Chapter 20
Caden
The fire crackles beneath the mantle as I run my fingers through Winter’s hair, her warm body on top of mine as I stretch my legs out on the sofa.
Today is Christmas Day, and Winter’s asleep in my arms, with an old Western movie playing quietly beside the window in the living room. We’re at the main house of the ranch, the wood-panelling rich and warm, and Winter’s cheek is against my chest, her arms around my waist as she breathes softly.
We spent our morning at church with ninety-nine percent of our town’s population, and half of them rode in on horseback, so parking a six-seater truck was something else.
“Truck, horse, horse, truck. And more neighing than we’re used to in church. Makes it authentic,” Maverick said.
Ade slid him a wary look and asked, “What do you mean ‘authentic’?”
“Like, when Jesus was born. It’s like we’re in the stables.”
Ade stared at him for five seconds before nodding his head and turning away. “Yep,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Winter sat between me and my brothers while her father ran the service, bundled under two jackets and a faux-fur blanket because we had a surprise snowfall before we left the ranch.
And, I can’t deny it – it looks really fucking beautiful. Snow is rare in our small town, so we’re damn sure going to make the most of it.
I smooth my fingers through Winter’s hair before gently winding it around my fist, admiring how soft her natural curls are as she stirs on my abdomen.
She inhales gently and opens her eyes, smiling softly as she peeks up at me, and my dimples flex as I stroke her hair, wanting nothing more than to continue doing this all evening.
Our parents are out on the pastures, riding through the snow that’s settled over the valleys, so it’s Winter, Ade, and me in the main house, crashed out on the sofas after dinner.
I flick a glance to my right and see Ade’s big body asleep on the other sectional, his cowboy hat resting over his eyes and his fingers locked together on his abdomen.
Maverick left just after our parents did, but he gave us a parting gift on his way out – placing his Hartstrings Ranch cowboy hat in pride of place at the top of the Christmas tree.
I breathe out a laugh as I glance over at it, before returning my attention back to my girl, playing gently with her hair and shuddering with pleasure as she starts tracing my tattoos.
“We should go to the stables,” she whispers softly, giving me a flirty smile as she caresses my forearms.
I smirk down at her as I remember last Christmas. “You want to dress the ponies up again, don’t you?”
She laughs mischievously as she meets my eyes, before rasping out an innocent, “…No.”
I laugh quietly and shake my head as I haul her up my torso, settling my palms over her ass and giving her a rough squeeze.
“Might be a little cold for the ponies if they’re in the outdoor pen,” I tell her, and she nods as she trails her fingertips up the swells of my biceps.
“I just want to give them a little run-around in the snow,” she says, and hell if I’m arguing with a request as cute as that one.
“Okay, baby,” I rumble. “We’ll let them run around in the snow.”
“And I need to take Gratitude for a ride up the valley,” she adds.
I nod my head. “Done.”
“And I want to ride Carter’s Quarter Horse around the barrels.”
And suddenly my eyes burn into hers.
Winter carefully meets my gaze, her nails trailing up and down my forearms, and my chest rises with need as she slowly traces over my ink. A soft groan leaves my throat and I swallow quietly as she watches me.
Then she gives me a little smile and I laugh gently as I cup her ass.
“Baby,” I ask warily, “are you sure that today’s the day for that?”
She’s been riding the Quarter Horse so good, but she hasn’t raced him around the barrels yet.
“It’s the best day for that,” she whispers, and I groan out a husky laugh.
She’s still playing with my tattoos and it’s melting my mind, making me spread my quads out on the couch as my heart jackhammers in my chest.
She presses a kiss to the base of my throat and I chuckle roughly, knowing her game.
“Fuck,” I relent. “Fine. But we’re takin’ it–”
“Slow and steady,” she finishes quickly. And then she’s smiling like a ray of sunshine as she wraps her arms around my neck.
I grin down at her as she leans into me and I caress my palms over her ass, because she knows exactly what’s happening beneath my belt buckle right now.
“Is that a yes?” she asks teasingly, and I breathe out a laugh as I nod my head.
“Yeah,” I say thickly. “It’s a yes to putting up the barrels, and seeing if he’s got the speed and agility to weave ’em.”
“And we should probably think of finding him a name.”
“Yeah, we’ll find him his name. But first…
” I rumble, heaving myself up onto my elbows, and looking over the side of the sectional as Winter sits patiently in my lap.
