A Cowboy to Marry (17 page)

She leaned forward earnestly. “The point is, we all found love in different ways, and took different paths to
get where we are today. So don't feel you have to marry or not marry to get the McCabe stamp of approval, Libby. You already have that.” She smiled kindly. “We will love and support you and be there for you no matter what path you-all take. Just make sure whatever path you choose is true to the feelings in your heart.”

 

S
HANE
M
C
C
ABE WALKED INTO
the stable and stood looking over the stall door at the foal and mare Holden had just brought in from the pasture. “Is that the Willow I've heard so much about?”

Holden surveyed the breathtakingly beautiful filly with the dark gray mane and tail. “It sure is,” he said proudly. He paused to check out the little one's hocks and hooves, gave the filly and her mama a pat, then stepped out of the stall and headed for the tack room to mix up the feed. “She's already got great speed and agility.” Which were key traits to an outstanding cutting horse.

Shane nodded in approval. “She's going to make a nice addition to your quarter-horse bloodlines.”

Holden thought so, too. His dad stood by while he opened the airtight containers and measured crimped corn, cracked oats and soybean meal into a feed bucket.

Shane handed him the big jar of vitamins, minerals and protein supplements. “Amazing, isn't it,” he drawled as Holden added the additional ingredients and a dollop of molasses—for taste—to the feed. “How a mama and a sire that should not have been able to come together and produce a viable heir could not only have done so, but be as happy and thriving as that.”

Holden shot his dad a look of muted resentment. “I feel a parable coming on.” One relating not to a foal that had
survived hemolytic disease, but to him and Libby and the baby they both wanted so very much….

Shane fell into step beside Holden and walked back to the private stall where Willow and her mama were quartered. “Your mother and I know people who did everything ‘right.' They followed the prescribed, traditional path of courtship, engagement and marriage, and they still ended up getting divorced.”

Holden stepped into the roomy stall and poured mixture into the high and low feeders. “No one in our family really stays on the straight and narrow when it comes to romance, Dad.”

Shane watched as he led the filly to the feed mixture. “And you know why that is?”

Holden hunkered down beside Willow as she nosed and nibbled the grains. “I have a feeling you're going to tell me.” And it had nothing to do with the fact that Libby did not love him—and apparently never would, Holden thought dispiritedly. Slowly, he got to his feet.

His dad continued, “Because we have all figured out that loyalty to tradition, or really to anything, can take you only so far.” Bluntly, Shane stated, “Doing the right thing—the gallant thing—is important.”

Holden knew that. He'd been raised on that sentiment.

His dad came closer and clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder, looking at him man-to-man. “But chivalry is not enough to build a marriage and family on, and never has been. Any more than trading one life for another ensures happiness or parity in the universe.”

Heaven help him, Holden thought, biting back an oath. They were talking once again about Percy. About the accident that had claimed him. And Holden's promise to help Percy's widow.

Shane mused soberly, “Fate, destiny, God's will—whatever you want to call it—plays a part in everything that happens and we have no control over that part of our lives, son.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “None whatsoever. It's what we do with the hand we are dealt that counts.”

 

T
HE SNOW STARTED AT
two o'clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. At first it was just a flake or two, fluttering down from the white sky overhead. Then a light smattering. By four o'clock, it was coming down hard.

Libby gazed out the window, marveling at the miracle and praying it wouldn't be the only one to happen that day. Then she grabbed her coat.

She was just slipping it on when her doorbell rang.

She went to answer it and saw Holden standing there, his hands thrust in his pockets. Snow dusted his Resistol and the shoulders of his shearling-lined suede coat.

Libby wasn't sure what was sexier, the determined look on his handsome face or the fact that he was there at all. She only knew she wanted him in her life. And she hoped—once he heard her out—that he would reconsider and want the same.

She drew a deep, bolstering breath and looked up at him, her heart in her throat and her emotions on the line. “I'm glad you came by.”

Silence stretched between them. He stared at her, an undecipherable emotion in his cobalt-blue eyes. “I thought you might like a ride to the gathering at the Circle M tonight.”

Although there wasn't a great deal of snow accumulation, the roads were slick. She could see chains on the tires of his all-wheel-drive pickup.

Was that the only reason he was here?

“But,” Holden continued in a rusty-sounding voice, still holding her eyes, “before we go…I'd like to talk to you.”

Her heart racing, Libby stepped back and ushered him inside.

He took off his coat and hat, and hung them on the coat tree. Libby removed her coat, too, then took him back to the family room, where the Christmas tree had been set up. Too nervous to sit, she turned to face him.

“First, I want to apologize.” His expression gentling, he closed the distance between them. “I never should have thrown down that ultimatum.” His lips took on a sober slant as he gazed deep into her eyes. “Whatever feels right to you is fine with me.”

There was such a thing, Libby realized, as too much latitude in a relationship. She peered at him, struggling to understand. “Does this mean you're taking back your marriage proposal?” Her voice sounded throaty and uneven.

