by Liz Isaacson
For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to just excuse everything she’d done—or hadn’t done—because she invited him to breakfast. She hadn’t even apologized, and there was so much more that needed to be said before he sat down to a meal with her.
“Maybe you’d get that apology and all the answers you want if you’d go,” Tripp had said. He’d been badgering Rhett a lot since Thanksgiving, and Rhett was tired of it.
Barry finally stopped laughing, and he said, “Hey, I’m calling for a weird reason.”
“All right,” Rhett said. “Shoot.”
“One of my co-workers lives on Quail Creek Road, and she noticed a package show up at the white house there. She thinks you bought it?”
“Yeah,” Rhett said, trying to think of what he would’ve ordered that would’ve come two months later. Nothing. In fact, Rhett didn’t order anything and have it mailed to him. Online shopping was more of Liam’s or Tripp’s specialty.
“She didn’t know how to get in touch with you, and I said I’d call. So there’s a package on your front porch. Amelia says it’s been there for a few days.”
“Okay,” Rhett said, suddenly glad to have something to do that afternoon. “Thanks, Barry.” He hung up and stepped over to the shaggy horse that had come closer during the conversation.
“I have to go, Rider,” he said. “But I’ll be back.” He ran his hand down the horse’s neck and smiled. “Maybe Santa’s brought me something special for Christmas.” He chuckled to himself, because he’d get the same thing he always did. Jeremiah would give him a chocolate orange on Christmas Eve. As Rhett greatly enjoyed the chocolate orange, he didn’t might this tradition.
Liam and Tripp always did twin gifts, and they’d give Rhett something that came in a pair. He’d gotten salt and pepper shakers in the past. His favorite coffee and a mug. A pair of shoes.
Of course, this year, they’d all be in Grand Cayman, so he didn’t actually know if they’d all haul presents across the Gulf of Mexico or not. Wyatt would be on the ranch right after Christmas, and he usually had the best gifts. Little things he’d picked up in the cities where he traveled for the rodeo.
One year, Micah, a carpenter by trade, had built them all birdhouses, and Skylar had brought them all vintage bikes he’d used his mechanic skills to fix up.
Rhett felt warmer just thinking about Christmas with his brothers. They’d had so many good years together, and though they bickered and argued from time to time, they were family.
“C’mon, Penny,” he said to his dog, and she trotted alongside him, her tongue lolling out, until they got to the truck. She jumped in the back and put her front paws up on the rim, making him smile some more.
As he drove down the highway toward Quail Creek Road, his thoughts turned to Evelyn. She had been his family for a brief time. His fingers clenched as if they had a mind of their own, and he almost missed the turn onto the road where the cute white house stood.
He inched down the road, the tall trees on either side of it almost barren of leaves now. He’d missed seeing them change colors and fall, though he had paid a lawn service to come clean up the aftermath. He wanted to keep the house in livable conditions, because he was seriously thinking about returning to it in the New Year.
Or just as soon as his heart healed. Maybe after the divorce, which was set to go through sometime before Christmas. Evelyn hadn’t come to the hearing, not that he’d expected her to. She’d signed the papers, and he told the judge that neither of them wanted anything from the other. They just wanted to go their separate ways.
The judge had said he didn’t see why that wouldn’t happen as soon as the mandatory sixty-day waiting period ended, but sometimes things took longer, depending on what was on the docket.
He’d get notified either way. Not that he cared. He wasn’t looking to start dating again anytime soon. After all, he’d given his heart to Evelyn, and she hadn’t given it back yet.
The thought that he should’ve come out here for breakfast that morning rang through his mind. Had she come? Would the house smell like bacon or sausage, dunking him further into the pool of regret he was already swimming in?
“You’re not going inside,” he told himself as he turned into the driveway. It certainly didn’t look like anyone lived here, and he got out of the truck to collect the package. The box wasn’t that big, but it weighed quite a bit. The address label had Evelyn Foster on it, and the words burned his retinas.
She hadn’t even changed her name when they’d gotten married. He should’ve seen all these red flags from the beginning. Planted those in his heart so he wouldn’t have fallen for her. He’d done so much wrong in this relationship, but most of all, he missed his best friend. Normally, he’d still have Evelyn to talk to, run things by, solve problems with.
Not anymore.
His eyes caught on the words Knife of the Month Club, and the next thing he knew, he was opening her package. Sure, it might be a federal crime to open mail that wasn’t his, but he didn’t care.
Inside, he found a box with four pocketknives in it, thus the weight, as well as a welcome letter with his name on it. He’d be getting a new box every month, with a new tactical or pocketknife in it.
She’d bought him pocketknives, probably for Christmas. His chest squeezed, and then squeezed tighter. He’d told her one time—exactly one time—how much he loved his pocketknife. How useful it was out on the ranch. How he wished he had a whole collection of them.
She’d giggled in his arms before admitting she loved the Internet more than anything. That had been their conversation that night—one thing they absolutely loved and couldn’t live without. He’d said pocketknives. She’d said the Internet.
Then he’d kissed her and made love to her, and that might’ve been the night she replaced the pocketknife as the one thing he absolutely loved and couldn’t live without.
