Winning Over the Brooding Billionaire, page 17
“That’s you, isn’t it? With Beth?”
He nodded. “It is. I’m terrified of this thing called love. But you know, when I was growing up, the cowboys taught me something. They taught me it’s not courage if you’re not afraid in the first place.
“Life, Shelby, is asking you and I to step up to the plate. To be courageous in the face of our terror. To say to that little girl we’re going to raise together—with our actions as much as our words—that love is worth it.
“That love is everything.”
“Love is everything,” she whispered.
He slipped out from under her and got down on one knee before her.
It was a surreal moment. Her billionaire cowboy kneeling on a stained pizza napkin in front of her.
Sam slipped a ring box from his pocket and opened it.
There was not much light in her apartment, but what there was was captured deep in the facets of that ring and shone back out at her.
She could hear his voice saying, Who took all that coal I heaped on her, and mined it for diamonds.
Shelby was pretty sure she would hear his words, and the pure love in them every single time she wore this ring.
She stared at the sparkling diamond, and then at the sparkle that meant more to her than diamonds. The deep sparkle in his eyes.
Of strength. Honesty. Trust.
Love.
“I want you to marry me, Shelby Kane. I love you.”
This then was life, too. He was right. Everything you cared about could be snatched away in a breath.
Wasn’t that a reminder to make each breath count?
And as much as life could take things away unexpectedly, it also brought things unexpectedly. Her day had started with despondency and darkness.
And now she was here.
In bliss, in the Light.
She had to dig deep for the words. But when she found them, it was as if they had been waiting for her, a treasure chest buried deep, deep within her.
People said when you find yourself in a hole to quit digging.
But what if you quit before you found this? The treasure chest?
She reached tentatively for the chest. The lock on it opened beneath her fingers. The lid was heavy, and the hinges were rusted.
It took all her strength to do what she needed to do.
She opened the lid of the treasure chest within her. She was afraid, after all this time, it might be full of snakes, or monsters, or rot, or dust.
Instead, Shelby was almost blinded by the brilliance of what waited for her.
She said the words.
“I love you.”
And her world did not fall apart. Just as Sam had predicted, the exact opposite happened. She could feel her whole world—and her bruised heart—sparkling like jewels, lit from within.
“Yes,” she whispered to Sam, but also to the whole Universe, “yes.”
EPILOGUE
THE OLD BARN was filled to absolute capacity, the front and back doors thrown wide to let in the spring breeze. The early afternoon light drenched the space.
It was a year to the day that Sam had first seen Shelby, coming toward him, her heel digging deep into the dirt, his daughter shooting her with her Bobby-doll.
Sam stood at the front, on the raised dais that had been built for this moment, thinking, This is what miracles look like. He felt a shiver of pure wonder move up his spine.
Alvin stood beside him as his best man, and he glanced at him. Alvin looked surprisingly civilized in a black tuxedo, crisp white shirt, a neat bow tie, a clean new cowboy hat, boots that shone until they sparkled.
If Sam had been hoping for a shared glance that said Alvin, too, was feeling the utter enchantment of this moment, he was disappointed.
Without any change in the expression worthy of such a solemn occasion, Alvin winked at someone. Sam followed his gaze. The Duchess—or Countess—of Chanterbury was blushing under her extravagant hat. She and Alvin had met at Boswell’s birthday party.
Sam’s gaze moved from her and swept the crowd. The barn had never hosted such a diverse gathering.
Every race was represented. Shelby’s assistant, Marcus, was there with his partner, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Sam’s ranch hand, Jimmy, and his soon-to-be wife, Sandra. They were all laughing about something.
There were celebrities, and some of the world’s wealthiest people. There were his longtime business associates and friends from his university days.
The ranch community was out in full force. Ranchers and cowboys, their families, and the people who supported them, store owners and beef processors.
It was a meeting of worlds that should never have worked, and yet it was working. Looking out at that gathering, Sam felt as if he was having a little glimpse of heaven.
Joy hummed in the air.
This was the universal truth: everyone wanted love. The richest, the poorest, the most elevated, the humblest.
Whatever barriers usually stood between them were erased. This was the meeting place where everyone seemed to recognize each other at the deepest level.
Love.
The music began. A single violin played Canon by Pachelbel. The music soared, and as if on cue, two bluebirds, a bright male and his quieter companion, flew in the open front doors, over the assembled, and out the back ones.
Then Hannah appeared. She was wearing a pale blue dress made of lace and chiffon. Her hair had a band of wildflowers around it, but was loose and curled wildly around her flushed face. She was practically dancing down the aisle in her pink cowboy boots, scattering the wildflower petals that she and Shelby had gathered the day before.
Other violins joined the solo, and here she came through those open doors.
Shelby. The woman who had given him back his heart by taking it. Completely.
