32 

Christmas with family. Cassie sighed. Was there anything better? Her tongue swiped at the whipped cream on her eggnog as she reveled in the excited chatter of cousins and family and people she loved. The warmth of the fire crackled and spit in the McClares’ cozy parlour while the heady scent of pine and wood smoke mingled with nutmeg and cinnamon from snickerdoodles still warm from the oven.

“Awk, Blake cheats, Blake cheats!”

A grin tipped Cassie’s lips as Alli leaned over Miss B.’s cage, schooling the parrot in yet another insult to make the family laugh, cheered on by Bram while Blake bested him in chess. Across the way, her parents’ laughter rose as brothers and sisters-in-law caught up with Bram’s parents on old times and the latest news, not the least of which was the miraculous revival of an oil field no longer defunct. With grins of anticipation, Meg and Maddie shook brightly wrapped presents that circled a glittering tinsel tree while Cassie snuggled deeper into the love seat, stockinged feet tucked beneath. Another wispy sigh feathered her lips. The perfect Christmas.

Almost.

With a gulp of eggnog, Cassie glanced at a mantel embellished with holly-berry greenery and scarlet stockings, feeling her holiday euphoria melt away with every tick of the clock. The eggnog roiled in her stomach as the minute hand inched toward eight. Rosie had cooked a feast for the senses and Christmas toasts had been made. Tradition followed with a reading of the Christmas story from the family Bible before games ensued. The night would be filled with feasting and fun until midnight when each would open a gift of their choosing. No question it had been a glorious day and was on its way to an even better night, but . . . Cassie nipped at her lip. If so, why were her hands sweating and the eggnog suddenly a lump in her throat?

One reason and one reason only. Pretty Boy Jamie MacKenna.

She drowned a groan with another rich slide of her drink, grateful Jamie had begged off dinner to celebrate Christmas Eve with his mother and sister. If only Uncle Logan hadn’t insisted he come later for games, it would have been the perfect evening. Cassie’s lips pursed in a flat line. Correction—the “perfect evening” would be not caring at all, which if Zane Carter got his way, would be the case come spring. Or at least Cassie hoped.

The night of the Bluebonnet Ball, Zane had asked to court her, and she’d told him she needed more time, but now she wasn’t so sure. Over four months had passed since she’d seen Jamie and yet her heart ached as if it were merely yesterday. She was tired of pining for a man who had deceived and betrayed her, a man with no faith in God. She could never trust him again, and suddenly the notion of courting Zane held great appeal as a buffer for her heart. Upending her eggnog, she placed the glass on the table and rose, brushing her lavender chiffon dress. Okay, it was settled—as of this very moment, she was courting Zane Carter.

“Hey, Cass!” Alli waved her over to Miss B.’s cage with a wicked smile. “Let’s teach Miss B. something nasty to say about Jamie.” She waggled her brows, and Cassie laughed as she strolled over. Rubbing her hands together, Alli grinned, her tone thick with conspiracy. “How ’bout ‘Jamie’s a polecat,’ ” she asked with a sparkle in her eyes.

Cassie’s lips twisted. “I prefer something from the rodent family, if you don’t mind.”

“Oooo—how ’bout ‘weasel’?” Alli poked a finger into the cage to get Miss B.’s notice.

“Not actually a rodent, but it does work,” Cassie said with a chuckle. She put a finger to her chin in thought, her smile as devious as Al’s. “ ‘Rat’ has a rather nice ring, don’t you think?”

“Oh, you’re right, and probably easier for Miss B. to say too.” Alli glanced up with a tilt of her head, smile dimming enough for Cassie to notice. “You’re okay, right?” she asked softly.

“Sure,” Cassie said, hooking an arm to her cousin’s waist. She kissed her cheek and gave her a misty smile. “I love you, Al, you know that? I think I missed you more than anybody.”

Alli rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop! Now I’ll have to teach Miss B. to say ‘Cass lies through her teeth.’ ”

Cassie pinched her. “It’s true, you little brat, although I don’t know why because you give me so much grief.”

