What the Cowboy Wants for Christmas
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Synopsis
Previously published in the anthology Santa’s On His Way
This holiday season, warm your heart with the gift of unexpected love . . .
When Meg O’Neill’s longtime boyfriend lets her down, again, on Christmas no less, she braves an Oregon blizzard to get to her best friend Noah’s comforting arms. But this time Noah’s not telling her what she wants to hear . . .
Noah’s always known the right thing to say to soothe Meg’s wounded pride and help her pick up the pieces, again. But now, the rugged cowboy is telling her the truth—from his heart. And his words just might be the gift Meg’s been wishing for all along.
Release date: October 26, 2021
Publisher: Zebra Books
Print pages: 102
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What the Cowboy Wants for Christmas
Maisey Yates
She needed the cheer to stop. She turned the car radio off and focused on the sounds of her tires moving over the snow-covered gravel road, weariness overtaking her completely.
Meg O’Neill felt like a boomerang.
She had flung herself across the country yesterday, only to be sent right back. Okay, so she was the one who had flung herself back. All the while calling herself every evil name she knew.
What kind of idiot was she? What kind of idiot was she to think that surprising Charlie in New York for Christmas was a good idea? What kind of idiot was she to take him seriously when he said it was for real this time?
Over and over again she did this. Over and over again she trusted him.
By now, she should be well aware that Charlie said things and then those things fell through. He was always ready for more, and then something happened.
In this case, the something seemed to be that he had tripped and fallen directly between some woman’s thighs. That was most certainly an impediment to the much alluded to marriage proposal that Meg was beginning to realize was never going to come.
Unlike Charlie’s bedmate. Who seemed to have the coming under control.
Do you still want to marry him?
She wiped a tear off her cheek and sniffed loudly as she pulled her car into her best friend’s driveway. It was snowing fiercely outside, the weather in the mountains above Bend, Oregon, looking good for anyone with plans to ski Mount Bachelor over the holiday but looking pretty crappy for anyone who actually had to try to get around.
She tightened her hold on the steering wheel and took a deep, shaking breath. Did she still want Charlie to propose to her? Their relationship was complicated, and it had never been traditional in any sense.
But she had loved Charlie for thirteen years. Since she was a teenager. She had always seen . . . Had always seen a future with him. And he had always acted like there would be one. Once he got to a certain place. Once he had built his life up to where he wanted it to be. Security, that was what he had said.
And with any other guy, maybe Meg would have thought it was an excuse. But she knew Charlie. She knew his background, and why this kind of thing was difficult for him. It was just one of the many reasons she had accepted their strange arrangement.
But over the years it had come with its fair share of heartache. And this was the worst.
She could only hope that Noah was home. And honest to God, if she walked in and Noah was with someone, too, she was going to have a meltdown.
She sighed heavily and turned the engine off, listening to it continue to pop and hiss in the cold weather for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and got out of the car, shuffling through the dry snow on the ground, the powdery flakes sluicing over her boots.
She made sure to walk noisily up the front steps, just as a warning. Just in case. She really couldn’t take surprising somebody else in a compromising situation this weekend
She lifted her hand and knocked, then stood there, bouncing up and down, freezing while she waited. Her cheeks were cold, because they were wet. Because she was still crying. Off and on. The flight from New York to the West Coast was long enough, but she’d had a layover and then she’d had to drive from the airport to Noah’s place up out of Bend.
It wasn’t like she had cried the whole time. Just off and on with alarming frequency, occasionally making the people next to her deeply uncomfortable.
She heard heavy footsteps and nearly sagged with relief. He was here. He was here, and he was going to make everything better, because that was what Noah Carter always did.
The door jerked open, and she was greeted by Noah, looking . . . Well, different somehow, mostly because he looked grumpy. He was sporting a fuller beard than she was used to seeing on him, but it had been a couple of weeks since she had seen him last, and his dark brows were locked together in an expression of irritation.
