Page 32 of Cowboy's Christmas Girlfriend

“’Course I would,” said Will. “But I’m the adult—I understand you might not come back. That even after you plan all you like, things can still change. Beth and Ann, though? They don’t get that yet—and I’m not ready for them to learn it. We can make the break now, and that’s gonna hurt, but for the girls, it’s safest. You’ve been here two weeks and they love you already. How much will they love you in three months or six? How much more will it kill them if you don’t come back? The risk’s off the charts—it’s like I told George. You can’t look at the good side and forget the—”

“George?” Suzanna’s vision went red, then bright, rage-fueled white. “Tell me you’re not comparing our relationship to some HVAC system.”

“I’m just—”

“The risk? Are you kidding me? You can’t live your life by some list of pros and cons. Life comes with risks, but there’s rewards as well. You have to face the risks to get the rewards. You have to jump in and try, or...or, what’s it all for?” She grabbed his arms and shook him. “Don’t you want to try? To give us a chance?”

Will took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Part of me really wants to,” he said. “But you don’t understand. I’ve lost so much already.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “Do you remember how I lost my wife?”

Suzanna sat down beside him. “A riding accident, right?”

“I was out mending fences when the cowshed blew open,” said Will. He’d turned to gaze out the window, at something far beyond. “I had half the ranch hands with me. Gus was off for Thanksgiving. That just left Hannah and two men at the house, and that’s when the wind changed and the storm blew in—one of those sudden squalls, almost no warning. The cows were out and we knew they’d freeze and we’d lose them all. So when Hannah said she’d ride out to help us round them up...” Will paused, cleared his throat. “I could’ve told her not to go, and she’d probably have listened. The twins were still little. They needed her too. But I weighed up the risk, and I thought, okay. Hannah had ranching in her blood. She grew up on horseback, so what were the odds anything would go wrong? What were the odds she’d let her horse slip? The odds she’d land badly and pitch down the scarp? The odds she’d break her neck and stop breathing right there? She was conscious, you know. She felt herself die.”

“Oh, Will...” Suzanna wanted to comfort him, but he shook her off. He surged to his feet, spun to face the wall.

“I’d do anything to take it all back. To go back to that moment and tell her ‘stay home.’ But I can’t change the past. What I can do is make sure it never happens again. Make sure I never feel that loss and emptiness again.” He exhaled sharply, almost a laugh. “Look at Kat and Taison. They had it all, and where are they now? All I wanted—all I wanted—”

Suzanna couldn’t breathe. “What?”

“I wanted to be left alone.” His hands twitched at his sides. “That’s why I did this, why I asked you to come. So I could be left alone, and no one would bug me about finding love.”

Suzanna wiped her eyes dry. She felt flat, deflated, all her dreams of this morning ground into dust. “And that’s what you still want?”

Will stood breathing hard, and the seconds ticked by. He didn’t turn to look at her, and she guessed that was her answer. She stood up as well, and pushed her chair in.

“Okay then,” she said, gathering herself. She’d known disappointment all her life. She’d disappointed her parents and herself too many times. She’d never been enough, and she wasn’t enough for Will now. That was fine. She’d manage. She always had. “I’ll pack up and go, and you can be alone and miserable, just like you want. Should I head out tomorrow and ruin Christmas Eve for everyone? Or should I keep on lying till our story’s all done?”

Someone behind her let out a soft gasp. “Your story?”

Suzanna whirled to find Sarah open-mouthed in the doorway.

“I brought you some Band-Aids,” she said. “But what...what’s your story? What were you lying about?”

Suzanna made a guttural sound, throat too tight to speak. She’d never meant for anyone but Will to hear those words.

Sarah rounded on Will. “Will? What’s she talking about? What did you do?”

Will turned to face his sister, his mouth a tight line. He stood regarding her a moment, then cocked his head as one of the twins began to wail.

“I need to check on the kids,” he said. He stalked out of the room without a backward glance, leaving Suzanna and Sarah to lock gazes in silence.

14

This, this exactly, was what Will had set out to avoid: his girls in tears, their hearts broken anew. They were both crying, he realized, Beth wailing loudly, Ann sniffling and sobbing. Both of them miserable, and what were the odds it wasn’t thanks to all that shouting? The acoustics in the kitchen were good—too good. Just how much of that had made it upstairs?

Damn it, Suzanna. He shouldn’t have brought her here, shouldn’t have let her get so close. It’d been a bad plan from the start, and here was the proof.

He let himself into the twins’ room and found a pitiful scene, Ann curled up weeping into her pillow, Beth on the floor clinging to Lucky. Lucky caught sight of Will and loosed a howl of his own.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay...” Will hovered over them, unsure which twin to comfort first. “I’m sorry about the shouting, but it’s all over now.”

Ann raised her tousled head, her eyes red and accusing. “We’re mad at you,” she said.

“We—we hate you,” added Beth.

Lucky tossed in a bark, a short, angry yoop. Will stared at the three of them, all out to sea.

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