Holden grimaced. “It was more like a marriage
assumption
, but…yes.” He caught a lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear, the gesture so tender it made her want to weep. “I want to wipe the slate clean. It was a thoughtless idea,” he confessed huskily, “delivered in a meaningless way.” He shook his head regretfully. “I have always thought you deserved better, Libby, and I still do.”

Not quite what she had been expecting. But, Libby told herself sternly, it was still a step in the right direction.

She cleared her throat and pushed on with her own much-needed apology. “As long as we're on the subject, Holden, I think you deserve better, too.” The longer they stared into each other's eyes, the more her heart thawed. “I haven't been careful with your feelings, or true to what I want in this situation, either.”

I haven't been exactly honest. With you or with me.

Holden clasped her hands in his. “If it's more space you need…”

It was time to take the risk, to act based on what was in her heart instead of what would keep her safe. “It's anything but that. The thing is, Holden, I've had a thing for you for quite a while now. I'd like to say it started a month ago, but that would not be true. I was always aware of you, way too aware of you, even back in college when we first met—which was why I had to constantly keep my guard up. The more time I spent with you, the more I liked you.” She released a quavering breath. “And I became even more drawn to you after Percy died. You showed me what kind of man you were deep down, and you were so wonderful to me in those few months, so kind and so understanding and tender and caring.”

His eyes darkened with emotion. “Since we're being honest here…I felt the same way you did, Libby. And it was not only a forbidden attraction on my part, it was for all the wrong reasons.”

Libby nodded, glad he understood. “I knew nothing could come of it because of our mutual guilt. It was like yearning for something you had always wanted and knew deep down was exactly right for you, but never could have.” She sighed, remembering. “My hysterical pregnancy and the embarrassing aftermath, our near kiss, was a wake-up call in so many ways, because it all combined to give me the impetus to stay away from you. To get better and wiser and stronger all on my own.” Which was something she had needed to do.

“And you have.” Holden gave her an admiring glance and brought her all the way into his arms.

Libby splayed her hands across his solid chest and mus
tered up all the courage she possessed. “And it's because I reached this good place in my life—where I was finally able to separate duty and obligation and people-pleasing tendencies from my need to do what was right for me—that I was finally able to pursue my true feelings for you.

“Of course,” Libby continued wryly, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms, “I went about it all wrong…out of fear of being hurt again.”

“Oh, Libby,” he whispered hoarsely, planting a kiss on her forehead and waiting for her to continue.

“But—” she gulped, her pulse racing all the more “—maybe because the universe says I am finally due for a little happiness, and because it is Christmas…I ended up where I was supposed to be, just the same. In your life, in your arms…in your bed.”

Tears clouding her eyes, Libby took the final leap of faith. “I love you, Holden,” she whispered emotionally. “So much.”

She wreathed her arms about his neck. Their kiss was long and slow…soft and sweet.

“I love you, too,” Holden told her tenderly, then kissed her again even more passionately. Finally he drew back, his resolve as apparent as the depth of his affection. “Enough to do this or not do this in whatever way feels right to you.”

From a McCabe man, it was quite an admission. “So,” Libby clarified, her heart taking on a happy, excited rhythm, “if I said I never wanted to ever get married again…”

Holden's gaze was steady and sincere. “I would stand by you,” he promised.

Delight bubbling up inside her, she said, “But what if I said I wanted to get married—so our baby would be born legitimate—yet not live together?”

He remained unruffled. “I'd be okay with that, too.”

Libby looked deep into the eyes of her strong McCabe man and took another deep, bolstering breath. “And if I said I know there will be those who won't approve, and who think you rushed me into bed. Or that I seduced you. And others who assume we are only together because of some outdated notion of shotgun marriage…”

He raised a brow, but patiently heard her out.

She paused to take a last innervating breath. “And yet, what if I say I don't give a hoot what anyone thinks. That I want to marry you anyway. Right here. Right now.
Today.
”

Joy radiated from every fiber of his being. He hugged her close and gave her the confirmation she had been waiting for all her life. “I'd be okay with that, too.”

 

T
HANKS TO THE WINTRY
weather, the drive to J. P. Randall's Bait and Tackle Shop took an hour and fifteen minutes instead of the forty-five Holden had estimated. But Libby didn't mind. It was Christmas Eve. She was pregnant with Holden's baby. He had asked her to marry him, and she had said yes. Life didn't get any better than this. At least that's what she'd thought until they turned into the single-pump gas station.

The squat, flat-roofed building with the peeling white paint was out in the middle of nowhere. Just run-down enough to make it disreputable, not dangerous. Libby'd heard of this place—it was, after all, the stuff of McCabe legends. But she'd never actually been here. “Are you sure this is a wedding chapel?” she asked in bemusement. “'Cause it sure doesn't look like one!”

Holden grinned, looking handsomer than ever as he came around to help her down from the cab. “Positive.” They swept through the falling snow to the front of the
building. “Says so right here.” He pointed to the sign next to the door. “‘Bait, fresh and frozen, for sale. Tackle, all kinds. Groceries, beer, coolers and ice available.'”