Her father was escorting her, and she was absolutely radiant. Her white dress was simplicity personified, like something a goddess would wear: a fitted lace bodice, with a deep V-neckline, tight at her tiny waist and then the long silk skirt flaring out, flowing behind her.
Every now and then, Sam would catch a glimpse of her pink cowboy boots, purchased specifically to match Hannah’s.
Shelby’s hair, like Hannah’s, was loose, a band of braided wildflowers encircling her brow. The wildflowers matched her bouquet.
Her shining eyes saw only him. She arrived at him just as the music stopped, and they faced each other. He met her gaze, and everything else faded.
The barn. The light. The people. Alvin. Even his daughter.
In the clearness of Shelby’s eyes, Sam saw the future. It was breathtaking. He saw babies and community, he saw Christmas trees and socks on the mantel. He saw a life that blended adventure and discovery with a place of safety and sanctuary.
When he looked in her eyes, he knew they had found the place the whole world longed for.
The place that love led one man and one woman, who had found each other against impossible odds, unerringly toward.
Home.
They had found home.
* * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Cara Colter
Hawaiian Nights with the Best Man
Second Chance Hawaiian Honeymoon
Snowed In with the Billionaire
Bahamas Escape with the Best Man
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Consequence of Their Parisian Night by Michele Renae.
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Consequence of Their Parisian Night
by Michele Renae
CHAPTER ONE
“ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
The woman who’d flatly refused Sebastian’s proposal and shoved the engagement ring he had just shown her back in his face, grabbed the car door handle and opened it. She thrust out a designer-shoe-clad foot toward the curb and then turned to look over her shoulder to waggle a finger in his face.
“You, Sebastian Mercier, are a rogue. You don’t want to marry me because you love me. You just want to control your family’s company. And I will not be bought. Oof! Men!”
With that, she fled the limousine in a rage of silk and silvery sequins, a burst of fluffy white marabou fluttering in her wake.
Sebastian leaned back and closed his eyes. That had been his second failed proposal in a six-month period. And he’d thought finding a wife would be easy!
Apparently, a man with money, a luxe Paris home and social connections to everyone who was anyone wasn’t motivation enough to entice a yes from a woman.
Well, he wasn’t an imbecile. Women required an emotional commitment. A sparkly ring was not sufficient incentive.
He’d had to give it a go. He and Amie had dated for three weeks. Had seen each other every day. Had enjoyed great sex. As a fashion influencer followed by tens of millions, Amie had been a perfect candidate to step into the role of his wife. His family approved of her old money and fashion connections.
But...after a recent media leak, the competition between him and his brother, Philippe, was no longer secret. And such information tended to matter to some, especially if it affected their future. And their heart.
The refusal did not upset him as much as expected. He hadn’t been in love. Nor, he suspected, had Amie. Theirs had been an affair of passion. Love must not intrude on such a cold business transaction. Love and the emotional attachment that came along with it must not interfere in his quest to find a bride.
Will you marry me and have my child so I can then take control of the family company?
Besides, what did love even feel like?
He’d try again when the opportunity presented itself. He must. Philippe must not win. He’d regroup and begin the wife search again after—well, after a good, stiff drink. A man did have a right to mourn his loss, didn’t he?
Tucking the ring box away in his suit coat pocket, he leaned across the seat to grab the open door when a woman’s shout—in English—called for him to hold the door.
A stunning vision sprinted toward the limo. A floaty pale pink dress dazzled with glints and sparkles. And wearing that lovely creation was a beautiful blonde with arms spread in a plea to wait as she neared.
Sebastian leaned back just as the blonde plunged inside the car, changing the very air with her arrival. He felt suddenly lifted, and curious. She shoved a heap of purse—and some sort of clothing—onto his lap, blew out a panting breath, grabbed the door and closed it.
“Drive!” she demanded of his driver with the pound of a dainty fist against the seat. “Please! He’s chasing me!” She swiped a dash of wavy hair from her eyes and her panicked look took him in. “I’m so sorry, but could you...just drive me a few blocks from here? There’s a man. He’s after me.”
Gorgeous, pale blue eyes surrounded by the lushest black lashes frantically met his. “Someone is after you? Whom do I have to fight for your honor, my lady?”
“It’s the photographer. He took off after me because I kicked him in the—”
Still panting from what must have been a high-speed run, she patted her chest. His protective instincts in high gear, Sebastian glanced out the back window. No sign of the perpetrator. He nodded to the driver to pull away. Why not play along with this interesting insertion of feminine audacity into the evening?
Her huffing breaths settled a bit as she nodded and patted his hand. “Thank you. I’ll get out soon. I just need to put some distance between us.”
“If you are in trouble...”
“You’d fight for my honor?”
“But of course, mademoiselle. My limo is at your disposal.”
“I’ll take a rain check on that fight. But don’t think I won’t forget the offer.”
“Anything for a damsel in distress.”
Her worried moue crinkled into a smile. Freckles that dotted her entire face got lost in a few of those crinkles. Cute.
