Page 57 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“You more than made up for it,” Ethan replies, his index and thumb clasping my chin as he lifts my head and kisses me softly on the lips.

Colton carries over the pink box with a pale blue bow. “And you’ve certainly earned this.”

I sit up, blushing as I receive my present, then give him a smile. “I left each of you a little something under the tree as well.”

“You did?” Mitch sounds surprised.

“It’s nothing fancy. I snuck them in with the others when I first came down. The brown boxes with the gold ribbon.”

Colton and his brothers exchange excited glances, then he goes back to the tree and fetches their presents, making sure Ethan and Mitch get theirs according to the labels I added on the top of each box. “Now I’m curious,” he mutters.

“We’ll open them at the same time,” I say. “On the count of three?”

“Okay, three,” Mitch shoots back and proceeds to untie the ribbon first.

My gift steals my breath. As I open the box and pull the wrapping paper aside, I discover a beautiful cowboy hat. It’s made with a gorgeous shade of caramel hide, the brim expertly sewn with gold thread and a beautifully ornate hatband that reminds me of a charm bracelet. Different gold-brushed miniatures hang from a delicate chain attached to the band, and they jingle with every movement.

“Oh, God, it’s beautiful,” I manage, tearing up.

“Can’t be a cowgirl without a proper cowgirl hat,” Colton chuckles as he unwraps his gift. He stills at the sight of a hunting knife with an ornate ivory handle, manually carved and dressed in fine silk thread. It comes with a leather holster. “Melissa, this is really something.”

I offer a shy shrug. “Darla and I went out before the blizzard struck and stopped at a small holiday fair. I thought you mightlike it.”

“It’s incredibly thoughtful,” Colton says and leans in for a loving kiss. “Thank you.”

Ethan laughs lightly as he opens his present. It’s a leather belt in smooth black with a perfect finish and silver-thread embroidery, and the belt-buckle is a silver-coated stainless-steel reproduction of a bull with black enamel eyes. “This is so cool!”

“I figured it would look really good on you,” I say, “especially when I get to take it off you.”

He gives me a dark, but equally amused and aroused look. “You naughty minx.”

“I am what you made me,” I giggle and welcome his thankful kiss.

“My turn,” Mitch chuckles as he untangles the ribbon and removes the lid from his labeled box. His eyes widen with delighted surprise as he takes out a leather-bound journal with antique-looking pages. It comes with a beautiful fountain pen made with onyx and swirls of gold paint, making it capture every glimmer of light it meets. “This looks like something out of a Western movie.”

I smile softly. “It’s a reproduction of a mid-nineteenth-century journal and pen, made with pretty much the same materials and in the same fashion. You can actually tell from the paper texture.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says as he opens the journal and admires the blank pages.

“You love writing down your thoughts, so I hope you like it.”

“Like it? I love it.” He kisses me, and I melt a little on the inside, my heart growing too many sizes with pure joy. I’m so glad I nailed the gifts.

“You’re remarkably good at gift shopping,” Mitch adds. “We might ask you to do our Christmas shopping for us for next year.”

“You got Sammy another pair of funny socks again, didn’t you?” Ethan asks him.

Mitch shrugs. “He loved the last pair. Wore them all winter.”

“It’s settled, then,” Colton laughs. “Melissa’s in charge of gift shopping from now on. It’ll make for less awkward Christmases to come.”

The declaration is sweet enough to bring a smile to my lips, yet bitter enough to add a pang of anguish to my heart. Somewhere deep down, I think we all know there’s a chance I won’t be here next year. I want to be. I really do. But if the cartel threat looms closer, I might still have to leave—whether back to Ridgeboro or not remains to be seen.

“Melissa,” Colton notices my discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just hoping I’ll make it to next Christmas. I’m not trying to sound dramatic or anything, but—”

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Ethan interjects. “I thought I made that clear last night.”

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