“But not as much as the ‘rat,’ right?” She turned to the parrot. “Okay, Miss B.—try this on for size. ‘Jamie’s a rat. Jamie’s a rat. Jamie’s a rat . . .’ ”

Arm to Al’s waist, Cassie rested her head to her cousin’s while Al worked with Miss B., her grin softening into a smile as she thought of the “rat.” She supposed she owed the “rat” a note of thanks for teaching her something it had taken a lifetime to learn—that people may reject you, but God never would. When she’d gone home to Texas, Jamie’s rejection had been raw, inflicting a pain deeper than anything she’d ever known. Yes, returning to face a town and a fiancé who had rejected her on the heels of Jamie’s betrayal had nearly leveled her, but it also brought her to her knees before God. That’s when she’d finally learned that it was God’s approval she needed, not man’s, God’s love that would set her free, not Jamie’s. She released a wispy sigh. Aunt Cait’s layer-cake analogy in a nutshell—that without her faith in God, she would never fully be satisfied or enriched in anything she did, especially in relationships.

“Awk, Jamie’s a rat, Jamie’s a rat . . .”

Cassie laughed, delighted with the antics of Miss B. and the fact God had brought good from the pain the “rat” had caused. It made it a lot easier not to fall apart when she finally saw him again, and certainly easier to forgive him. Her lips quirked. Although she wasn’t about to let him know that anytime soon. A little groveling never hurt anybody, especially a pretty-boy polecat way too sure of himself. She inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders. Bring the pretty boy on, God. I’ll hog-tie him tighter than the presents under the tree.

“Mr. James MacKenna,” Hadley said with great ceremony, and Cassie’s arm dropped from Alli’s waist like a sack of potatoes from a three-story barn. She swallowed hard, knees buckling while the eggnog frothed and swirled inside worse than whitecaps on the bay.

“Thanks, Hadley.” Jamie strode into the parlour with a broad grin, toting a box brimming with presents. “Merry Christmas, all,” he said while return greetings sailed through the air.

“Jamie!” Maddie flew across the room, tackling him with a squeal as he put his presents under the tree. “We’re going to play the white elephant game—wanna play?”

“Sure, squirt.” He scooped her up to deposit a kiss to her nose. “Got something special for you, kiddo,” he said, grinning when she wobbled like a drunken sailor after he set her back down.

“Oooo . . . did you bring something for me too?” Alli moseyed over to give Jamie a hug. She ruffled his thick dark hair until a stray curl toppled.

He slapped Alli’s hand with a mock scowl. “Nope, Blake said he got you a lump of coal, so I figured you’re all set.”

“What are you doing buying presents for everyone, son?” Logan said with a firm cuff of Jamie’s shoulder. “Heaven knows I don’t pay you that well.”

“He’s buttering the boss up, aren’t you, Mac?” Blake called. “To look better than me?”

Bram laughed and moved his pawn. “As if that’s hard to do, and then there’s the extra bonus that he doesn’t cheat.”

“Awk, Blake cheats, Blake cheats!”

Jamie chuckled and turned, his body going completely still when his eyes found Cassie. His grin softened into a smile as his gaze traveled from her face down the ruffled bodice of her form-fitting dress to her hem and back up as naturally as the dimples that deepened his cheeks. “Well, well,” he said in a husky voice that tingled her skin, “welcome back, Cowgirl—I’ve missed you.” He disarmed her with a smile. “Especially when I have a cue in my hand.”

She delivered a saucy smile, desperate to deflect the heat in her cheeks. “Me too. After all, nothing says ‘happy holidays’ like hog-tying a city boy.”

He grinned, and her heart took a tumble. “Is that so?” He eased into that lazy drawl reserved just for her. “I’d be pleased to oblige, ma’am, but I don’t like takin’ advantage of a lady.”

Batting her lashes, she gave him a smile as sweet as Texas tea. “I do declare, Mr. MacKenna—that’s a little bit like saying a skunk doesn’t like stripes, isn’t it?”

“Or a rat doesn’t like cheese,” Alli said loud enough to cue in Miss B.

“Awk, Jamie’s a rat . . . Jamie’s a rat . . .”

“Your reputation precedes you, MacKenna,” Bram said with a grin.

“And it’s worse than mine, thank heavens,” Blake said with a chuckle.

Alli’s grin was diabolical. She nodded at Cass. “Great to have her back, isn’t it, Mac?”

He recovered with a smile that put a hiccup in Cassie’s pulse. “Only if she left her cattle prod at home.” He winked, then ambled over to say hello to Aunt Cait and Bram’s parents.

Alli leaned close. “He’s been practicing at pool, you know,” she whispered, bumping Cassie’s shoulder with her own. “ ‘To whittle the Texas McClare down to size,’ or so he says.”

“Ha—as if he could!” Cassie scowled, annoyed at how Jamie laughed with her parents, no doubt charming them with his pretty-boy looks. “I’ll beat him with both hands tied behind my back.”

Alli chuckled. “Wouldn’t advise it. Our boy’s been known to take advantage.”

