by Cassie Hayes
“If it’s edible, Nolan will love it,” Jess said with a laugh. “No wonder he’s fallen in love with you. Miss Hazel couldn’t have found a better match for him than a professional chef!”
Tilly smiled gamely, pleased that Jess thought Nolan loved her…but at the same time, her stomach churned with insecurity. Was that really the only reason Nolan cared for her? He had a reputation for eating all the food on the table if others would let him, so maybe Jess wasn’t so far off.
That troubled Tilly more than she cared to admit. She’d started this adventure out of desperation. Not once had she imagined falling so hopelessly in love with the stranger she’d been matched with by Miss Hazel, yet another stranger. Nolan had turned out to be every bit as chivalrous as she’d always imagined a Mountie would be, but he also had endearing quirks.
His insatiable hunger aside, he’d proven more patient with her than most men would have been. Not once since their wedding day had he brought up ‘apple pie’, or when she might be baking one. He’d been true to his word, which had made her fall for him all that much harder.
Then there was his sense of humor. He only had to give her a look and she’d double over laughing. That was especially embarrassing in front of her bemused friends, who didn’t understand the joke. Neither did she, most of the time, but he was just so…funny! Nolan reminded her a little of her younger brother, Adam, the seventh Conway child. He’d constantly pulled childish pranks on the rest of the family, and told silly jokes at the dinner table that had left them laughing too hard to eat.
That was the other thing she loved about Nolan — he wanted lots of children, just as she did. They’d stayed up late often over the last couple of weeks, telling tales of their childhood — some poignant, some hilarious, a few sad — and subtly hinting they’d love their own children to have similar stories. But before there could be children, she’d have to make that apple pie.
Glancing over at his handsome profile, Tilly wondered what was taking her so long. Of course, she knew. Her previous employer had left her jumpy when it came to a man’s touch. At first, she’d been afraid of Nolan, quite frankly, but his kindness and gentleness had allowed her to grow comfortable with his casual touches — a hand on her lower back, snaking her arm through his, kissing her forehead. She wanted to trust her husband fully before they took that next step.
But Jess’ off-hand comment left her wondering if all he really saw in her was her ability to cook. Naturally, she took pleasure in cooking, as well as Nolan’s obvious enjoyment of it. But the idea of being loved for only that reason caused an ache in her heart that startled her. Somehow, some way, she would have to discover if he loved her, or just her cooking.
“Enough of this nonsense,” Silas shouted from his perch on top of an old fruit crate. He glared at the group of brides, then at the group of grooms. “The newlyweds need a first dance, don’t you all think so?”
The crowd all roared their approval and spread out to create an open space. Without so much as a word, JoAnn skipped over to Kendall. He leaned into an empty stall and pulled out his guitar and her violin, and they immediately began playing a lovely, slow waltz. Before Tilly knew what was happening, Nolan stood before her, holding his hand out to her.
“May I have the honor?”
Tilly wanted to dive into eyes that resembled the waters of a cool mountain lake. Her mouth went dry and it took her a moment to answer.
“Yes,” she finally whispered.
Nolan led her out to the middle of the floor, the first couple to start dancing. Pulling her hand up, he slipped his free hand around her waist. Nerves tensed Tilly’s entire body. She’d never had lessons, nor had she ever had many opportunities to dance, but she quickly realized she didn’t need them. With the tiniest twitch of his hand or slightest increase in pressure on her back, he guided her around the floor as if they’d been dancing together for years.
Tilly quickly relaxed in his arms, and followed wherever he led. As she stared deep into the abyss of his gaze, she realized she would do the same for the rest of her life. Wherever Nolan went, Tilly would happily follow, regardless of how he felt about her. If the most she could expect was love for her cooking instead of for who she was as a person, she would accept that. It was less than she deserved, and she knew it, but she’d never been happier in her life than she’d been since meeting Nolan. Really, she couldn’t ask for more than that.
Nolan’s hand flexed ever so slightly around hers, and for the first time, she realized he was straining over something. Since the dance had started, he’d kept a relaxed and respectable distance between them, but the fine sweat which had broken out on his brow and the intensity in his gaze, not to mention the tension buzzing in his shoulder like electricity, alerted her to the fact he was anything but relaxed. In fact, now that she recognized it, she realized he was as tense as she was.
But why?
