Page 16 of Mistletoe Cowboy
I lie still, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. The weather outside may have passed, but in here, the wreckage still feels fragile. Beautiful, but fragile.
What have we done?
The thought flickers—quick, sharp—but it fades just as fast. Because whatever name the world gives it—sin, mistake, betrayal—it doesn’t feel wrong. Not now. Not when she fits against me like she was made for this place in my arms.
She stirs, lashes fluttering. “You’re awake,” she murmurs, voice low and rough from sleep.
“Couldn’t stop watching you,” I admit. “Snow’s stopped.”
Her gaze drifts to the window. “Looks like it.”
“Merry Christmas, Sassy. Sorry I don’t have any gifts for you.”
“You’re the best gift of all,” she says, beaming as I lean in for a kiss.
The sunlight catches her eyes, green and gold. Same as the first day I met her, before either of us knew how hard life would make us fight for each other. For a heartbeat, I let myself believe we can stay like this.
But reality creeps back in with the cold. I reach for my phone on the nightstand. Still no signal. The little circle spins and spins, same as my damn thoughts.
“Nothing?” she asks.
“Not yet.” I set it down again. “Ralph’ll have everyone checking fences, getting the herd settled. He’ll think we froze out here.”
Her expression softens. “He’ll be glad we’re okay.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “Once he gets over being furious.”
We share a smile that doesn’t quite reach our eyes. Because we both know what waits beyond the cabin door isn’t just the ranch …it’s judgment.
Sage traces the cut at my temple with her fingertip, gentle as the snow outside. “You’re still bleeding a little.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I know,” she says. “That’s what scares me.”
Her concern hits harder than the branch ever could. I catch her hand, press a kiss to her palm. “You won’t have to be scared anymore, Sassy. Not of Walter, not of the ranch, not of what people’ll say.”
She shakes her head, a tiny, sad smile curving her lips. “You think they’ll understand?”
“No,” I say simply. “But we don’t need them to.”
Outside, the roof lets go of its first heavy sigh, snow sliding off in thick sheets. Light floods the room, and she turns toward it, face soft and unguarded.
I sit up, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and pull on my jeans. “We’ll have to ride back soon. Check the herd, make sure Ralph didn’t freeze himself solid. Maybe get a Christmas tree on the way.”
She giggles. “A tree. I would like that.” It’s the first real hope I’ve heard in her voice since my return.
“I imagine ornaments are kicking around somewhere?” I arch a brow.
“Our ornaments. All the memories from childhood, from our life before.” The corners of her mouth dip.
I cup her cheek, slide my thumb over her inviting bottom lip. “And all the hope of the life we still have to make …together.”
“Together. I like the sound of that.” Sage wraps the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “You really think anyone’ll believe we just waited out a storm?”
I grimace, running a hand through my hair and pacing in the small space. “Probably not. But they can believe whatever they want.” I meet her gaze. “I’m done hiding what’s mine.”
Her breath catches—half shock, half something deeper. “Silas…”