“This is your limo? Oh, dash it. I’m really sorry about all this.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve never had the opportunity to rescue a damsel before. This one will look good on my résumé, eh?”
She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, it will.”
“If I may ask, why the kicking of something or other and the resultant dash?”
“Well.” She smoothed out the sparkly skirt. “My girlfriend gave me a princess photo shoot as a treat,” she said. “Because of the breakup, you know. I dated Lloyd for six months. I thought for sure he was going to propose. So that night at the fancy restaurant I asked if he wanted to have kids and he laughed. Hated kids! Can you believe it?”
Sebastian wasn’t sure if she was angling for an answer or some kind of affirming gesture. But he didn’t have time to shrug as she continued her breathless ramble. It seemed her fear was streaming out in words, and he wasn’t about to stop her, especially since she was already fearful of one man.
“And then!” she continued dramatically. “Lloyd confessed he’d slept with my flatmate, who was also my boss at the flower shop. Who—let me tell you—had the audacity to insist I move out of our flat while they were away on vacation.” She paused, winced. “Sorry. Too much information? Probably. I’m frazzled. Anyway! I was so excited about the photo shoot. It was a means to forget about that awful breakup. And this dress is so posh...” She spoke as quickly as he suspected she must have been running. “And look at my makeup and hair. I look like a princess, right?”
He nodded, unable to resist a smile. A princess with freckles and looking more like an imp lost in a glamorous world that was perhaps not her natural habitat. But what did he know? If she truly had been in danger, he was just thankful she’d jumped into the back of his car.
* * *
Azalea was rambling! It was a bad habit that always swooped upon her when she was nervous. Or afraid, as the case was. Though her fears were reduced knowing they were driving away from the scene of the crime. And the man sitting next to her seemed quite gentlemanly. So handsome. His dark hair was short but looked as though it deserved a good finger tousle. A sharp jawline and the hint of stubble suggested an elegance that matched the fitted black suit. Was that a glint of diamond on his cuff links? His look said corporate raider with a softer touch of international jewel thief. She loved a good heist movie with a charming rogue robber. And his eyes held genuine concern. Offering to rescue the damsel?
Yes, please!
“I can’t imagine a life without kids and family, you know? I love children!” Azalea added, because she didn’t want the man to think she was totally off her rocker.
Just stop rambling, then!
She nodded to her inner thoughts. Yes, shut up. And perhaps they’d driven far enough by now?
“Children are lovely,” he offered with a bemused tone. “You seem to have calmed a bit. I hope the photographer did not do anything untoward?”
“Well.” She sighed heavily. “He made terrible, lewd remarks. And he touched me! Not where a girl wants to be touched by a stranger, either. So I panicked.”
It had all gone knees up when that sleazy photographer had slipped his mitts up under her skirt, insisting he was making an adjustment—and then he had gone too far.
Azalea had reacted. Her father had taught both her and her sister, Dahlia, if they ever felt unsafe around a man to kick first, ask questions later. And forget questions, actually. Just run. Which she had done.
“My dad taught me self-defense. My kicking skills are excellent. Got him right where it counts. Then I grabbed my stuff. And...”
She leaned back and blew out a breath. She’d made it away safely. Thanks to some quick thinking and maintaining her wits. Yet now the adrenaline rushing through her system made her jittery and she just wanted to go somewhere and cry.
No. She was stronger than that. Find a hotel to stay the night, and text Maddie about never recommending that photographer again, and then head back to Ambleside in the morning. The day had been a bust. No princess day for Azalea Grace, after all.
On the other hand, she had run into a rescuing knight.
“Tell me where they are and I’ll take care of them both,” Sebastian offered.
She shook her head. “I wish you had been around a few weeks ago when Lloyd broke it off. Oh, and now. I just...want to forget about this day.” She grabbed her stuff from his lap. “Sorry. I’ve been rude. I’ll pay you for the ride.”
“No apologies necessary. What matters is that you are all right.”
“I’m good.”
“Can I drop you somewhere?” he asked.
“I...uh...was going to rent a hotel room for the night. My girlfriend and I spent the afternoon together. It was so good to see Maddie again. We grew up together. She headed to Paris the moment we finished our A levels. Anyway, she gave me a coupon for a hotel in the tenth arrondissement, I believe. It’s in my purse somewhere.” She began to dig inside her bag. “What an awful way to end what should have been a perfect day. I’m just...ooh, I need a drink, actually.”
“I was just thinking much the same before you graced me with your presence. I have a proposal for you,” he said.
“Yeah? Does it involve alcohol?”
“It could. It may also involve decadent treats and tiny hors d’oeuvres.”
The way he said that, with a hint of a tease, made her smile. And nothing about him screamed lecher. The expensive suit—and his elegant manners—also made her want to hear more regarding this proposal. Instinctively, she felt he was someone she could trust.
