A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Boones of Texas, Book 1)

by Sasha Summers

“I have every right—” she protested.

  “You have a right to one weekend a month and alternating holidays.” He held his hand up. “But this—” he pointed at the medicine “—would take that away.”

  She glanced at the medicine, then at him. “You’re blackmailing me?”

  He sighed. “If that’s how you want to look at it. I’d like to think we’re negotiating how we plan to move forward.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to leave. Send him a card on his birthday and the holidays. Call me before you call him.”

  “For how long?” she snapped.

  “Do you understand that I have every right to call the police on you?” He stepped closer, his voice rising. “Don’t you care that what you’re doing is illegal? What do you think Eli would do if he found out about this?”

  “He’ll never have to,” she yelled. “He’ll have the Boone fortune to support him.”

  “If you need money—”

  “I do. I need money.” She pointed at the medicine. “Rodeo is what I love, what makes me feel alive. I can’t give it up, you know? But it’s expensive.”

  “So is spending years in jail. Might not cost you money, but it will cost you time.” He shook his head. “I’ll make sure you have money—”

  “And I’ll go.” Her voice was lower. “Just don’t make him hate me.”

  Hunter frowned. “Why would I do that?”

  She shrugged. “You and Joselyn Stephens—”

  He held up his hand. “I’m not talking about Jo with you.” He sighed, taking his key ring off her jeans and pulling the door closed behind them. He locked it, pocketed his keys and pulled out his wallet.

  “You’re a good guy, Hunter.” She took the five hundred dollars and tucked it into her pocket. “I know Eli will turn out just like you.”

  He didn’t leave the hospital until she was gone. Once he rechecked all the doors were secure, he waved goodbye to Jarvis and headed home. He took the long way around town, needing the time to get his head in the game. It was Christmas Eve and his son needed cheering up.

  The Lodge was aglow with white illuminated lights and a massive wreath mounted on the front of the house. Hunter climbed up the steps and went inside.

  “About time you got home.” Renata hugged him. “Eli’s sick.”

  “Sick?” Hunter asked.

  “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, but he doesn’t want to get out of bed.”

  Hunter looked at his dad.

  “Don’t look at me,” his father answered. “He fell asleep after you left, but he was fitful.”

  “You left this.” Renata handed him his phone. “See if you can get him up for dinner. It’s beef tenderloin, his favorite.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” He did his best to relax and smile before heading into the guest room where Eli was propped up, playing his handheld game.

  Eli sat up. “Hey.”

  Hunter sat on the edge of the bed. “What are you playing?”

  “Nothing.” Eli put the game down. “You okay?”

  Hunter nodded.

  “You don’t look okay.” Eli’s hands fiddled with the blanket.

  “I’ll be okay,” Hunter promised. “Long day.”

  “Yep,” Eli agreed.

  “You feeling bad?” he asked, touching his son’s forehead. “No fever.”

  Eli shook his head. “You look sad.”

  Hunter looked at him. No point in pretending. “I am.”

  “About what happened?” Eli asked.

  Hunter nodded. “I thought I knew Jo. It’s hard when you think you know a person and then find out you were wrong.”

  “I know.” Eli nodded, frowning at his game. “You’re disappointed in her.”

  “And myself. Thought I was a better judge of character.” He sighed. “Jo was real important to me, Eli. I really loved her. Next to you, she’s what matters most. Losing her again, it hurts.”

  “You didn’t love Mom?” he asked.

  “You can love people differently, son. And Jo and I, we’re like puzzle pieces. I thought we still fit, but I was wrong.” He looked at his son.

  Eli’s eyes were filled with tears. “You still love her?”

  “Probably always will. But it’ll get easier in time.” He smiled, patting his son’s legs through the blanket. “What she did, well, it’s unforgivable.”

  “Dad,” Eli’s voice was low. “I’m sorry.”