“I hope he does.” Cassie watched him through narrow eyes, her smile taking a hard slant. “I brought my cattle prod and my spurs.”

“Come on, Cass, be nice. Besides, he’s not seeing Patricia anymore, so he’s free as a bird . . .”

“A vulture, no doubt, looking for his next wealthy victim since Patricia threw him over.” Cassie bit her tongue, disappointed at herself for holding a grudge. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t realize I was still angry until the rat crawled through that door.” Another sigh quivered her bodice. “I thought I’d forgiven him and gotten it out of my system.”

Alli anchored gentle palms on her cousin’s shoulder. “Come on, Cass, face it—he’s still in your system and in your heart. And just for the record, he ended it with Patricia, not the other way around, I’ll have you know. Yes, he made a mistake, but he rectified it, so why not give him another chance?” She gave Cassie a sympathetic smile. “I did, and you should too.” Her tone was gentle. “He still cares for you, you know, and Bram said he was really upset when you left.”

Upset? Cassie sniffed. Try crying into your pillow every night for a solid two months. Her resolve hardened. “Sorry, Al, I refuse to put myself through that again—ever.” She smoothed her skirt and pasted on a smile. “It’s Christmas, so I’ll be nice, yes, but nothing more. My heart can’t take it.” Her chin nudged up. “Besides, I’ve already decided to court Zane, so I’m completely unavailable.”

Alli folded her arms. “Oh, really? Since when—the moment Jamie walked through that door?” She shook her head. “Come on, Cass, it’s not like you to back down.”

Cassie pursed her lips. “No, but it is like me to protect myself from further hurt, and that’s all I’m doing. The last thing I want is to get involved with Jamie MacKenna again.”

Alli hiked a brow. “The last thing your heart wants? Or your head?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Cassie adjusted the ruffles of her bodice with shaky hands. “My head’s in charge here, not my heart, and there’s nothing Jamie MacKenna can do to sway either.”

A slow grin spread across her cousin’s face. “Wanna bet?”

Ignoring the question, Cassie looped an arm through Alli’s, leading her to where Bram and Blake just finished their game. “Come on, it’s time to play white elephant—”

“Cassidy!”

Her head snapped up when her father waved her over to where he, Uncle Logan, and Jamie stood while her mother chatted with Aunt Cait and the Hughes. She swallowed a groan.

“Let the games begin.” Alli squeezed her shoulder and gave her a wink. “If you’re not back in two minutes, we’ll start without you.”

“Oh, I’ll be back,” Cassie said through gritted teeth. Turning, she swallowed a knot and took her time on the approach, her smile stiff and her legs dragging as if wading through quicksand in a cast-iron hoop.

“Yes, Daddy?” She warmed at the twinkle in his eyes while avoiding Jamie’s gaze altogether.

Thumbs latched to the pockets of his dress trousers, Quinn McClare nodded at Jamie. “This young whelp here tells me he can beat you two games out of three at pool—is that true?”

Cassie’s jaw dropped. Her eyes flicked to Jamie, his smug look thinning her gaze along with her smile. She mustered an air of innocence with a flutter of lashes. “Why, yes, Daddy, it is,” she said sweetly. She tilted her head. “If I’m bound and gagged or completely passed out.”

Male laughter erupted as Logan slapped Jamie on the back. “Sounds like a challenge to me, Mac, what do you think?”

“It does, indeed, sir,” he said with a slow grin. “And I’m particularly intrigued by the bound-and-gagged option.” He bowed at the waist, extending his hand. “Shall we, Miss McClare?”

Her pulse sputtered. Circle a pool table with Jamie MacKenna? She’d rather be hind-quartered. “I wouldn’t dream of humiliating you again, Mr. MacKenna,” she said with a sweaty palm to her chest. She took a quick step back. “Now, if you’ll just excuse me—”

“Whoa, hold on there, young lady.” Her father hooked her shoulders. “The Texas McClares have a reputation at stake here, and I don’t think I like this young pup challenging it, do you?”

She pinched her father’s waist, a signal that this was one challenge she had no desire to take on. “But, Daddy, you always say not to kick a dog when it’s down.” The wide-eyed look she gave her father issued a plea before it narrowed on Jamie. “I already embarrassed the poor mongrel once last summer, so I really think we should just let sleeping pups lie.”

Uncle Logan fished his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Sorry, Quinn—my money’s on Jamie.”

“Uncle Logan!” Cassie gaped, heat swarming her neck. “You would betray your own flesh and blood?”

