by Nicole Helm
“I’m sure you do. But I bet Monica and Bailey have a few million reasons why you should try.”
He looked down at her, like she was a problem he couldn’t solve. But his words were simple enough. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” She tried to offer him one of her winsome smiles. “Talking is what friends do. We’re friends.”
His expression remained serious, and something...changed. A weight in the air, a pulse pounding around them.
“I don’t always have only friendly thoughts about you.”
Her breath caught for a second, before she forced herself to breathe through it. She kept her body still, because she had to keep her wits about her. Make the right choices. “That is not altogether un-mutual,” she managed to croak.
“We can’t...”
“No, we can’t.” She forced herself to smile at him. “But we can be friends.”
*
Eli moved into the bunk. He refused to tell Monica how he felt about it or how close he’d been to bolting. He just did it and kept his mouth shut during his therapy sessions. If Monica was frustrated by that, she didn’t show it. She let him ignore her as they worked the horses. Day in. Day out.
He worked with Viv in the kitchen and something about acknowledging that attraction made him feel less...tense. He could relax around her. Talk. Laugh.
It wasn’t even so bad in the bunk. Levi and Drake were constantly ribbing him. They didn’t make it feel like it was a change, really. Somehow the transition was a simple one, and since it cured that odd loneliness that had been plaguing him maybe...
Maybe Monica had been right to force his hand.
Maybe, maybe, once Christmas and Bailey’s visit passed, he would admit it. Out loud. To her. To someone.
He could do this. Take this step. It had been a year of isolation. Maybe after a year of living in the bunk he’d...
He pushed that thought away. He had no designs on a future. There was only surviving the now.
Eli looked down at the sink where he was hand washing the last of the dishes from dinner prep. Vivian was standing hunched over the counter, rewriting her Christmas menu for the hundredth time. The rainbow of colors of the Christmas lights she’d hung everywhere dotted Vivian’s dark hair and profile as she frowned over the notebook.
“Convince me four different types of potatoes is too many.”
“Can you ever have too many types of potatoes?”
She shot him a dirty look as he finished drying the dishes. “Not helping,” she muttered.
Helping. He looked around the kitchen. For almost two months he’d helped here. Done something that he specifically knew had made Vivian’s life easier. Anyone could have done it, but he’d been the one who’d done it in this time.
And she had done something for him. He couldn’t articulate it. Didn’t know what to do with it. But they were, as she said, friends.
He moved over to her, tugged the notebook and pen out of her hands. He crossed out the scalloped potatoes and the baked potato bar, along with two of the six cookie varieties, and all the cakes except the gingerbread one.
He handed it back to her. “There. Merry Christmas.”
She pouted and looked at the new list. “But—”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Viv. You will have enough food. The food will be delicious like it always is.”
The pout didn’t let up, but she hefted out a sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”
But he could see as she studied it, she was just going to keep obsessing. So, he took it back, then tucked it under his arm. “I’ll just hold onto it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I need to plan.”
He shrugged. “I’ m sure you have other paper to plan on.”
“I need that plan,” she insisted, trying to pull it out from under his arm. But he grabbed it with his other hand and then held it above his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“You should know by now, I’m always serious.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You should know by now I don’t give up that easily.” She reached for it. Demanded it. Even once jumped and tried to wrestle it from his grasp. She failed, ended up falling against him and he had to use his free hand to help balance her so she didn’t go tumbling backward.
Then she...stayed there. Pressed against his chest. Because their gazes had met and...
She felt like a Christmas miracle, glittering in the colorful lights of the season. He’d blame those lights on the fact he couldn’t seem to pull away. On why he stood there, far too close, letting the moment stretch out longer and longer. She angled her mouth to his, and he should stop it.
Stop it.
He stepped away abruptly, before that brief brush of lips could even be considered a kiss. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sor—”
“It’s a non-starter, Viv. We can’t.” What was he doing? He’d come to Revival Ranch to stay away from entanglements. Get far away from all those responsibilities to the people he loved.
No, you came here to keep Bailey safe.
But the first thought, the knee-jerk thought, haunted him. Stay away from responsibilities? No, he hadn’t done that.
“Viv,” she echoed, smiling.
He blinked. “Huh?” Why was she saying her own name?
“You called me Viv. Not Vivian.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Why had he let her mean something? “It can’t mean anything.” She’d agreed on that before. That moment he’d been stupid enough to admit he was attracted to her, she’d agreed. They couldn’t.
And in the here and now she nodded. But she didn’t move away from him, and her gaze didn’t leave his face.
“I should head out.” Had to get out of here. He handed her her notebook.
“Yeah, me too.” She closed her notebook with very careful movements. Not the way she usually moved. But she grabbed her coat and Eli could only do the same.
When he opened the door for her, she paused. “Eli, I think you’re fine. And I think you’re a good man. I know you don’t think that yet, but I’ll still be thinking it when you finally do.”
She clicked off the lights so they were plunged into darkness.
He didn't know what to say. What was there to say to that? She didn’t know him. Not really. No matter the time they spent together, or that he’d admitted things to her in his cabin that one afternoon that he hadn’t admitted to anyone out loud. That she seemed to understand him—if not from his own perspective, from the perspective of someone who’d stood by someone who’d dealt with what he’d dealt with.