Something tightened, low and deep inside of her, a strange restlessness that had been intensifying around Noah lately. She didn’t like it. So she did what she’d been doing for months now. She ignored it. There was no room inside of her for any more feelings right now.
It only took a moment for Noah’s cranky expression to shift, his brown eyes to soften, fill with concern. “Meg? I thought you were going to be in New York for Christmas.”
“Well,” she said, sniffing loudly. “Surprise. To me, too.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Her lip wobbled. “Yes.”
“You’re not. Come inside.”
She complied, walking into Noah’s small, comforting living room. She loved his old ranch house. She was so proud of him, of what he had built for himself here. This little place to call his own. She was proud of all of them, really.
She, Noah, and Charlie had been in foster care together when they were teenagers, and at that point each of them had been through so much crap it was amazing they were still standing, much less functional.
But that home—their last home—had been one that was full of support, and they had gotten the exact right kind of guidance to get a good start on adulthood. And once they had aged out of the system, they still had each other.
Charlie had gone on to make a successful career for himself in finance, Meg had her brewery in downtown Bend, and Noah had the ranch. Which, objectively, she had to admit she liked better than the insane bustle of the city. But Charlie had made it sound like he was ready to come back. Charlie had made it sound like he was finally ready to get married.
You know it’s you, he had said to her, so long ago, but more than once since. It always has been. And it always will be. The time just has to be right.
She was really sick of waiting for the time to be right. She was starting to suspect that it never would be.
She plopped down on Noah’s couch, sinking into the brown leather cushions, pulling a red pillow into her lap. “I was going to New York to surprise Charlie.”
Noah suddenly looked pained, and it made her wonder what he thought about her. About this. Suddenly, she was starting to look at the situation with a strange kind of detached clarity.
She looked up. “Noah, am I pathetic?”
Noah shook his head. “No.”
“I’m serious.” She flung the pillow to the side, slamming it down onto the couch. “Am I pathetic? Do you think I am? Does he think I am?”
“Meg,” Noah said, keeping his tone as measured as possible. “Charlie does whatever Charlie wants to do. No one has ever been able to tell him anything else. You know that. Charlie also says a lot of things.”
“Apparently, he wants to do other women.” She frowned. “But that’s how it’s always been.”
Charlie had been the only one for Meg since she was fifteen years old. And while she’d never thought he’d lived like a monk, she had believed he’d . . .
Meg O’Neill felt like a boomerang.
She had flung herself across the country yesterday, only to be sent right back. Okay, so she was the one who had flung herself back. All the while calling herself every evil name she knew.
What kind of idiot was she? What kind of idiot was she to think that surprising Charlie in New York for Christmas was a good idea? What kind of idiot was she to take him seriously when he said it was for real this time?
Over and over again she did this. Over and over again she trusted him.
By now, she should be well aware that Charlie said things and then those things fell through. He was always ready for more, and then something happened.
In this case, the something seemed to be that he had tripped and fallen directly between some woman’s thighs. That was most certainly an impediment to the much alluded to marriage proposal that Meg was beginning to realize was never going to come.
Unlike Charlie’s bedmate. Who seemed to have the coming under control.
Do you still want to marry him?
She wiped a tear off her cheek and sniffed loudly as she pulled her car into her best friend’s driveway. It was snowing fiercely outside, the weather in the mountains above Bend, Oregon, looking good for anyone with plans to ski Mount Bachelor over the holiday but looking pretty crappy for anyone who actually had to try to get around.
She tightened her hold on the steering wheel and took a deep, shaking breath. Did she still want Charlie to propose to her? Their relationship was complicated, and it had never been traditional in any sense.
But she had loved Charlie for thirteen years. Since she was a teenager. She had always seen . . . Had always seen a future with him. And he had always acted like there would be one. Once he got to a certain place. Once he had built his life up to where he wanted it to be. Security, that was what he had said.
