He knew that between him and Dean, they wouldn’t let Maya and the Delgado sisters’ business fail. Not that he thought they would. “The luck factor.”
She murmured a sound of agreement. “That coffee smells heavenly.”
He’d remembered how she liked it, for sure. How could he forget any detail about this amazing woman? The way she liked her coffee, how she approached business, how she twirled a wisp of hair on her pinky when she was lost in thought... Which was what she was doing when he turned to place her coffee in front of her on the table.
“A thousand for your thoughts?” he asked as he slid into the chair next to hers. The old table reminded him of the one that used to be in the Delgado kitchen all those years ago, except this one was smaller: both were worn smooth with years of family gatherings, homework, and creative projects happening on the surface.
She glanced at him, dropping her hands to cradle her mug. “You don’t have to keep upping the donation.”
“I know.” He wanted to say, “But I’d give anything for you,” but he didn’t.
“Looks like the storm is worse,” she said, her gaze on the window.
“You made the right choice, then, to stay in.”
She didn’t acknowledge his statement. He’d thought she’d jump on that, to say of course she was right. She wasn’t herself. Not that he could claim to know who she was anymore, though he didn’t believe she had fundamentally changed.
“Come outside with me?” he asked.
She turned her gaze to him, her expression one of challenge. “Why would I want to do that?”
He shrugged. Not that he could recreate that night they’d gotten engaged, but he wanted to remind Nora. “I dare you.”
She pinched her lips together. “If you knew me, you’d know that doesn’t work with me.”
“Dance with me?” That’s what they’d done after he’d gotten down on one knee. After she’d said yes. After they’d declared they’d be together, forever.
He waited, but she stared off at the window again. “You’d rather...eat the other cupcake?” Nothing. “Make out on the sofa? Have a snowball fight? Pillow fight?”
She shook her head, but her lips had softened, and she pushed at his foot with hers. She sipped her coffee. “You wish.”
Maybe he did. He wished a lot of things, especially when it came to Nora Delgado. No sense in wishing at the moment. Here she was, and here he was. It was the culmination of years of wishing. He’d say it was time for action, but he’d done that too. He ate some of the cupcake.
“Delicious,” he said. “How’s yours?”
She startled. Then she took a bite. “Same. Maya’s really talented.”
“You three still las tres hermanas?” It was one of the memories of her mother Nora had shared, that she’d called Nora, Ana, and Maya that, the three sisters.
“As close as we can be.”
“You and Maya are pretty private.”
She slowly ate, shifting in her seat. Was that discomfort that he still knew her? He thought so.
“Is Ana still a romantic?”
“Is Dean still an artist?”
His ears heated. He’d been a jerk to his brother about his art and she knew it. “Yeah, and we’re proud of him.”
“Good to know some things can change.”
“Change can be good.” Especially if it meant Nora changing her mind about them.
“Not always.” She rose and went to the sink with her cup.
He finished his cupcake, then joined her, but she moved to the living room.
“Going to dance with me?” He followed her, watching the gentle sway of her hips.
“Might as well.” She made it sound like anything was preferable to having to talk to him. But she wasn’t kicking him out. Getting to dance with her was progress.
“Want to pick the song?” he asked.
“No, thanks.” She busied herself straightening the magazines on the coffee table.
He chose a playlist on his phone, one he listened to when he missed her most.
“Is that the blanket you crocheted?” he asked as she folded it carefully.
“I thought you wanted to dance?”
He was sure it was the same blanket she’d made during that year at Delgado Ranch. They’d spent several nights under it, together, watching movies or talking, sometimes kissing. It’d all been innocent, sweet. Not words anyone would associate with him now. But those had been some of the best moments in his life. He wanted more of those moments.
His heart thumped in his chest as Nora turned to him. This moment was one he’d berated himself for wanting, wished for, believed he’d never get. Now it was here. The weight of it, sweet as it was, pressed his old doubt into his solar plexus. Could he be the man Nora needed? Did she love him enough to let him in?
The song began, a slow melody. He opened his arms to her and she stepped into his embrace.
Chapter Five
Nora slipped her hands onto Cutler’s shoulders as he cupped her waist. They swayed in time to the slow song. It wasn’t the same one they’d danced to the night they’d gotten engaged, but it was similar enough to choke her throat with more tears, all the tears she’d bottled up and stored away for some time when she didn’t need to stay strong. That day never came, not until tonight.
“Is this on purpose?” she managed to get out.
“What? I want to dance with you, so yes.”
Swallowing down the sadness again, she straightened in his arms. “I mean...it’s the anniversary of the night we got engaged. We danced under the stars in our special spot. Do you remember?”
“Yes.” He met her gaze with his intense one.
She regretted asking. She’d thought to catch him out in something, halt this evening by showing he didn’t really remember how it had been between them, all the moments they’d shared, moments of connection, of comfort, of love. But he did remember.
“I remember every minute with you,” he continued, his hands loosely holding her close.