“Never,” he said with a firm clasp of Jamie’s shoulder before giving Cassie a wink. “I just think you need a little incentive to rise to the occasion, Cass.”

Quinn patted his vest. “You’re on. Got the funds to match it right here . . .”

“Daaaadddy!” Cassie dragged out his name through a clenched smile. “I do not want to—”

“Wait a minute—you aren’t scared, are you, Miss McClare?” Jamie dared her with that same mischievous grin that had always wreaked havoc with her pulse.

Scared? Of a pretty-boy polecat? Humph—only in matters of the heart. In pool? Her lips gummed in a tight line. She’d squash him like a stinkbug. “You’re on, Mr. MacKenna, but let’s make this fast—I’ve got a game of white elephant to play.” Whirling on her heel, she marched to the door and up the staircase while Jamie, her father, and Uncle Logan moseyed behind.

Ignoring their banter, she made a beeline for the billiards room, grateful she wouldn’t be alone with a skunk who had trouble keeping his paws to himself. She snatched her favorite cue, well aware her agitated state would only hurt her game. “Easy does it,” she muttered, fortifying with a deep draw of air that calmed her somewhat. Jamie reached past for a cue of his own, and the brush of his arm sent heat zinging, causing her to bobble on her feet.

So much for calm . . .

“Sorry.” He steadied her with a brace of her arms from behind, his breath so close, it grazed her ear with dangerous warmth. “It would appear, Miss McClare,” he whispered, “that I have a habit of sweeping you off your feet.”

She jerked free and spun around. “I assure you, Mr. MacKenna, the only sweeping tonight will be your pride up off the floor.”

“We’ll begin with the traditional coin toss,” Uncle Logan said from across the room, dipping into his pocket to retrieve a coin. “Verified by both my brother and me—agreed?”

Jamie glanced at her father. “Sir, if I may, I’d like to make my own wager.”

Lips pursed, Cassie crossed her arms. Typical pretty boy—cocky to the core.

“All right, son—shoot,” her father said, slapping his money on top of Logan’s at the edge of the table. He folded brawny arms over his thick chest.

Jamie’s eyes flicked from her father’s face to hers. “If it’s all the same, sir, I’d rather keep my wager private till I win.”

Till you win?? Cassie rolled her eyes. Good, then I won’t have to hear it at all.

“That all right with you, Cass?” Her father jagged a brow in her direction.

“Perfect,” she said with a bright smile, “and I’ll do the same.” She carefully chalked her cue. Which means the rat won’t speak to me unless spoken to—ever again.

Uncle Logan glanced up, coin positioned on the side of his fist. “All right, Cass, ladies first—call your toss.”

“Heads,” Cassie said, breath suspended as the coin twirled high in a loop-the-loop.

Snatching it midair, Uncle Logan quickly slapped a palm on top, gaze flicking from Jamie to her before he took a peek. His face revealed nothing as he exchanged looks with her father. “Tails—Jamie has the break.” Logan pocketed the coin, brows arched in sympathy. “Sorry, Cass.”

She bit back a groan and nodded, her smile as wooden as the cue in her hand. No matter, she thought with a hike of her chin. The next break will be mine when I win. She watched as Jamie ambled over to chalk his cue while Uncle Logan and her father dragged two stools from the bar.

Racking the balls, Jamie rolled the cluster several times until satisfied and then shed his coat, tossing it over a chair before rolling up his sleeves.

She slacked a hip and blew some stray curls out of her face. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable, Mr. MacKenna—this isn’t going to take long.”

He bent over the table and positioned his cue, peering up beneath thick lashes. “I know,” he said with a half smile that made the butterflies in her stomach dizzy. Refocusing on the ball, he slid the cue through his fingers like a caress, taking his sweet time. He finally made his move with an explosion of ivory that smoothly pocketed five of the fifteen.

“Whoo-ee!” Logan slid off his stool to pound Jamie on the back. “That was the finest piece of shooting I’ve ever seen anywhere, Mac, pool hall or Oly.” He pulled out another twenty and plopped it over Quinn’s. “Double or nothing on my boy, Jamie MacKenna.”

“Uncle Logan!” Cassie stood slack-jawed, barely able to believe her own uncle was siding with the enemy.

He strolled over and tucked an arm to her waist. “Aw, come on, Cass, even you have to admit that was the finest shot you’ve ever seen. After all, we have to give the boy his due.”

Oh, I’ll give him his due, all right—where’s that cattle prod . . . ?

