Christmas Cowboy (A Standalone Holiday Romance Novel)

by Claire Adams

  Colt shook his head at me. “It’s not you that’s causing all of this, Cheyenne. Don’t take responsibility for something that you have no control over. It’s not you doing it.”

  “I still feel guilty though,” I admitted with a whisper, picking at the paper label on the can. “I feel like I started a war by founding the sanctuary here in Green Point. It’s put you in the middle of it. It’s not fair.”

  Strong hands grasped my shoulders. A shiver went up my spine as I looked up at Colt. He leaned down to peer into my eyes intently.

  “You did not put me in the middle,” he said quietly. “I wanted to help you. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  He let go of my shoulders to take the can of soup from my hand. I watched as he poured the contents into a pot before turning the stove on. I sat down on the bar stool with the kitchen island between us.

  “What is Michael like?” I asked.

  Colt gave an indifferent shrug. “I don’t know him personally, but obviously you can see that he takes care of his animals. That’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I can see that he takes care of his horses,” I said, and then carefully added, “I think he and Tiffany were striking up a good conversation.”

  “You think so?” Colt looked over his shoulder with a sly smile. “I think you’re rather blind to seeing if someone likes you. Your judgment might be misguided a bit.”

  “That’s not true,” I argued, a blush filling my cheeks. “Maybe I just have my reasons for not paying attention to any of that.”

  A chuckle rumbled in Colt’s chest as he turned back around to stir the bubbling froth. The strong muscles in his back shifted against the fabric of his flannel shirt.

  “Michael’s a good man,” Colt said. “You don’t have to worry about him with Tiffany or the horse.”

  “It’s not him that I’m worried about.”

  The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Colt looked over at me again with hooded eyes, but I hopped off the bar stool before anything else could be said. I hurried up the stairs in the direction of the guest room with no intent of facing Colt for the rest of the night. He knew just as well as I did what I meant.

  I wasn’t worried about Michael. I was worried about Colt.

  Chapter 20

  Colt

  I kept one eye trained on the barn through the living room window. The barn lights were off, but the light next to the hayloft was still on. My father had built that small little apartment years ago for the head ranch hand to have a place to stay during busy seasons, but also when the weather was too dangerous.

  What do you think of all this shit, Dad? What would you do?

  Nothing. He would do nothing because none of this would be happening on my father’s watch. He knew how to run this ranch. He knew how to deal with all the political and corrupt bullshit around Green Point. A solution would’ve been reached by now. That’s for damn sure. He was probably rolling around in his grave out of fury.

  I took another long drink of whiskey before settling in the leather chair I had dragged to face the living room windows and barn. The rest of the house was quiet because of the late hour. Tiffany had taken her pain pill two hours ago, and after fighting sleep, she had finally passed out on the couch before I carried her upstairs to her room. Now, it was silent, and I was grateful for it because I could think about what I needed to do.

  And all I could think about was Cheyenne upstairs. That’s what I needed. I needed her calm and reasoned against the fury starting to build in me. I needed that gentle touch to soothe the headache that throbbed in my temples. Except she had gone upstairs and never returned after taking a shower. Her bowl of soup still sat on the kitchen counter.

  “I’m not worried about him.”

  I ran a hand along my face in irritation. Getting close to Cheyenne meant caring even more. It didn’t even occur to me that I wouldn’t have gone out in the rain looking for a horse that was too scared of me for anyone else. I did it because Cheyenne was devastated. I couldn’t erase that brokenhearted expression on her face from my memory.

  “What the fuck do I do?” I groaned out, letting my head fall against the back of the chair. “I wish you were here, Dad, to tell me what I need to do. You were always good at telling me what to do with my life.”

  That had been the fight before I flew back to New York. I dimly remembered it now. “Son, you can’t just turn your back on responsibility. That’s part of being a good man. This ranch is your responsibility.”

  “It’s my responsibility to make sure that everyone on this ranch is happy,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes tiredly. “It’s my job to make sure that this place is protected. Fine job I’m doing. It’s karma that the Iron Stallion is closed down right now.”

  Marcus wouldn’t even return my calls. It was Joe who called me earlier this morning to tell me that black gunk was coming up through the drains. I couldn’t afford to let the Iron Stallion go another week without plumbing and customers. The ranch was a cushion, but not a comfy cushion against the temporary closure. Donating supplies to Cheyenne had been a stretch without any flow of cash coming in at the moment.

  That would change soon though once the contracts came back. Tiffany had dealt with a few corporations a few days ago. They would be coming out to the ranch to inspect it. They didn’t want another Bill Coates story circulating around the news for the general public to see. It led to financial hits for them too.

  “Colt?”

  I jerked in surprise to find Cheyenne alongside my legs. Her long dark hair was damp from her shower earlier, but she was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a tight shirt that accented her ample breasts perfectly. My mouth went dry as I sat up in the chair, trying to keep my eyes focused on her concerned face than on other places of her body that my hands longed to touch.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, sitting my glass down on the coffee table. “Did you say something?”

