A Coulter’s Christmas Proposal

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “I need to get home, Amanda. Now that Mom’s collection is sold, my brothers and I have to talk to the tax people, work out a plan for paying off the last of the inheritance tax on the ranch.”

  “Of course.” She was reeling, knocked off balance at the realization that he must have planned all along to leave today. While they’d been making love last night, he’d known, she thought. He’d known he was leaving this morning. She felt like she was bleeding inside. “When will I see you again?”

  “Tom wants me to put together a collection for his gallery, so I’ll be back in New York for the opening sometime during the next few months or so. And if you’re in Montana, you’re always welcome at the Triple C.”

  “I see, of course.” She could hardly force her throat open to breathe, let alone speak.

  He closed the zipper on the suitcase and set it near the door, took his jacket from the back of the chair.

  “Amanda…” He moved closer, lifted his hand as if to touch her face.

  She shifted back, putting space between them, knowing that if he touched her, she’d break apart.

  “Why are you doing this, Eli?” She struggled not to cry.

  “You belong here in New York, Amanda. And I belong in Montana. Too many miles separate us—visits are all we can have.”

  “Really?” Anger rose, hot and consuming. “So we’ll…what? See each other whenever we happen to be in the same town? Have great reunion sex every now and then?”

  He winced, his mouth flattening. “That’s not what I meant, Amanda…”

  “You’d better go. You don’t want to miss your plane.”

  He stared at her, green eyes roiling with emotion, a muscle flexing along the grim set of his jawline.

  “Yeah, I’d better go,” he said at last.

  He stared at her, as if willing her to speak, but she tilted her chin up and stared at him without blinking, unwilling to lay her heart open when he was clearly ready to walk away.

  He bit off a curse and pulled the door open, caught the handle of his suitcase and stepped into the hall.

  And he was gone.

  Amanda stared at the blank white door, unmoving, until she was sure there was no chance he was coming back. Then she crumpled to the floor, harsh sobs racking her body with grief, heartbreak and shattered dreams.

  Chapter Twelve

  Three weeks later the phone rang in her quiet apartment, startling Amanda. She left her computer and padded across the living room carpet to reach it. Her breath caught when she recognized the Montana area code.

  “Hello?” It has to be Eli, she thought, her heart pounding with adrenaline and conflicted emotion. Who else would call me from Montana?

  “Hi, Amanda. This is Mariah.”

  Her heart plummeted. The rapid descent from emotional high to disappointing low was disorienting.

  “Hello, Mariah,” she managed to get out. “How nice to hear from you. How are you?”

  “Fine, just fine. I’m at the Lodge and Cynthia is here, too. She says hello.”

  Amanda smiled. “Tell her hello for me—and tell her I miss having lunch with you two and Jane. I especially miss Jane’s cooking.”

  Mariah laughed. “I’ll tell them. How’s the book coming along?”

  They chatted for several moments, catching up on the big and small details of their lives, before Mariah’s voice was suddenly more solemn.

  “Listen, I know it’s none of my business, Amanda, and feel free to tell me to butt out, but…did you and Eli have a fight while he was in New York for the auction?”

  Startled, Amanda frowned in confusion. “No. Why? Did he say we had an argument?”

  “He’s not saying anything,” Mariah said. “That’s the problem.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Eli’s been in the world’s worst mood ever since he came home from New York,” Mariah told her. “None of us can figure out why, especially since the auction went so well. In fact, it exceeded everyone’s wildest expectations,” she added. “Which is why we’re all confused as to why he’s so grouchy. He acts like he’s lost his best friend.”

  Good, Amanda thought. At least I’m not the only one who’s miserable. “I thought he seemed happy enough while he was here,” she said aloud.

  Which isn’t a lie, she told herself. I thought we were falling in love. Right up until he said goodbye and I realized I was the only one who’d fallen.

  “So, nothing significant happened?” Mariah asked.

  “I’m not aware of anything, but maybe he had a problem of some sort with the gallery. I could ask my brother-in-law, if you’d like me to—he owns the gallery that handled the auction.”

  “No, thanks.” Mariah sighed, clearly confused and still worried. “I just thought…well, after Cade told me Eli took one of Melanie’s rings with him to New York, I assumed…”

  Amanda frowned, certain she’d misunderstood. “Eli had one of his mother’s rings with him? One of the rings from her collection? The group that you and Cynthia received engagement rings from?”

  “Yes, yes and yes,” Mariah replied. “I thought maybe he’d proposed and you turned him down. That would certainly explain his foul mood since he came home. But if he didn’t propose, then there goes my theory.”

  “He didn’t propose.” Amanda blinked back sudden tears. “And from conversations I had with him while in Montana, I’m convinced there’s little chance he ever would, Mariah.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Mariah’s voice was softly sympathetic. “I thought you were good for Eli. You made him relax, made him laugh.”

  “Yes, well, I doubt Eli would agree.” Amanda ran her fingertips over her eyelashes, wiping away dampness, and cleared her throat, which seemed clogged with unshed tears. “How’s Brodie doing? Has he signed up for physical therapy yet?”

