Belle wanted to cry again. It was getting ridiculous. She’d always been a bit sentimental, but not the sort who burst into tears just because someone kind said something nice to her. She thanked Mary Beth and then got back into the SUV where Marcus waited so patiently behind the wheel.
They left to make another round of donation pickups.
Saturday, they worked into the afternoon. The weather was clear that day and icy-cold. No new snow was predicted for the rest of that pre-Christmas weekend.
That night, Charlotte and Silas had volunteered to stay home and take care of Ben so that Belle and Preston could attend the Christmas dance at the Masonic Hall. Belle spent a lot of time up in her room getting ready. Because the weather would be clear, she felt reasonably safe wearing the most festive outfit she’d brought with her: a slim, knee-length red velvet skirt and a close-fitting short red jacket with a V neck and three-quarter-length sleeves. She had a lovely pair of hose with a back seam and a tiny red poinsettia flower woven at the base of the seam, just above her ankles. And her best red high heels. She swept her hair up into a twist and wore diamond studs in her ears.
She’d packed the festive ensemble in a gesture of defiance way back at the end of October, when she flew to North Carolina to take care of Anne. Then, she’d still had some hope that Anne might last through Christmas. Packing the bright skirt and jacket had made the possibility of Anne’s living longer seem more real somehow.
Yes, she knew that the shoes were a little dangerous on icy Elk Creek streets, but she would hold on to Preston’s arm nice and tight for stability.
When she came down the stairs and joined the others in the living room, Silas whistled and Charlotte said, “You look absolutely beautiful, dearest.”
Preston, so handsome in black trousers and a dressy black shirt, said softly, “Oh, yeah, she does.”
They had the Christmas music playing and the big tree all lit up. Ben sat on the rug trying to stack bright-colored foam blocks. At the sight of Belle, he cried, “Belle! Play!”
And Preston bent to scoop him up into his big arms. “Belle is all ready for the night out with me, bud. She’s not getting down on the rug with you right now. But I’m thinking she might be willing to give us a dance.”
Ben called her name again and held out his arms. Her heart overflowing with love and tenderness so sharp it was almost painful, she went to them.
A new song started, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” They danced, Preston and Belle, with Ben between them. They swayed in time to the bittersweet song, into the foyer, in front of the tree.
Ben made soft happy sounds, alternately leaning his head on Preston’s shoulder and then on Belle’s. A bright light went off, surprising Belle so that she laughed.
Preston said, “Back off, Dad.” Silas had gone and gotten a camera. And he didn’t listen to Preston. He snapped a couple more quick shots as they danced.
When the song was over, Ben clung to Belle. She took him and went into the living room and sat on the sofa. The others joined her. For a while they sat and chatted, Ben quiet in her lap, his head on her shoulder, relaxed in her arms. She savored those moments, her heart full and aching at the same time.
Preston had a reservation at The Bull’s Eye for dinner before the dance. She sat across from him at the same table he’d reserved the night they met and couldn’t help fantasizing what it might be like if she did stay with him, if they made a life together. The Bull’s Eye might become “their” special place. She loved that idea.
“You’re smiling,” he said, quietly. Intimately. “It’s your secret smile. What goes through your mind when you smile like that?”
It was a good opening. She shocked herself and took it. “I was thinking about us, about how things might be if we stayed together. That we might come here often. It could be ‘our place.’”
He gazed at her steadily when she said that, his eyes unreadable. And then he picked up the whiskey he’d ordered and knocked back a big gulp of it. “Sometimes it’s better not to go imagining things that aren’t going to happen.”
That hurt. And she couldn’t quite just let it go. “How do you know it won’t happen? How do you know you won’t...want to be with me longer than just until New Year’s?”
He glanced away. His hand on the table had formed a fist. “Come on, Belle. Don’t.”
She pushed on, lowering her voice another notch, keeping it carefully controlled. “Answer my question. Please.”
“Not here.”
