It was eight o'clock when their Christmas movie marathon ended and Evan asked if he could read in his room.

She gave him a kiss and let him go, knowing he'd be sound asleep on the bed when she went to tuck him in later.

She was thankful for the chemo, thankful the cancer was disappearing—if slowly—from his body. But his energy wasn't what it used to be. Would he ever be back to normal?

Cash sat on the opposite end of the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm stretched across the back of the sofa. He'd been playing with her hair while the movie rolled. He looked relaxed, but she knew the power he’d leashed. He reminded her of a lion at rest.

She remembered thinking last night that his smile was the smile of a man used to getting what he wanted.

And she still hadn't been able to reconcile how a relationship between them would work.

"Do you want some more coffee?" she asked. Sudden nerves sent her up off the sofa.

Cash sat forward, placing his palms on his knees. "You got any tea?"

"Iced tea?"

"Hot." A smile spread across his mouth. "You don't think a rancher should drink hot tea? You're painting me with an awful masculine brush."

"I'm just surprised," she said.

He'd been surprising her all day, from the moment she'd opened the door to him.

She hurried into the kitchen and rummaged under the cabinets until she came up with the teakettle she'd used maybe once in her married life. She filled it and put it on the stove.

She sensed Cash follow her into the kitchen. He stood in the same spot he had earlier, one shoulder propped against the archway. This time he faced into the kitchen, watching her again.

Those butterflies he'd inspired came to life in her belly again. She turned to the upper cabinet to look for the tea bags—hopefully they were still good. She'd bought them once after Sierra had told her the tea would help her sleep. It hadn't.

And then because he was still watching her, still not saying anything, she ran some hot water for the dishes still on the counter from their meal earlier.

Plunging her hands into the soapy water, she could let herself focus on the task. Not the man. She'd give herself five minutes to try and regain equilibrium.

It wouldn't work, but she'd try.

It had been an incredible day. After the snow fort, she'd lugged out the small toolkit she kept beneath the kitchen sink and read the directions as the two males had assembled Evan's racetrack. They'd run races for nearly an hour, had only quit when she’d served lunch.

She and Evan had introduced Cash to their family tradition of having hamburgers for their special meal. Cash had manned the grill, skipping the coveralls to hurry out and back inside in his coat and boots. It had been bittersweet for her, remembering Jonah doing the same thing on another frigid Christmas. Evan hadn't remembered when she'd mentioned it. Maybe he'd been too young.

During the meal, Cash had regaled them with stories of his childhood Christmases spent with parents and grandparents at the Double Cross. His grandparents had died when he was a teen, and now his parents were gone too. He hadn't hidden the huskiness in his voice. Once, he'd wiped a tear from beneath his eyes. She didn't know what to do with the honest vulnerability he kept showing her.

It had been different with Jonah. They'd dated for months before they'd really opened up with each other and shared heartbreaks. Even after they'd been married, when things were difficult at work or some stressor was getting to him, Jonah would mostly keep that to himself.

Not Cash.

He wasn't afraid to let her know how he felt. And apparently, he felt a lot after only a day of being acquainted with her.

When we get married.

His teasing words from earlier had resurfaced in her brain during the most unexpected times throughout the day, ping-ponging through her thoughts and scattering them.

He had been teasing when he'd said it. She was sure of it.

Mostly.

He had sounded awfully sure of himself for someone who'd just met her yesterday.

And this line of thinking wasn't helping calm her butterflies whatsoever.

"Are you really going to ride that souped-up golf cart home?" she asked. The window over the sink showed a reflection of the kitchen, since it was dark outside, but in true Texas fashion, the temps outside had been rising all day, and the snow had melted into mush. So far, Evan's igloo was still intact, but it wouldn't last long.

"It's a utility vehicle," he said. "And yeah. With the sun down, the roads'll be slick in some places. I'll be all right."

She placed the last spoon in the drying rack and reached for the dish towel to dry her hands. Just in time, because the teakettle whistled.

She opened the drawer where she kept the dish towels and pot holders, and a loose piece of paper crinkled.

She ignored, whipping out a potholder to take the teakettle off the burner. She poured the steaming water into Cash's mug over the teabag.

And then went back to the drawer. She'd shoved the stack of bills that usually graced the kitchen counter into the drawer two days ago, not wanting to see them on Christmas Day. She'd wanted one day of peace. Had the day's cooking and dishwashing displaced something? She couldn't afford to lose even one bill.