  Mariah accepted the clear signal that Amanda didn’t want to discuss Eli any longer. The two chatted for a few more moments about acquaintances in Indian Springs before saying goodbye.

  Amanda returned the portable phone to its base, staring unseeingly at the family photos that hung on the wall, before she shook her head to clear it and turned away.

  Mariah must have been wrong about Eli taking an engagement ring to New York.

  Grieving over Eli Coulter was unproductive, she told herself firmly. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t love her back. A person couldn’t choose who they loved and who they didn’t. Ending up with a broken heart was her own fault, the result of ignoring her normal caution and jumping recklessly into a heated affair while hoping it would all work out.

  Somehow, knowing she’d set herself up for a broken heart and only had herself to blame didn’t make her feel any better.

  Eli stared at the television set. The sound of crowds cheering as one of the teams on the screen scored grew louder, then faded away. He hardly noticed.

  “You know, since you came home from New York, you’ve been partying too much.”

  Eli blinked, turned his head to look at Brodie, stretched out in the recliner, and struggled to process his brother’s words.

  “What are you talking about? I’ve barely been off the ranch since I got back,” he replied, frowning in confusion.

  “Yeah,” Brodie drawled. “That’s my point. What’s going on with you? ’Cause you’re sure as hell not acting normal.”

  Eli stiffened. “I’m normal,” he growled.

  “Right.” Brodie smirked. “What happened to the cute little girl from New York? I thought you might be bringing her home with you.”

  “You thought wrong.” Eli bit off the words.

  “Did she turn you down?” Brodie asked mildly.

  Eli wished he’d stop asking questions. “Did she turn down what?”

  “When you asked her to marry you and come back to the Triple C,” Brodie said with more patience than he usually displayed. “Did she say no?”

  “I didn’t ask her.”

  “Well, that’s
a bonehead move,” Brodie said with typical bluntness. “I liked her. You seemed good with her, like the two of you fit.”

  “Yeah, well, we didn’t.” Eli stared broodingly at the screen without seeing the game. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened,” Eli said shortly. “I flew to New York for the auction, we had a few laughs and I came home. End of story.”

  “Huh,” Brodie grunted.

  When he didn’t say more, Eli looked at him. The sympathy in his brother’s green eyes made him feel worse.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “You’ve got woman trouble and you’re too stubborn to admit it,” Brodie told him.

  “I don’t have woman trouble,” Eli said, irritated. “Her life is in New York. Mine is here on the ranch. What I’ve got is a woman who belongs in her world and it’s halfway across the country.”

  “So go get her and bring her out here. Then you’ll both be in the same place. End of problem,” Brodie said reasonably.

  “No, not the end of the problem. That’s the beginning of the problem,” Eli said morosely.

  “I don’t follow your reasoning.”

  Eli pushed to his feet and paced across the room, then back. “What kind of a person would I be if I seduced her into leaving her home and her friends, where she’s happy and loves her life, to come live with me? Sure, I’d have her here, but she’d have to leave everything she loves.” He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and paced across the living room again. “And if I moved to New York to be with her, how long would it be before I grew to hate the city? How long before we started fighting because one of us was miserable and homesick and blaming the other for it?” He shook his head, dropping back onto the sofa, his face morose.

  “You make it sound like it’s either/or, with no middle ground,” Brodie said mildly. “Why don’t you split your time between the Triple C and New York? Not that I’m crazy about the idea of your being gone half the time, but hell, having you here when you’re this miserable without her isn’t exactly happy times.”

  Eli glared at him. “You think I haven’t thought about that?” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. She has a job in New York and she’s damn good at it.”

  “I thought she was writing a book,” Brodie said. “Can’t she do that anywhere?”

  “She took a six-month leave from her job to write the book about Mom,” Eli told him. “Her regular job is at an art magazine with offices in New York.”

  “And she told you she wants to go back to work there when the book is finished?” Brodie asked.

  “We didn’t talk about it,” Eli said.

  “Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Don’t you think you should ask her and find out if she does?” Brodie’s voice had a pronounced “duh” inflection.

  Eli glared at him. “Lucky you’re not in any shape for a brawl, or I’d punch you for that,” he said.

  Brodie grinned. “I could still take you out, kid, with one hand tied behind my back and my leg in a cast.”

  “Big talk.” A reluctant grin curved Eli’s mouth. He sat forward, elbows propped on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair. “Straight up, Brodie, I’m miserable without her.”

  “Then go get her.” Brodie’s voice was gentler, matter-of-fact. “I don’t claim to know much about women. You probably should be having this talk with Cade or Zach, but one thing I do know is life’s too short to waste time.” He tapped his thigh. “A year ago I was riding high. Now I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do with the rest of my life. If you care about her, go get her.”

  “She might refuse to talk to me,” Eli admitted.

  Brodie shrugged. “Maybe she will. Maybe she won’t. Do you want to keep moping around the ranch, making yourself and everyone else miserable?”

  “Is that what I’m doing?”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Brodie answered.

  “Well, hell, we can’t have that.” Eli stood and headed for the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Brodie called after him.

  “Upstairs to pack my bag. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  “About damn time,” Brodie growled, the grin on his face belying the rough rumble of his voice.

