Riley hadn’t wanted kids. Maybe the truth was that he didn’t want kids in a general sense. He wasn’t that guy. But he wanted Rae. He wanted her kids. He wanted life with her in all of its variations.
Holding his son in his arms, Riley believed in magic. He believed in love. He believed in the things he and Rae could build together.
Like this beautiful life that they’d been doing together forever. Their way, for better and worse alike.
“It’s not happening,” he told Rae as she smirked at him. “Whatever you try to do to convince me, I will never sit at your family table and pretend that the carrot soufflé is your recipe. Never, Rae.”
But in the shower later while the baby napped, she sank down to her knees, grinned up at him wickedly, and convinced him.
Riley sat at Thanksgiving dinner with her whole family, lied through his teeth, and loved her all the more.
The way he intended to do, day after day, forever.
Keep reading for a bonus novella from Caitlin Crews!
SWEET NIGHTS WITH A COWBOY
1
If asked, Connor Kittredge would have put his hand on a stack of Bibles and sworn he had paid absolutely no attention to the whereabouts of Melissa “Missy” Minton in all the years since their high school graduation. Not ever. And especially not over the holidays.
Luckily, no one had asked. Because that was a lie.
Not a struck-down-by-lightning lie, maybe, but it wasn’t the truth, either. They had dated for most of their junior year, and he remembered the dating part in vivid detail. He could also remember that their breakup had been both theatric and public.
And if he recalled correctly, his fault.
That he couldn’t remember whys and hows of their breakup had resulted in Missy—though she’d preferred Melissa by then, she’d informed him—laughing at him over her bright and sparkling engagement ring some years back. Right here in this very same bar where he was currently listening to country music Christmas carols over a few beers and was doing his best to keep from noticing that Missy was back in town.
Earlier than usual for her regular Christmas visit, given Thanksgiving had been last week.
Not that he knew Missy’s schedule, he reminded himself as he took a pious pull from his beer. Or anything about her actual life aside from the usual small-town stories people told about her that were the lifeblood of a remote mountain town like this one.
But there she was all the same, leaning up against the polished wood bar in the Broken Wheel Saloon. Which was right where it had always been, there on Main Street in Cold River, Colorado, when she was supposed to be some six hours south in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Until at least the twenty-third of the month.
Connor certainly didn’t keep tabs on her comings and goings, but a man noticed these things when they occurred year after year like clockwork. Always with that enormous ring. Never with the fiancé who went with it. Because said fiancé was a businessman, the rumor mill had reliably informed him, and was much too important for a tiny little cowboy town without a single stoplight.
“Are you thinking?” asked his older brother Jensen from across the table, where Jensen was lounging as if he were the king of the world. Because Jensen was always lounging like he was the king of something, even when it wasn’t fire season and he wasn’t off leaping out of planes into hell.
“Unlikely,” drawled Zack, another one of his older brothers. He happened to be the sheriff in these parts and took that as an invitation to underscore his every laconic, lawman word with a smirk. In fairness, he’d been doing that long before he became sheriff.
The only brother missing was Riley, who had apparently taken advantage of the recent holiday to finally reunite with his long-estranged wife. Or ex-wife. Or whatever Riley and Rae Trujillo had been doing all these years—and none of them were talking about that mess after Riley had blown up at the family Thanksgiving dinner table. Prodded by their much younger sister, Amanda.
“I tried thinking once,” Connor replied. And grinned, because if he showed any kind of actual reaction, his brothers would see it as their solemn duty to attack and destroy. He knew because he would do the same to them, and happily. It was the entire point of having a big family, in his opinion. “Freshman year of high school. Didn’t take.”
What followed was a spirited discussion about the various genetic gifts they had each inherited—or notably not inherited—from their parents. And given their various negative feelings about Donovan and Ellie Kittredge and their childhoods in the middle of their parents’ once tempestuous and now chilly marriage, it inevitably descended into its own round of cheerful brotherly insults on this cold December night.
Connor quickly had his fill of the same old rounds of who was Ellie Jr. and who was Donovan’s clone, because he was the youngest of the four Kittredge brothers. Having two of the older three there to gang up on him was less appealing than Zack and Jensen seemed to think. Particularly when Amanda wasn’t around tonight to take her historic place as the one person Connor could roll things down upon.
He opted to cut and run at the first lull in the claims that he, personally, embodied their father’s inability to commit to anything or anyone—in the form of ambling on over to get the next round. And without meaning to, necessarily, he chose to head to the end of the bar where Tessa Winthrop was serving drinks.
And just happened to be talking to one Missy Minton.
Missy was prettier than she’d been in high school, and that was saying something. Tonight, she was dressed for the blustery Colorado weather in one of those Nordic-looking sweaters that hung on her like a tunic, but still didn’t quite cover the way her leggings clung to her behind, which he’d been admiring from across the room—and across a great many years. She had one winter boot propped up on the brass rung that was set below the bar for that exact purpose, one elbow on the polished wooden surface next to her drink, and her fingers laced lightly around the long neck of her IPA.
