Her eyes widened. “Becken?—”
“I know you have the offer in California. I know it’s what you’ve worked toward for years. And if that’s what you want,I won’t stand between you and your dream.” My words rushed out. “But I think you’ve found something here that matters just as much, a place that values you for who you are, not just what you can do.”
“And you?” Her voice was barely audible. “Where do you fit in this offer?”
“I love you.” The admission felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long. “I didn’t expect to feel this way again after Wexla. I didn’t think I was capable of it. But you changed everything. You brought light back into my world.”
Her hands trembled, her expression vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before.
“The town needs someone to manage all operations, not just the rodeo program. We need someone with your skills, your vision. It would be a permanent position.” I cleared my throat. “We’re not a package deal. If you only want the job, that’s alright too. But…I’m here if you want me. The choice is yours. It always has been.”
She stared down at her mating mark. When she looked up, her eyes held a longing that made my heart race. “I need to know what I’d be choosing. Not just professionally, but personally. What exactly are you offering, Becken? What do you want from us?”
“Everything. Partnership. Family if the fates bless us. A life built together. I’m offering forever, Carla. However long that may be.”
The silence that followed stretched my nerves to breaking point. She looked down at the snow globe, then back to me, warmth filling her expression.
“I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” she sang softly.
“If only in your dreams,” I whispered after she’d finished. “This doesn’t have to be a dream. It can be real.”
She wound the key again, and the snow swirled as the melody played again. When it finished, she set the globe on the table.
“Becken,” she said, and my future hung on the next words from her lips.
Chapter 26
Carla
The notes of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” faded, but their echo remained in my heart. I stared at the snow globe, this perfect replica of the childhood treasure I’d lost. The tiny rabbit beneath the decorated tree, the swirling snow, the melody that had been my only real connection to Christmas joy as a child.
Becken had found this for me. Had listened to a story I’d shared in a snowbound cabin and understood exactly what it meant. No one in my life had ever paid such careful attention to my words, my memories, my heart.
Tears welled up, blurring my vision. The lump in my throat made speech impossible. This wasn’t only a gift. It was recognition. Understanding. And it spoke of everything in his heart.
He was offering me not only a job, but a home. A future. A place to belong, permanently, with him. The California position dangled in my mind, full of professional prestige and career advancement. Everything I’d worked toward for a decade.
But it felt hollow compared to what sat with me inside this small-town sheriff’s office on Christmas morning.
I looked down at our hands, now joined across the table, the golden marks on our wrists, the physical manifestation of what had grown between us in such a short time.
“When I came to Lonesome Creek, I had everything figured out,” I said slowly. “A two-week contract, another credential for my resume, then I’d move on to the next opportunity. My life was a series of temporary assignments, and I liked it that way. No attachments. No expectations. No chance of disappointment. Even my consulting dream would be me, going it alone. No attachments. No strings.”
Becken nodded, understanding in his dark eyes.
“Then I met you.” My voice caught. “Grumpy, serious, competent you, who scowled at my Christmas enthusiasm and rolled your eyes at my professional suggestions.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“You were also genuine.” I smiled back. “Honest. You never pretended to be anything you weren’t, never tried to impress, manipulate, or use me.”
I squeezed his hand. “I spent my childhood feeling like an inconvenience and my adult life proving my worth through professional achievements. Always moving, always striving, always trying to be good enough. Useful enough.”
“You’ll always be enough, just as you are.”
“That’s what you showed me. What this town showed me. That I could be valued for who I am, not only what I can do.”
I looked around at the decorated office, at the remnants of the breakfast he’d arranged, at the snow globe that represented not only my past but a possible future.