But when her glance fell to the drawer, the paper she saw there wasn't an eight-by-eleven sheet, wasn’t a printed bill. It was a check. Loose in the drawer.

"What is this?" She glanced at Cash and then reached for it.

He came off the wall, stepped toward her. "I kinda hoped you wouldn't find that until tomorrow."

Find what?

She picked it up, turned it over. Gasped. "You wrote me a check for twenty-five grand?"

She dropped it on the island counter as if it'd burned her fingertips. Her hands were shaking. "I don't get it."

He came around the island, hands outstretched as he reached for her. She backed away.

He stopped, shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. "I accidentally saw your stack of bills when I was doing the dishes this morning. I wasn't snooping. Much."

She pressed her shaking fingers to her eyes. "So... what? You decided to pop off a check for twenty-five k?"

Who had that kind of money in their checking account?

Not her.

She'd been pretending all day. Allowing herself to suspend disbelief—like when she watched a TV show or movie that was a little too far-fetched.

But the check lying out on the empty counter was too much.

It'd broken the tiny shield she'd been using to allow herself to pretend that this thing with Cash could work out.

Delaney was freaking out again. This time it was for sure Cash's fault.

He'd left the check with pure intentions. He didn't want her stressed out about money, not when Evan needed her.

But her tossing the check as if it were a tarantula hadn't been how he'd envisioned her finding out.

His hands itched to reach for her where she stood in the corner where the two walls of cabinets met. She was trembling, pressing her fingertips into her eyes.

But he kept his hands in his pockets. His skittish filly had backed away.

And he didn't want her to send him home, not yet. Not when she was worked up like this.

"It's just money," he said. "I want to help—"

She laughed, an edge of hysteria to it. When she brought her hands away from her face, her eyes were red-rimmed. "It's just money. Spoken like someone who has never had to worry where their next meal will come from. Or wonder if the electric company will cancel your service today or tomorrow."

The little hairs on the back of his nape stood to attention. He had never been in either of those situations. He wouldn't apologize for his life. It was just how things were. And if what she described was her reality, she should take the money.

"It's not a big deal," he said.

She laughed that not-laugh again. "To you!" She crossed her arms over her middle, which made him want to pull her close even more. "I don't want you to fix this!"

"Like you didn't want me to fix things last night when that jerk assaulted you?" He'd meant to say the words calmly, but thinking about what had almost happened last night had him seeing red all over again.

She went still. "That's not—" She shook her head, almost seeming to clutch herself with her arms.

He hadn't meant to upset her.

She breathed in deeply. "That's not the same."

"What was it, then?" he asked, because he hadn't understood last night, and he still didn't.

She looked at him silently.

"Was it because of Evan? Are you somehow trying to protect him? Because I’m sure he’d want to see that guy pay for what he did."

Fire sparked in her eyes. "If I make trouble, I'll lose clients I can't afford to lose."

Make trouble. As if she were the one who'd invited it. "That won't happen," he said.

She looked at him so incredulously that it hurt. "I know these things," she said softly. "My mama cleaned houses. She taught me everything she knew. Be discreet. Be invisible, if you can. Apologize. Clients don't want a housekeeper who makes trouble."

That hurt, deep inside. Knowing she believed she had to take whatever was dished out by the people who paid her.

And he'd perpetuated it with his own behavior yesterday. He'd been unthinking and ignorant.

"I'm sorry," he said, because he really was. He hated it for her. "Isn't that a reason to take the money?"

She reached over to the counter and picked up the check, crumbling it in her fist. Then she fired it at him. It hit his chest and fell to the floor.

"You don't get it at all," she said. She sounded so desolate.

And he was afraid that if he said the wrong thing now, he was going to lose her forever. "Help me understand.”

"If I'm the kind of person you have to fix..." She breathed in deep through her nose. "Do you really think you want to be with someone needy like me? In the long run?"

That was what she thought?

"Honey..." He really needed to touch her. She was still so wound up, her shoulders hunched, her stance tense.

He took his hands out of his pockets and held them out, palms upraised.

She hesitated. He waited.

And then she unwound her arms from around her middle and tentatively placed her palms in his.

