“Well, I’ll see what I can do. Celia watches those stockings like a hawk.”
“Sure, okay,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
The following day, Becca arrived at the lodge by mid-afternoon, having finished her lunchtime shift at the steakhouse. They put the finishing touches on the tree and moved into the kitchen to help Celia with any dinner preparations.
But she shooed them away, and they ended up at the bar with hot chocolate and a plate of crispy rice treats that had caramel and peanut butter in them.
Andrew ate too much sugar and felt a bit jittery as a result. Or maybe that was because he’d gotten the ring out of Becca’s stocking an hour before she’d arrived and now carried it in his pocket.
“You want to go riding?” he asked. “I think we have an hour or so before people will start arriving.”
Becca did not want to go riding—Andrew could tell just by looking at her. So much was said as they looked at one another, and she ended up saying, “Sure. Let me get my coat.”
Andrew shrugged into his coat too, and Becca joined him in the mudroom so they could go out the back door and down the sidewalk toward the stables. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and felt the cold metal of the ring in his right one.
“So do you want to see the ring?” he asked.
She stalled and looked at him. “You have it with you?”
He withdrew it and kept it hidden in his palm. “It’s nothing special. Just sort of a placeholder ring, and then we can go pick one you like.” He wasn’t sure why he felt like someone had poured wasps into his bloodstream.
He hadn’t planned a big proposal; hadn’t even thought about it. But faced with her, and holding the ring, he couldn’t just shove it on her finger and say, “Done.”
So he dropped to both knees and held the ring up toward her. “I love you, Becca. I’d love to see you in a snow-white cape when you become my wife. Will you marry me?”
Becca held very still, her eyes locked on his. Then she switched her gaze to the ring and took it from him. “This is beautiful.” She started to slide it on her own finger, and Andrew jumped to his feet.
“Wait, wait.” He gently took the ring from her, kept his eyes on it, and said, “You haven’t even said yes yet.”
“Do I really need to say yes?”
He lifted his eyes to hers. “Yes.”
She grinned, clearly teasing him, and threw her arms around him. “Yes, Andrew. A million times yes.” She kissed him, and giggled like a schoolgirl as he slid the tiny diamond band on her left ring finger.
“I love you,” he murmured before kissing her again.
By the time they made it back to the house, everyone had arrived. The foyer was full of chatter and laughter, with people going around and putting small, wrapped gifts in each stocking. Andrew stood with his hand in Becca’s, basking in the glow of the holiday spirit.
“There he is.” His mom spotted him and came over. “Celia said you went riding.”
“Yeah,” Andrew said, though they hadn’t even gone into the stables. His nose and ears tingled as they warmed, and he edged a bit closer to the roaring fire in the hearth.
Beau went around to the stockings and said, “Okay, I think we’re ready.”
Graham was already sitting on the couch, his son on his lap. Bailey and Laney sat next to them, and Laney stopped talking to Meg. Stockton sat on the floor, and Eli loitered near the front door, never one to just sit down and relax.
Beau took a spot on the loveseat next to Deirdre, who looked as nervous now as she had at Thanksgiving. She seemed like she’d gained a bit of weight though, and Andrew realized in that moment that everyone was looking at him.
“Welcome to the lodge,” he said, his voice maybe a bit too loud. “It’s good to have everyone here.” Of course, everyone was not there, and he took an extra long couple of moments to remember his father and the last Christmas they’d had with him.
“First, we’ll light the tree, like we always do. Becca and I selected it, chopped it down, and decorated it.” His voice tightened, as it seemed like they’d already started traditions of their own.
He cleared his throat. “Then we’ll do the stockings. You just take yours and open the little gifts inside. Then Celia has dinner in the dining room. I think Bree made the name plates this year, and they’re actually Christmas ornaments.” He met her eye. “Right?”
She nodded, smiling around at the family.
“All right then. I’ll light the tree.” Andrew took a breath, but before he could move to go light the tree, his mother said, “Really? You’re not going to make any other announcements?”
She was holding her left hand up, palm back so everyone could see the diamond ring. Andrew got jostled as his mother, Laney, and Meg all swarmed. His mother grabbed onto Andrew and said, “Congratulations, Andy.”
