Page 36 of Ghosted Cowboy
"She's got standards," Josiah said, squeezing Gran's hand. "Nothing wrong with that."
I smiled at the easy affection between them. After decades of careful distance since their youth, they'd finally admitted what the whole town already knew—they'd never stopped caring for each other. These days, Josiah spent more time here than at his hardware store, and Gran hummed while she worked—something I hadn't heard since before Grandpa died.
The door opened, and Ellie burst in, bringing cold air and excitement with her. She held a festive tin from Sweet Dreams Bakery.
"Brought you and your Gran some of our new gingerbread cookies—the ones with candied orange peel." She set the tin on the counter. "The tree lighting's in an hour! Are you and Ransom coming?"
"We wouldn't miss it. And these smell amazing, thank you."
"I swear, the whole town's buzzing with holiday spirit this year. Can you feel it?" Ellie paused, taking in the display. "Oh, Rainey, this window is gorgeous."
"Thanks." I straightened one of the nutcrackers.
Her expression softened. "Any word about Brooke?"
"Living in Dallas, last I heard. Working at a department store."
What I didn't say was how Vivian had received a letter from Brooke last week—not an apology exactly, but an acknowledgment of what she'd lost. The judge had been lenient—probation, community service, a hefty fine—but the real punishment was living with who she'd become.
"And Darcy?"
"Got off with probation, thanks to Vivian speaking up for her. Won a scholarship to LSU's technical theater program too." This update came with genuine warmth. "She sent the whole company a thank-you card. Apparently, she's thriving. Young enough to learn from her mistakes.”
"Good for her." Ellie glanced at the clock. "I should head back - need to box up the last of the cookies before we close. See you later!"
Minutes after she left, the bell over the door rang again. Mason Davenport entered, and for the first time since I'd known him, he wasn't alone. Laurel Hayes stood beside him, their gloved hands intertwined.
"Afternoon, Rainey," Mason said, his usual awkwardness softened by something that looked suspiciously like happiness. "We're looking for a gift. For Laurel's mother."
"She collects music boxes," Laurel added, then her eyes went slightly unfocused in that way I'd learned to recognize. "The veil is thin tonight. But not with darkness—with joy."
Mason touched her hand gently, grounding her. "The music boxes are over here, love."
I watched as she smiled up at him, then they moved toward the display case, heads bent together in quiet conversation. Who would have thought? But then, Laurel understood Mason's protective nature came from kindness, not possessiveness. And Mason found Laurel's dramatic proclamations endearing rather than unsettling. They fit in their own peculiar way.
After Mason and Laurel left with their purchase, the bell chimed once more. Ransom entered, stomping his boots on the mat.
"Investment paperwork ran long," he said, crossing to kiss my cheek. "Ready for the tree lighting?"
"Always." I still felt that familiar flutter when he touched me, even after two months of being officially together. No more hiding, no more wondering. Well, except for his nightly performance as Silas Black, but that had wrapped up after Halloween weekend.
Gran smiled at us. "You two go on ahead. Josiah and I will close up and meet you there."
An hour later, the town square buzzed with excitement. Colorful lights wound through every tree and storefront, and huge red ribbons adorned the lamp posts. The courthouse clock tower—still frozen at midnight—somehow looked romantic rather than ominous beneath its crown of sparkling stars.
"Hard to believe it's the same square where everything happened," Gran said beside me, Josiah's arm around her shoulders.
She didn't need to finish. We all remembered the fear that had gripped the town during that terrible week before thefestival. But that was over now. The production had gone on to great success, tourists had flooded in for the festival, and the town's economy had gotten the boost it desperately needed.
"Rainey!" Vivian's voice carried across the crowd. She made her way toward us, her hair now showing more silver at the roots—she'd decided to let it grow natural. "Have you given any thought to the spring production? I'm adaptingMuch Ado About Nothingfor a Texas setting."
"Beatrice and Benedick as rival ranch owners?" I guessed.
"Exactly. You'd be perfect for Beatrice. All that witty banter, the way she swears she'll never marry..." Vivian's eyes twinkled. "Until the right cowboy changes her mind."
Before I could respond, the crowd began counting down. "Ten! Nine! Eight!"
I searched for Ransom, finding his black Stetson moving through the crowd.
