A Christmas to Believe In (43 page)

skipped several beats.

Ethan had invited him to stay.

He'd been so exhausted last night it hadn't registered as

anything more than an excuse to watch the foal. But Ethan

tied Jesse into the conversation, invited Clint inside, and

suggested he stay. Not a direct question—but as poignant as

if he'd painted it on a sign. No one had encouraged him, no

one had guilted him into the overture. Ethan built the bridge

all on his own.

Clint snatched the ring and fisted it into his palm.

Abandoning his coffee, he bolted up the stairs to his room. He

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didn't have time for clothes. Wouldn't put another minute

between him and Jesse. She'd just have to deal with his

pajamas. Hell, he'd go barefoot if it weren't below freezing

outside. As he pulled on his socks and shoved his feet in his

boots, all the painful tension inside his body unwound. His

heart leapt into triple time, and from somewhere down deep,

a smile broke free.

He shoved the ring onto his pinkie, closed his hand to keep

it from falling off, and dashed out of his bedroom. Barreling

down the stairs, he nearly knocked over a woman who

followed his earlier progression to the kitchen.

"Sorry, Nicolette," he called as she grabbed at the rail to

keep from tripping.

At the bottom of the stairs, Clint skidded to a stop. He

whipped around and stared. Dressed in the T-shirt Clint had

last seen Heath in and a pair of oversized boxer shorts,

Nicolette offered him a hesitant smile. Along the side of her

pretty face, deep creases from sleep sank into her skin. Her

long hair hung in a ratty mess.

"What are you..." Clint shook his head. He didn't have time

to figure it out. "Never mind."

He ran through the house, bolted out the front door and

leaped into his truck. It fishtailed madly as he gunned it down

the drive. He let up on the gas, straightened out the nose and

pulled in a deep breath.
Easy. She's not going anywhere. It's

Christmas.

He skidded around the turn anyway.

Like sweet salvation, her driveway rose before him. He

roared up it, slammed on his brakes, and slid to a stop well

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out of range of her car. His door had barely opened before he

jumped out and ran for the door.

One shove, and the sticky corner didn't protest. He

stepped inside, anticipating the quiet of a house still asleep.

Only, from the Christmas tree, Ethan jumped to his feet.

The boy's posture relaxed as he recognized Clint, but in

the next instant, he raced over and grabbed Clint's arm.

"You've got to fix it, Clint. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any

of it." Voice laced with urgency, Ethan's eyes pled with Clint.

"She told me she did it because of me."

A tide of compassion swept through Clint. Like all children,

Ethan had yet to understand the power of words. He might be

thirteen, he might be trying to fill a man's shoes, but deep

down where it mattered, Ethan was just an innocent little

boy.

Clint bent to eye-level and took hold of Ethan's shoulders.

"Not because of you.
For
you. There's a difference. I would

have done the same thing if I were in her shoes. Now, where

is she?"

"Asleep."

Nodding, Clint studied Ethan's features. "I want to ask you

something, Ethan. I want you to answer me truthfully."

"Okay."

"I know you don't trust me much. I know you don't like me

much. But I love your mom, and if you'll let me, I'd like to

love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make things work with

you and me." At Ethan's wrinkled nose, Clint took a breath,

held it. "Can I be part of this family, Ethan? Will you be part

of
mine
?"

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Ethan's gaze narrowed a fraction. "We play video games

every night before I go to bed."

The breath Clint had been holding slowly slipped free.

"Maybe you can teach me?"

On a shrug, Ethan said, "Maybe." He cocked his head,

squinted at Clint. "Saturday mornings, Mom gets up early and

fixes chocolate-chip pancakes. We watch cartoons together.

Then we do something I want to do."

Clint's fingers gripped tighter as he nodded his head. The

warning was subtle, but there all the same—he'd share, but

he still wanted his time with Jesse.

"And." Ethan scrunched his features together in disgust. "I

don't want to see you kiss. Yuck."

A hearty burst of laughter broke free, and Clint crushed

Ethan into a hug. He let go, stood up and ruffled his hair. "I

don't know about the last. But I think I can work with

everything else."

Ethan rolled his eyes and went back to the tree. "Tell her I

want to open my gifts."

Clint didn't need to hear anything more. He took the stairs

to Jesse's room two at a time. Outside her door, he paused to

regroup. He couldn't just burst inside and scare her. This

required a little bit of finesse.

Easing the door open, he quietly stepped into her

bedroom. His gaze settled on her sleeping form, and his heart

swelled to painful limits. Still dressed in that stunning evening

gown, she lay curled on her side, her beautiful face turned to

him. He approached the bed, crawled in beside her.

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Sliding an arm around her waist, he nuzzled the delicate

skin at the side of her neck.

Wakefulness infringed on Jesse's dreams. She pushed it

away, unwilling to confront the cold reality of her life, and

struggled to hold on to the pleasant feel of Clint's mouth as it

skimmed across her shoulder.

"I love you, Jesse. I want to marry you," he murmured.

She shivered, rolled toward the alluring warmth.

Goosebumps skipped down her skin as the strap to her gown

gave, and warm, moist breath, dusted along her neck. She

squirmed against the delightful weight on her belly. Sighed as

the stirrings of desire settled between her legs.

"Wake up, sweetheart."

Wake up... She fought off the call of morning, too content

to stay right here where Clint loved her. Where she loved

him, and nothing had them at an impassable divide.