When she shifted slightly to look at him, he caught the remains of the laughter she’d been aiming at Tessa. He was struck—as if for the first time—by her eyes, bright and brown. And her dark hair in silken waves, caught tonight to one side of her neck.
“Connor,” she said like a greeting, her voice that mix of naturally raspy and lit up with laughter that had pretty much wrecked him when he’d been a teenager.
He was obviously far more grown up and in control of himself now. He hoped. “Missy. Welcome back.”
Connor caught Tessa’s eye and made a circling motion with one finger to indicate he was buying the next round for his table. Tessa nodded and got to work with her usual efficiency.
Next to him, Missy shifted against the bar. “I’m pretty sure I’ve told you annually that I’ve been going by Melissa for years now.”
“Maybe out there, you go by Melissa. But this is Cold River.” Connor grinned down at her. “You know nothing ever really changes here.”
She smiled again, but this time, it didn’t light up those eyes of hers the way it normally did. He wasn’t sure why he noticed that or why, having noticed it, it … got to him.
“You’re lucky that as it happens, I’ve decided to reclaim my old nickname,” she said, lightly enough. “But that doesn’t let you off the hook.”
“I didn’t realize hooks were involved.”
“That sounds like the Connor I know.” Missy rolled her eyes, though it was good-natured. Or it looked good-natured, anyway. “Never sure what the issue is, but sure it’s not his fault.”
“Are we talking about high school again?”
“This is Cold River, as I was just reminded.” She waved her beer in the general direction of all the people enjoying dinner, drinks, and the odd bit of dancing in the Broken Wheel, the much nicer and more welcoming of the two bars in town. “Some folks are still carrying on as if high school never ended.”
Connor put a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know that I’m a fully grown adult, thank you. Unlik
e some people I could mention, who I happened to be related to, I’m not clinging on to high school football teams and the glory I once knew.”
“Don’t you live at home with your mother, though?” Missy asked, wrinkling up her nose.
And it occurred to Connor that she was teasing him the same way his older brothers did. Perfectly happy to go for the jugular, and not because they’d dated in high school. Or not only because of that. But because she’d known him his entire life. They’d played together as toddlers, something he didn’t personally recall but had been reminded of seemingly every five minutes while they’d been dating.
“That’s a question with more than one answer, Missy,” he drawled, leaning into the bar so he could face her. Not a hardship. “Is it true that I live on the same piece of property where numerous members of my family also reside? I believe you know I do. But you also know that it’s a substantial acreage, most of it belongs to the horses, and just to make it perfectly clear, no. I haven’t lived under the same roof as my mother since I was about eighteen.”
“Sounds like I touched a nerve.” She looked delighted at the prospect.
“I understand what it’s like for folks like you who moved away from home and claim they’re never coming back. All that convenient amnesia and whatnot. I just want to make sure you know where to put me in all your cowboy stereotypes.”
She considered. “Do I have cowboy stereotypes? I thought I just knew cowboys.”
“Down there in Santa Fe? Living your fancy hotel life all these years?”
Missy looked down and took a swig of her beer. “Yeah, well. Santa Fe has its own magic, there’s no denying it.”
That didn’t sound like much of an answer to Connor, but before he could comment on it, Tessa was there again. She lined up the drinks he’d ordered on the counter, but left them there to go take some more orders down at the other end of the bar.
“Why are you here?” Connor asked, throwing a few bills on the bar to cover the round. “Don’t you usually come home for Christmas?”
She tilted her head a little as she looked at him. “It’s December, Connor. My mom likes to put up the Christmas tree the day after Halloween. It’s been Christmas for a month already as far as the Minton clan is concerned.”
Connor wanted to lean in. Ask her more pointed questions. Like why she was being evasive and what it meant, but he knew this was none of his business. Whatever she called herself, whatever magic she believed in, she had a whole life that he only saw a little snapshot of once a year.
If this particular snapshot was going to be a bit longer than usual this year, that was great. He could enjoy it the way he always did and then move on, because there was more than one pretty girl around. There always was.
Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of a single one. But he was sure they were here somewhere.
“I don’t think Zack and Jensen bite, if you want to sit down with us,” he heard himself say instead of telling her it was great to see her and walking away. The way he should have done. “You can join the two of them as they find new and ingenious ways to mock and belittle me at every turn. A family tradition, really.”
Missy wheeled around to look at the table behind them. Connor did the same, and saw Jensen telling one of his usually tall tales, complete with a booming laugh of his.
She grinned at him, and this time, it was in her eyes. “I’ll admit it. That does sound entertaining.”
“If you ask nicely,” he said in a tone that was easing a little too close toward flirting, which he should know better than to do, what with her being a long-engaged woman and all, “I might even ask them to call you Melissa.”
Missy pushed away from the bar, bringing her beer with her. Then she reached over and grabbed his beer, too, leaving Connor to pick up his brothers’ drinks.
“I almost married a man who called me Melissa,” she told him, leaning in like it was a secret. Or something shameful, maybe. “I’m kind of over it. But taking this opportunity to settle in and make fun of my high school boyfriend? Count me in.”