“You idiot,” he said to himself, looking up and across the yard. Evelyn hadn’t used the words “I’m sorry,” last week when she’d asked him to breakfast. But her coming to him—waiting for him after church—and inviting him to eat with her had been the apology.
She just didn’t communicate the same way as normal people. When she said, “Stay,” or “Wait,” she meant “I love you.” When she said, “I don’t know,” she meant “I need more time to be sure.”
Rhett walked slowly back to his truck, wondering what he could do now that he knew the ball was in his court. How had she passed it to him, and he hadn’t even known it?
“Stupid cowboy,” he muttered. “Always standing in your own way.” He needed Evelyn to create a situation so he’d be able to see her, standing right there in front of him all this time.
Maybe he could text her and say he’d be at next week’s breakfast. Maybe he should go to the Shining Star and ask for her right now.
Maybe you should slow down, he thought only seconds before a siren blared and red lights flashed behind him. Yeah, he definitely should’ve slowed down—and not just his spiraling thoughts.
The next morning, Rhett sat in the same booth, looking out over the diners at the pancake house, his phone flat on the table in front of him. He’d started making a list yesterday after he’d gotten home from the Quail Creek house, pocketknives and a speeding ticket with him.
He was currently up to five things he could do to try to get Evelyn to move breakfast up a few days.
He’d finished his omelet a while ago, but his waitress kept topping off his coffee, for which he was grateful. The extra caffeine really got his mind working, and he tapped out another idea.
Send her a candy-gram.
Okay, it was a stupid idea. The top two were Find her and talk to her or Text her and ask her to meet you at the pancake house.
They were probably his best options, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do them. Part of him still harbored hurt feelings, and he couldn’t just look past those. He’d tried, but they were stubbornly holding on, despite the pocketknives a
nd the gesture behind them.
A cinnamon roll appeared in front of him, the plate making a loud clang as it got set down. He looked up to tell Lucy he didn’t want a pastry today.
But it wasn’t Lucy standing there.
“Evelyn,” he said, his voice turning hoarse by the third syllable. He tried to stand and get out of the booth at the same time and ended up banging his knees against the bottom of the table.
“She said you sometimes like these,” Evelyn said. “Can I sit down?”
“Yeah,” he said, swiping his phone off the table. He didn’t need her to see that lame list. “Yes. Please, sit down.”
She eyed him warily, but she slid into the booth. “What were you doing on that phone?”
“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly.
Evelyn brought the cinnamon roll toward her and picked up a clean fork. “We might not have talked for a while, but I still know you, Rhett Walker. You were doing something.”
He didn’t know what to say or what to do. She’d shown up at the pancake house, and he glanced around to see if anyone was watching them.
Entire tables were, and they didn’t even look away when he made eye contact.
“You didn’t come to breakfast at the house,” she said, her voice small and seemingly far away. “So I came to you. Is now a good time to talk?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rhett looked like Evelyn had shown up with a two-by-four and hit him with it before she sat down. Of course, he looked like a cowboy male model still, with that sexy hat perched on his head and his trademarked T-shirts that seemed tailored for his shoulders and biceps. No wonder the man had legions of women here, stalking him as he sipped coffee each morning.
Today, he wore a dark purple T, with a brown leather jacket over that, and he was dark, dreamy, dangerous, and delicious.
“I’ll start, so that if you’re busy doing something super important on that phone, I can just say this, and you can get back to it.” Her heart flailed in her chest, but she kept talking anyway. “I’m sorry, Rhett. I ruined things between us when I had no right to do that. You’re my best friend, and I miss you so much.” She reached up and wiped the silly tears from her eyes. Everyone was watching them, and she wouldn’t be surprised if someone was recording this.
She forged on, reminding herself that she didn’t care what anyone else thought. No one but him.
“I’m in love with you,” she said. “And I want us to live together in that white house again. I bought all these stupid Christmas decorations, and I can’t even get them out of the car. We should be there, doing that together.”
She sniffed. “And I know you’ve already filed for divorce, and I don’t blame you. Honest, I don’t. But I don’t want to get divorced.”
Searching his face, she found surprise, of course. And that love he’d harbored for her before. She’d seen that look before he kissed her, while they made love.
Her heart took courage, and she said, “My business is done. I have two clients left, and I’m not even trying to get more. I don’t care about that anymore. I just want to be with you.”
She breathed, glad she hadn’t eaten any of that sugary cinnamon roll yet. Evelyn felt certain it wouldn’t have played nice with her nervous stomach. “That’s all. I love you. I want to be with you. I get it if you don’t love me anymore and don’t want to be with me. I hope you can find a way to forgive me, though.”
He just had to forgive her. She’d never thought of him as an unforgiving person, but he hadn’t come to breakfast for two weeks in a row, and that fact stung like a razor burn.
He just looked at her, and she needed something to do with her hands. Something else to look at. “That’s all. That’s the whole speech. I’m not as good at this as you are.” She focused on the cinnamon roll and poked it with the fork in her hand. She hadn’t even remembered picking the utensil up.