  Hunter hugged Eli. “Let’s stop all this moping around and get up for dinner. It’s Christmas—time to celebrate.”

  Eli climbed out of bed, then grabbed Hunter’s hand. “She didn’t do it. I’m so sorry. I know what I did was wrong. And bad. I want to fix it.”

  Hunter looked at his son. “What?”

  “I was scared. Mom left me in that hotel by the bar. I called Uncle Ryder and Uncle Fisher, but they didn’t answer. I found Mr. Stephens in the phone book and called Josie.” Eli’s words ran together, his nerves making things hard to understand.

  Hunter sat on the edge of the bed, his heart pounding in his ears. Amy had lied about everything, from where she was staying to Jo. It didn’t surprise him that she’d lie, but Eli... He looked at his son.

  “Josie came right away. The room heater was broken, so she blasted the heat in her car and told me it was all going to be okay. She said I was lucky to have you for a dad and brought me home. I told her not to call you ’cause you were working...”

  Hunter shook his head. “You lied to me.”

  Eli was crying. “Yes, sir. And it was wrong.”

  “Why did you do it, Eli?”

  “I was scared. M-Mom said you’d never let me see her again if you knew I’d been alone in the Roadside Motel. And she said Josie would take you away from me, that I’d be alone. Please forgive me, Dad.”

  His heart ached, the fear and regret on his son’s face both a burden and a relief. “I forgive you. But no more lies, okay?” Hunter waited for Eli’s nod before pulling him against him. “You are my son. No matter what, you’re stuck with me.”

  “I know.” His arms tightened around Hunter. “I know that. And I feel real bad for causing trouble between you and Josie. She’s really...nice. I like her.”

  Hunter’s laugh was breathy. “I do, too.”

  “I don’t want you to lose her.” Eli looked at his father.

  Hunter closed his eyes. “Oh, Eli. Sometimes you can love a person and it still doesn’t work out.”

  “I know. But not for you and Josie.” Eli tugged Hunter into the living room. “You need to go talk to her. I can go, too. I’ll tell her I lied. I’ll tell her why I lied.”

  Renata and his father appeared, listening.

  “It’s Christmas Eve, son. I want to spend time with my family.”

  Eli nodded. “So go get her.”

  Hunter touched his son’s cheek, awed by the love and support Eli was offering.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Josie stared at the arrivals and departures board. The green digital letters were updated as flights came and went. She’d been sitting here for hours. She’d been boarding, in line, bag in hand, but she couldn’t leave.

  Now she sat, staring at the screens, trying to figure out what to do next.

  Hunter believed the worst of her.

  Eli didn’t want her in his life.

  Amy was back in Stonewall Crossing.

  But her father was getting married.

  Her best friend in the whole wide world was right here.

  And she was finally writing and painting again.

  Could she find a way to be here without Hunter? Could she coexist without feeling that jolt of awareness whenever she saw him? Or smile when she heard his name mentioned? Could she bear it if he moved on, finding love and a family?

  She felt nauseous and rested her elbows on her knees. She loved him. She loved him more because he accepted his son at his word, even if it destroyed the only glimmer o
f happiness she’d ever really had.

  If she left... She could move to New Mexico. She’d sign on as one of the Institute’s resident artists and teach. She’d write and paint when she had time. So pretty much every evening. It would be a regular job, which she didn’t necessarily need but would keep her occupied. The biggest perk was the location. It was the closest alternative to the Texas Hill Country and Stonewall Crossing.

  She sighed and sat back, feeling an idiot all over again.

  This was home. Why go someplace else like it when she could stay here with the handful of people she actually cared about?

  It was almost ten o’clock. Tomorrow was Christmas morning. She could spend it with her father, watching him open the framed painting she’d done of Sprinkles. She could watch Lola open the scrapbook supplies she’d purchased. And the gift certificate to a naughty online adult store for Annabeth that was a joke—sort of.

