Page 2 of Mistletoe Cowboy
Ralph’s not wrong, but it doesn’t make what I’m contemplating any easier. Just the thought of Silas, my adopted brother, puts a dangerous sting behind my eyes. Even worse, it brings my body to life in ways that shame me. My heart thuds, chest warming at the thought of the one man I can never have—the only one I’ve ever wanted.
“But the way he left,” I whisper, memory piling on top of me until my chest constricts.
“Excuse me for being plainspoken, Sage. But he needs to know. He’s a part of this family, too. It’s what your dad wanted.”
Recrimination threads his words. He thinks I’m like Walter, purposely keeping the ranch and its fate from Silas. But that’snot it at all. It’s my heart I’m guarding. But I don’t know how much longer I can do that without losing everything.
“Better get Walter inside. Out of sight,” I say, steeling my voice.
The old ranch hand nods, rubbing his hand over his face. “Do what I can to keep the hands happy. Some special provisions would go a long way.”
I swallow hard. If he knew how bad things were—Walter’s drinking just the tip of the iceberg: gambling, women, fights, medical bills. Instead, I whisper, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you kindly,” he says, tipping his hat in that old-fashioned way.
We haul Walter to the abandoned bunkhouse where he often sleeps off his hangovers.
“I appreciate it, Ralph,” I say, resignation making my gaze scrape the ground.
“Of course.”
My eyes pool as I nod and dart past him toward the end of a beautiful sunset.
At the large, leafless cottonwood, I sit in the old tire swing Silas built for me. The rope creaks as I sway, boots brushing the frozen ground, each soft push carrying me backward into another life.
I can still see him, shirtless that summer afternoon, the sun beating down on his tanned back, muscles flexing as he worked. He wouldn’t stop until the swing hung just right. I’d only mentioned wanting one once, and by the next day, it was here. That’s who he was. Always listening. Always giving. Always making me feel seen.
I can’t remember a time I didn’t love him. But it was here, in this very swing, that I first felt that love twist into something deeper—something dangerous. The way my heart stuttered when he smiled. The warmth that flared through me when hisrough hands brushed mine, lingering too long. Feelings no good girl should have for her adopted brother.
I tried to bury it, to smother every thought that made my cheeks burn. But you can’t kill what’s already taken root. And that winter, under a sprig of mistletoe, everything changed.
The fire crackled, the scent of pine thick in the air. I was sixteen, trembling with nerves, staring up at him as snowflakes melted in his hair. One heartbeat, two—and then he was there. His lips on mine. Gentle at first, then desperate. A lifetime of wanting poured into a single, stolen kiss.
It lasted only a breath, but it shattered everything. Two years older than me, the entire world against us, and yet in that moment, I knew I’d never love anyone else.
I pull out my phone and stare at the glowing screen until my reflection blurs. Hummingbirds beat around my stomach, body quaking with unnamed desire, mind roiling with mortification. This shouldn’t be so hard … or so simple.
My hands shake as I find his number, nicknamedBROTHERto remind myself of what can never be. I select it, pulse pounding faster now.
“God help me,” I whisper, already mired in quicksand.
ME
Need you to come home. Please
I stare at the screen, inhale sharply.
He doesn’t make me wait long.
SILAS
You okay?
Yes, but it’s all falling apart
Okay
I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t the ranch. I can’t do this alone