But...they weren’t real friends. They were acquaintances who found each other attractive. That’s why she wanted to believe he was a good man.
He kept trying to hold on to those very real thoughts, but she’d blown him apart with a few simple words.
As they stepped into the frigid evening the sounds of chatter took his gaze to the field by the stables. All the outdoor lights were on, along with an array of Christmas lights Becca Maguire had decorated the entire ranch with. The group of guys were arranged like they were...playing baseball.
“Sterling! Get over here,” Drake called. “We need a batter.”
“You too, Vivian. My team needs a pitcher,” Levi shouted. “Averly sucks. Last at bat.”
“How exactly do you place baseball in a field covered in a few feet of snow?” Vivian asked as they began to trudge over to the group.
But it was clear they’d dug out a makeshift baseball diamond. There was a square of cleared area for home plate, routes shoveled out to first, second, third and home, and a little hole for the pitcher to stand in.
“Just warning you guys. I was something of a whiffle ball legend on the farm,” Vivian said as she made her way through the snow to the pitcher’s mound—or hole in this case.
“In your own mind,” someone shouted from behind Eli.
Drake pulled Eli over
to the makeshift home plate and handed him a skinny, yellow whiffle ball bat. It was more than a little weird—the snowy yard glowing from the outside lights and Christmas lights. Pretty Viv in her bulky coat laughing at something Levi said.
When she picked up the ball it was clear it was not a whiffle ball or baseball. Eli looked back at Drake. “Snowballs?”
“Sure. They’re packed so how many pieces it breaks into is how many bases you get.”
Eli had no idea why he was playing this ridiculous game. Even less why Vivian was. But she hefted the snowball, gave an exaggerated windup, and Eli stood there and watched the snowball sail past him.
“Steeee-rike,” Olsen yelled cheerfully behind him.
“A mile wide,” Eli insisted.
But Olsen was shaking his head. “No arguing with the ump, Sterling.”
This time when Vivian threw the snowball, Eli crouched into a stance and tried to hit it. He’d never played baseball, but he considered himself a pretty athletic guy. Apparently not so much at snow whiffle ball. He swung and missed.
“Oh and two,” Vivian called cheerfully from the pitchers mound. “Don’t want to let a girl strike you out.”
“I don’t care if a girl strikes me out,” he muttered to himself, but he dug in and when she threw the next snowball, he swung as hard as he could.
And got nothing but air.
Vivian’s ‘team’ whistled for her and she took a little bow and Eli laughed while Drake booed him. They all gathered at the pitcher’s hole, the guys giving Vivian compliments and ragging on Eli.
“Come on. Pioneer Spirit,” Drake said, hooking an arm over Eli’s shoulders. “We’re all going. Not getting drunk—we promised Averly we won’t embarrass him in front of his cop brother. Just a drink. You can come too, Vivian.”
“I’m going to have to pass,” Vivian said, and she was smiling at all of them, but her eyes were on Eli and Eli alone.
It shouldn’t matter.
“You guys go have fun. But not too much.” She started walking away and Eli knew he shouldn’t watch. Too many eyes. Too many...feelings crashing around inside of him.
“Come on, Sterling,” Drake said, pulling him toward the trucks.
It was a Saturday night, so the Pioneer Spirit lot was full of big trucks. Drake had to park a ways down the street and they piled out, walking toward the bar, good naturedly ribbing each other.
Eli didn’t really participate beyond laughing, but it felt very...natural. Something he hadn’t expected to feel. Hadn’t wanted to feel, he corrected. He’d avoided people because making connections meant...
Well, what did it mean? He didn’t have a responsibility to these guys, and they understood to an extent what it was to be what they were. It should feel natural.
What shouldn’t was everything that was going on with Viv.
They passed the diner, a place Eli had only been in once or twice—especially since Vivian had come to be their cook at the ranch.
There was a Help Wanted sign in the window. Eli found himself staring at it. Even as Drake and Levi kept walking toward Pioneer Spirit, Eli was rooted to the spot.
That same flutter he’d felt toward Vivian lately battered around in his stomach. A new life.
Yeah, one you could destroy.
But there was a clipboard on the door, with applications and another sign. Handwritten this time. KITCHEN HELP DESPERATELY NEEDED. APPLY TODAY!
He took one and shoved it in his pocket. He’d throw it out when he got back to the ranch. Probably. He wasn’t going to work in some diner kitchen.
He worked at Revival Ranch. He belonged at Revival where he wasn’t a threat to anyone he loved.
Chapter Eight
Vivian arrived at the mess hall before Eli, but this time she didn’t worry. She hoped he’d had fun last night. He needed a little fun in his life.
She thought about last night. The way his mouth had just barely touched hers. Had such a non-kiss ever stayed with her? Had a man ever twisted her up in a million different ways she didn’t know what to do with?
And that was the problem with Eli, and why they should remain friends. Just friends. The way she felt about him didn’t make sense. It made her uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to do. Usually when it came to men in her life she knew just how to maneuver them.