Tossing another bill on top of his brother’s, Quinn hooked thumbs in his buckled belt, eyeing Jamie with an air of grudging respect. “Hate to admit it, son, but that shot took the starch out of my little girl’s chances. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

Jamie fairly glowed, the back of his neck tingeing a faint pink. “Johnny Kling at the Oly Club, sir.” His gaze flitted to Cassie with a sheepish smile. “Your daughter made mincemeat of me last time we played, so I decided it wouldn’t happen again.” He winked before turning back to her father. “I have my pride, you know. So when Johnny was in for a tournament recently, he was kind enough to work with me for a solid week.”

Drop-jaw was here to stay, apparently, as Cassie stared open-mouthed, one hand plunked on her hip. “Johnny Kling? Johnny Kling? Why, you’re nothing but a low-down, flea-bitten cheat, Jamie MacKenna.”

“Uh-uh, young lady,” her father said with a slant of his brow, “watch your tongue there. With the best of teachers, most pool players couldn’t make that shot in a lifetime, much less after a week. Besides, I’m no Johnny Kling, but down Texas way I wield a pretty mean cue, and you’ve had the benefit of my tutelage since you were knee-high to a billiard ball.”

Jamie shot a grin, preening like a tom turkey the day after Thanksgiving. Cassie clamped down on the insult that burned on the tip of her tongue while her eyes narrowed into slits. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, Mr. MacKenna, may as well finish her off so we can move to the next game.”

“Daddy!” Cassie was appalled.

He winked. “Sorry, Sweet Pea, but I’ve been looking for a man who could take you on for a long time now, and I think we just may have found him, wouldn’t you say, Lo?”

Logan chuckled, tweaking the lobe of Cassie’s ear before returning to his vantage point on the stool. “Sure looks like it to me, but Cass has a stubborn streak as wide and long as the Rio Grande, so let’s not count her out just yet.”

“Thank you, Uncle Logan,” Cassie said. A crimp popped in her brow. “I think.”

Cue in hand, Jamie bent low and squinted. “The six, far right pocket.” A clash of balls sent two more swishing into the baskets. And then, with all the grace and charm of a pool hustler, Jamie finished her off with a neat sink of the eight.

Uncle Logan’s whoops effectively drowned out the groan that rasped from Cassie’s lips. “Stellar game, Mac,” he said with a back-pounding that rattled Jamie’s broad shoulders, the annoying grin on the hustler’s face enough to cause her supper to rise. “Set ’em up, Quinn, so my boy here can put your girl out of her misery.”

Cassie ground out a smile, jaw ready to pop. When polecats fly, she thought with a tic in her cheek. He may have won the next break, but nobody’s that lucky twice. She held her breath as Jamie’s muscular body curved low over the table, those hazel eyes fixed on the rack of balls with hypnotic focus. Full lips parted, he gently teased and coaxed the cue to do his bidding. Cassie’s lips pinched. Just like he does with women, the weasel.

Crack!

The blood froze in her brain. No—it wasn’t possible!

“Holy thunder!” Logan sprung from the stool to swallow Jamie in a bear hug that literally lifted him off his feet. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen the eight buried on a break to steal the game. Tarnation, son, I have a mind to fire you outright so you can hustle pool for a living.”

“Mighty fine shootin’ there, young man,” Quinn said with a firm shake of Jamie’s hand. He moseyed over to drape an arm over Cassie’s shoulder, sliding her close with a peck on her cheek. “Sorry, Cass.”

“Me, too, Daddy,” she whispered, head to his chest. “Sorry I lost your money.”

He pulled away to chuck her chin with his thumb, eyes almost misty. “I didn’t lose, darlin’—I’m the proud papa of the best daughter this side of the Pecos. Besides,” he whispered, planting a kiss to her hair, “gotta feeling this may just end up a win.”

Cassie blinked. Excuse me?

He squeezed her shoulder and moved to the door. “Come on, Lo, let these two young people settle their losses. Suddenly I have a powerful appetite for Rosie’s red velvet cake.”

Cassie watched her father and uncle leave, her spirits sinking lower than that traitorous eight ball. End up a win? For Jamie, maybe. But her? She whirled around to replace her cue in the wooden rack, fingers lingering because she didn’t want to turn around and face the smug look on his face. The one that said she’d lost again—first her heart to a pretty boy, then her pride to a pool hustler. She bowed her head, fingers fused to the cue on the wall as if it were a lifeline. And she needed one badly—her heart was racing and her stomach quivering at the thought of being alone with the polecat. Of facing the fact she was in love with a man she couldn’t trust, a man whose faith in God didn’t exist. She closed her eyes, the thought evoking a sudden sting of tears. Which meant as a couple, they couldn’t exist—ever.

