“We’d have to draw up some kind of contract . . . put the details in writing,” she said.
“I know a good lawyer.” He winked and her treacherous heart fluttered.
“We should each have our own attorneys, someone looking out for our individual interests,” she said.
“Seems like a waste of money to me. I trust you. But if it’ll make you feel better . . .” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s continue this in my truck with the heater turned on.”
She sat next to him in the cab. His legs rubbed against hers and a hot rush of desire hit her like a thunderbolt when she needed to focus.
She inched away, trying to put a little distance between them. “Boden, are you sure you want to do this?”
His brown eyes held her gaze. “Yep. I’m also interested in pursuing other things with you, but this has to be separate.”
Her heart hitched. “What kind of other things?”
He reached over, pulled her closer, and covered her mouth with his. “This.”
His tongue tangled with hers and he cupped the back of her head. She held him, luxuriating in the warm pull of his mouth, the smell of his aftershave, and the strength of his arms. It didn’t get any better than this and that was the problem. Yet she couldn’t stop herself.
He changed his angle, pressing her against the padded seat, moving over her, hungry and frenzied. She, just as feverish, gripped the hem of his jacket and tried to pull it over his head. He saved her the trouble by unzipping it and she touched his chest, feeling his heart thunder. Hers was hammering in her chest. The windows were fogged up and he reached for the button on her jeans.
“Boden, what are we doing?” Feeling dizzy and a little overcome, she broke the kiss.
“I thought it was pretty obvious.” He grinned. “You want to stop?”
“Nope.” She nibbled on his bottom lip. “I just want to know the rules.”
“You and rules.” He reached over and opened her door. “Stay there.” He got out of the driver’s door, rushed around the front of the truck to the passenger side, got down on one knee, and took her hand. “Will you, Rachel Johnson, go into business with me?”
She stared down at him, touched beyond words. “I’d be honored to,” she said, and leaned out of the truck, craning her neck to have another look at the sign. “Buns and Beer, huh?”
“I thought it was pretty clever. You don’t like it?”
“I like it. And I like you.” She held his face and rubbed her hands over a day’s worth of scruff. A week ago, the admission would’ve made her feel vulnerable. But today she had nothing but trust. In him, in them, and in their future venture together.
“I like you, too. A lot,” he said, gazing up at her with such tenderness in his eyes it made her breath catch in her throat. “You think we can see where this goes?”
Rachel launched herself at him, knocking them both to the snowy ground. “Let’s see where it goes.”
But in her heart, she already knew he was the one.
EPILOGUE
One year later . . .
“We made the list.” Rachel twined her arms behind Boden’s neck and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“What list?” He walked them to the bar, dropped her on a stool, and dipped down to steal a kiss.
“Oprah’s Favorite Things. She said Buns and Beer was the perfect getaway stop for people who love artisan baked goods and craft beer.”
“Does that mean more business?”
“You bet it does.” She pulled him down for another kiss. One was never enough for her when it came to Boden. In fact, she could kiss him all day.
“You know what made my list of favorite things? You. It’s a list of one.”
She laughed, which she found herself doing a lot these days. “I don’t know, with all the wedding plans I’ve been a true bridezilla.”
“Nah, you just want everything perfect.” He nuzzled her neck. “Me too.”
She gazed out the window into the dim light where the white-flocked trees shook from the wind. In an hour, she and Boden would be opening for breakfast. “They’re predicting more snow this weekend. At this rate, we may wind up like the Canadell wedding.”
“Snowed in?” He followed her line of vision to the choppy river. “I doubt it, since we’re doing it here. Easy access, even in a storm. But would it be so terrible?” He waggled his brows. “Last time we were snowbound I recall it working out pretty well.”
She stroked his face. “Me too. I heard Tara and her fiancé wound up tying the knot in Hawaii. Sounds nice, huh?”
“No,” Boden said. “I like Glory Junction in winter for a wedding, surrounded by all our friends.”