She moved a hand to her throat. “I shouldn’t have written that letter.” He said that was what had kept him away. All those years she needed him, wanted him, and it was her own fault.
“Why did you?”
“Aunt Connie... We talked about it, and decided it was best.”
He stopped, still, dropping his hands. “We said we’d wait to tell anyone.”
She grasped her hands together. A jittery feeling skittered through her. “I... We were so young. I didn’t want... I wanted to do what was best.”
“And it was best not to saddle yourself with some poor ranch hand, right?”
She shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”
“Do I? You let yourself be persuaded so easily to break off our engagement, but you could barely be persuaded to accept a date with me.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I should go.”
The storm pelted the windows, which whitened with snow and ice.
“It’s too risky,” she blurted. “You’re angry. You shouldn’t drive.” She couldn’t risk losing him the way she had Papá. “You can stay here.”
He paced to the window then to the front door and back to her. She sat on the sofa and pulled the blanket around her. “Please.” It was irrational, and unfair, but she couldn’t let him go. Not now, not like this.
He closed his eyes and pushed out a breath. “All right.” Sinking to the sofa, he sat stiffly. “For tonight.” In a quick movement, he grabbed his phone and turned off the music.
Satisfied that at least he wouldn’t leave, Nora leaned into the sofa back, her legs curled under her. The exhaustion of the last months crashed into her: of packing and saying goodbyes; coping with her stepbrother and his awful wife, who’d inherited the ranch; moving hundreds of miles; and starting a new life where at every corner she seemed to see Cutler or something he’d told her about. With one last glance at Cutler, who sat staring forward at the window, she closed her eyes.
NEXT
SHE KNEW, SHE was in Cutler’s arms, weak light filtering in through the white-flecked windows. He didn’t hold her too tightly, but with just the right amount of firm strength. His steady breathing calmed her, even though being this close to him was also exciting, warming her core and limbs. But she talked herself down from that cliff and settled into his embrace. She blinked back further tears and remembered without fighting it all the good times they’d shared.
Closing her eyes, she breathed him in, coffee and sweetness, and earthy delights, like evergreens and desert evenings when the cacti bloomed and rain lingered in the distance. She’d let herself love him all those years ago. And she’d never stopped. She was home again.
Realizing she’d drooled on his shirt, she tried to pull up, but he still held her, so she just tried to surreptitiously wipe around her mouth.
“Here.” He handed her the handkerchief she’d left on the coffee table last night.
She wiped her mouth, her cheeks heating. He rose and walked to the front window, straightening his shirt and smoothing his slacks.
“Storm’s over.”
The one in her heart had only begun. All these years, she’d resented Cutler for leaving without a word, but it was her words that had sent him away.
“How about Gallagher’s for breakfast?” she asked.
“What?” He turned to her, rubbed his hand through his hair, and somehow it fell into place.
“I didn’t get the full date experience.”
“We slept on the couch together. I think you got more than you bargained for.”
“Y tu,” she said, walking to him. “I’m sorry, Cutler. For that letter. For not having the courage to love you wholeheartedly.” And she wasn’t ready to declare her love now.
He touched her cheek. “Mi querida, vamanos.”
She smiled. His words in Spanish were a truce, a gesture of forgiveness. Cutler had known Spanish from the time they’d first met. That a white boy from Montana could speak Spanish with a passable accent had impressed even Papá. But Cutler spoke only to her in such endearments, with such familiarity. “I’ll go change.”
“Why not wear that?”
“I’m not wearing a little black dress to breakfast.”
“I’m wearing a suit. Who cares what anyone thinks?”
He’d anticipated her other objection. She considered telling him to raise the donation amount again, but he was giving a good sum as it was, and he’d smoothed the roughness with his words. Again.
Her stomach growled.
“See? Your stomach knows the answer. Where’s your coat?”
“In the closet.”
He strode to it and pulled out her heavy wool overcoat. Easing up, she slid on her heels, walked to him, and let him help her don the garment. He did the same and they both pulled on gloves and scarves.
They peeked out the window. The storm had stopped, leaving the landscape covered in sparkly snow. She shivered, thinking of Papá on a similar day.
Cutler rubbed her arm. “I have four-wheel drive. We’ll take it slow.”
Cutler held the door for her, she locked up, and they got into his SUV. She turned on the sound system and instantly regretted it. A Joe Nichols song played and the smooth sound of his voice caused her to soften more. They used to play Joe Nichols songs and listen with joined earbuds, laying on a blanket under the stars. Or sometimes, Cutler would play the CD in his car and they’d dance, their feet kicking up dust, which swirled in the hazy nights, sparkling and feeling like a magical whirlwind, enclosing them from the outside world.
But that world had come crashing down.
Because she’d been afraid. Like she was scared now. Frightened of the love she and Cutler could share.
She edged closer to the window and touched it with her bare hand. The cold seeped in. She willed it to chill her. But it didn’t work. She fiddled with her earring, trying to gather her strength to her like a shield.
“Why are you Mannings in town, anyway? Don’t you have your ranch and all?” She sounded tired, even to her own ear.