"I'm not some perfect person," he started. "Sometimes I need help, too. We all do. After my parents died, I fell into a black hole. I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. It took Mallory and a therapist to pull me out of that gully of grief. I still get stuck in the mud of it sometimes. Like yesterday."

He squeezed her hands gently. "If I've got money in the bank, and I can help you, then I want to. That's what—" He re-adjusted mid-sentence. "That's what friends do." He'd almost said, that's what people who love each other do.

She frowned down at their linked hands. "So you give me money and I give you emotional support," she asked skeptically.

He shook her hands. "I would have given up anything—any amount of cash, my own life—to have my parents back. They were amazing—the love they shared was so strong... That's what I think you and I can have."

After too many seconds, she looked up at him with uncertainty, hope. And then she closed her eyes. She pulled her hands away and retreated. All the way into the living room, leaving him standing alone in the kitchen.

Delaney stood in front of the Christmas tree, arms again around her middle, hands clasping her elbows.

She felt as if she would fly apart at any moment.

What Cash was offering... She wanted it. So badly.

To lean on him. Let him bear some of her burdens. Not even the money, though that was nice. The man, standing beside her. Holding her hand when she had a tough meeting with one of Evan's doctors.

She'd been alone since Jonah's death. Even before that, she hadn't felt she could trust him with her most tender feelings, her fears.

What Cash was asking her to share was maybe the scariest thing she'd ever done.

She didn't know if she could.

She didn't have to turn around to know the moment he walked into the room behind her. Would she always carry this awareness of him?

He came closer, stood behind her. Not touching.

He cleared his throat. "Do you want me to leave?"

She squeezed her eyes closed against the colorful glow of the tree lights.

"Do you remember when you were a kid?" she whispered in answer. "It was so easy to believe that Christmas could bring miracles. Real ones."

He was so close she could feel the warmth from his big body. Still, he didn't touch her.

She opened her eyes, and the colorful lights blurred through the tears that gathered in her eyes. "Last year, Evan had just been diagnosed. All I wanted for Christmas was for my boy to live."

Cash was quiet. Listening.

"I don't know if I can believe in Christmas miracles anymore," she admitted in a whisper.

"Do you want to?"

She turned and found him there. It was easy to burrow into his arms, easier than she'd thought it would be. She pressed her face into his shoulder. Nodded.

She wanted to believe. "I'm scared," she whispered into his shirt.

He held her tightly, one big hand cupping the back of her head. "Then I'll believe enough for the both of us. For now."

He held her until her quaking stopped. Until her breathing evened out and the tears that had threatened passed.

He kissed her temple. "We had a good day, didn't we?" His words were murmured into her hair.

"Yes, but—"

He waited for her to finish.

"But Christmas is an anomaly,” she said. “Tomorrow, I'll go back to work. Things will go back to normal."

And she was afraid he wouldn't like her normal.

"We'll make it work," he said. "I'm not going back to Austin for a job. Not yet." He kissed her ear this time. "I can cart Evan to some of his appointments. Pick him up from school. Make dinner. Keep hounding you to let me pay some of his medical bills."

She squeezed her eyes closed against another onset of tears.

"Why?" she choked out.

"Because you're it for me."

He gently nudged her chin up with one hand. She opened her eyes, and a tear fell, dripping down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb.

"You don't even know me," she whispered.

"I know enough. My dad believed in love at first sight, because he'd experienced it. Now I have, too."

Love.

He'd said the word. The one that seemed impossible. It wasn't possible, was it?

His hand slid to cup her jaw. "Is there any chance Evan is going to wake up and interrupt us again?"

His intent was clear. He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to.

"There's always a chance." It was the reality of life with a child.

One corner of his lip quirked. "I'll risk it."

This time when his lips brushed hers, all thought fled. Everything except the heat of his mouth, the taste of him, the feel of his hand at her waist.

She didn't want to be anywhere else.

She was going to take the risk, too.

When he'd made her appropriately breathless, he moved back to brush a kiss on her cheek. "I'm falling in love with you," he whispered.

Her soul took flight, and powerful emotion spiraled through her. So sweet that she had to close her eyes against it.

He kissed her jaw. "I'll keep saying it until you believe, too."

"Okay," she agreed in a whisper.

And it was enough, because he kissed her again.

* * *

Find out what happens with Cash and Delaney on Christmas Eve one year later… get the bonus story .