“Can Josie stay for Christmas, Daddy?” she whispered. Loudly.
I searched my daughter’s eyes, and leaned forward so that we were head to head and nose to nose, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
“Would you be okay with her being around for more than that?” I whispered very low, so only she could hear. “Like maybe all the time?”
Abigail nodded, her curls bouncing. She giggled as she skipped out of the room, and I took a deep breath as I pushed back to my feet. I knew my daughter only recognized the excitement of the moment and her permission wasn’t weighted in anything. That I needed to think of her first and probably much more in depth—but this wasn’t a fleeting thing. This wasn’t someone I’d just met or hadn’t already gone through this thought process about in painstaking detail.
“Benjamin Mason,” Josie said, her words heavy with impatience as I stepped closer to her. “You are by far the most—”
Whatever I was the most of, it was lost when my mouth landed on hers.
Chapter 15
1904
Josie
I couldn’t breathe as the lips I’d fantasized about since yesterday claimed my mouth, cutting off my words, my thoughts, my logic. His hands framed my face, holding me as he kissed me again. And again.
But wait . . .
“Ben,” I said, my voice husky, drunk on his taste.
All the reasons I’d come here danced over my head, just out of reach. Anger. I was angry. He couldn’t just shut me up with—with—
I pushed against his chest, curling my fingers into his shirt at the same time.
“I love you,” he said, his voice thick and gravelly.
Everything froze. My hands, my breathing, my heart.
I leaned back a fraction and peered up into eyes so fiercely passionate that goose bumps peppered my entire body.
“What did you say?” I whispered, the words barely forming.
He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, didn’t look for one microsecond like anything got away from him. My insides had gone rogue, my heart threatening a coup.
“You heard me,” he said softly, his fingers trailing over my face as he slowly let me go and backed up a step.
Pulling free of my grip on his shirt. Instantly missing the contact, I stepped forward to follow, cursing my body’s reaction to him. I forced my feet to stop, and I shook my head.
“Don’t say things like that,” I said, my fingers going to my lips before I yanked them away and clasped my hands in front of me. “You don’t—that’s not love you feel, Ben. That’s chemistry.”
“Oh really?” he said on a chuckle I wanted to smack right off his face.
“And guilt.”
The laughter faded from his eyes. “Still, with that?”
“I’m not talking about history,” I said, the blood returning to my brain, logic within touching distance again. “I’m talking about this thing you call a gift, that’s just another pretty word for manipulation.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do tell.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Buying out my tax debt so that I’m indebted to you. So that you can what? Win me over? Marry me so that my property goes to you?”
“Let me tell you something,” he said, dropping his arms and stepping back into the space between us. His eyes flashed. “I’m perfectly fine over here. I don’t need anything of yours to complete my business or pad my land rights. I don’t give a shit about your ranch, Josie. And I don’t have time to win anyone’s affections with money.” He flung an arm in the direction Abigail had skipped away. “She’s everything,” he said. “My whole world. Everything with me and you might have gone to hell that day five years ago, but Winifred could have stayed in Colorado and never told me about her. I have my daughter because she came here and tore our world apart.”
My hands shook at the palpable love that came over him at the mention of Abigail. It was a phenomenal thing to see on a man, and so beautiful. And he was right. In spite of all the drama with her mother, Abigail was no mistake or casualty of battle. She was the prize.
“Then why did you—”
“Help you?” he said incredulously. “My God, Josie, are you that jaded? That distrustful of me?”
I wanted to say yes. To call on the days and weeks and months of anger and resentment that had built up these horrible walls. But the last two days with him had made those walls weak. Made me see a different perspective.
“You apologized for not telling me what was going on back then,” I said. “For keeping it from me. And then the very next minute, go and do another thing that involves me—without telling me. Again. How would you feel?”
He sighed wearily, nodding as he dropped his gaze to the wooden floor beneath our feet.
“I helped you because I have never stopped loving you, and I have the means to do it,” he said with a slight shrug. “It’s just that simple.”
That simple, and yet the words falling out of his mouth stole my breath. I reached for the nearby wingback chair to ground myself and keep my knees from giving way.
“There are no complicated twists or hidden agendas.” He blew out a breath. “I’m not a complicated man. But I see your point, and I’ll try to do better.”
I lifted my chin and gripped the chair’s fabric a little tighter. “Better?”
He reached over to a nearby shelf at the same time, and plucked something from a basket, holding up a sprig of mistletoe. A bitter taste filled my mouth.
“I started a conversation back then that I never got to finish.”
It was my turn to sigh wearily. “Promises made under a silly plant mean nothing, Ben. Our lives have proven that.”
“I proved exactly what I said,” he responded. “I promised you that I would love you for the rest of my