She nodded, because she adored the idea. The last year had been a dream come true. Buns and Beer was thriving as well as their other businesses. They’d sidelined catering opportunities to have more leisure time together. And Boden had moved into her town house. Recently, they’d started scanning the real estate listings for a bigger house with property to eventually raise a family. A family. Sometimes Rachel had to pinch herself.
“I better get to work.” Rachel let out a contented sigh. “The staff will be here soon. Why don’t you turn on the Christmas lights?”
In between running their respective businesses and wedding appointments, they’d decorated the entire building for the holidays. Boden’s friend, who’d made the last-minute Buns and Beer sign, had constructed a giant lighted reindeer out of the same rusted metal, which they’d mounted to the side of the building. They’d put a Christmas tree and menorah in the lobby and boughs of holly everywhere. The restaurant and taproom looked so festive that tourists and locals crowded the place every night. Buns and Beer had become exactly what she’d wanted, a warm and inviting culinary destination.
Best of all, she and Boden got to work side by side every day. They didn’t even fight anymore . . . well, sometimes they disagreed. Adamantly. But then they got to make up, which they’d perfected to an art form.
He got up and flicked on the Christmas lights. “Come here.” He crooked his finger and opened his arms.
She walked into them and nestled her head against his chest. “Do you know how much I love you?”
“This much?” He held his arms wide.
“More,” she said. “Way more.”
“No more than I love you.” He pointed above her. “See that? It’s mistletoe.”
She stared up. “No, it’s not. It’s a cobweb.”
“Why do you always have to be so contrary? Shut up and kiss me.”
A COWBOY WEDDING FOR CHRISTMAS
NICOLE HELM
CHAPTER 1
Lindsay Tyler remembered exactly what she’d said to her oldest brother when he’d asked if she’d feel weird about him getting married at her ex-boyfriend’s family’s Christmas tree farm.
Why would I care about that?
No matter that Cal still lived in her head as the paragon of boyfriend-ness that no other man she’d dated had come close to. It had been years since she’d decided she wanted more than Gracely, Colorado, and Cal Barton.
Why would I care about that?
As she turned onto the lane that would lead to the Barton Ranch and Christmas Tree Farm, she realized why she would care. Too many memories, sweet and increasingly nostalgic with time. There had been years of her life when she’d been so sure she’d marry Cal, move into the house at the end of this lane, and that would be it.
But he hadn’t wanted her more, and she hadn’t been willing to sacrifice seeing a different world for him.
A different world that hadn’t fit her like the glove she’d expected it to. A different world that never quite lived up to home. Oh, she was glad she’d done it. Six years of independence and learning to be Lindsay Tyler outside of her wonderful but overbearing family. She’d needed that.
But coming home . . . Well, it was the right step now. Adult, twenty-four-year-old Lindsay needed home. And for good.
br /> She still couldn’t believe herself. Instead of traveling the world or being a famous artist, she was going to student teach and then ideally get a job in the fall where she’d once been an elementary school student.
It was such a joke after all her grand proclamations when she’d left the Tyler Ranch. An embarrassing one. So embarrassing she still hadn’t told her family she wasn’t just coming home for Christmas vacation. She was home for good.
The thought of telling them made her a little sick, so she was more than happy to fall into wedding plans for her oldest brother and his soon-to-be wife. Even if it meant driving up to the Barton house.
The arching sign over the entryway to the Barton Ranch and Christmas Tree Farm read just that in block red and green letters and had for something like a century. She’d always liked that, that Cal had roots just like hers. Old and settled into the land, but unlike her family’s straightforward cattle ranch, Cal had this amazing, festive, and unique history.
Cal was none of those things, which had always pleased her. Her gruff, taciturn cowboy whose smile was mostly just for her because he didn’t smile for much else.
