Page 25 of Deck the Halls with Cowboys
“We aren’t children anymore, Wildflower.”
“This proposal took an interesting turn,” I noted dryly.
He chuckled, his body shaking against me. “Hopefully you won’t leave me again. That’s all I ask,” he said lightly, looking down at me once more.
“That’s not funny.”
“Beautiful, at some point, when we’re old and gray, we’re going to be able to look back on that day with gratitude and laughter.”
I raised my chin. “But that day is not today. Now, ask me to marry you so I can go help Harmony make cookies.”
“Glad to see the romance isn’t dead between us.”
“You get on my nerves, Beau Marks.”
“Ditto, Abbie Marks,” he murmured.
My mouth snapped shut, and he flashed me a grin. “You gonna marry me?”
“You know I am.”
“Good.”
When he didn’t move, I clicked my tongue. “You don’t have the ring here with you, do you?”
“I do, but I think I’ll hold on to it for a little while,” he said with a wink, backing away from me and opening the door. “After all, you have cookies to make.”
I tried my hardest to hold in my laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re going to be my wife—which means you’re stuck with me.”
I held up a finger. “I haven’t said yes, cowboy.”
He turned to face me, his eyes burning. “You don’t have a choice, Wildflower.” He jerked his head to the side. “Come on. Santa needs to get fatter, and he can’t do that without cookies.”
As I brushed past him, he slapped my ass before pulling me back against him. Once again, those damn lips found the shell of my ear and goose bumps scattered across my skin like wildfire. “I’m the luckiest son of a bitch alive because you love me, Abbie. Never forget that.”
I turned my head, our lips an inch apart now. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” I breathed.
“I swear to all three of the Christmas ghosts, Beau, if you fucked her in my laundry room, I’m shooting you in the foot,” Denver said loudly.
I jumped, letting out a small yelp as Beau and I both looked at the ranch owner, who was standing at the mouth of the hallway, irritation painted over his dark features.
“Denver, Jesus,” I gasped, my chest heaving. “How do you move so quietly?”
“Been living here since birth, Abbie. Know which floorboards creak,” he deadpanned. “Did you two fuck in my house?”
“No!” I blurted at the same time Beau drawled, “Wouldn’t be the first time in this house.”
Oh,dear God.
My stomach fell to the floor.
“Hold up!” Mason shouted from somewhere. A second later, his head popped out of the dining room. He looked at me, jaw slack. “You two—in here?”
I knew I was redder than the ripest tomato on earth. It was okay. I could handle this. I was Abbie Spears, soon to be Marks if I didn’t kill the man for saying what he just did to the Langston Brothers, but I could—
Fuck me.
