Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  Chet ran his thumb over Mercedes’s knuckles. “I’ll be cutting hay all day. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe next time.”

  Chet grinned. “Knowing Aiden, there will be plenty of opportunities.”

  They shared a look, and once again Chet had to hold back his desire to pull Mercedes close and kiss her till the rooster crowed.

  Mercedes stepped close and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for dinner,” she whispered.

  Chet’s blood pumped loudly in his ears. Mercedes smelled like coconut, all mysterious and sweet.

  “Good night,” she said as she slipped through the door.

  Chet pressed his hand against the wall. What this girl could do to him! He was in serious trouble.

  When he got home, Chet was surprised to see David and Whitney on the porch swing. It was a clear night, and they had a blanket across their laps. David’s arm rested behind Whitney and she snuggled close to his side.

  “Reliving the glory days?” Chet teased. David and Whitney spent many a night of their courtship on that very swing. “If you start kissing, I’m sending you home.”

  “Smart aleck!” Whitney threw the small pillow at him. Chet caught it and laughed.

  “You’re in a good mood. How’d the date go?” asked David.

  Chet leaned against the porch rail and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Good.” He knew he was smiling like a dope, but he didn’t care. Let them tease. He’d had the best night of his life and he didn’t care who knew it.

  “I see you finally washed the rust bucket,” David said, glancing at the truck.

  “Yeah, she looks pretty good, doesn’t she?”

  “What did you two talk about?” asked Whitney.

  “Egypt,” Chet said with a grin. “Pharaohs, graffiti, the mummification process ...” Chet shrugged. “You know, normal date stuff.”

  Whitney smiled, but David shook his head.

  Chet held up his hands. “What was I supposed to do? She asked.”

  David and Whitney exchanged a look. “Well, I’ll be,” was all David could say.

  “I think Chet may have found his match,” Whitney said to David.

  David faced her. “Maybe. He’s not really in a spot to get serious about someone, though. Maybe he should have held off. He can barely make ends meet; how’s he supposed to support a wife and kids?"

  Chet’s jaw dropped.

  “These things have a way of working out.” Whitney patted David’s knee. “We didn’t have much when we started out.”

  “We didn’t have the debt he has.” David gestured to Chet, but didn’t include him in the conversation. Chet leaned back, his arms folded.

  “If it’s meant to be …”

  “Don’t get all rosy-eyed. We both know it’s tough running a ranch and raising a family. He doesn’t have anything to bring to the table.”

  Whitney’s voice got higher. “Nothing to bring to the table? He has his land, cattle, the house, and a good work ethic. What more could a woman ask for?”

  “He’s one bad season away from foreclosure. What kind of a life is that to offer a woman?”

  “Oh, you, you act like you’ve done this all on your own. We built what we have together, and they will too.”

  “Hello!” Chet waved his arms to get their attention. “Just got back from a first date here. Could you two stop planning my failure as a husband, please?”

  Whitney cringed. “For the record, I was rooting for you.”

  “Thanks.” Chet rubbed his cheek. “Is there a reason you’re on my porch swing and not yours?”

  David leaned forward and put his elbows on his legs. Whitney reached over to rub his back. “Dad called this afternoon. I told him the cell tower guys were back. He wants you to give him a call on Sunday when you have time to talk.”

  “Yeah, all right.” Things had gone so well with Mercedes, he’d put the whole tower thing out of his mind.

  “What’s your thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to Dad. He was pretty against it, and I feel like I should know why before I make up my mind.”

  “Well, whatever you do, we’ll support ya. We wanted to make sure you knew that.” David stood and offered his hand to Whitney.

  “Thanks. That’s kind of you,” said Chet. Not particularly helpful, but it was nice.

  “Have a good night.” Whitney waved as they walked toward David’s truck.