“Then where? When?”
He kept trying not to look at her. But she stared straight at him until, at last, he met her eyes. “It’s not about what I want. Sometimes a guy doesn’t get what he wants.”
She leaned closer. “You have to know that makes no sense at all. If you want to be with me and I want to be with you, well, then, we just...do what we have to do to make that happen.”
His face was so...tight. Closed off from her. “Can we please not talk about this now?”
Oh, she did long to keep pushing. Somehow, now she’d finally opened her mouth and tried to say what was on her mind and in her heart, she just didn’t want to stop. They needed to speak of this. Or at least, she needed to.
But he did have a point. Perhaps now, in The Bull’s Eye before the big Christmas dance, was not the right time to do it.
“All right, Preston.” She picked up her fork and ate a bite of her potato. “We’ll discuss it later.”
* * *
Pres could already tell that the evening was pretty much ruined.
He picked up his fork and knife and went to work on his porterhouse. Across from him, Belle was way too silent. She ate her meal methodically, so beautiful it hurt to look at her in that perfectly fitted red velvet jacket, diamonds sparkling in her delicate ears.
He tried to think of something neutral to say, but then that seemed pretty damn fake to pretend that nothing had happened.
Yeah, okay. It was a conversation they apparently needed to have. He had to make it clear to her that there was this time they were having, so fine and perfect, like a dream come true.
And there was real life. He wasn’t moving to some European country to hang out with the jet set. And damned if he would ask her—or even let her—give up what was hers by rights, a life of glamour and privilege, to move to Montana and be a ranch wife.
They finished the meal in a strained, unhappy silence.
When they left The Bull’s Eye, he almost asked her if she wanted to just head back to the ranch. But she hadn’t said a word about cutting the evening short—she hadn’t said much of anything since he’d asked her to stop talking about their nonexistent future together.
Maybe, once they got to the dance, once he got his arms around her on the dance floor, the mood would lighten up a little. They could put the heavy issues aside. They could do what he’d assumed they had agreed to be doing together: enjoying a beautiful time while it lasted.
The Masonic Hall was all done up for the party, with a Christmas tree in every corner and lights strung from the rafters. They checked their coats and went in. A five-piece band, the one the Community Club always got for town dances, was playing “Let It Snow.”
Pres took Belle’s hand and led her over to the punch table. He poured them each a paper cupful. She took hers with a nod, her lips moving, saying “Thank you,” though he didn’t hear the words. The band was too loud.
They stood there, sipping the too-sweet punch, waving occasionally to people they knew as the music grated in his ears. He felt grim and determined and realized he’d hardly felt grim at all since Belle had brought Ben and Charlotte and the damn bodyguard and moved into his house.
And then he started thinking how he used to feel that way all the time, how being with Belle kind of put a whole new light on every day, and brightened every night. How he’d been losing himself in just being with her and not let himself think about how it was going to be when she left.
Yeah, at least he’d have Ben
. That mattered a lot. Ben would give him a focus and a hope in his life that he’d lost somewhere along the way.
But it was still going to be pretty damn awful to wake up every day and not once see her smile across a table at him, not once hear that voice of hers that was cultured and musical and sexy as hell. Not be able to turn to her for advice about Ben. Not be able to ask her opinion when he was considering the pros and cons of just about anything.
Not to have her with him in his bed. For the lovemaking, which with her was the best he’d ever had—and yeah, it wasn’t like he had a lot to compare it to. But still. A man knows the best when he’s having it. And with Belle, it was the best, bar none.
And what about the simple feel of her skin, the way she sighed in her sleep, the smell of her hair?
How was he supposed to get by without the smell of her hair?
And why the hell did she have to bring this up and get him so he couldn’t stop thinking about it anyway?
“Let It Snow” finally ended. The band launched into something slow and sweet.
He turned to her and took the half-empty cup of punch from her. He set the cup on the refreshment table and put his cup beside it. “Let’s dance.”
