Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set

by Lucy McConnell

  “I won’t leave until after it’s done—promise.”

  “Thanks, pumpkin.”

  As she made her way up the stairs, a big ball of worry settled into her gut. Well, maybe it was a quarter of a triple-layer chocolate cake that made her cramp, but her worries had her mind competing with her stomach. Mulling it over, she realized that she’d never prayed about the decision to leave, and that was probably what created the dissonance in her thoughts. Stripping off her shirt, she tossed it into the garbage in the corner—that stain was never coming out.

  With a heavy heart, she told herself the decision had been made. Her parents were expecting her. She hoped the Lord was on board, put on another T-shirt, and headed back downstairs to start on the dishes.

  Chapter 6

  Sam took care of as much as he could around his cabin Monday morning, sweeping, mopping, and dusting the place. Now that Chet and Mercedes were back in town, he didn’t have to hurry out to the ranch, nor did he have to face Bessie. A part of him wondered how long the Rhode Island Red would last. Chet was pretty smitten with Mercedes. Satan’s spawn or not, if his wife loved that bird, there’d be no fresh chicken for dinner.

  Not that Sam blamed Chet. He’d feed a crazy chicken every day for the woman he loved. Before he thought too far into the fact that he’d fed Bessie for Cat and what that might mean, he turned his attention to the long list of chores in the orchard.

  True to his word, Eli came out to inspect the conveyor belt and gave Sam a fair bid for the welding work. Not one to put off a decision, Sam took Eli’s first open day at the end of the next week.

  Edward O’Shae was the next to arrive at the orchard and followed Sam out to the bunkhouses in his truck. Sam had spent yesterday afternoon clearing the path through the snow with the tractor. They started in the east building and worked their way down the line.

  “I’d like to add a closet to each bedroom. Most of the men have young families, and they could use the storage space.”

  Edward nodded, jotting down notes on a legal pad with a carpenter’s pencil. “Cat’s great at closets. She can work on those.”

  “Cat’s good at everything,” Sam agreed. He liked the way she was willing to throw herself into a new situation, be it moving to Montana, writing books, or building a closet.

  Edward glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You ever think of leaving Snow Valley?”

  Sam scoffed. “And go where?”

  “I don’t know, back east, maybe?”

  Sam shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind visiting, but this is home.” He clapped Edward on the back. “You know that as much as anyone.” Edward had left at eighteen and come back at sixty-five.

  Edward made a mark on the floor with his pencil. “The country is in my bones, that’s for sure.” He turned his tape measure and made another mark. “I’ll make a quick list of supplies and then head out to Billings. We can start first thing in the morning.”

  Sam caught the we in that statement and his heart pounded. We would most likely mean Cat. Anticipation coursed through him. Cat had never set foot on his property—this felt…big. “Sounds great. I’ll stop by and check in on ya.”

  “You do that.” Edward’s voice held a note of demand that caught Sam off guard.

  “Okay, I will,” he reassured Edward. “I’m headed into town. Do you need anything?”

  “I should be good.” Edward bent his head over his list and scrawled away.

  Sam nodded once before climbing into his truck. He waved at his parents, who were repairing the fence line as he drove by.

  William Buck owned the pastures that lined three sides of Miller Orchards. His cattle had gotten through the barbed-wire fence yesterday. Thankfully, they left the trees alone this time, but keeping them away from apples and peaches was a constant battle in the summer.

  About five years ago, Sam had bought a small section of his dad’s orchard—twenty acres. Enough to give him a start in the business and a place to build his cabin. The purchase was a good beginning—especially since he and his dad shared machinery and split costs.

  For a while now, Sam had eyed up the forty acres owned by William Buck that butted up against his peach trees. He’d made the last payment on his loan a few weeks ago and was ready to make William an offer. William was getting on in years, and his kids wanted nothing to do with their dad or his cattle business. A sad story there. Sam wasn’t looking to capitalize on the man’s misfortune, but William had approached him about buying the property, and he couldn’t let the opportunity pass him by. They were meeting at the local bank this morning to discuss the deal.