  Cheyenne shifted nervously on her feet. “I saw the living room light on still, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Silence stretched on between us. Unable to deal with it, or with how wonderful Cheyenne smelt of vanilla, I gestured to the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Care for a glass with me?”

  To my surprise, Cheyenne nodded in agreement. I poured us both a glass as Cheyenne settled down in the window pane to also look at the barn.

  “Nothing so far?”

  “Nothing,” I said, scooting the chair closer to her. “Rick will handle it if someone comes up to pull another prank.”

  Cheyenne pulled back to take a sip of her whiskey. Her face was measured when she looked up at me curiously.

  “Do you honestly believe it’s a couple of teenagers pulling pranks on all the ranchers?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” I said honestly. “I’ve never dealt with a problem like this. No one has ever dealt with a problem like this before in Green Point.”

  “I still think it has something to do with me. I get the feeling that the people here in Green Point don’t like me very much.” Her lips curved up into a small smile. “Particularly the females.”

  “No one likes me, so I wouldn’t worry too much about what Green Point residents think.”

  “First off, the women here are your biggest fans. That’s why I’m very unpopular with them.”

  I chuckled at that. “Well, I can’t lie to you. I have a reputation pinned to me for being a ladies’ man when I was a teenager.”

  “That makes sense then,” Cheyenne said, giggling. “You had a couple of girlfriends that still live here. They talk about how much of a player you are, but I think differently.”

  “What do you think of me then?” I asked curiously.

  “Well, for one. I don’t think you really are a womanizer. I haven’t seen you parading around here with different women. You seem more like the old-fashioned and rugged cowboy who rides off into sunse
ts with his true love.”

  “That’s what you think of me?”

  Cheyenne let out a full-bellied laugh as she fell back against the window at the horrified look on my face, but I couldn’t help the grin tugging at my lips.

  “I meant it as a compliment,” she said. “It’s nice to not be around a man who thinks behaving like a complete jackass is the best way to a woman’s heart.”

  “There’s a right and wrong way to get inside someone’s heart. I’ve done both, but the right way seems to have better results.” I caught Cheyenne’s eyes when she looked up at me with flushed cheeks from the whiskey. “It may take longer, but it gets you to the same place eventually.”

  “Maybe,” Cheyenne said thickly. She took another drink of whiskey to avoid my eyes. “So, is it hard to be home still?”

  “Hard to be home?” I repeated in puzzlement. “When I have said that to you?”

  “You said you were getting restless sitting in this house. Tiffany suggested that it was hard for you to be here because you think about your parents.”

  I winced at the accuracy. Tiffany knew it better than anyone else did. It was hard for the both of us to be here. It was difficult walking past their room, still intact and untouched from the day of the car accident, and not wanting to look in there to see if they were there. It was hard not to look for them in the barn when I walked down first thing in the morning to let the horses out into the pasture to graze. It was hard sitting in that damn dining room with their chairs forever empty because no one wanted to sit there.

  “Colt.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry for asking that,” Cheyenne said. “I can see it in your eyes that it was a stupid question to ask. I know it’s hard to be here.”

  Tears were burning at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them come out. I had done all my crying in private before putting a face on to help Tiffany navigate her own grief and the responsibilities of the ranch.

  “It’s okay to be sad in front of me,” Cheyenne whispered.

  The soft touch of her hand against mine surprised me. Her fingers threaded through mine so naturally, it was hard reminding myself that she was trying to console me against the onslaught of grief and emotions. I absorbed the gentle touch with a sharp intake of breath.

  Lust was beginning to bubble in my veins. I wanted to lean forward, to close the gap between us, and press my lips up against hers.

  “I lost my biological parents when I was a baby,” she continued on, oblivious to the desires starting to flicker to life in me. “That’s why I wanted to do a sanctuary. Since I was a little kid I wanted to do it because of a camp that my adopted parents sent me to that had rescue horses. I felt connected to them because they were orphaned or abandoned. I know what it’s like to feel disconnected from my adopted family even though they live in Portland.”

  “I didn’t know you were adopted,” I said. “Tiffany—”

  “I never told her. You’re the only person that knows here in Green Point besides a few family friends.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” I whispered, squeezing her small hand gently as possible. “I appreciate you entrusting me with that. We both know what it’s like to deal with death.”

  “Unfortunately,” Cheyenne said, sighing. “It’s hard around the holidays, you know? It’s Thanksgiving next, along with Christmas. Those holidays are hard because my adopted parents always leave for their vacations now. We used to be close, but after what happened…”

  She stopped talking. I leaned forward to peer up at her troubled eyes, but Cheyenne leant back to hide her face. Her hand tugged at mine.

  “I can’t talk about this anymore,” she said. “I’m sorry that I brought it up. I know you’re missing your parents and dealing with a lot. My past isn’t yours to worry about.”

  I refused to let go of Cheyenne’s hand. She looked down at our joined hands in surprise.

  “Don’t apologize,” I said. “I want to get to know you.”

  Her eyes widened when I scooted to the edge of the leather chair. “Colt—”

  “For once in your life,” I whispered, cupping the side of Cheyenne’s neck with my free hand, “don’t fight something that you want. It’s okay to want something. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time.”