She went into his arms. The world filled up with her: with the scent of her subtle, tempting perfume, the feel of her soft, smooth body under the red velvet she wore. He closed his eyes and pretended that right now, this moment, was all that there was. Just him and Belle, dancing together to an old Willie Nelson song his mom used to play at Christmastime before they lost her.
He tried to hold on to that feeling, the feeling of him and Belle together, right now. The feeling that the past and the future didn’t matter, didn’t even exist.
When the song ended, she smiled at him.
He took that to mean the rough patch was over. They could go ahead as they had been. Through the holidays.
Until the New Year.
They danced some more. When the band took a break, she left him to visit the ladies’ room. He stood by the refreshment table and talked horses with Gil Belquist, who owned the Triple B Ranch, southwest of town.
Gil turned to get more punch. He bent over the table and past his shoulders Pres caught sight of Lucy, standing by the door. Staring at him.
What was her problem, anyway?
But then Belle returned and the band started playing again. He took her in his arms and there was only the two of them. The way it ought to be for every last second of the time they had left together.
They were quiet on the ride home, but it seemed to him a comfortable kind of silence. He was really thinking that things were okay between them again.
Inside, Charlotte and the old man were waiting up. They reported that Ben had been a little angel. He’d gone to bed without a fuss.
Then Charlotte said, “I’ll just walk Silas across the yard....”
They put on their coats and left.
Pres turned to Belle—and he knew as soon as he looked in her eyes. Things were not okay. In the restaurant, she’d said they could discuss it later.
Later was now.
“Let’s go in the living room,” she said.
He trudged in after her, feeling like a condemned man on the way to the execution chamber. She waited until he was inside, then she shut the wide doors to the foyer and checked the baby monitor that Charlotte had left on the coffee table, making sure it was on.
She sat on the sofa. He took the seat across from her. It seemed wrong, somehow, to sit next to her for this.
“Please, Preston.” She leaned forward, toward him, her hands tightly folded in her lap. “I only want you to know that I...I care for you. I care for you deeply. And I have been thinking that I don’t want it to end with us. I don’t want us to just walk away from each other once the holidays are over. I want...well, I want more. More time with you. More life with you.”
God, she was beautiful. It wasn’t fair how beautiful she was. He never should have gotten anything started with her. He could see that now. Now, he was the one stuck trying to make her see reason. “I’m crazy about you, Belle. You know that.”
Her face seemed to light from within. “Well, all right, then. What is the problem? I’m not asking you to marry me.” She blushed in the prettiest way. “Not yet anyway. I’m only saying that if we both want to be together, why don’t we just...allow for the possibility that there might be more for us beyond the New Year?”
“What more? I’m not moving to Montedoro, Belle. I belong here. My life is here.”
“I know that.” She said it so simply. Calmly.
He put up both hands. “Hold on. Wait a minute. You’re actually considering...I mean, you have some idea that you might move here, to Elk Creek?”
“I do, yes. I am considering a move to Elk Creek.”
“Belle, that’s beyond crazy. That’s just purely insane.”
She sat back from him then. Her eyes turned guarded. “It certainly is not. I think I could fit in here.”
“It’s not a question of your fitting in. You’d be bored out of your skull inside of a month.”
“Excuse me.” Now the color in her face was more of the pissed-off variety. “Have I seemed bored to you?”
“Belle, you’ve been here two weeks. It’s the holidays. Wait till mid-February. You won’t be able to get out of Montana fast enough.”
She sat up even straighter. “I think you’re wrong.”
“You haven’t lived through a Montana winter yet.”
“But I could, no problem. I am a person with resources, Preston. And I’m not talking about money. I have a rich internal life. I know how to keep myself occupied with productive activities. I love to read and to study. I’ve already spoken with Mary Beth Deluca about the various community projects with which I might become involved were I to make my home here. I could still travel for my work. And I would also be interested in helping you with the horses. It so happens I love horses. And then there would be Ben. I would be spending a lot of time with him.”