She was the only person on earth who ever called him that, and it made his emotion surge and stick in the back of his throat.
After he’d hugged his brothers and the excitement over the ring—which totally wasn’t warranted, in Andrew’s opinion—he said, “So can I light the tree now?”
“Hey, you upstaged yourself,” Graham said, chuckling.
“At least I don’t drive a minivan,” Andrew shot back.
Graham rolled his eyes while Laney laughed, and Andrew stepped over to the light switch that would illuminate the tree. “All right,” he said. “Three, two, one….”
He pressed the switch, and the tree burst to life, with bright, all-white lights that reflected off the silver and gold ornaments.
“Look at the little reindeer nose,” Stockton said, and Meg led him over to the tree to see the other decorations close up.
Andrew took Becca’s hand in his and gazed at the tree.
“It’s spectacular,” she whispered. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Becca, I dreamed of having you here.” The glow from the Christmas lights made her seem even more angelic, and Andrew gazed at his fiancée with so much love coursing through him.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered just before kissing her.
Andrew worked things out with Becca! I’m so happy! If you are too, please leave a review now.
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Read on for a sneak peek at HER COWBOY BILLIONAIRE BODYGUARD, featuring Andrew’s brother, Beau, and the woman who comes to him for help to protect her music career. Then go preorder it!
Sneak Peek! Her Cowboy Billionaire Bodyguard Chapter One
Beau Whittaker resisted the urge to reach up and brush the tiny hairs from the back of his neck. Celia always swatted his hand away when he did, and she’d clean him up anyway. But they sure did itch.
He supposed he should be used to all the itching when it came to hair, as he’d grown a full beard over the course of the last ten months, and he only let Celia shave the back and sides of his head to maintain some sort of respect when he went down the canyon to church. Or maybe he did it for his mother, so she wouldn’t reprimand him for letting himself totally turn into a recluse. Or had she said hermit?
It didn’t matter. Beau was tired of defending himself. With Andrew out of the lodge now, and living with his new wife in town, someone needed to live at Whiskey Mountain Lodge and take care of the horses. So what if Beau had let his hair grow out in the process? Didn’t mean he’d cut himself off from society.
Even if he had.
Celia hummed as she kept the clippers running along his scalp. Across the counter, a pot of soup bubbled, putting off the scent of chicken broth and cooked carrots and freshly made pasta. The only thing that could cover the mouth-watering smell of Celia’s town-famous chicken noodle soup was the bread she served with it.
The bowl holding the proofing dough sat beside the stove, and Beau couldn’t wait until his haircut was finished. Then he could get these itchy hairs off his neck, and Celia would start kneading and forming rolls. Once he showered and slicked some gel through his hair, the scent of freshly baked bread would fill this kitchen.
And then, only a bit after that, L. Rhett would arrive. Beau’s muscles bunched at the thought. He knew whoever had been emailing him these past few weeks had been using a pseudonym, as well as a brand new email account. He wasn’t even sure if he was meeting a man or a woman, which was why he’d asked his oldest brother, Graham, to come to the lodge a few minutes before this Rhett person was set to arrive.
Beau hoped the case would be worthwhile, as he hadn’t done much but grow hair and ride horses for a few months now. At the same time, those two things had been exactly what he’d needed in his life, to soothe his ego and to calm his ragged soul. Somehow, sitting in church every week hadn’t done that, as there were so many female eyes watching him. Filled with sympathy at what had happened with his last case—and the woman at the center of it he’d let into his heart.
He exhaled, wishing he could find all the pieces of his most vital organ, and held completely still while Celia finished his haircut.
“There you go,” she finally said, whipping the brush across his neck and ears. She unpinned the drape from around his neck, and he stood to face her.
“Thank you, Celia.”
“Do you want to eat now or after you shower?”
“After.” He clenched his fist so he wouldn’t reach up to touch his neck. “And Graham’s coming over.”
“Don’t I know it? He’s texted me five times about sending soup home for his family.” Celia gave a light laugh and shook her head. “It’s a miracle they all haven’t starved.”