She needed to get over the nostalgia train and focus on what was ahead of her. Her brother’s wedding. Christmas with her family. And, at some point, swallowing her pride and telling them she was back for good.
Merry Crappy Christmas.
She pulled up behind a line of her family’s trucks. The Barton house was decked out with an impressive light display. Before Cal’s mother had abandoned the family, Cal’s dad always spent days and days getting it just right. After that, the task had fallen to Cal and his sister, much to Cal’s consternation. He’d bitterly resented the Christmas tree portion of his family’s legacy, especially after his mother had left a second time, but Gracely depended on Barton’s for a festive Christmas tree getting experience, and Cal couldn’t say no to the influx of cash in the cold winter months.
She really had to stop thinking about Cal. Tonight was about Shane and Cora’s wedding. The coming days were about celebrating that and Christmas with her family. Being on Barton property didn’t really matter.
She stepped out of her car, finding her footing on the slick, snowy ground. The quiet of rural Colorado wrapped around her like a warm blanket. No matter that coming home involved swallowing her pride, she was happy to be here. Happy to be back where she could see the stars spread out like a canvas of joy above her, where she could go outside to feel perfectly alone and perfectly safe.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered fancifully into the dark. She carefully walked up to the porch stairs, then crested the gorgeous wrap-around porch that was lit up to blazing with glowing white lights. Wreaths hung in every window and two small Christmas trees sat in pots at the corners of the porch. It was the picture-perfect place to have a Christmas wedding. That was for sure.
Footsteps and grumbling interrupted the picturesque quiet. Lindsay lifted her arm to knock on the front door, but then the source of the noise came around the corner and Lindsay forgot to hit her fist against the door.
Because bathed in the warm glow of the Christmas lights, the cowboy hat low on his head, was a man who could have been any ranch hand or friend of Sarah’s.
But he lifted his gaze.
“Cal.” She said his name on a whoosh of breath, because he’d always taken away her breath a little bit. Something about the midnight black hair and the shock of summer sky blue eyes.
And now he wasn’t just tall and lean. He was broad. Sturdy. She’d always thought he was the most handsome man in Gracely County, but now that she’d spent some time outside of Gracely she understood the truth.
He was one of the most handsome men ever, anywhere.
Crap.
“You seem surprised to see me on my own porch,” he said, and she didn’t remember his voice being that low and deliciously raspy. She didn’t remember that hard, mean line to his mouth geared at anyone except his stepmother.
To be on the receiving end was more of a blow than she expected it to be. Still, she cleared her throat and forced her mouth to curve. “No, no. I just . . . You look so much different than the last time I saw you.”
“Funny,” he returned, giving her a quick once-over. “You look exactly the same.”
Which shouldn’t sound like an insult considering he’d once considered her the prettiest girl in Colorado—his words. But the way he said it now . . .
Well, humph.
“Well, I, uh, my family is here. I’m meeting them. Shane’s . . . wedding.”
He grunted in assent, moving for the door. Except she was standing in front of it, her hand still raised and ready to knock.
Cal. Cal was standing there in front of her, and she didn’t know what to say or even feel. She’d avoided him at all costs on visits home for six years. At most, she’d seen him across the street in Gracely proper once or twice, but Cal was happiest on his ranch and she’d avoided anything and everything to do with the Barton ranch.
Now he was right there. Right. There. He clearly wasn’t the boy she’d loved six years ago, but somehow standing on the same porch with him made her feel like that girl again. Naïve and so desperately in love.
“Darlin’, either knock on the door or get out of my way.”
Darlin’. He only ever pulled out that drawl with people he hated, but that didn’t make sense. It had been six years. Surely he didn’t still hate her. “I . . .”
“Did I sprout devil horns?”
“No. No. I just . . . No.” Heat infused her cheeks and she finally got herself together enough to step out of the way, drop her hand, and not be a complete and utter dope.