  Just as Sam was about to open the door, a man shoved it open. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Sam did a double take. “Aren’t you the new dentist?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Welcome to Snow Valley Dr. …”

  “Wilson. McCoy Wilson.”

  They shook hands. “It’s nice to meet you. My mama’s been complaining about a tooth ache; I’m sure she’ll be in to see you soon.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Dr. Wilson said goodbye and Sam hurried into the small, red brick building.

  William was waiting for him in the lobby, wearing overalls and a scowl. Sam shook his hand. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Buck.”

  “You too, Sam.”

  “If you gentlemen will follow me into the conference room, we can get started,” said Timothy Snow, the branch manager.

  Sam motioned for William to go first. They settled around the table. Timothy took the lead, laying out property values and loan terms and asking about a down payment. Things probably weren’t done like this in the bigger cities, with the buyer and seller at the same table, but in Snow Valley, neighbors were good to each other—for the most part.

  The meeting went well, and Sam was able to leverage the land he already owned to secure the loan. He shook hands with the bank manager and William before leaving the conference room. William wanted to stay behind and discuss the trust he’d set up for his kids. Sam left him to his personal business and made his way to the lobby, where he spied Cat talking to the teller.

  “Thanks so much. I thought the charge wasn’t right. I’m glad I asked.” Cat tucked her driver’s license back into her purse.

  “I’ve never seen fraud this sophisticated. They even used a correct phone number for the company they impersonated.”

  “That’s what threw me. But then, I knew I hadn’t purchased a tanning lamp.” Cat laughed.

  Sam smiled. She had a great laugh. It wasn’t high-pitched and annoying, nor was it low and masculine. It was in the alto range and floated over notes, much like her singing voice. He waited so they could walk out together. He wanted to share his good news—with her especially. Somehow, he knew she’d be all the right kinds of happy for him.

  “Right,” agreed the teller. “Here’s your new card, and the credit card company will refund your money. They’ll investigate this and get back to you if they need any further information.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Cat clipped her wallet shut and stuffed it into her leather fringe purse. Seeing Sam, she smiled wide. “Hi there.”

  “Hi, yourself.” Sam held the door open for her. As she came close, he could smell her peach scent. She brushed lightly against him. Man, she smelled good.

  “What are you doing in town?”

  Sam lifted himself up to his full height. “I’m buying the land next to my dad’s place.”

  “The cow field?” She tipped her head.

  “Part of it—the forty acres adjacent to my cabin.”

  “Sam, that’s great news!” Cat gave him a quick hug, their coats crinkling.

  Much too quick, the hug was enough to remind him of how perfect she felt in that space. As if he could forget, and yet the feeling hit him anew. “Thanks. I’ve still got to sign the papers, but it looks like everything’s moving forward.”

  “Congratulations.” Cat folded the front of h
er coat around her body and shivered. “Let me buy you a celebratory shake from Big C’s.”

  Sam laughed. “If you eat ice cream, you’re going to turn into an icicle.”

  Cat groaned. “More like a fudgesicle. I ate enough chocolate cake yesterday to turn me off cocoa for life.”

  Sam put his hand over his heart. “I love your chocolate cake. Is there any left?” he asked hopefully. Settling in around the O’Shae kitchen table was as much of a treat as chocolate cake in Sam’s mind.

  Cat’s smile faltered. “Not much. Grandpa helped.”

  “Ah, then I guess ice cream it is.”

  “Great.” They walked the half block from the bank to Big C’s quickly. Cat sank into her scarf, and Sam tucked his chin close to his chest so his hat could block the wind. They breezed through the door, bringing in a bunch of cold with them. A pile of napkins on the nearest Formica table blew across the floor.