“Cass.” It was a whisper over her shoulder, warm and soft, and she spun around so quickly, she tottered against the wall.

He anchored her with a gentle hand, and the look in his eyes held not a hint of gloat. “We need to talk,” he said quietly, twining his fingers with hers while he drew her to the sofa.

“About the terms of my loss, I suppose?” Tone brittle, she dragged her heels all the way.

“Yes.” He tugged her down on the seat, then turned to face her, their knees almost touching while his hold locked onto hers. That blasted scent of clove and spice from his shaving soap filled her senses, triggering her pulse along with the slow graze of his thumb. She tried to ease her hand from his, but he held fast, so she opted to close her eyes instead, refusing to look at him.

“Cass, look at me—please.”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to.”

His low chuckle filled the air before he skimmed her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “Please? I’d like to apologize, and I’d rather you watch because it doesn’t happen all that often.”

The edges of her pout tilted up the barest degree as she snuck a peek, her stomach somersaulting at his close proximity. “All right—I’m listening.”

“Thank you.” His smile was tender. “Now, before we get to the terms of my win, let me say that you were right when you called me a ‘yellow-bellied snake of a womanizer’ the first time I kissed you in this very room—”

“I knew it!” She attempted to twist free, arms flailing to no avail when his grip tightened all the more. “You’re every bit the flea-bitten skunk I knew you were, Jamie MacKenna—”

“Yes, I was,” he emphasized strongly, his gaze probing hers. He loosened his grip when she stopped thrashing. “But I’m not that man anymore, Cass, I promise.”

“Ha! You promised a lot of things, Pretty Boy, with your kisses and your charm, but all I had to show for it was a heart stomped on by a low-down polecat who claimed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he said, his calm demeanor dissipating somewhat. He drew in a deep breath while his thumb circled her palm. “But now I want more.”

She jerked free and shot to her feet, slapping her hands to her hips. “Ohhhhh, no you don’t, City Boy. I may be a country girl, but I’m not some dumb cluck born in a chicken coop. I’m not about to agree to court you a second time, you snake-bellied boll weevil!”

He slowly rose, towering over her by an entire foot while he mirrored her pose to a T, hands slung low on his hips and eyes snapping. “That’s real good, Cowgirl, because trust me—the last thing I want to do is to court a girl like you.”

Stunned by his barb, she blinked hard to fight the tears and raised her hand, ready to haul off and smack him silly.

He clasped her wrist midair, taunting her with that exasperating grin. “Nope, I want to flat-out marry you, Cassidy McClare,” he breathed, eyes intense as he gently tugged her close. The heat in his eyes did funny things to her stomach, sealing the air—and her words. “The sooner, the better,” he whispered, his voice warm in her ear.

She tried to blink but couldn’t, every muscle paralyzed.

“I love you, Cass,” he said, pulling back to trace his fingers along the curve of her face. “I think I have from that first night in this very room, when you called me a conniving womanizer and pesky hornet.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and all at once, his smile faded along with his voice, lowering to a husky whisper. “I need you in my life, Cass . . .” Her stomach dipped when he leaned in.

She shook off her stupor before his lips could take hers. “Whoa, you hold it right there, City Boy!” Slamming two palms to his chest, she shoved him back, heart stuttering at what the polecat was trying to do. “That’s mighty convenient, you yellow-belly fortune-hunter, just as my daddy’s wells are pumping again.”

“What?” Jamie stared, the blood leeching from his face. “Wait, Cass, no . . .”

She jerked away, arms folded tight. “And don’t act like you didn’t know, you wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Slacking a leg, he braced hands low on his hips, jaw like rock except for the pulse of a single nerve. “No, I’m not going to ‘act’ like I don’t know,” he said, mimicking her, “because I do, but the fact is I broke it off with Patricia long before I found out about your father’s wells, so you can just hang that gun up along with those Texas spurs you’re so anxious to dig in my hide.”

Her jaw shot up, frustration crawling at the way her anger was on the thaw. Great balls of fire, she couldn’t afford to be hoodwinked by another no-good louse who was lower than a snake belly in a wagon rut, no matter how weak in the knees—or head—he made her! “Ha! And I’m supposed to believe you?”

He let loose with a heavy blast of air, smile flat. “No, I don’t expect you to believe me, because frankly I wouldn’t believe me either. But I am asking you to believe Bram and Alli or even your uncle, because they’ll all confirm it’s true.”

She felt the barest waver of her jaw and locked her arms closer. “Even so, Jamie MacKenna, I’m not sure I can ever trust you again or . . . or . . . even want to.”