Cal moved into the space she’d evacuated and pushed the door open. She could have done that. She should have done that. Instead, she followed timidly after him into the warmth of the Barton house.
Not that her face needed to be any warmer.
“Straggler,” Cal announced simply, gesturing vaguely at Lindsay. Her family were sitting in various seats around the Barton living room, Cal’s sister, Sarah, standing in front of all of them.
“Lindsay!” Sarah squealed, and rushed over to envelop her in a tight hug. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing.”
Lindsay laughed uncomfortably, though she hugged Sarah back. “Me? You’re all grown-up.”
Sarah beamed and released her. “Come on in. You didn’t miss much. We were just chitchatting waiting for you to get here.” Sarah ushered her to a couch where Molly and Gavin were sitting.
Lindsay took the seat in between her siblings. “So, let me guess, you’re the driving force behind the Barton Christmas Tree Farm as a wedding venue?”
“Er, well, sort of.” Sarah looked back at Cal, who was standing there stoically in the corner. At his sister’s glance he shook his head and disappeared down a hall Lindsay knew would take him to the Barton kitchen. “It was Cal’s idea,” Sarah said, overbrightly. “But I do most of the work on that front. But Shane and Cora’s wedding is going to be our first.”
“It’s perfect,” Lindsay said, grinning at her future sister-in-law, Cora. She didn’t let that grin or cheerfulness die, even though her head was anywhere but on weddings or Christmas.
No, her thoughts were full of Cal.
* * *
Cal tossed a frozen meal into the microwave and took out at least some of his irritation on the microwave buttons.
Tylers in his house. Since he was alone, he could scowl. He had nothing against the Tylers in theory. Deb Tyler had been like a mother to him growing up, and Shane and Gavin were good ranch neighbors and decent men.
But no matter that he might like each person individually, they were all blood ties to the one person in the world he expressly did not like.
Lindsay Tyler.
Pretty as ever, too. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her she hadn’t changed. She looked exactly the same as she had the day she’d effectively shoved a dagger into his heart.
Since he was not a m
an prone to hyperbole, the fact he’d even think that comparison proved what a betrayal it had been. Cal Barton was well acquainted with desertion and betrayal.
The microwave dinged and Cal scowled at it. A burst of laughter from the living room invaded the quiet of the kitchen.
He wasn’t a particularly fun-loving guy, but the laughter normally wouldn’t bother him in the least. Especially if it meant Sarah was building a little side business for herself. Except this laughter was Tyler laugher and he was almost certain he could pick out Lindsay’s tinkling laugh in the midst of all the other people’s.
He plopped himself onto a kitchen chair and attacked the microwave meal. It was only half-hot, half still cold. He choked it all down anyway. The sooner he was done with dinner, the sooner he could head back outside. He didn’t have any necessary chores left, but there were always extra chores to be scrounged up when he didn’t want to be around people.
Especially Tyler people.
He would have avoided dinner altogether, but when he did that Sarah scolded him and pecked at him like she’d decided to be his mother, and he’d rather avoid watching her childhood issues bleed out all over him.
After all, he had plenty of his own.
He got up from the table and tossed the remnants of the meal. More laughter from the living room, and with all the damn Christmas lights twinkling around him, he really just wanted to punch something.
He hated Christmas.
He hated Lindsay Tyler.
He hated this ugly, black feeling inside of him. He always wondered if it was the same one that had caused his mother to leave them. Twice.
Always on Christmas.
Cal needed to get out of here, but instead he stood and stared at the cabinet of liquor. It was tempting. A Barton Christmas tradition, after all, to get drunk and wax poetic about the woman who’d left you.
But Cal had decided a long, long time ago to be nothing like his father. That liquor cabinet was a reminder.
“You could have said hello.”
Cal glanced back at his sister. She was only nineteen, and Dad had let wife number three (marriage number four since he’d married Mom twice before moving on) talk him into traveling the world, leaving Sarah without the means or opportunity to go off to college.