  From the corner of her eyes, she saw movement. It was pretty quiet, so she glanced over to see the new arrival.

  It was Hunter.

  Her breathing accelerated.

  He was talking to the ticket agent, too far away to hear. The agent shook her head, no doubt apologizing. Hunter kept talking, and the agent kept shaking her head.

  He was here. Was it too much to hope he was coming after her?

  She watched, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, as he stepped back from the ticket agent. His hands rubbed back and forth over his face, and he let out a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

  He tried again, clearly agitated now. But the ticket agent didn’t budge.

  Hunter glanced around, the shadows under his eyes visible from where she sat. His gaze traveled over her quickly, almost blindly, before he froze.

  She couldn’t move.

  He strode across the airport terminal, bag in hand, staring at the tile floor, heading directly for her and the row of joined chairs she’d occupied for the past few hours.

  He sat beside her, glancing at her.

  She glanced at him, fighting against the smile that bubbled up inside her. “Where are you headed?” she asked.

  He laughed, soft and nervous. “Seattle.”

  “It rains a lot.” She paused. “What’s in Seattle?”

  “Someone I need to apologize to.” He shifted in his seat, giving her his full attention.

  Her cheeks felt hot. “Oh? What did you do?”

  “I doubted her,” he answered. “And then I let her go without a fight.”

  Her heart thumped like mad. “But she went. So maybe she’s not worth fighting for.” Her gaze met his.

  “She didn’t leave.” He rested his elbows on his knees, his face inches from hers.

  “She tried.”

  “What stopped her?” he asked, his gaze lingering.

  “For the first time in my—her—life, she realized she had something worth fighting for.” Her throat was thick with emotion. She stared at him, lost in his gaze.

  “Big realization.” His voice was low, husky.

  She nodded, incapable of words.

  “Eleven years is a long time, Jo,” he murmured. “I don’t want another day gone without you with me.” The fear on his face was so real, so raw... And she understood it. He needed her the way she needed him.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I love you, Hunter.”

  He smiled. “Damn, I love you, too.” He took her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth so he could kiss each knuckle, then each fingertip.

  “Eli?”

  “Wants to talk to you.” Hunter stood, pulling her up beside him. “He wanted to come, but I wouldn’t let him.”

  She nodded. “He’s okay?”

  “He’s more than okay. He’s ready for you to be part of the family now.”

  “Now?” She didn’t know what now meant, but she’d happily marry him this second.

  “Now.” His hand cupped her cheek. “You will marry me?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you.” She twined her arms around his neck. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “Have any plans for New Year’s Eve?” he asked, pressing a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Nothing like a new year for a fresh start and a wedding.”

  “And fireworks,” she added, parting her lips beneath his.

  “I like making fireworks with you, Jo.” His mouth sealed hers, mingling their breaths and making her blissfully light-headed.

  “I was talking about the fireworks set off to ring in the New Year.” She shivered as his lips latched on to her ear.

  “I like those, too,” he whispered against her skin. “You ready to go home, Jo?”

  She pulled back, staring into his eyes. “Take me home.”

  * * * * *

  Be sure to look for the next book

  in THE BOONES OF TEXAS miniseries

  by Sasha Summers in 2016!

  Keep reading for a bonus novella by Laura Marie Altom, A HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.

  A Home for

  Christmas

  Laura Marie Altom

  “Rachel!”

  Ignoring Chance Mulgrave, her husband’s best friend, Rachel Finch gripped her umbrella handle as if it were the only thing keeping her from throwing herself over the edge of the cliff, at the base of which thundered an angry Pacific. Even for Oregon Coast standards, the day was hellish. Brutal winds, driving cold rain...

  The wailing gloom suited her. Only ten minutes earlier, she’d left the small chapel where her presumed dead husband’s memorial service had just been held.

  “Please, Rachel!” Chance shouted above the storm. Rachel didn’t see Chance since her back was to him, but she could feel him thumping toward her on crutches. “Honey...”