  “I told Eve not to leave those there,” griped Chuck. Big C’s owner was indeed big, at least around the middle. He claimed his belly was his best advertising tool. No one wanted to eat hamburgers made by a skinny guy. “Eve, come clean this up.”

  Sam and Cat both squatted to help pick up the mess. Their knees collided, knocking them off balance. “Hey.” Cat grabbed Sam’s coat to steady herself. Instead, she pulled them both over as she landed on her behind, her legs shooting out.

  Sam reached for solid ground so he didn’t end up tackling her and put his hand on the floor behind her back, their faces just inches apart.

  If remembering hugging Cat brought a memory, leaning over her brought desire. Strong, unmistakable attraction coursed through his veins.

  He couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t.

  He was caught up in the sensations of having her all to himself, like the chicken coop all over again. Only this feeling was pervasive and persuasive. Holding her close had started the fever inside him, and now his whole body flamed.

  Up close and all sorts of personal, Cat’s eyes were kind of amazing. Starting in the center was a ring of deep brown, followed by another of light green, and finally one of gold. He’d never seen eyes quite like hers, but what he found unsettling—in the best of ways—was that they were probing just as deeply into his soul as he was into Cat’s. The scent of peaches was strong in the air, and heat pulsed between them. His gaze dropped to her peachy lips and back up again.

  Cat leaned forward slightly, her hand resting on his chest. Leaning, he encouraged her to move it up and around his neck. She did, ever so slowly.

  Sam didn’t have thoughts about what he was doing. There wasn’t a reason to think it through. Kissing Cat was the most natural thing in the world—yet he knew it would be anything but ordinary.

  Cat’s eyes slowly shut and Sam dipped his head.

  Just before their lips touched, Eve stomped her foot. “I can’t sweep with you two mooning over each other.” She shook the broom to make them move out of the way.

  “Sorry,” Sam muttered as he got to his feet and offered his hand to Cat. She took it, and a sense of pieces falling into alignment settled into his chest. The air between them hung heavy with a missed opportunity.

  Cat stood and brushed off her backside. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” He smiled.

  Their eyes met, and they both looked away quickly. “What flavor do you want?” she asked as she stepped up to the counter. Her cheeks were flushed and she shed her coat.

  “Peach,” answered Sam. He too stripped off his winter layer. “I really want peaches.”

  Cat pressed her lips together as if she sensed there was more to his choice than just the flavor of ice cream.

  Sam wondered what the heck he was doing. Cat was in his thoughts more often than not. She had his heart pumping like an irrigation sprinkler under double pressure.

  He considered the idea that he could have misread the situation. Except she’d moved her hand! That was a clear signal, and he’d taken it, trusting his instincts.

  The whole reason I made that stupid New Year’s resolution was so could reprogram myself. Needing a moment to clear his head, he considered jumping in a snowbank. Instead, he took a step back and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll find us a seat.”

  “Okay.” Cat turned to Chuck. “One peach shake and one chocolate with marshmallow, please.”

  Sam found a booth as far away from the counter as possible. He nodded to Riker Carmichael as he dumped his tray in the garbage. “Are you still interested in backpacking this summer?” asked Ryker. He was a pilot, firefighter, and avid outdoorsman.

  “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it.” Sam smiled. He’d gotten in with a few of the firefighters who helped clear the brush a hundred feet from his fence line last summer. They were planning a survivalist-type adventure in the early summer. Sam was looking forward to testing his mettle.

  “Great. I’ll email you the supply list.”

  “Sounds good.” Sam settled in the booth while Cat waited for their shakes. He took the time to calm himself down. Once his heart rate slowed, he could think clearly. He and Cat were way passed the rule of three. He saw more of her than any other woman in town. Taking their relationship to the next level would be as simple as asking her on a date. He was pretty sure, after the way she was looking at him, that she’d say yes. The only question was how to work it into their conversation in a casual way. If she turned him down, he’d slink away and avoid Main Street for a few days.