And with any other guy, maybe Meg would have thought it was an excuse. But she knew Charlie. She knew his background, and why this kind of thing was difficult for him. It was just one of the many reasons she had accepted their strange arrangement.
But over the years it had come with its fair share of heartache. And this was the worst.
She could only hope that Noah was home. And honest to God, if she walked in and Noah was with someone, too, she was going to have a meltdown.
She sighed heavily and turned the engine off, listening to it continue to pop and hiss in the cold weather for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and got out of the car, shuffling through the dry snow on the ground, the powdery flakes sluicing over her boots.
She made sure to walk noisily up the front steps, just as a warning. Just in case. She really couldn’t take surprising somebody else in a compromising situation this weekend
She lifted her hand and knocked, then stood there, bouncing up and down, freezing while she waited. Her cheeks were cold, because they were wet. Because she was still crying. Off and on. The flight from New York to the West Coast was long enough, but she’d had a layover and then she’d had to drive from the airport to Noah’s place up out of Bend.
It wasn’t like she had cried the whole time. Just off and on with alarming frequency, occasionally making the people next to her deeply uncomfortable.
She heard heavy footsteps and nearly sagged with relief. He was here. He was here, and he was going to make everything better, because that was what Noah Carter always did.
The door jerked open, and she was greeted by Noah, looking . . . Well, different somehow, mostly because he looked grumpy. He was sporting a fuller beard than she was used to seeing on him, but it had been a couple of weeks since she had seen him last, and his dark brows were locked together in an expression of irritation.
Something tightened, low and deep inside of her, a strange restlessness that had been intensifying around Noah lately. She didn’t like it. So she did what she’d been doing for months now. She ignored it. There was no room inside of her for any more feelings right now.
It only took a moment for Noah’s cranky expression to shift, his brown eyes to soften, fill with concern. “Meg? I thought you were going to be in New York for Christmas.”
“Well,” she said, sniffing loudly. “Surprise. To me, too.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Her lip wobbled. “Yes.”
“You’re not. Come inside.”
She complied, walking into Noah’s small, comforting living room. She loved his old ranch house. She was so proud of him, of what he had built for himself here. This little place to call his own. She was proud of all of them, really.
She, Noah, and Charlie had been in foster care together when they were teenagers, and at that point each of them had been through so much crap it was amazing they were still standing, much less functional.
But that home—their last home—had been one that was full of support, and they had gotten the exact right kind of guidance to get a good start on adulthood. And once they had aged out of the system, they still had each other.
Charlie had gone on to make a successful career for himself in finance, Meg had her brewery in downtown Bend, and Noah had the ranch. Which, objectively, she had to admit she liked better than the insane bustle of the city. But Charlie had made it sound like he was ready to come back. Charlie had made it sound like he was finally ready to get married.
You know it’s you, he had said to her, so long ago, but more than once since. It always has been. And it always will be. The time just has to be right.
She was really sick of waiting for the time to be right. She was starting to suspect that it never would be.
She plopped down on Noah’s couch, sinking into the brown leather cushions, pulling a red pillow into her lap. “I was going to New York to surprise Charlie.”
Noah suddenly looked pained, and it made her wonder what he thought about her. About this. Suddenly, she was starting to look at the situation with a strange kind of detached clarity.
She looked up. “Noah, am I pathetic?”
Noah shook his head. “No.”
“I’m serious.” She flung the pillow to the side, slamming it down onto the couch. “Am I pathetic? Do you think I am? Does he think I am?”
“Meg,” Noah said, keeping his tone as measured as possible. “Charlie does whatever Charlie wants to do. No one has ever been able to tell him anything else. You know that. Charlie also says a lot of things.”
“Apparently, he wants to do other women.” She frowned. “But that’s how it’s always been.”
Charlie had been the only one for Meg since she was fifteen years old. And while she’d never thought he’d lived like a monk, she had believed he’d . . .
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What the Cowboy Wants for Christmas
Maisey Yates
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