Megan’s voice wavered and broke. She lowered her gaze, fighting tears as she put down her guitar. There was more to the song, but she knew she couldn’t go on. A hush had fallen over her audience.

Was she finished? Should they applaud?

“Megan, look at me.” Conner was standing below her, close to the stage. His arms open, as if waiting to catch her. “It’s all right. It’s perfect. Come to me.”

She hesitated, suddenly uncertain. What did he mean? Was he asking her to jump?

He smiled. “I love you, Megan. You, yourself, and no one else. Now do what you’ve been afraid to do. Take a chance on forever. That’s how long I’ll be here. Trust me.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered. Summoning her courage, she flung herself off the stage and into his arms.

His kiss was tender and passionate—a promise made before a roomful of people; it was a very public declaration that she was his woman, and he wanted the world to know it.

As the audience broke into thunderous applause, Conner lowered Megan’s feet gently to the floor. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered.

* * *

In years to come, when the people of Branding Iron talked about this night, they would agree that, of all the Cowboy Christmas Balls, this one had been the most memorable.

Epilogue

Epilogue

Six months later . . .

The repairs on the damaged church were finished by early June, just in time for Katy and Daniel’s wedding. Sitting with Conner at the end of the second row, Megan waited for the ceremony to begin. It was early yet, and the guests were still arriving, filling the pews all the way to the back door.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Ronda May and Sam, her boss and fiancé, taking a seat. They planned to be married here next month. And Travis was just coming in, with a glowingly pregnant Maggie on his arm. “Blame it on Hawaii,” Maggie joked to explain her condition.

Rush and Tracy had saved seats for their friends. They were celebrating good news, too. Tracy was unable to have children, but they’d been approved for adoption and were waiting for their baby boy to be born. Clara, sitting between them, was over the moon at the prospect of being a big sister.

The church organist had begun the prelude. Megan closed her eyes a moment and inhaled the scent of roses. Cut and donated from Branding Iron gardens, they filled the air with their delicate fragrance—a tribute to the sweet young couple the townspeople had embraced as their own.