“We’re not all here. Just Dean and me, for now. We used to spend summers here, remember?”
She nodded. He’d told her about it when they’d been a couple. She waited for him to answer her question.
“Dean bought back the old family property. The ranch is really not big enough for the seven of us, not if we all get married and such.”
She pressed her fingers to her heart. Married. She couldn’t imagine being married to anyone but Cutler. Goodness knew she’d tried. There had been a neighbor back in Arizona who wanted to marry her, and it would have solved all hers and Ana’s problems. But Nora couldn’t bring herself to accept his proposal.
“Dean and I care about the town and the people here, too. They looked out for us when we had little, and now we want to share what we have. And Dean wants to live his own life. So do I.”
Did that life include her anymore, or had she killed his love last night? Still, if his love was so easily crushed, it wasn’t love at all. “That’s understandable.”
“What about you? Why uproot to Montana?”
She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left for us in Arizona. And Maya needs us.”
“I needed you.” His low tone was no longer bitter, just choked with sadness.
“And I you. But that’s passed now. We both made lives without each other,” she whispered. Yet something had always been missing. And that was Cutler and his love. She knew that much now. Maybe she could take the risk. Maybe she could let herself love Cutler. Maybe she was stronger than she gave herself credit for. She’d borne the deaths of her grandparents and her parents. Nothing right now could be more heart-wrenching than that. Still painful, yes, but she could get through it.
He parked in the lot behind Gallagher’s. The music ended.
“Here we are,” he said. Did he mean the café, or at this moment, together?
She gazed out the window. Most of the Main Street window displays dripped with hearts and flowers, pinks and reds splashed against the glass, contrasting with the stark white of the new snow and frost that spangled the bare-limbed trees.
“Yes,” she croaked out.
He took her hand and squeezed it. She tried to smile at him, but couldn’t manage to look at him. She needed a moment to compose herself. She felt all jumbled up inside, like one of those snow globes Ana collected. Ana loved shaking them, stirring up trouble, while Nora preferred the serene landscape, the calm.
Cutler came around and opened her door for her, taking her hand to help her down. She teetered and held onto him. Now she gazed up at him, and wished she hadn’t. His stubbly beard made his face even more rugged and handsome, and his gaze held that tenderness again, and an equal amount of desire.
“I’m all right,” she lied, pulling away from him.
He said nothing as he followed her into the café, holding the door for her.
“Well now!” Mrs. Gallagher greeted them from her position on a stool behind the host stand. “So lovely to see you both. How’d you ride out the storm?” There was a deliberate twinkle in her eye. Nora hadn’t thought it possible, but the older woman was positively glowing. Did she just wink at Cutler? Nora glanced at him, but he was busy smiling at Mrs. Gallagher and asking how she was.
The café was dotted with people: one family in a booth by the side window, some couples at two-person booths, and a few singles at tables and the counter along another side window. The space was certainly maximized for customers, and the scents of the food and full bakery case appealed to the senses. She’d have to talk to Maya about making the most of their bakery space too, though since Maya had worked here for a while, she’d probably have some of it in mind.
After Cutler and Mrs. Gallagher exchanged pleasantries, Mrs. Gallagher asked, “You’re here for breakfast, and...”
Cutler shrugged. What was that about?
The older woman tucked a stray strand of silver hair back. “You take your favorite booth, Cutler. A
nd remember what I said. Good to see you again, Nora.”
“You too,” she said as Cutler led her to a side booth in the corner by the front window. The bright day was a contrast to the storm of feelings swirling through her. “Are you in cahoots with her or something?”
“Or something,” he said, sliding next to her in the seat.
She bent her head and studied the menu, but didn’t tell him to move. It was warming, and comforting somehow, to sit here next to him, getting ready to share a meal.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He leaned closer to her. The thrill of it stripped away more of her fear. She shivered at the feeling of nakedness that threatened to overwhelm her.
“What’re you having?” he asked.
She read the menu again. “Eggs benedict.”
“A special meal.” Why did she want that to be true?
The waitperson appeared and Cutler ordered for them, even remembering how she liked her coffee and always wanted ice water with her meal, even in winter.
“Think Maya will ever accept Dean’s proposal?” His strong hand rested near hers on the table. She ached to have him grasp her hand in his, to declare their love on Valentine’s Day weekend, like they had before.
“I don’t know. He didn’t wait long. She wants to get her business going, and she’s very independent. He knows that.”
“He does. I think he’s just hoping they could be engaged. He doesn’t mind waiting. She’s worth it.”
She looked out the window. Why did it feel like he wasn’t just talking about Maya and Dean?
“It’s good that you sound supportive.”
“I’ve learned some things over the years.”
Maybe he really had changed. “Have you?”
“Yes, like to not be such a jerk. That my brothers don’t need me riding herd on them like our dad did. That the best things in life are the ones that can’t be bought. And, most importantly, that I’m a huge fool.”
Her cheeks heated. “Cutler...” she said in a warning tone.
Sweet Valentine Page 3