Her breath caught at the barest curve of his smile when he slowly reeled her into his arms. “Oh, you want to, Cass,” he whispered, “’cause you’re as crazy over me as I am ’bout you, so don’t try to deny it.” His gaze dropped to her lips and her stomach looped when he leaned in.

She quickly ducked, avoiding his kiss with hands splayed hard to his chest. “Even so, Jamie, I’m sorry, truly, but nothing’s changed.” Twisting free, she stepped back to clutch her sides once again. “You say you love me, but you chose Patricia because my father was poor, and if that wasn’t enough, you turned your back on God as well as me.”

With a noisy exhale, he dropped his head to knead the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, I did choose Patricia, but not because I didn’t love you.” He plunged his hands in his pockets, pausing before he spoke. “You knew my sister was crippled, Cass, but what you didn’t know was . . . I was to blame.” He closed his eyes then, while a nerve vibrated his cheek, his voice a low monotone threaded with pain as he slowly divulged all that Alli had confided to her in this very room so many months ago. From Jamie’s intense desire to provide a surgery for his sister to his unwavering resolve to marry well, the truth spilled from his lips in a raspy confession rife with shame and regret.

Exhaling hard, he twined his fingers with hers and tugged her to sit down next to him, finally shifting to face her while he held her hands in his. “I was stupid, Cass, and I’m asking you to forgive me. When Patricia told me your father lost his money that day in Napa, I panicked, thinking my dreams for Jess, the desire of my heart to see her well, would never come to pass unless I could bring it about.” He shook his head. “Ironically, it was Jess herself who convinced me that there’s only one way the desires of our heart can ever be met. She flat-out refused the surgery unless I trusted God to bring it to pass—not Patricia or her father.” He sighed. “So I did, and she was right. God did it.”

Cass swallowed hard and placed her hand over his. “Alli wrote me about the surgery, and I’m happy for you and your family, Jamie, truly.”

He glanced up, a faint smile on his lips. “But not ‘happy’ with me.”

Her cheeks warmed as she removed her hand. “No, not at the time.”

He cupped a palm to her face with a rare humility in his eyes. “I was wrong, Cass, about so many things. About God, about you, and about me, thinking my happiness and that of my family depended on me. Jess convinced me otherwise, and I thank God, because if she hadn’t, I would have married the wrong woman and never had the faith to know just how much God loves me.” A muscle jerked in his throat. “Nor the faith to know just how much I need him.” He caressed her with his eyes. “And you.”

Cassie’s breath hitched along with her pulse. “Faith?” she whispered, barely able to believe she’d heard correctly. “Y-you have f-faith?”

He grinned. “As solid as the wood in my head.”

“Oh, Jamie . . .” Her hands flew to her mouth, as if poised in prayer, and then she lunged into his arms so hard, it jolted him back.

His chuckle tickled her ear. “I was hoping that would be your response, Sugar Pie, which brings me to the terms of our bet tonight—the one that you lost, if you remember.”

She swallowed hard, not sure what the man had in mind. “Yes?”

His dimples deepened. “You lost, Miss McClare, which means I won, and God willing, it’ll be the biggest win of my life.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out and slowly slipped to his knees. She gasped when he placed a ring on the tip of her finger, a question in his gaze before he slid it all the way on. “I’m in love with you, Cass,” he said softly, “and it may have been you who took a tumble that day at the train, but I was the one who fell hard. So in the dead-center words of a Texas McClare, Cowgirl, I’ve been a horse’s hindquarter, and I’m hoping you’ll forgive me and say yes to hog-tying us together for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh, Jamie!” Moisture welled while she gently touched the ring, a watercolor blur of green and gold, as he carefully eased it all the way on. Blinking hard, her breath caught when the most beautiful ring in the world came into focus—a delicate band with a square emerald circled by tiny diamonds. She looked closer and blinked. “Goodness, I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “My nana had a ring just like this.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“You know?” Cassie teetered on the edge of the couch, face in a squint as she brushed at the wetness now glazing her cheek. “But how could you possibly know?”

“Uh, Cass, maybe you better sit back.” He tugged her farther into the couch, buffing her arms while he paused, a trace of trepidation edging his tone. “It is your grandmother’s ring.”

She blinked, whirling to face him. “But I don’t understand—how did you get it? It belongs to Blake.”

“Blake?”

Her face screwed in a frown. “Yes, of course—Nana’s first and only grandson—Uncle Logan is supposed to give it to him when he takes a wife.”