I stretch my arm out and grip my fingers around the undersides of two boxes, which I’d set aside earlier so that we could do this in private.
Winter watches them curiously as I haul them beside us, her palms resting on my pecs as I tap my knuckles against the wrapping.
“Cute paper,” she says softly, her big eyes unblinking as she stares down at me.
And I smirk up at her as I bracket her jaw, hauling her down so that I can kiss her.
“You like it?” I ask teasingly, as if I didn’t buy the pink paper specifically for her.
“Mm-hm,” she whispers sweetly, her dimples pulled in tight as she searches my eyes.
Her gaze bounces back to the two boxes and she whispers gently, “Are those for me?”
And my chest shakes with deep laughter as I envelop her waist. “Who else would they be for, baby? Of course they’re for you.”
Winter explodes with excitement, squealing happily as I lift us both into a sitting position, and I drag the first box on top of my quad, watching her expression as she starts ripping the paper.
“Oooh,” she breathes out, once the pink paper has been discarded, and she can see the brand’s logo embossed on the cream lid.
She looks up at me with a cheruby smile as she runs her fingertip over the raised logo, and I give her waist a little squeeze, smiling back at her as I wait for her to see them.
“Fancy,” she whispers.
“Only the best for my baby,” I rumble.
She drops her gaze as she laughs and then her cheeks are blushing as she lifts the lid. She pushes back the soft cream tissue paper and bites back a smile as she takes them in.
“What do you think?” I ask, keeping one hand around her hip and the other on her thigh.
She shakes her head as she meets my eyes. “These must have cost you a fortune.”
My chest swells on a deep inhale.
“You’re worth every dollar.”
And then I’m flushing as she cups my jaw and kisses my lips, and my biceps flex as I gather her closer, my blood pumping faster as she tightens her hold.
“They’re perfect,” she whispers against me.
My eyes crinkle at the sides. “Just like you.”
I kiss her again before she can pull away and then she gives me a playful shove in the chest, so that she can get back to opening her presents.
I settle back against the couch cushions, already feeling pretty satisfied.
She turns her attention back to the box and carefully lifts out her present – a bespoke pair of cowgirl boots, naturally dyed in her favorite shade of pink.
“Wow,” Winter whispers, as she inspects the intricate stitching, the small snowflakes following the arches to make them even more perfect.
She traces her finger over one of the snowflakes and I brush a kiss against her cheek.
“Snowflakes,” she whispers, and I lick my lower lip as she strokes my jaw.
“Yeah,” I rumble down to her. “Snowflakes for Winter.”
She twists slightly on my lap, stretching her legs out so that she can slip the boots on, and she smiles shyly when she’s finished. “They’re the perfect fit.”
I rub my palm around her bare thigh, my thumb skirting beneath the hem of her pyjama shorts.
“They look good,” I tell her. She looks so damn sexy in cowgirl boots.
“I can’t wear them in the stables, though. They’re too beautiful to get dirty. I’ll have to think of a special occasion where I can wear them,” she says softly.
I rub my palm around her nape. “Every day is a special occasion with you.”
She lowers her gaze, smiling happily, and her long lashes brush against the tops of her cheeks.
“Yeah, yeah,” she whispers, replacing the lid on the box, and I move it carefully out of her way so that she can get to opening the next one.
I rest my chin on her shoulder as she tears neatly at the paper, laughing quietly as she gasps, knowing what she’s about to see.
She presses the sweetest kiss against my lips, and I groan softly as she lets me deepen it.
“Is this what I think it is?” she asks breathlessly, but I just keep kissing her, too distracted to talk.
“Caden,” she giggles, and then she pulls away so that she can open the lid.
And the second that she peeks inside, her jaw drops in sheer delight.
“No way!” she exclaims, one hand over her heart as she looks up at me.
I rub her dimple as I meet her eyes, swallowing hard. “It was time.”
And as she lifts the cowgirl hat out of the box, her eyes are focused on one thing only.
The Hartstrings Ranch logo, branded into its centre.
“Only family wears the brand,” Winter whispers gently, flashing a glance across to Ade before looking up at me.
Her irises are burning in the glow of the fireplace and warmth spreads through my chest as I rub her cheek with my thumb.
“You’re family, baby,” I tell her quietly.