And then she set off for the table and his brothers, leaving that bomb behind for Connor to sort out—without, he hoped, any of his reaction to the news she was single on his face.
2
Missy Minton didn’t know what it was about Connor freaking Kittredge.
Sure, he was a kind of beautiful that only seemed to get better with age and apparent maturity. His hair was more dark than blond, and he had those dark eyes that always looked as if he was thinking about something wicked. And the fact he’d spent his life out in the fields wrangling horses was evident in every inch of the body he’d packed into the local uniform of well-fitting jeans, cowboy boots, and a Henley to make a girl far too aware of the power in his arms.
She was sure he knew it. He’d been a conceited ass in high school, but back then, she’d thought it was her role in life to shock her mother. A conceited ass had been exactly what she was looking for.
Connor had delivered.
Those Kittredge boys aren’t likely to settle down, Missy, her mother had fussed at her when she’d been a teenager. It’s not in their nature.
Riley Kittredge literally married Rae Trujillo five seconds after she graduated high school, she’d replied, as smart-mouthed as ever, and only too delighted to prove Marianne Minton wrong wrong wrong.
I hope you don’t think history will repeat itself, Marianne had sniffed. All that boy will do is ruin your reputation.
I hope so, Missy had thrown back at her with all the fiery passion of her teenage heart—a move that had gotten her grounded when her daddy came home that night and heard about it.
She still thought it was worth it.
Just like she still thought it was fun to get together with her old high school friends and laugh about the little soap opera of a teenage relationship she’d had with that boy, but it was hard to remember all that when she ran into him around Cold River. He’d filled out that lanky form of his, grown a few inches, and held a whole lot more wickedness in his eyes these days.
If she was honest, she thought as she plastered a smile across her face and settled herself down at a seat at the table with two of the other intimidatingly attractive Kittredge boys—who were in no way boys these days—seeing Connor every Christmas had been a little balm for her bruised ego these past years. She could admit that.
But she refused to think about Philip in any more depth than that.
She’d declared herself and her new life a Philip-free zone.
Starting from the moment she’d thrown her engagement ring at his head.
“I’ll admit that I can’t get used to the fact that you’re the sheriff, Zack,” she said, smiling at the oldest of the Kittredges when he offered her a lazy nod that failed to disguise the shrewd look in his eyes.
“You’re not alone,” Jensen chimed in with that voice of his that was as big as all his great many muscles.
“Zack claims he’s always been law-abiding,” Connor said as he took the seat next to her, sliding his brothers their drinks across the table. “But funny thing, nobody who knows him remembers it that way.”
“I’m happy to arrest you all,” Zack murmured. “You can debate the finer points of the law and my adherence to it in the county lockup.”
“You can always try, big brother,” Jensen drawled.
The two of them devolved into a spate of hypotheticals, and Missy found herself a little too captivated by the remaining Kittredge brother at her side.
“What happened to your man?” he asked with a little more intensity than she’d expected from the likes of Connor Kittredge.
Or the Connor she’d known, anyway.
She couldn’t decide if she was flattered or irritated that he hadn’t let her marital status go, the way a lot of folks had since she’d come home. But then, most of them likely planned to ask her mother instead. Missy doubted Marianne and Connor were on idle chatting terms.
Missy found herself
rubbing her thumb over that strange, empty groove where Philip’s ring had sat for years. “Oh, he’s fine,” she said brightly. “Excellent, in fact. He’s achieved all his dreams, is the owner and manager of a brand-new boutique hotel right there in the center of historic Santa Fe. But it turns out that when he talked about it being a family enterprise, he had a different family in mind.”
She’d been practicing that speech for months now. It had played well at Thanksgiving dinner, since her mother had always hated Philip and her sister, Laurel, had finally confessed she’d only ever found him … slick. They had been used to him not accompanying Missy home anyway, so it wasn’t as if they missed his presence. Not the way they all missed her father, Hank Minton, as if his death took a chunk out of the world every time someone remembered it. Every time he wasn’t seated where he should have been at the family table. Every time he didn’t come in at night, his tread on the old wood floors heavy and familiar and comforting.
It had been almost four years now, and it still felt new. Missy figured it always would.
Even if she sometimes thought that it was a blessing that Hank hadn’t lived to see what had become of the engagement he’d never said he was opposed to. Just like he’d never said that he’d been taken aback that Philip had never done him the honor of asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
It was Marianne who had said that, not Hank.
Philip isn’t traditional, Mom, Missy had snapped.
Marianne had sniffed. Well, sweetheart, your daddy is.
No one had mentioned any of that. No one would. Missy assumed this was just how it was going to go. Five years of her life, fights she’d waged on behalf of a man who’d betrayed her, an entire future she’d planned out and worked for—poof. Gone.
She expected Connor, who as far as she knew had taken nothing too seriously in his entire life, to make a crack. A flippant remark, so they could roll straight on into the usual banter. Bright and meaningless like the twangy carols playing on the jukebox.
Secret Nights with a Cowboy Page 28