  Chet let himself in the house. He kicked off his dress boots and then lined them up by the door. There was a day when Sunday boots, work boots, mud boots, and football cleats piled high next to the front door. Those days were long gone, but Chet wondered what it would be like to see a small set of boots next to his. He shook off the image and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  In a way, he agreed with David. What did he have to offer Mercedes except a whole lot of debt and a long work day? It was discouraging. If only his dad could have held off another five years. Then Chet would have been able to save enough for a decent down payment.

  He looked around the house. One of the reasons the loan was so high was that it included the house and all the outbuildings. David had a much lower payment because he’d bought the land and then built as he could. Not that Dad overcharged Chet. The loan was fair; it just wasn’t fair timing.

  Maybe that was the same with Mercedes. He met an amazing girl, but the timing was off. In reality, he didn’t see himself financially ready to settle down for at least three years—maybe five. He didn’t feel good about truly pursuing her until he had the means to support a family.

  He groaned. He’d already scheduled a second date. A second date he was really looking forward to. He couldn’t wait to take Mercedes to see the axe throwing competition and eat some of Tina’s famous cherry pie. He tugged on his pajamas. This was dumb. Why was he worried about marrying a girl he’d only had one date with?

  Chet slumped onto his bed.

  Because the girl was incredible.

  She understood him in a way no one else did and accepted him, every part of him. Even the parts those closest to him couldn’t accept. She was also talented, smart, and could build a deck, for the love of Pete! He threw himself back on the blankets. It was hopeless. He was falling in love with Mercedes and didn’t have any idea what to do about it.

  Chapter 15

  Mercedes tucked her legs up underneath her on the bed. Late at night was one of her favorite times to draw. The house was quiet, no one stirred, and the hush allowed her to delve into her imagination without interruption. When she was a kid, she would hide under the covers with a flashlight and a sketchpad. At first she filled coloring books, shading with crayons and blending to create depth. When Cat turned one, Mercedes could think of nothing more valuable to gift her than a one-of-a-kind coloring book featuring her favorite toys. That was the first time she set out to create art, and she hadn’t looked back since.

  Mercedes opened her sketchbook and pencil case, running her fingers over the neatly lined drawing utensils. Before she prepped a canvas to paint, she wanted to pick an image. The best way to sort through them was to get them all down on paper. Then she could evaluate them with a critical eye. She hadn’t planned on rationing her canvases, but it could take weeks to order more and have them delivered. She could drive to Billings, but that would also take time.

  She started with the first time she’d seen Chet. The day they pulled into Snow Valley and found Chet mending the fence, his back straining as he pulled the wire tight. The image was new and somewhat hazy, as seen through the dirty glass. Then she moved on to Chet talking about his land and the family bond he felt when he worked there. Sketching Chet and Aiden leaning over a joist was a joy. The contentment she’d felt watching the two of them flowed easily onto the page.

  Flipping to a blank sheet, Mercedes moved on to the day she’d found Chet in the barn, pounding away at a horseshoe. Using bold lines and smudges, she formed his silhouette, rough and rugged. Her pulse quickened as s
he outlined the cords in his forearms. Her hand moved quickly, urgently across the page.

  Before she could think about it, she moved on to a new page and her final image of Chet, this one in the soft dash lights as he drove her home tonight. Her hand slowed and she took her time, softly caressing his jaw into shape. When she was done, she was spent. Without the energy to examine her work, she set them on her dresser and crawled under the covers.

  Mercedes felt someone shake her shoulder. She groaned. Her eyelids were just too heavy to open. “What time is it?”

  “Time to get up.” Cat shook her again. “We have to finish the railing today, and Aiden will be here around one to work on the sink.”

  “I’ll throw on my overalls and meet you downstairs.”

  Cat made a face at the mention of the overalls and shut the door behind her.

  Mercedes straightened her blanket and then laid the pages out in chronological order. She took a giant step back and stared at each one. When she got to the last two, her cheeks flushed and her pulse quickened.