  After a couple of minutes, Cat sat down, passing the peach shake across the table.

  “I thought you were all chocolated out?” Sam swirled his spoon around before sampling the flavor. The ice cream was sweet—just like he knew Cat’s lips would be.

  Cat took a bite, closing her eyes and slumping in her chair. “There’s no such thing.”

  He chuckled. “Well, thanks for celebrating with me. You made this day all the more special.”

  “I’m glad I’m your first friend to find out—I am the first, right?” Cat gave him a mock glare insinuating that she’d take issue with being anything less.

  Despite her teasing, Sam had gotten the underlying message loud and clear. Friend. That was one signal from a woman he couldn’t misinterpret. Friends.

  Cat smiled. When she’d seen Sam at the bank, he glowed—with possibilities, probably. Buying his own land was a big deal. She’d learned that much from Chet and his family of ranchers. But when he’d fallen with her, she’d caught a glimpse of those possibilities in his gaze. Sam was a true-hearted man. Uncomplicated, really. Home, the orchard, and family made up the sinew of his soul, and Cat was drawn to that with a strength that took her breath away.

  Sam’s brow furrowed and he cleared his throat. He pulled his legs back from where they occasionally bumped hers and talked into his cup.

  “Yep, you’re my first friend to find out.”

  The way his voice dipped on the word friend made it sound like a pledge. She didn’t like that at all but wasn’t sure what it really meant.

  Grateful for the cold cup in her hands, because it helped her keep her focus on the conversation and not on how soft Sam’s cotton shirt had been under her palm, she asked the first practical question that came to mind. “How does this land thing work? Are you planning to farm it or buy your own herd?”

  “I’m expanding my orchard.”

  “I thought you worked for your dad?”

  “I bought a small chunk of his place a few years back. I’m in the black, so I’d like to move forward.”

  “Sounds smart.”

  Sam lifted a shoulder. “I have to if I want to get mar—” He looked up in time to see the surprise register on Cat’s face. She didn’t mean to go wide-eyed, but it wasn’t every day that a guy almost used the word married. Guys were dumb like that. They thought if they got near the subject, they’d break out in hives or something. Oh, she knew he wasn’t talking about marrying her, but she had no idea that men actually thought about those things. How sweet w
as that?

  “Sorry.” Shoveling three bites in his mouth in quick succession, Sam clammed up.

  Cat looked around the restaurant, finding it difficult to meet Sam’s gaze for some reason. Maybe because the idea of being married to Sam had crossed her mind once or a dozen times in the last week.

  “What I meant to say was that if I want to make a go as an orchard owner, then I need more land.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I mean, that makes perfect sense.” Cat’s shake was half gone and melting fast. She rubbed her moist hands on her pant legs before taking another bite.

  “What about you? How’s your book coming along? It’s a modern western, right?”

  Cat choked on her ice cream. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, her hero had gone from a bull rider to an orchard owner who wrangled more bees than cattle. He also had a nice set of biceps that stretched his T-shirts to the limit and a perpetual five o’clock shadow.

  Sam scratched at his scruffy chin.

  Cat squeaked. “It’s good.” She cleared her throat and her head. “Really good. My most realistic and descriptive book yet.”

  “Living in Snow Valley is quite the inspiration, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve no idea,” she muttered into her cup. Grinning, she looked up. “I named the mean girl in the story Bessie.”

  Sam barked a laugh. “You did not!”

  Grinning, Cat reached across the table and gently slapped his forearm. “I did too.”

  “She deserves it. You should have seen what she did to my coveralls.”

  Cat’s hand flew to her mouth. “I am so sorry!”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah, but you were doing something nice for me.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll wash them for you.” She had no idea how to get chicken droppings out of coveralls, but for Sam, she’d figure it out.

  He waved her off. “Already done.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders fell. Taking a wild leap, she asked, “Can I make you dinner as a thank-you?”