Page 37 of Ghosted Cowboy
"Seven! Six! Five!"
He reached me just as the count hit three, his arms sliding around my waist from behind.
"Two! One!"
The tree blazed to life—thirty feet of Douglas fir wrapped in thousands of lights, topped with a star that could probably be seen from space. The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Children squealed with delight. Someone started singing "Silent Night," and others joined in, voices carrying on the cold air.
"Come with me," Ransom whispered in my ear.
He took my hand, leading me away from the crowd, toward the gazebo on the far side of the square. It was quieter here, though we could still hear the singing, still see the glow of the tree.
"What are we doing?" I asked, laughing as he pulled me up the steps.
"Something I should have done five years ago." He turned to face me, and I forgot to breathe at the look in his eyes. "Something I've been planning since the day I came back."
He dropped to one knee.
"Rainey Bell," he said, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. "I left you once. Ghosted you, disappeared without a word, and regretted it every single day. I can't change the past, but I can promise you the future."
He opened the box. An art deco diamond ring caught the light—delicate filigree surrounding a center stone that sparkled brilliantly.
"It was my grandmother's," he continued, his voice not quite steady. "She wore it for sixty-three years of marriage. Told me before she died to give it to the woman I couldn't live without. That's you, Rainey. It's always been you."
Tears blurred my vision. "Ransom..."
"I want every day, every season, every year with you. I want to wake up beside you and argue about breakfast. I want to watch you light up that stage and know you're coming home to me."
"Yes." The word came out as barely a whisper, so I said it again, louder. "Yes, of course, yes!"
He slid the ring onto my finger—it fit as if it had been waiting for me all along. Then he stood and kissed me, long and sweet, while somewhere behind us the crowd broke into "Joy to the World."
When we finally broke apart, I realized it had started to snow. Not the ice storms East Texas sometimes got, but actual snow, unexpected and quiet.
"Snow in Midnight Springs," I said, wonderingly. "Gran says it hasn't happened since 1989."
"Magic," Ransom said, pulling me closer. "Or maybe just right on time."
The crowd had started another song—"I'll Be Home for Christmas"—and I could see our families looking for us. Marjorie Hollis would cry when she heard the news. Gran would pretend she hadn't been planning our wedding since the day Ransom returned. The whole town would celebrate with us because that's what Midnight Springs did—we showed up for each other, in good times and bad.
"Ready?" Ransom asked, offering me his arm.
I took it, stepping out of the gazebo into the gently falling snow. "Ready."
We walked back toward the tree, toward our families, toward the life we'd chosen. Tomorrow would bring wedding planning and ranch business. Tonight was for miracles, big and small, and the joy of new beginnings.
He'd ghosted me once. This time, he was mine for good.