  She’d told Chet that she painted moments that were full of feeling. If the sketch was any indication, she was feeling all sorts of passion—like blood boiling, steamy kisses, and hot breath, attraction—when she’d seen him at the forge. She’d drawn him as a powerful, iron-bending fire god.

  She flipped the paper over and took a deep breath. Apparently, Chet was more of a temptation than she was willing to admit, and she was still vulnerable to the charms of attractive men. If that’s all there was to Chet, then she was sure she could brush him off. But Chet wasn’t just a hot body or a handsome face. He was thoughtful and generous.

  She was attracted to Chet’s whole being. There was no denying it, not when she drew him that way.

  She spread her hands flat against the blanket. She could handle this. Up until now, that attraction had been undercover. Just because she was aware of it didn’t mean she’d act on it. She was a woman in control of her destiny, not some lusty pagan worshipper.

  Turning her mind from the forge image, Mercedes picked up her last sketch. Going over it slowly, she turned and sat on the bed. She was still there when Cat knocked on the door and popped her head in.

  “Aren’t you ready yet?”

  Mercedes shook her head, unable to take her eyes off the drawing.

  Cat entered the room. She paused for a moment and then touched the corner of the image to turn it her direction. After a quick look, she sat next to Mercedes on the bed and rested her head on Mercy’s shoulder. “Oh, sis. You’re in trouble.”

  Mercedes dropped her head to rest on Cat’s. “I know.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never drawn like this before.”

  “You’ve never been in love before,” said Cat. “Not with this kind of passion and, and fire.”

  “It scares me,” Mercedes admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t trust myself. Every guy I’ve ever cared about was a jerk. What’s wrong with me? Why am I so easily duped by men?”

  Cat put her arm around Mercedes. “There’s nothing wrong with you—they’re the jerks.”

  “Right, and I’m the sucker that falls for them every time.” Mercedes reached behind herself for the forge picture. She closed her eyes tight before flipping it over for Cat.

  “Oh!” Cat fanned her face. “Is it hot in here?”

  “Ha. Ha.” Mercedes flipped the page back over. “Do you see what I mean? If this is what I see when I look at Chet, it’s not the real him. I’m falling for an illusion.”

  Cat considered her for a moment. “You told me you painted the emotions you felt when you were in the moment. Is that still true?”

  “Yes,” Mercedes said slowly.

  Cat pointed to the image in Mercedes’s hand. “That picture is one feeling you have for Chet. But look at this one.” She picked up the image in light and shadow. “It’s the same guy, but it looks different. What were you feeling here?”

  Mercedes considered the image. The one so full of love, it spilled off the page.

  “You don’t have to tell me. But I think your answer is in this portrait.” Cat gave her a quick hug. “Now put on those ugly overalls and let’s get to work.”

  Aiden showed up about one, driving a four-wheeler, no less. He was his usual flirty self, and Cat got a kick out of him. They worked on the banister for the porch first and then moved inside to fix the sink.

  “Are you guys coming to church tomorrow?”

  Mercedes looked to Cat, who nodded. “We’d like to.” They’d hoped to find a new congregation to join. “What time is the service?”

  “Ten.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  “Sweet. I’ll save you seats.”

  Mercedes narrowed her eyes. “You look just a little too eager there, buster. What’s the deal?”

  Aiden stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I may have mentioned you to some of the guys on the football team.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. Mercedes laughed, and Aiden turned a deep shade of pink.

  Whitney knocked on the door, and Cat let her in. “All fixed?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  Whitney patted Aiden on the back. “Great, you can fix the one in the bathroom now.”

  “I’m on it.” Aiden pointed at Cat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He ran his hand through his hair and strutted out.

  Cat rolled her eyes, but Mercedes could tell the kid was wearing her down.

  “What’s tomorrow?” asked Whitney.

  “Aiden invited us to sit with you guys during Sunday services. I hope you don’t mind.” Cat tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Whitney looked over her shoulder at the door Aiden had just gone through. “Half of me still thinks of him as that little boy with a Bible tucked under his arm who wanted to be a missionary.”