  A day later Amanda’s doorbell rang just after 10:00 p.m.

  “What on earth?” she muttered, glancing at the clock. She wasn’t expecting company. In fact, she’d showered and donned pajamas an hour earlier, settling in with a bowl of popcorn and a movie on DVD. The popcorn bowl was now empty and the movie two-thirds finished.

  She thumbed the Pause button on the remote control, tossed it on the sofa cushion and crossed the room to the door.

  She peered through the tiny surveillance glass and gasped. Her caller was tall, black-haired, and stood with one hand shoved in his slacks pocket, a jacket slung over his other shoulder.

  As she watched, she saw him shake hands with her neighbor and realized Mrs. Ferguson must have brought him up with her after walking her dog. The widow had met Eli when he was in town for the gallery showing and had been completely charmed by the handsome artist.

  But what was Eli doing in New York—in her hallway?

  He rang the bell again. She cast a frantic glance in the small mirror next to the door, smoothed a hand over her hair, groaned at the lack of makeup, and forced herself to draw a deep breath and slowly release it. Then she pulled open the door.

  “Eli, what a surprise. Come in.” She held the door open wide and he stepped inside, half turning to look down at her as she pushed the door shut and slid the dead bolt home. “What are you doing in New York?”

  She looked up at him, hoping her face didn’t reflect the almost painful surge of joy that swept her as she took in the angles of his face, the pale lake-water green of his eyes, the way his thick lashes half lowered as he looked at her.

  Dear God, she’d missed him. It made her heart hurt just to look at him.

  “Amanda…” His deep voice broke off and he dropped his jacket, reaching for her.

  His hands caught her waist, finding the bare skin between the hem of her short cotton tee and the waistband of her sleep shorts, and he pulled her forward.

  She lifted on her toes as his head bent and their mouths met in a kiss that burned away any pretense that this was casual. Amanda clung to him and he pressed her closer, tighter against his hard body. He was all hard angles and planes, and her softer curves molded against him. Aroused male against heated female. She couldn’t get close enough and she groaned her approval when he backed her against the door, his big body covering hers.

  His mouth was ravenous; his hand smoothed over her hip, thigh, stroking up over her belly to cup her breast. Her hands clenched, fingers tightening, and she slid the bare sole of her foot up the outside of his leg in an effort to get closer.

  She heard him groan, felt the fierce grip of his hands as he tensed before he raised his head.

  “We have to talk before we do this, Amanda.” His voice rasped, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “You want to talk?” She struggled to understand.

  “I just have to ask you a couple of questions….” He groaned when she shifted to fit her hips more tightly against his. “No, baby, please, don’t move.”

  She stilled, staring up at him. The planes of his face were flushed; his cheekbones dark with color; his eyes fierce with arousal.

  “First, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a jerk and running off like a coward. I have no excuse. The bottom line is, I just got scared. I’ve never been in love before and the idea of it scared the pants off me.”

  Amanda was convinced she was hearing things. “Wait a minute. What did you just say?”

  “I love you, Amanda Blake. Can you ever forgive me for being such a fool?”

  Amanda’s vision blurred with tears. She laid her palms against his cheeks. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes. I love you, too. So much.”

  His eyes closed, his forehead rest
ing against hers as he drew in a deep, harsh breath. “Thank God.” He kissed her tenderly.

  Amanda realized what it had cost him to come here and bare his soul to her. It confirmed what she’d sensed between them from the start. But it left her with more questions than answers.

  “So,” she began. “Where do we go from here?”

  Eli sighed. “I’m not sure. All I know is that I’m miserable without you. Shakira misses you too. Would you…would you consider coming back to the Triple C? At least until Christmas?”

  Amanda understood that Eli wasn’t ready to make a long-term commitment. She wasn’t sure if she was, either. The one thing she was sure of, though, was that she was not ready to let him go.

  “Christmas at the Triple C. That sounds perfect,” she said.

  Eli shook his head. “You may change your mind after you’ve experienced winter on a ranch. That can be tough for even native Montana folks.”

  Amanda smile gamely. “At least we’ll have our love to keep us warm.”

  “I don’t deserve you, but I’ll try my best to make you happy, I swear I will.” The solemn words in his deep voice were a vow.

  She smiled, tasting the salt of tears at the corner of her mouth. “I know you will,” she murmured. If she still harbored any doubts, she was willing to table them…at least for now.

  His lips brushed over her face in small, reverent kisses, replacing the tears, until his mouth sealed over hers.

  Long heated moments later he raised his head and looked down at her. She knew what he was asking.

  He swung her into his arms and carried her toward her bedroom. They might not know exactly what would happen next, but Amanda felt they were finally heading in the right direction.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The first snowflakes didn’t start to fall until early November. Amanda woke early one morning knowing something was different but unable to pinpoint exactly what it was.

  She lay snug and warm in the big new bed Eli had moved into his bedroom. Beneath a bright blue Pendleton wool blanket and crisp white sheets, she was curled on her side with her body tucked against the warm, hard length of Eli’s. His arm was a welcome weight at her waist, anchoring her against him, his hair-roughened thighs pressed against the back of hers.