  Her lips parted. Taking that as an invitation, I leaned forward to kiss her deep and hard. Cheyenne stiffened at first before her lips were moving against mine boldly with a small moan that instantly sent fire directly down to my groin. I pushed myself closer to her, willing to feel every inch of her body up against mine. Her arms circled my shoulders as she drew me close. Every ounce of my blood was draining in a southerly direction with each little touch of Cheyenne’s tongue against mine.

  She kissed me back just as hard, pouring every inch of frustration into it. Her hands were trembling when they reached up to tangle in my hair. It took all of my self-control to not take her right there up against the cold window.

  I didn’t care if this could end badly between us. I wanted Cheyenne, and I wanted her now.

  Chapter 21

  Cheyenne

  Trying to regain control of my own desires, I repeated the mantra in my mind. No men, Cheyenne. Just horses. But those familiar words faded to the back of my mind as Colt’s lips moved against my mouth. His body felt like fire, and the wet tendrils of my hair suddenly felt like ice, melting me into his body with every movement of his lips. I felt his strong hand on my neck as he held me in place, and for the first time in years, I felt a sweet, contented surrender settle in the pit of my stomach. I pushed deeper into his kiss, gripping the shirt that dared to clothe the body I’d been trying to rid my mind of for weeks. As he walked us back a step, I felt my back press into something cold and unyielding—the window. He moaned a deep, sensual growl as he ground me against it, and I wondered about intentions.

  The words he had spoken moments ago about taking what I wanted for once ricocheted through my head while his hand snaked around my back. He cradled my head while he pressed my body deeper into his. I finally came up for air, my eyes searching his with fright and desperation. But when my sight settled on the cool, collected stare of Colt Smith, I felt his chiseled muscles rippling around my body.

  “Cheyenne,” he said. His voice was gravelly, like a truck rolling up the driveway in a rainstorm. I felt my legs tremble beneath me while my body betrayed everything I had so carefully recited to it for years. Unsteady now, I began to fall, and he caught me just as I went down.

  My hands flew to his hair, and I crushed my lips back up into his. His hands flew down my body and cupped my backside, and almost instantly I let him pick me up off my feet. I was being carried across the room while our tongues danced and our teeth clattered, and when he sat back down in the big leather chair, my legs straddled his lap.

  “Stop doing this to yourself,” he whispered.

  “I—”

  He stopped my thought with his lips on my neck before I could spit out what was whirling through my mind. It was screaming at me to stop, to remember what Dexter did to me and the heartbreak it brought. It was screaming at me to think of the horses and how this would distract me from all that needed to happen, especially considering all the trouble that was occurring.

  But his lips were so warm, and they caressed me so perfectly, distracting me from my protests. I felt his hands slip up underneath my shirt, and suddenly his fire was melting my ice once more. I sighed and tipped my head back, exposing my neck to his wandering mouth while I ran my hands through his hair, and I could feel his calloused farm hands gripping onto my bare back as he kissed down my sternum.

  Layer by layer, clothing was slowly peeled off, and soon we were standing in the darkness of his home with the moonlight ricocheting through the windows. His lips trailed down my breasts, and I could feel his cock growing against my body. My hands were trembling as they traced every single line and divot his muscles had to boast, and the heat of his fire grew, melting the
very last of my ice.

  I pushed him back down into the chair and straddled his lap, and when I attacked his neck, I could feel his hands wrap themselves into my hair. I nipped at his pulse point and scooped off the light sheen of sweat with my tongue. He tasted of hay, dust, and whiskey, and I was completely intoxicated with the smell of his body. Rugged and musky with a hint of farmland, just as I’d imagined.

  “Cheyenne,” he said with a groan. “Do we—oh God. Do we need a—.”

  “No,” I said breathlessly. “I’m protected. Don’t worry.”

  He pushed me back before he took one of my pert nipples between his lips, and I was absolutely done for. I ground down so hard into his lap, and my folds were so wet and slick for him that he slid right in. His cock had found its home buried deep within me, and the moan that escaped my throat stopped Colt in his tracks.

  As I tipped my head forward and looked down at him, his stormy eyes held mine while he sheathed himself within me, and I could feel him twitch with delight before a grin peeled across my lips. I rolled my hips just to watch his gaze falter, and when I did it again, he dropped my nipple from between his lips.

  “Jesus, Cheyenne,” he said. His hands flew to my sides, and my arms slid around his shoulders. My hips rocked just as he guided them, our lips crashed again, and soon we were bucking against each other’s bodies while his growing flames of fury evaporated all I had to give. He was putting out all my inhibitions with his fiery flames, and sweat began to slowly trickle down the back of my neck. My kisses on his neck became bites on his shoulders, and soon his hips rose to meet my rolls and thrusts.

  I clung to him and hung on for the ride. I felt that electric sensation take over my body, and slowly I began to climb my ascent into pleasure. I held onto Colt’s rippling body while he groaned and grunted into my ear, and all I could do was breathe and whisper deep into his ear while he cascaded pleasures I hadn’t felt in so long over my own body.

  “Oh. Colt. Yes. Oh, God.”