A Christmas Baby for the Cowboy Billionaire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

I wake up to the soft glow slipping through the cabin curtains, that golden kind of morning light that seems to whisper, “Hey, take it easy… today’s going to be kinder.”And for the first time since I arrived, my stomach isn’t twisting like a washing machine. I actually feel… okay. Tired, sure—pregnancy—but okay. And that’s already a victory.I stretch slowly, rest a hand over my belly, and murmur:“Good morning, baby. Let’s try not to embarrass ourselves today, alright?”I get up and walk to the bathroom. The cold wooden floor is somehow both uncomfortable and comforting—perfectly matching my emotional state. I take a hot shower, one of those that seem to melt your soul and send it swirling down the drain. When I’m done, wrapped in a towel, I think about Marco from last night.He could’ve just let Rosa come here. He should have.But he didn’t&m

The farm had never felt so alive as it did that night.The lights were still off, but the garden was already buzzing with voices, laughter, and soft footsteps on the cold grass. Guests wandered between the wooden tables filled with food, children ran around with crooked hats slipping over their eyes, and the scent of spices, pine, and hot chocolate blended in the air like someone had bottled Christmas itself.I walked among them, greeting one person here, shaking another hand there. Some came every year, others were new faces, but they all shared the same look — the look of someone who had chosen to be there to live something simple and special.“Marco!” a man called, raising his mug. “This hot chocolate should be illegal. It’s that good.”I smiled, lifting the ladle and serving him more.“My mother’s recipe. If I tell you how it’s made, she’ll disown me.”He laughed, thanked

I woke up with sunlight filtering gently through the curtains and a memory so vivid it felt like it had happened minutes ago. The kiss. The slow, careful kiss that still seemed imprinted on my lips. I sat up in bed, ran my fingers over my mouth, and smiled like a teenager. Then, as if the universe needed to pull me back to reality, the baby gave a little movement—or was it my imagination?—and I placed my hand on my belly."Good morning to you too," I whispered, laughing softly.But doubt came along with the excitement. What would today be like? Would Marco be different? Would he regret it? Was he the kind of man who kisses you at midnight and acts like nothing happened at breakfast?I put on comfortable jeans and a navy-blue sweater—nothing too flashy, but I didn't want to look like I’d just rolled out of bed either. I brushed my hair carefully, tucked a few strands behind my ear, and took a deep breath."Alright, Alice. Breathe an

The ranch office was a perfect extension of Rosa's personality. Small, organized in a chaotic way only she understood, with dark wood walls decorated with old photographs of the ranch, agricultural fair ribbons, and a large window overlooking the stables. It smelled of aged paper, strong coffee, and a faint trace of the cinnamon cake she had brought to "give us energy.""So, this is it," Rosa said, spreading a pile of printouts across the solid wood table. Old brochures, faded business cards, some newspaper clippings. "Our 'marketing material.' Or what's left of it."I sat in the raw leather chair, feeling the weight of responsibility—but also a spark of excitement. It was strange. Since arriving at Snowfall Creek, I had only felt like a guest, a fugitive, a woman trying not to break. But here, in front of these papers that represented the heart of the place, I felt something different: usefulness."Let's start with the basics," I said, picking up my lapto

I looked in the mirror of my cabin and saw a man who looked like he'd swallowed a porcupine. The blue plaid shirt was unbuttoned, the white one underneath seemed too… white. The new jeans — yes, I had a “new” pair I only wore to funerals and weddings — pinched my waist in a way that made me feel like a sausage in a casing. This was ridiculous. It was Christmas. Dinner in the barn. I needed to be there to greet the guests, help serve, make sure everything ran smoothly. In forty years of life, I'd never cared what I wore to the feast. Clean boots, a shirt that wasn't torn, and that was it. The hat was optional. But not today. Today, my hand had trembled choosing between the plaid and the black. Today, I'd wiped my boots until they shone. Today, I'd given my hair an extra brush, as if it would make any difference. And I knew exactly why.