It all came clear to him then. “Ben.” He said it gently.
“Yes. Of course. Ben.” She frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Well, because I get it now. It’s about Ben.”
She put her hand to her throat. “About Ben? I don’t understand.”
He laid it right out on the table. “If you stay here, you don’t have to give him up.”
She lowered that hand back to her lap and then she just sat there, looking at him for several seconds that seemed like forever. When she did speak, each word was ice-cold. “I’ve been prepared to give Ben up from the first. That’s why I came here, in case you don’t remember.”
“I know. But if you hook up with me, you won’t have to.”
She smiled. It was not a happy expression. “I’m very tempted to say something sarcastic and heavy with irony right now. But instead, I’ll simply tell you directly that yes, it would be wonderful for me to be here to help Ben grow up. I would give a lot for the chance at that. But Ben doesn’t need me to grow up strong and capable. He will have you and Silas to guide him. And this excellent community you have here in Elk Creek. So there’s simply no need for me to sacrifice my own life to see that he is well cared for. If I chose to live here, to remain here, with you, it would be for you, Preston. For you and for me and for what we might share together.”
By God, he was starting to believe her. And that scared the hell out of him. He stood up. “I...I can’t, Belle. Since we started, I’ve hated even thinking about how it will be when you go. Now you’re telling me you’re thinking that maybe you won’t go. And all I can think is... You say that now. When it’s all exciting and new and fresh between us. But what will you say in a month? In a year? If I had you for a year, and then you left me...” His throat locked up. He swallowed, hard. “I can’t do that. I think it would kill me.”
She rose, too, regal as any queen. “Your mother died, you know? She didn’t leave you.”
<
br /> “What?” He let his annoyance with that train of thought show. “You’re going to start psychoanalyzing me now?”
“No, I’m only pointing out that you lost your mom at a tender age. And you never really tried with a woman until Lucy. And we know that did not go well. It could be you’re so reluctant to give this thing between us a chance because experience has taught you that you’ll only be disappointed.”
“Maybe experience has taught me right.”
“If men never took a chance on women, Preston, the human race would be doomed.”
Why couldn’t he make her understand? “Belle, I can’t, okay? I just can’t.”
“That’s not so. You can. You simply won’t. Do you see me as a flighty sort of person? Someone who makes commitments and then changes her mind about them?”
“No. Never. You’re not like that. That’s not what I mean. It’s only...” He didn’t know how to finish. So he just stood there, feeling awkward and awful and out of his depth.
She came around the table toward him and didn’t stop until she stood right in front of him. His arms ached to reach for her, to pull her close, crush his mouth down on hers.
To forget all this talk of what might be. To lose himself in the moment, in the shine of the firelight on her hair, in the scent of her skin, the softness of her body pressed good and close to his....
But he didn’t reach for her. He kept his hands hard at his side.
She was the one who reached out. She lifted her slim, smooth hand and pressed her palm to his cheek. He felt that touch so deep inside, in places no one had ever touched him before. She said, “My sister Rhia told me that I ought to take a chance on you.”
He answered in a low rumble. “She doesn’t even know me.”
“No, but she knows me. She knows I can be...cautious. That I could be one of those people who won’t risk loving for fear of a broken heart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little caution.”
“No.” She took her hand away. It needed every ounce of will he possessed not to grab it back. “But sometimes one has to be bolder, to risk getting hurt, to find the kind of love that lasts a lifetime—or so my sister said.” She turned and walked away from him. He watched her go, aching so bad to call her back, but knowing she wanted more from him than he was brave enough to give. At the doors, she paused and faced him again. “I’ll leave the monitor here. If Ben needs you in the night, I know you’ll be there for him. In the morning, when you go out to the stables, just open my bedroom door and put the monitor inside. I’ll take it from there.”
The Rancher's Christmas Princess Page 17
