As the countdown reaches zero, cheers erupt all around. Shep’s lips find mine, giving me a kiss brimming with hope and the promise of a new beginning that we’ll share together.
He draws back just enough to hold my gaze. “I love you, Noelle. I love you so damn much.”
My breath catches, my eyes glistening with tears. “I love you too, Shep.”
“You mean it?”
I hook my fingers in his collar, tugging him closer. “More than anything. You’re mine just as much as I’m yours.”
“Say it again,” he demands.
“You’re mine, cowboy, and I love you.”
A spark of ownership flashes in his gaze. “I love you too, Sunshine. Always.” I’ll never grow tired of hearing those words.
I rise on my toes to kiss him again, smiling against his mouth.
Our path to love hasn’t been conventional. It blossomed in a mountain cabin during a snowstorm, where I quickly fell for a grumpy cowboy almost twice my age. Some might call it reckless, others delusional—but for me, it’s a holiday miracle. It’s a gift to be with someone who will stand by me during the most difficult of times and make every moment together extraordinary. I’ll never take it for granted, knowing what we share is rare, and no matter what our future brings, I’ll always be dreaming of the next Christmas with the cowboy I love.
Holly Jolly Ever After
One Year Later
Iwake up to something wet and warm brushing against my chin.
“Shep,” I mumble with a sleepy smile.
It’s not the first time I’ve woken up to him kissing me, his beard tickling my skin. But as the kisses come faster—sloppy and relentless—I furrow my brow. I crack an eye open, confused when I spot a tiny paw resting on my collarbone and a cold nose nuzzling my cheek.
That’s definitely not Shep.
I blink against the morning light and scramble upright to get a better look at the culprit. A blur of black-and-white fur is on the mattress beside me, pouncing into my lap, tail whipping with enthusiasm. It’s a border collie puppy, impossibly fluffy, with bright blue eyes full of mischief and a crooked red bow tied around a shiny silver collar. Its pink tongue darts out to lick my hand in greeting.
I giggle, cupping its face with my hands. “Hi there, little troublemaker. Where on earth did you come from?”
The puppy yips, nibbling at my shirtsleeve. Fully awake now, I realize I should figure out how this cutie ended up in my bed. Suspecting Shep had something to do with it, I glance over at his side of the mattress, frowning when I find it empty.
A clearing throat draws my gaze to the other side of the room, where he’s standing in the doorframe, arms crossed. His Wranglers hang low on his hips, and without a shirt, the contours of his abs and the smattering of dark hair on his chest are on full display. If I had my way, he’d be shirtless around the house all the time.
“She likes you,” he observes, nodding to the puppy.
“I like her too,” I say, scratching behind her ear. “Any particular reason she’s in our bed?”
It’s not the first time we’ve had new animals around since we got together, but it’s usually an injured horse or a small flock of hens in need of a new home. Not an adorable, tail-wagging puppy looking at me like I’m the center of her universe.
A grin tugs at Shep’s lips. “She’s your Christmas present. I know it’s a day early, but I couldn’t wait.” He pushes off the doorframe and comes to sit on the edge of the bed beside me. “Birdie rescued her from a backyard breeder in Montana, and the moment I saw her photo, I knew she was meant to be yours.”
Over the past year, I’ve lost count of how often I’ve dropped hints about getting a dog. I wasn’t exactly subtle about it, and I started thinking Shep was avoiding the topic because he didn’t want one. Turns out, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Even though I’d only brought up border collies specifically a handful of times, he took note and conspired with Birdie to bring home the perfect furry addition to our family.
I’m sure that as soon as Shep told Birdie, she diligently searched for a rescue border collie until she found one. She has the biggest heart, and I’m lucky to call her a dear friend. We text almost daily, and it seems like every month she’s sendinganother rescue our way. The energetic puppy in my lap is proof of her knack for finding animals she knows we’ll instantly fall for and can’t turn away.
I look at Shep, tugging my lip between my teeth. “Is she really mine?”
He pets the puppy, and she wriggles her butt, eagerly sniffing his hand. Looks like Maple isn’t the only one charmed by the cowboy. Shep’s joined us for several of our movie nights, and Maple always curls up at his feet like a giant fluffy dog. At the rate she’s growing, though, we might have to move movie night out to the barn soon.
“The puppy is all yours,” he assures me.
I lift her, showering her head with kisses, laughing when she enthusiastically licks my face. “Does she have a name?”