“You think that wasn’t good?” he asked, drawing her attention back to his face.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Evvy, that was perfect.” A smile spread across his face one slow centimeter at a time, until his whole being shone with it. “Do you have the Christmas decorations with you right now?”
She nodded, somehow a little stung that he’d chosen that to focus on.
“Great, let’s go.” He slid out of the booth and stood up, extending his hand toward her.
“Right now?” she asked, glancing around.
“Yes. Come on.”
She put her hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet and right into his arms. He held her close, and she was aware that all activity in the restaurant had stalled. Rhett looked right into her eyes and said, “I’m still hopelessly in love with you. If you want me, I’m yours.”
Joy tap danced through Evelyn’s heart, and she reached up and slid her hands along the sides of his face, as if she needed additional proof that he was here. That this was happening. That he’d just spoken the exact words she wanted to hear.
“I want you,” she whispered, and Rhett swept his hat off his head and held it against her back as he lowered his head to kiss her.
The pancake house erupted with applause and cheers, making Evelyn want to laugh and cry at the same time. But she did neither, because she was kissing Rhett Walker—and he was kissing her back.
Rhett pulled up to the house where he and Evelyn had started their lives together, but neither of them got out. She liked him driving her car, and she liked holding his hand while he did. She liked that they hadn’t had to talk during the whole drive from the diner, and she liked that he wanted to be here with her, doing this.
“I got the pocketknives,” he said, still staring at the green door. “A neighbor called and said there was a package here. I came yesterday afternoon.” He turned his attention to her, and Evelyn wanted to sigh at the beauty of his face. The depth of emotion in those eyes. “I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. I was going to come to breakfast next Tuesday.”
“Sorry to ruin your surprise,” she said, not sorry at all.
Rhett laughed, and Evelyn smiled. She’d forgotten how wonderful the man’s laugh was. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s take everything in and get started.” She got out of her car, and he popped the trunk.
“Whoa,” he said. “How much did you buy?”
She looked down at the bags full of decorations. “I may have gone a little crazy. I don’t shop very often, but when I do, it’s almost like therapy.”
“Okay, well, that’s been noted,” he said, reaching for the first bag. “There’s no Christmas tree.”
“I managed to put that in the carport,” she said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had enough room for all of this.”
He chuckled, and together they got everything inside. He hauled the tree in through the front door, and she asked, “Can we put it right there, in front of that window?”
“In your office? What about over here?” He looked to the right, where another window sat in the foyer.
“Sure,” she said. “I don’t care. I just want to see it through the front window.”
“There’s more room in the office,” he said. “But it might be kind of fun here, because we’ll be able to see it when we go up and down the steps, in and out of the house….”
Evelyn honestly didn’t care. “Let’s put it here.” They started unboxing it, and Evelyn couldn’t believe the love and peace she felt in that moment. “Thank you for forgiving me,” she said quietly.
“Evvy.” He stopped working, and she did too. “There’s blame on both sides.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I know I’m not good at expressing myself. I’m working on it, and I’ll keep working on it.”
“I won’t give up on you,” he said with a smile. “In other news, my brother Wyatt is retiring from the rodeo circuit. He’ll be living at the ranch after Christmas.”
“That’s great,” Evelyn said, her first thought how she’d have another potential cowboy for her c
lients. Then she remembered she didn’t have any clients. “I’m going to be getting a job after Christmas.”
“Business is bad?” he asked, cutting her a nervous look out of the corner of his eye as he untangled the cord to plug in two sections of the tree.
“It died,” she said. “And I’m okay with it.”
“Are you?” He looked fully at her then. “I’m surprised by that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the same person you married, Rhett Walker.”
He laughed, sobering quickly. “I can see that, Evvy. I don’t think either of us are the same as we were when we got married.”
“About that,” she said, her heart starting to beat wildly in her chest. She focused on helping him slide the top part of the tree into the bottom, and then she bent to plug the two cords together so the whole thing would light up. Plus, the action hid her face. “What are we going to do about the marriage?”
“The divorce will be final before Christmas,” he said. “I don’t know if I can stop it.”
“I don’t want you to stop it,” she said, employing every ounce of bravery she had to straighten and look him in the face. “I want to marry you in front of the whole town. I want there to be a lot of flowers, and I want my father to walk me down the aisle. I want your parents there, and all of your brothers, and then I want to come back to this house and start my life with you. My real life.”
Rhett smiled at her, his eyes a little bit glassy. He stepped over the Christmas tree box and the uppermost section of the tree and took her into his arms. “I want all of that too, Evelyn.”
“Okay, so we’ll get divorced.”
“Yes,” he said. “We’ll get divorced. And then I’ll find a clever way to ask you to marry me, and you can have the dream wedding you want.”
Evelyn held onto him, because he was her anchor in a loud and tumultuous world.
They finished setting up the tree, and Evelyn moved on to the stockings, then the window clings, then the kitchen towels. When they’d gone through everything she’d bought, she collapsed onto the couch, her stomach grumbling for food. She hadn’t eaten breakfast today, because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stomach talking to Rhett.