Beau chuckled too and headed down the hall and into the master bedroom. Every one of his brothers had lived in this room at some point over the last few years, but Beau had added the most to the room.
He’d put up pictures of their family, asked Annie to get him some real paintings of the area from local artists, and in the middle of it all, he’d placed a picture of his mom and dad on the day they got married.
He glanced at the photograph now, a twinge of missing racing through him at the familiar face he found on his dad. It was the same one he saw every time he looked into a mirror. Well, before the beard, at least.
Beau paused to look at his mother. Only eighteen when she married his dad, Beau’s mother was the strongest person he knew. She’d raised four boys almost alone as her husband built the largest energy company in Wyoming and ran it for fourteen hours a day, seven days a week.
He was the only brother who’d never left Coral Canyon, except for a few years to finish law school, and he was the only one who was here the day his dad died.
He ran his fingers along the top of the metal picture frame and sighed, wondering if this meeting was a good idea or not. Beau thought himself a good judge of character, even when the only communication he’d had was through email. And whoever had been conversing with him was in a desperate state.
“Desperate people do desperate things,” he muttered to himself as he went to shower. When he returned to the kitchen, complete with his cowboy hat and boots, Graham sat at the counter along with a bowl of soup and three buttered rolls.
“You’re early,” Beau said, settling onto a barstool beside his brother.
“Mm,” Graham said, his mouth full of food and rendering him unable to talk.
But when Celia put a steaming bowl of soup and a plate of rolls in front of Beau, he decided talking was quite overrated too. Especially when there was eating to be done.
Graham finished before him, and asked, “So who’s coming over?”
Beau kept chewing as he tried to figure out how to answer his brother. After swallowing, he said, “Hopefully a new client.”
“And you need me here for that?”
“She’s obviously not telling me who she really is.”
“Then how do you know it’s a woman?” The wind rattled the windows behind them in the dining room.
“I don’t. I just have a feeling,” Beau said. “She wouldn’t show me her case, but insisted that we meet to go over things.” He glanced at the blue numbers on the microwave. “She should be here soon.”
Graham shook his head and reached for his fourth roll. “If you think it’s a woman, what am I doing here?”
“Getting dinner for your family.” Beau elbowed him slightly and dunked a piece of his bread in his soup. “And taking Daisy for a couple of days, remember?”
“Oh, right.” He glanced around for Beau’s Rottweiler. She perked up
from her dog bed in the corner of the kitchen. “I guess Bailey needs to draw her for art.” He sounded less than thrilled to have a second dog, even for a few days. “I’m not sure why Bear isn’t good enough.”
“Too old,” Beau joked. “How are Laney and the kids?”
“Just fine,” Graham said. Beau saw them all the time anyway, especially now that he lived out at the lodge.
Jealousy touched Beau for just a moment. There, then gone. He wanted a house full of kids, like the one he’d grown up in. His mother kept telling him he had plenty of time, but he was almost twice her age when she’d gotten married, and he couldn’t even entice a scared woman who’d he’d helped to stay in town and give their relationship a chance.
Oh, no. Deirdre had chosen her old life down in Colorado over Beau.
His chest pinched and he took an enormous bite of his roll, hoping to quell it. He finished eating, and he and Graham put their dishes in the dishwasher. He’d just stepped into the living room and switched on the fireplace when knocking sounded on the front door.
Graham, who’d just sank into the couch, stood again and met Beau’s eyes. “I guess that’s her.”
Beau ran his hands over his beard and straightened his shoulders. He’d met hundreds of clients over the years, but for some reason this one felt different. He didn’t get a lot of anonymity in Coral Canyon, as everyone knew everyone else’s business. But this person wasn’t from Coral Canyon, he knew that much.
After all, Graham was a tech genius, and he’d tracked the email address to an IP server out of Jackson Hole. Only an hour away, Jackson was at least four times as big as Coral Canyon, with plenty of tourists to gossip about.
He strode over to the door and opened it, Graham right beside him. Together, they stood shoulder to shoulder, filling the doorway and creating a very physical barrier to whoever stood on the stoop.
Sure enough, a woman stood there, haloed in the porch light.