“‘Hunting knives sharpened. Spare tires repaired,'” Libby read, impressed. “‘Marriage licenses issued, ceremonies performed.'”

The only problem was a closed sign on the door. Shivering in the cold, Libby rested her back against Holden's chest and leaned into the warm, comforting circle of his arms. “I hope someone is here,” she said.

“It would be disappointing as heck to drive all the way out here, wedding rings in hand, only to discover…”

“One way to find out.” Grinning, Holden let go of her long enough to pound on the door. And then again.

Finally, fluorescent lights switched on in the store. The door opened. A young man in jeans and a Brad Paisley T-shirt beckoned them on in.

“J.P. Jr.!” Holden greeted him with a warm handshake and a slap on the back.

“Howdy, Holden.” The young cowpoke with the spiked haircut and tattoos rocked back on his heels. “What brings you out this way?”

Holden grinned, looking every bit as excited and happy as Libby felt. “We need a marriage license—and a ceremony.”

“Following in the folks' footsteps, huh?” J.P. Jr. teased, getting out the paperwork and a tray of rings.

There was something special, Libby thought, about eloping to the same place Greta and Shane McCabe had. It seemed like a good omen for their future.

Holden took Libby's hand securely in his and winked. “Or making our own.”

One year later…

Libby had just taken the pecan and cranberry-apple pies out of the oven when Holden appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, three-month-old Cooper cradled in his arms. It was a sight that never failed to warm her heart.

Their son had his daddy's blue eyes and her honey-blond hair. And a quick cherubic smile that could have lit up all of Texas.

As usual, Libby noted fondly, both of the men in her life looked as happy as could be. As was she.

Under her direction, the Lowell Foundation was doing great things all over Laramie County and serving as a coordinating agency for other local charities. The tractor dealership was thriving and the public library was open again. And life as one of the McCabes was better than she ever imagined.

It had been a magical year, and she knew her future with Holden and Cooper and the rest of her new family would only get better.

“You can come and look now,” Holden told her. “Coop and I are done putting the finishing touches on the holiday decor.”

Contentment flowing through her, Libby walked over to give them each a kiss. “I can't wait to see.”

Holden handed her their son for a cuddle, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Together, they walked into the family room.

The eight-foot-tall eldarica pine was topped with a shining gold star and threaded with shimmering white lights. The branches were adorned with a wide-ranging selection of ornaments. UT sports,
Sesame Street
characters and the beloved
Peanuts
gang hung next to all the whimsical, one-of-a-kind decorations Libby had picked out the previous year.

Stockings with their names embroidered on them hung on the mantel.

Beneath the tree were presents waiting to be opened.

Mistletoe they had picked themselves was hung strategically throughout the house.

Holden grinned. “Is this a great family Christmas or what?”

“It's spectacular,” Libby admitted. “Especially the tree. It beats the his and hers versions we had last year hands down.”

“That's what I was thinking. The question is,” Holden murmured with another adoring look at her and their son, “what is Cooper thinking?”

Libby looked down at the infant snuggled into the warmth of her breasts. His head was turned slightly to the side, and his eyes were shut in peaceful repose. Soft, rhythmic breath soughed out of his Cupid's bow lips.

Parental tenderness swept through her. “Not much, apparently. Looks like he's just fallen asleep.”

Gently, Holden touched the baby's cheek. Then hers.
“What do you think?” he whispered. “Should we put him down?”

Libby nodded in agreement. “It's probably a good idea for him to have as much of a nap as he can get. He's going to need his energy for the Christmas Eve dinner this evening, at your parents' ranch.”

They took him up to his crib, covered him with a soft blue blanket and turned on the monitor. Then they tiptoed back out again, and adjourned to their bedroom for a little quiet time of their own.

Holden stopped her beneath the mistletoe. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Many, many times.” Libby grinned and wound her arms about his neck. “But that's okay.” She kissed him passionately. “Because I never get tired of hearing it, and I love you, too, Holden. So much.”

He kissed her back.

When at last they drew apart, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “It's time I showed you, too.”

He withdrew a velvet gift box from his dresser drawer.

Libby undid the ribbon and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful diamond solitaire, which he slid onto her finger. “It's the engagement ring you never got. The one you would have had if we hadn't eloped….”

Libby couldn't think of a better present. “Oh, Holden,” she breathed in delight. “It's beautiful! I love it!” Beaming, she said, “And I have something for you, too!”

She went to her dresser and brought out another small box. Inside was a note that said simply: “IOU a baby girl.”

“So whenever you're ready, too, we can get started working on that,” she teased, having learned that time was the most precious commodity of all. And never to be squandered. “Or even have a practice run…” Because she
and Holden were never ones to put off until tomorrow what could be accomplished today.

“I like the idea of that as much as I enjoyed eloping with you. So…” Holden brought her intimately close, all the love she had yearned for reflected in his eyes. “How about right now, Mrs. McCabe?”

Libby smiled. “Sounds good to me, Mr. McCabe.”

And together they went about doing just that.