His hand drifted up her belly, curved around her breast.

His gentle squeeze spread the growing heat in her womb

through her veins. The pleasant scrape of calloused fingers as

he lowered the loose satin of her dress shot tingles down her

spine.

Yet the wash of cold air that kissed her skin was a little too

real for a dream. She opened her eyes as Clint's lips closed

around her aroused nipple. Arching into the ecstasy of his

mouth, she let out a gasp. Her fingers fisted into his scalp,

and she pressed his head deeper to her breast.

"What are you doing here?" she murmured.

Clint lifted his head. A sweep of his thick thigh, and he

rolled her flat on her back to cover her body with his. Staring

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down into her eyes, he smiled. "Trying to convince you to

marry me."

Her heart leapt to her throat, and she let the delirious

sensations engulf her. Marry Clint. He'd left whatever trapped

him to a life of independence and offered the one thing she

wanted more than Ethan.

Ethan wouldn't stand for this. All the budding happiness

crashed against a wave of heart-wrenching sorrow. No matter

how she craved a life with Clint, she couldn't do that to her

son.

On a heavy sigh, she let go of Clint's hair.

Undaunted, he braced himself on his elbows and rubbed

the tip of his nose across hers. Brushed his mouth over her

lips. He lifted up, brought his hands atop her chest. Between

both thumb and forefinger a diamond sparkled.

One corner of his mouth tugged with a grin as he said, "I

already have Ethan's permission. I just need yours."

The shock of his words brought her upright, dislodging him

in the process. "You what?"

Chuckling, Clint dragged her back down beneath him and

pinned her to the bed. "Say yes. It's Christmas. Say yes, then

I'll explain."

"Yes," she answered on a breathless exhale. "God yes,

Clint. But how?" She wrapped her arms around his waist, slid

her hands along his back, up to his shoulders, down to his

tight buttocks. Soft cotton met her fingertips. "Are you in

your pajamas?"

Clint let out an exasperated sigh. He caught her hand,

brought it around in front of him. Holding her gaze, he slid

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the ring onto her finger. "You really know how to spoil my

proposal here, sweetheart."

A flush crept to her cheeks. Under the heat of it, she

lowered her gaze and tried to duck her chin.

"I had a bunch of pretty things picked out to say. Things

like, one day away from you almost killed me. How every

time I look at my nieces, I see the kids I want to have with

you. How I don't want to live a life without you in it. As my

partner, my wife—the only person I could ever trust with my

fears."

Jesse clamped sharp teeth into her lower lip as tears

welled. Oh, God, this was happening. It was really real. She'd

just agreed to marry Clint King. And he was the most

beautiful man on this earth.

"I was going to tell you how I sold my farm to Susan Silby.

I was going to ask you if I could buy the old barn, so my

pride can hold on to something. I had intended to suggest we

become official partners and come up with some sort of stable

name that illustrated that. And I planned to tell you I had

decided it would be okay to accept your offer on a horse, so

long as you let me set up a college fund for Ethan and let me

pay it all back."

He drizzled kisses across her face, drying her tears as they

tumbled free. At the closing of her throat, her fingers dug into

his buttocks, and Jesse ordered herself to breathe.

"You aren't interested in all that, are you?" He chuckled.

Shook his dark head. "No, the woman who works on cars and

can slug better than me wouldn't want to hear pretty things. I

should have known."

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Oh no, that was so not true. He could go on for hours and

she'd never tire of hearing those incredible words. She

opened her mouth to protest.

"You'd rather hear about how Ethan built a bridge all on his

own in the barn last night. How almost losing a foal broke

past all that insecurity. You'd rather me tell you I was too

dense to hear his invitation last night, too heartbroken to

hear the hope. Pretty words are nice, but what you really care

about is that a few minutes ago Ethan and I struck a deal."

Dropping his head, he planted a firm kiss on her mouth.

"You have to play video games with him at night. He gets you

on Saturdays." A frown touched his dark eyebrows as he

concluded, "And he'd really prefer it if I don't kiss you in front

of him."

"Oh, Clint!" With a squeal, she buried her head into his

shoulder and hung on tight.

His arms wrapped around her, and he hauled her into a

sitting position. Taking both her shoulders in his hands, he

eased her away to gaze into her eyes. Love burned within

those amber depths. Love more potent and more consuming

than Jesse had ever hoped she might see. She cupped his

cheek, brushed her thumb over his stubbly whiskers. "I love

you," she whispered.

He caught her hands and lifted her knuckles to his lips. In

the grey light of morning, the diamond that had adorned

Amelia's hand for as long as she could remember glinted.

"I don't have a lot, Jesse. But I'll give it all to you. To

Ethan. Just keep believing in me. I won't disappoint you."

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She leaned closer to touch her lips to his. "You never

could, Clinton King. I have you. Just you. That's all that

matters." Surrendering to all the love she felt for this

incredible man, she drew him into a lingering kiss.

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Clint opened the door to his mother's house and ushered

his new family into the riot of gleeful squeals and hearty

laughter. The timeless aroma of cinnamon rolls permeated

the air, blending with the rich fragrance of coffee. He held fast

to Jesse's hand, but urged Ethan toward the tree.

"I saw a couple of things under there for you."

In an excited display that matched his youth, Ethan

hurried to the tree. Seeing the boy as he should be, not all

bundled up behind a line of stone defenses, made Clint's

chest even tighter. He fit right in here. Just like Jesse.