Isn’t that the problem?
She was happy to hear the door open because she did not want to think about any of this. “Good morning. You could have slept in longer. I know you must have had fun last ni— Monica.”
Monica stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Viv didn’t know why Monica suddenly made her nervous.
Yes, you do.
Okay, so she did. She didn’t know what Eli mentioned to Monica. She doubted he mentioned her. But now Viv had made it sound like... Well, fun had connotations and...
“That sounded... No, it’s just... Eli went to Pioneer Spirit with the guys last night. So, you know, I figured he’d... Have fun and sleep in and... It’s just...”
“You know he went to the bar last night?” Monica asked in an even tone that gave away nothing.
“I was there when he agreed to go. I... They invited me, but I said no.” She felt as though she’d been caught red handed and she hadn’t even done anything. It felt like her thoughts were bouncing off the walls in big, bright letters.
Yes, I have fantasized about sex and Eli Sterling. A lot.
“It’s probably good to keep that kind of boundary,” Monica said in that same tone. Vivian had sat in family therapy sessions with Monica for Jack, so Viv knew it was a therapist trick. Or if not trick...tactic.
“Right. Yeah. Boundaries.” Vivian smiled brightly and hoped her face wasn’t as red as it felt.
“I just came by because I wanted to talk about Eli’s replacement.”
“Replacement? Is he going somewhere?” Vivian winced at how panicked she sounded.
And Monica just kept watching her with careful blue eyes. “I think the two month session has been good for him, so we’re going to rotate a new guy in. I’m thinking Levi Young next.”
“Oh, right. Two months. I forgot.” She didn’t know what to say. She’d completely forgotten Eli was supposed to...rotate out. That he wouldn’t be here helping her. That she would only see him in passing when he came to eat and...
That was fine. Probably for the best. Maybe she’d develop a stupid crush on every soldier who came through her kitchen. It was just close proximity and a story she knew well enough to be touched by. She’d fall in and out of infatuation ever few months.
But she knew she wouldn’t. Eli was special.
“Everything okay?” Monica asked.
“Sure. Sure.”
“Should we talk?”
Vivian felt a bit like she was coming unglued, but she couldn’t let it show. “I don’t...know. Should we?”
“I don’t know you all that well, Vivian. But I consider you a friend.”
“I consider you a friend, too. It’s just...” How could she explain this? It was so...complicated.
“I’m Eli’s therapist and you have feelings for Eli.”
To hear Monica say it felt like a slap. Or maybe an accusation. “That’s not crazy. To have feelings for someone. I have feelings for lots of people.” She knew she sounded desperately defensive but she felt... Well, cornered.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m judging anything, or that I don’t understand. I was in a rather similar situation not all that long ago. Which is what I’m speaking from here. Not as Eli’s therapist, but as someone who has walked the bumpy road I can see you eyeing.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Which was stupid. Even if Monica wasn’t a therapist, she wasn’t blind. And Viv was hardly good at any kind of subterfuge or hiding all her feelings.
“There’s a difference between caring about someone and wanting to help someone because they’re in unfortunate circumstances.”
“I don’t happen to think Eli’s circumsta
nces are all that unfortunate,” Viv said, not sure why she was offended, only that she was and that the words came out prim and dismissive.
But Monica smiled. “Good answer.” She blew out a breath. “But this is not...”
“You were my brother’s therapist. We’ve sat in a session together, Monica. I know that your relationships with everyone here must be complicated. Everything here has an extra layer of complication. I’m not oblivious to that.”
“I guess that’s what I’m trying to explain. Yeah, it’s...different here. There are layers of things you might not have had if you’d stayed in Indiana. But life everywhere is complicated. It’s got weird twists and turns and connections that don’t have easy, simple answers. I don’t want to tell you what to do or even give you advice. I just want to...”
Vivian waited expectantly.
“Oh fine, damn it. I’m giving you advice. Don’t try to simplify this. Let it be complicated. Understand it’s going to be a bit messy. Messy’s okay. If you’re careful with it.”
Vivian’s life had never been particularly messy, but she’d been on the outskirts of the messy relationship her brothers had. And if she was being honest with herself, what Mike had done to Jack had complicated her feelings toward Mike, Madison and her nephew.
So, maybe she wasn’t a total newbie to complicated.
“Thanks, Monica. It’s good advice.”
“Hallelujah, someone finally admits it.” She threw her hands in the air. “So, you’re good with Levi?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good. He’ll start at the new year.”
Viv had to bite her tongue to keep from asking more specific questions about Eli. Even if Monica wasn’t his therapist and therefore honor bound not to tell her anything, it wouldn’t be right.
Monica’s son stuck his head in the door. “Mom. Grandma and Grandpa are here.”
“Jeez this early? Excuse me.”
“Yeah, go.”
“If you ever need to talk...”
Viv smiled. “Thanks.” But the problem with talking was the one person she really needed to have a conversation with was Eli... And she didn’t know how to wade into that complicated.
*
Eli hadn’t thrown away the application. He hadn’t filled it out either. He kept it in his coat pocket, wondering why he couldn’t do something abut it.