  He cupped his hand to her shoulder and she flinched, pulling herself free of his hold. “Don’t.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Whatever. I just—”

  She turned to him, too exhausted to cry. “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?”

  “Wes didn’t know. I’d planned on telling him after he’d finished this case.”

  “God, Rache.” Sharing the suffocating space beneath her umbrella, his demeanor softened. “I’m sorry. Or maybe happy. Hell, I’m not sure what to say.”

  “There’s not much anyone can say at this point,” she responded. “Wes is gone. I’m having his child...but how can I even think of being a mother when I’m so emotionally...”

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” he said. “No matter what you need, I’m here for you. Wes and I made a pact. Should anything happen to either of us, we’d watch after each other’s family.”

  “But you don’t have a family,” she pointed out.

  “Yet. But it could’ve just as easily been me whose life we were celebrating here today.” He bowed his head. “Seeing you like this...so sad...makes me almost wish it was.”

  Me, too.

  There. Even if Rachel hadn’t given voice to her resentment, it was at least out there, for the universe to hear. Ordinarily, Chance and her husband worked together like a well-oiled team, watching each other’s backs. But then Chance had had to go and bust his ankle while helping one of their fellow deputy US marshals move into a new apartment.

  If Chance had really cared for Wes, he’d have been more careful. He wouldn’t have allowed his friend to be murdered at the hands of a madman—a rogue marshal who’d also come uncomfortably close to taking out one of the most key witnesses the Marshal’s Service had ever had.

  Her handful of girlfriends had tried consoling her, suggesting maybe Wes wasn’t really dead...but Rachel knew. There had been an exhaustive six-week search for Wes’s body. Combined with that, of the five marshals who’d been on that assignment, only two had come home alive. Another two bodies had been found, both shot. It didn’t take rocket science to assume the same had happened to her dear husband.

  “Let me take you home,” Chance said. Despite his crutches, he tried to angle her away from the thrashing sea and back to the parking lot, to the
sweet little chapel where less than a year earlier she and Wes had spoken their wedding vows.

  “You’re soaked. Being out here in this weather can’t be good for you or the baby.”

  “I’m all right,” she said, again wrenching free of his hold. This time, it had been her elbow he’d grasped. She was trying to regain her dignity after having lost it in front of the church filled with Wes’s coworkers and friends, and she just wanted to be left alone. “Please...leave. I can handle this on my own.”

  “Rachel, that’s just it,” he said, awkwardly chasing after her as she strode down the perilous trail edging the cliff.

  His every step tore at her heart. Why was he alive and not her husband? The father of her child. What was she going to do? How was she ever going to cope with raising a baby on her own?

  “Honey, you don’t have to deal with Wes’s passing on your own. If you’d just open up to me, I’m here for you—for as long as you need.”

  That was the breaking point. Rachel stopped abruptly. She tossed her umbrella out to sea, tipped her head up to the battering rain and screamed.

  Tears returned with a hot, messy vengeance. Only, in the rain it was impossible to tell where tears left off and rain began. Then, suddenly, Chance was there, drawing her against him, into his island of strength and warmth, his crutches braced on either side of her like walls blocking the worst of her pain.

  “That’s it,” he crooned into her ear. “Let it out. I’m here. I’m here.”

  She did exactly as he urged, but then, because she’d always been an intensely private person and not one prone to histrionics, she stilled. Curiously, the rain and wind also slowed to a gentle patter and hushed din.

  “Thank you,” she eventually said. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate you trying to help, but...”

  “I’m not just trying,” he said. “If you’d let me in, we can ride this out together. I’m hurting, too.”

  “I know,” she said, looking to where she’d white-knuckle gripped the soaked lapels of his buff-colored trench. “But I—I can’t explain. I have to do this on my own. I was alone before meeting Wes, and now I am again.”

  “But you don’t have to be. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I’m here for you.”