by Leanne Banks
“Yes, it’s me.”
He unlocked the door and opened it. He looked terrible. His face was flushed from too much alcohol. His black, wavy hair was ruffled. His blue shirt, unbuttoned and untucked, looking as if he’d slept in it. So did his black pants. He was a little unsteady on his feet. His eyes roved over Niki’s face with warm affection.
She reached out and caught his big hand in both of hers. “You’re coming home with us,” she said gently. “Come on, now.”
“Okay,” he said, without a single protest.
Jameson, standing to one side, out of sight, sighed with relief. He grinned at her father.
Blair drew in a long breath. “I’m pretty drunk.”
“That’s okay,” Niki said, still holding tight to his hand. “We won’t let you drive.”
He burst out laughing. “Damned little brat,” he muttered.
She grinned at him.
“You dressed up to come visit me?” he asked, looking from her to her father.
“It was my graduation today,” Niki said.
Blair grimaced. “Damn! I meant to come. I really did. I even got you a present.” He patted his pockets. “Oh, hell, it’s in my desk. Just a minute.”
He managed to stagger over to the desk without falling. He dredged out a small wrapped gift. “But you can’t open it until I’m sober,” he said, putting it in her hands.
“Oh. Well, okay,” she said. She cocked her head. “Are you planning to have to run me down when I open it, then?”
His eyes twinkled. “Who knows?”
“We’d better go before he changes his mind,” her father said blithely.
“I won’t,” Blair promised. “There’s too damned much available liquor here. You only keep cognac and Scotch whiskey,” he reminded his friend.
“I’ve had Edna hide the bottles, though,” her father assured him.
“I’ve had enough anyway.”
“Yes, you have. Come on,” Niki said, grabbing Blair’s big hand in hers.
He followed her like a lamb, not even complaining at her assertiveness. He didn’t notice that Todd and Jameson were both smiling with pure amusement.
* * *
WHEN THEY GOT back to Catelow, and the Ashton ranch, Niki led Blair up to the guest room and set him down on the big bed.
“Sleep,” she said, “is the best thing for you.”
He drew in a ragged breath. “I haven’t slept for days,” he confessed. “I’m so tired, Niki.”
She smoothed back his thick, cool black hair. “You’ll get past this,” she said with a wisdom far beyond her years. “It only needs time. It’s fresh, like a raw wound. You have to heal until it stops hurting so much.”
He was enjoying her soft hand in his hair. Too much. He let out a long sigh. “Some days I feel my age.”
“You think you’re old?” she chided. “We’ve got a cowhand, Mike, who just turned seventy. Know what he did yesterday? He learned to ride a bicycle.”
His eyebrows arched. “Are you making a point?”
“Yes. Age is only in the mind.”
He smiled sardonically. “My mind is old, too.”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t have had children,” she lied and felt guilty that she was glad about it. “Sometimes they make a marriage work.”
“Sometimes they end it,” he retorted.
“Fifty-fifty chance.”
“Elise would never have risked her figure to have a child,” he said coldly. “She even said so.” He grimaced. “We had a hell of a fight after the Christmas I spent here. It disgusted me that she’d go to some party with her friends and not even bother to call to see how I was. She actually said to me the money was nice. It was a pity I came with it.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said with genuine sympathy. “I can’t imagine the sort of woman who’d marry a man for what he had. I couldn’t do that, even if I was dirt-poor.”
He looked up into soft, pretty gray eyes. “No,” he agreed. “You’re the sort who’d get down in the mud with your husband and do anything you had to do to help him. Rare, Niki. Like that hothouse orchid pin I gave you for Christmas.”
She smiled. “I wear it all the time. It’s so beautiful.”
“Like you.”
She made a face. “I’m not beautiful.”
“What’s inside you is,” he replied, and he wasn’t kidding.
She flushed a little. “Thanks.”
He drew in a breath and shuddered. “Oh, God...” He shot out of the bed, heading toward the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet in time. He lost his breakfast and about a fifth of bourbon.
When he finished, his stomach hurt. And there was Niki, with a wet washcloth. She bathed his face, helped him to the sink to wash out his mouth then helped him back to bed.
He couldn’t help remembering his mother, his sweet French mother, who’d sacrificed so much for him, who’d cared for him, loved him. It hurt him to remember her. He’d thought Elise resembled her. But it was this young woman, this angel, who was like her.
“Thanks,” he managed to croak out.
“You’ll be all right,” she said. “But just in case, I’m going downstairs right now to hide all the liquor.”
There was a lilt in her voice. He lifted the wet cloth he’d put over his eyes and peered up through a growing massive headache. She was smiling. It was like the sun coming out.
“Better hide it good,” he teased.
She grinned. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“No, honey. I’ll be fine.”
Honey. Her whole body rippled as he said the word. She tried to hide her reaction to it, but she didn’t have the experience for such subterfuge. He saw it and worried. He couldn’t afford to let her get too attached to him. He was too old for her. Nothing would change that.
She got up, moving toward the door.
“Niki,” he called softly.
She turned.
“Thanks,” he said huskily.
She only smiled, before she went out and closed the door behind her.
Don’t miss
WYOMING RUGGED by Diana Palmer,
available soon wherever Harlequin® HQN books and ebooks are sold.
www.Harlequin.com
Copyright © 2015 by Diana Palmer
ISBN-13: 9781460382783
A Princess Under the Mistletoe
Copyright © 2015 by Leanne Banks
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
&
nbsp; Excerpt from Wyoming Rugged by Diana Palmer