Jamie skimmed a finger along the inside of his collar, color seeping up his throat. “Yeah, well about that . . .”

She shot to her feet, hands back on her hips. “Jamie MacKenna, if you won this ring from Blake in a bet—”

He jumped up and gripped her arms. “No, Cass, I swear—the ring belongs to me.”

She folded her arms and stepped back, toe tapping. “Now how in the name of Sam Houston can my grandmother’s ring belong to you, and where in the world did you get it?”

With a grit of his teeth, he shook his head. “This isn’t going to be easy . . .”

Her eyes narrowed. “So help me, MacKenna, if you don’t spit it out right now . . .”

He hesitated, finally exhaling a noisy breath. “All right, I will.” His chest expanded with the apparent need for more air before he released it again. “My father gave it to me.”

She folded her arms with a tilt of her head. “Your father,” she said, tone as flat as her lips. She angled a brow. “Brian MacKenna?”

“No,” he said carefully, head bent but eyes fixed as if anticipating her response. “My real father—Logan McClare.”

Paralysis struck, his words welding her to the spot and petrifying everything in her body—lashes, limbs, brain, breath—right on down to the pulse at the hollow of her throat.

He chuckled, drawing her close to tuck her into his arms. “I’m afraid my reaction was a bit more vocal.”

She lurched away, palm quivering against his chest. “But how? When?”

Massaging her arms, he told her the whole impossible tale, finishing with his and Logan’s vow to keep the silence for the time being, except for Bram and her. Even her parents weren’t to know until the time was right, although they’d already given Jamie their consent at a private meeting arranged by Logan.

Cassie couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d been bucked from a horse. “Good grief, my parents knew you were going to propose? But Daddy threatened to brand you!”

His smile was close to a grimace as he drew air through clenched teeth, finger tugging at the inside of his collar. “Yeah, I know, but I explained everything just like I did to you, and then Logan vouched for me as well.” The strain in his face eased into a grin. “And when I told them that I flat-out couldn’t live without you anymore, Cowgirl, they pretty much just up and handed you over.”

She fought the squirm of her lips. “Oh, they did, did they?” Her chin notched up as her brows arched in a tease. “And just who else knows about this conspiracy, City Boy?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Pretty much everyone, Sugar Pie, including Miss B.”

She angled a brow. “Awfully sure of yourself, were you?”

His eyelids shuttered halfway as he slowly leaned in to nuzzle her ear. “Well, I knew if I could get this close, Cowgirl, I was pretty much home free . . .”

She batted him away. “Jamie MacKenna, you are nothing but a pretty-boy womaniz—”

He silenced her with a kiss that could have curled her boots. Easing her back against the sofa, he explored her mouth with his own, eliciting a groan that made the man chuckle. “We sure have some chemistry, Cuz, if I say so myself.”

She jerked from his arms. “Oh, sweet sanctity of family—we’re cousins!” she whispered, body limp from the shock.

Jamie lifted her open jaw, caressing her lips with the pad of his thumb. “In name only, Cass, not blood.” He brushed a curl from her face while he exhaled a heavy sigh. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were adopted?”

She blinked. “I . . . don’t suppose I ever really thought much about it. Daddy’s always been there for Mama and me since I was a baby, so I tend to think of him as my real father.”

“Well, never in all my born days have I been happier to hear someone was adopted, let me tell you, Cassidy McClare.” Gaze flitting to her lips, he swallowed hard and rose, extending his hand with an off-center smile. “Uh . . . maybe we better join the others before I’m tempted to take advantage of that ring on your hand.”

He led her to the door and stopped, one palm on the knob while the other slowly nudged her to the wall. He traced the shape of her face with tender fingers. “I love you, Cassidy McClare,” he whispered, “and you need to know the pretty-boy womanizer is dead and gone. From now on, I’m on the straight and narrow, doing things his way—safe and proper.” His eyes strayed to her lips while a muscle dipped in his throat. “But I think it’s only fair to warn you, Cowgirl—I don’t cotton to a long engagement.” With a sweet catch of her breath, he caressed her mouth with his own, palm cradling her jaw while he took his time with a slow, deliberate kiss. He finally pulled away, his breathing ragged and his eyes as glazed as hers. A grin inched its way across his lips as he deposited a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Kind of gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘kissing cousins,’ doesn’t it?” he whispered, mouth trailing her jaw to suckle her ear.

Her eyes drifted closed, his touch all but melting the bones in her body. “Oh, sweet Texas tea,” she whispered, sigh shaky and stomach awhirl. “It most certainly does.”