“No, I’m not,” she whispers, starting to flush. “I love it, Caden, but I can’t wear this around the ranch. Not even the ranch-hands wear the Hartstrings brand. And some of those guys are here seven days a week!”
My mouth lifts into a smirk, watching as she wars with herself about putting it on.
She’s practically vibrating with need, and I can’t help but smile as she shoots me a look.
“What’s it going to take for me to convince you to wear it?” I ask. “Is it because you don’t have my last name yet? Because, baby, we can change that.”
She breathes out a laugh as she elbows my abs and I haul her against my chest, squeezing her in my biceps.
She squeals giddily as we play-fight, clutching onto her new hat as I envelop her.
“If I recall,” I rumble playfully, “somebody’s daddy is the pastor. Which means we’ve got an officiant at the ready, baby. You say the word and I’m good to go.”
“We’re waiting for you to graduate,” she whispers back to me, and I graze her neck with my teeth as she melts in my arms.
“I’ve got a year and a half to go. You really want to wait that long before you put your hat on?”
She peeks back at me, her eyes sparkling, and I brush a kiss to the tip of her nose just to make her smile.
“No,” she whispers softly, and she slowly lifts the hat into place.
She sets it carefully over her hair, looking up at me from beneath the brim, and I move my hands to position it, her soft pink curls brushing my fingers.
“Looks good on you,” I admit, my voice deepening at the sight.
My girl, in my family’s brand. I’ve been wanting this for a long time.
“I love it,” she whispers softly, cupping my jaw as I lean down to kiss her.
“One more thing,” I murmur, and she nods her head, shimmering with excitement.
“Okay,” she breathes out, sitting on her hands as I grab my phone.
I open it up and tap my emails, scrolling with my thumb until I find what I’m looking for. I click on it, scroll down, and then turn the screen so that she can read it.
And as soon as she sees Cole’s name and the scheduled date and time, she’s throwing her arms around my neck, and my chest heaves as I haul her closer.
“You’re getting another tattoo?!” she exclaims, and I right her cowgirl hat so that it doesn’t fall off, chuckling softly as she laughs, and savoring the intimacy of this moment.
I lift my right forearm, showing her the side, and I nod toward the small area that doesn’t have any ink yet.
“I was thinking there,” I say, watching as she trails her fingers over my skin.
“What are you getting?” she asks.
I smile down at her. “What do you think?”
Her irises sparkle as she searches my eyes.
Then she whispers, “My art.”
I rub my palm around her nape. “Always your art.”
“Which sketch?” she asks.
“One that you showed me back in October.”
She looks up at me with an adorable smile. “That was my favorite page in the sketchbook.”
My voice is husky as I squeeze her thighs. “That’s why I’m choosing it.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, and my chest swells with pleasure as she kisses my mouth.
“Don’t mention it,” I say hoarsely, kissing her back with no intention of stopping.
But Winter pulls away, reaches over the sofa, and retrieves a small gift-wrapped package of her own.
She looks down at it for a second and then she holds it tentatively out to me.
Her cheeks are bright red. I can’t help but smile.
“That better not be for me,” I tell her teasingly. “You already got me this belt, remember?”
And bespoke leather belts that are handmade in Texas are damn expensive.
She makes a noncommittal sound, staring at the present in her hands with enormous eyes.
“It’s a small one,” she mumbles quickly, playing with my shirt as I haul her into my side.
“Okay,” I submit, keeping one palm around her waist as I carefully unwrap the gift.
And my cheeks lift with amusement as soon as I find what’s inside.
It’s round and soft, some kind of plush toy. It’s furry and pink and… are those little ears?
I pick it up carefully, sensing Winter’s eyes on my face, and I turn it over slowly as I try to work out what the hell it is.
And when I spot the curly tail, I laugh loudly, finally understanding.
“Is this a piglet?” I ask, my deep voice turning husky as she caresses my chest.
“Maybe,” she whispers back to me, avoiding my eyes as she smiles at the plushie.
Our little inside joke, because she’s my tiny squealing piglet.
I tuck the toy under my other bicep and bracket Winter’s jaw in my palm, gently tilting her head backward so that she can look at me from under her cowgirl hat.
“Thank you,” I rumble quietly.
“It’s so that I’m with you, when you’re back at college,” she whispers.
I nod my head. “I know.”
“Do you like it?” she asks.
I press a chaste kiss to her lips.
“Yeah, baby,” I tell her. “I fucking love it.”