  Mercedes smiled. She could see some of that kid in Aiden, too.

  “Well, I’m glad he came to fix the sink. Let me know if you need him again. There’s plenty to do at home, but you’re always welcome to borrow the boys for whatever.” She paused at the threshold, her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes met Mercedes’s. “Just so you know, Chet usually sits with us. We’ll try to keep him on the end.” She winked.

  Mercedes blushed. “Thanks.” As soon as Cat shut the door, Mercy bounded down the hall to her bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” Cat called.

  “To paint.”

  “Do you want dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Mercy shut her door and unfolded her easel. Cat may not be an artist, but as a writer, she understood the need to let inspiration flow when the muse woke up. And Mercedes’s muse had definitely woken up.

  Mercedes pulled out her white paint, added a dab of yellow, and mixed enough to prep the canvas in a light cream color. It would be covered eventually, but this process not only made for a better finished product, it calmed her nerves and focused her attention on the task at hand.

  Once the base layer was on, she taped the picture of Chet up on the wall to the right and just behind her easel and prepared her palette. She loaded up on Mars Black and Indigo, knowing the shadows were just as important as the light. Using a long, thin brush, she made her outline with careful strokes. It wasn’t long before she was caught up in the fertile solitude. She didn’t feel alone. Not when she had the sweet memory of Chet’s voice rolling over and through her as he talked about the geometry behind the pyramids.

  When she’d gotten to a point that the paint needed to dry before she could continue, Mercedes painstakingly cleaned her brushes with linseed oil and returned them to their case. She capped her paints and put a layer of plastic over her palette to keep the colors from drying out.

  With her station in order, she was free to admire her work and plan her next step. Only, now that her brushes were stored, her mind didn’t want to linger on the painting; it wanted to concentrate on the real thing. Mercedes tucked herself
under the covers. She’d never been this excited to go to church in her life.

  Chapter 16

  Chet pulled into the church parking lot with a troubled mind. The sky was dark with heavy clouds. Though he knew the recent forest fires were a concern for everyone in Snow Valley, he hadn’t considered that sometimes the smoke caused rain in the surrounding areas. A summer rainstorm could ruin his fresh-cut hay. Sure, he could feed it to the cows, but he wouldn’t be able to sell it, and he was counting on that money to make his next mortgage payment. If he’d known about a storm, he would have put off cutting.

  Exercising every ounce of faith in his soul, Chet marched into church, determined to enjoy an hour of peace before facing his worldly problems once again. What he found waiting for him on the family pew was enough to make his insides as turbulent as the weather outside.

  Aiden, looking smug, sat between his mom and Cat. Next to Cat was Mercedes, looking simply beautiful in a flowing summer dress and lightweight cardigan. And next to Mercedes was Sam.

  Neither Sam nor Mercedes had noticed him. Despite their drama-filled introductions, they seemed to get along fine. Mercedes didn’t appear to have the same aversion to Sam that she’d shown at the feed store. In fact, she looked interested in what Sam said. To Chet’s horror, Mercedes giggled at something Sam said and bumped him with her shoulder.

  Pressure built in Chet’s head. He spread his fingers wide to keep from balling his hands into fists. Cat leaned over Mercedes and patted Sam on the knee. Chet checked his watch. There were still ten minutes until the meeting started. Surely Sam didn’t intend to sit with Chet’s family for the service. Of course, with two beautiful women giving him attention, Sam would sit with the devil himself before he’d give up his seat.

  Chet debated whether he should stay or not. He had no desire to make a spectacle of himself in front of the congregation by demanding Sam haul his sorry carcass out of Chet’s seat. Which is exactly what he wanted to do. But he had no claim over Mercedes. One date did not a relationship make. However, he was one date up on Sam. He pulled his eyebrows down. Was he though? For all he knew, Mercedes could have gone out with Sam several times since she’d been here.