While the other couples spun around, laughing and joking with each other, Nolan kept his eyes on Tilly’s face. His eyes searched hers, then dropped to her mouth. Her skin flushed at the realization that he was drinking her in. The twitching of his fingers could only mean one thing — he wanted to pull her tight into his body as a man in love would do.
He doesn’t love you for your food. He loves you for you.
If Tilly had thought she’d been happy before that moment of understanding, she’d been sorely mistaken.
Chapter 5
After their first dance together, she and Nolan spent the evening spinning around the floor, laughing and joking with the others. A few local men asked to cut in, but after a quick inquisitive glance at her — and her wide, wary eyes — Nolan declined, claiming his privilege as the new groom.
“Bah, ya got married two weeks ago!” groused one sore loser, but Tilly appreciated Nolan’s protectiveness of her feelings.
Toward the end, Rose asked around after Elijah, who’d disappeared some time earlier. Within moments, though, he strolled back into the barn carrying a large single-layer cake on a cutting board.
“No!” Rose had cried out when she saw what her husband was holding and ran to him, panic in her eyes. “What—“
She stopped short and stared at the thin, lop-sided cake, covered in a thick layer of chocolate buttercream frosting. Then she turned her misty eyes up at him.
“You did this?”
He smiled broadly and nodded, proud as a peacock. “Tilly told me how to make it when you were dancing with Doc Sturgis. I wanted to surprise you. Besides, as Nolan so subtly pointed out, what’s a wedding reception without a wedding cake?”
Rose beamed up at Elijah, tears sparkling in her eyes. The love they shared practically echoed in the beams of the old barn.
“Chocolate cake!” Nolan shouted, then elbowed his way through the crowd toward Elijah. “Here, let me help you with that.”
As Nolan reached for the cutting board, Rose slapped his hand.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Straightening her back, she lifted her nose at him proudly. “My husband and I made this cake, and we’re going to serve it. If you weren’t one of the grooms, Nolan Wheeler, I’d send you to the back of the line.”
Nolan clutched his chest and feigned a broken heart, drawing a giggle from Tilly. “But chocolate is my favorite!”
“Come along, Mr. Wheeler,” Tilly cajoled, pulling him back to give Rose and Elijah space to distribute the cake.
“Aww…” he whined comically, but stepped back and wrapped an arm around Tilly’s waist.
Heat from his hand burned through her dress and heated her skin to the point she wondered if she might combust spontaneously, like in that Dickens novel. The world around her melted away until she was aware of nothing else but Nolan’s hand…then a man shouted, “Git on outta here, moose!”
A man waving a stick high over his head advanced toward Monty, the moose the brides had adopted as a mascot of sorts. Still wary of all the wildlife in their little slice of British Columbia, Tilly was quite happy to admire Monty
from a safe distance every time she saw him, though his antics certainly made her laugh…almost as much as Nolan did.
“Don’t hit him!” JoAnn cried, launching herself between the man and the moose. “He’s very friendly and just wants to join the party.”
“Yes, please put down that awful stick,” Rose commanded, muscling the man aside.
“Yes’m, but ya know that there is a wild animal. No telling what he might do. Reckon he could kill any one of us with a swift kick to the head.”
“Monty would never do such a thing!” JoAnn insisted, ignoring Kendall’s attempts to coax her away from the moose.
“Invite him in if you want,” Nolan shouted, “but he can’t have my slice!”
The crowd burst out laughing, and in the blink of an eye, Monty vanished into the darkness.
After the party broke up, Nolan escorted Tilly home. He seemed almost awkward as they said goodnight, but when she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, he beamed at her.
“Good night, Mr. Wheeler,” she whispered.
His gaze had roamed her face again before he replied in a voice as soft as hers. “Goodnight, Mrs. Wheeler.”
Tilly woke long before the town roosters — if it could be called ‘waking’. She’d barely slept a wink, thinking about the events of the night before. It had been a good night, one of the best of her life. She hadn’t been able to stop replaying it over and over in her head, smiling to herself for half the night. After hours of such nonsense, she’d decided to get an early start on the day. She had a lot to do.
Tilly worked as quietly as she could, taking inventory of their supplies and making a list of things she would need for the evening meal. Silas had a respectable variety in his store, and he was always happy to order specialty items for her — as long as he benefited with an invitation to dinner — but she didn’t want to wait for anything he might not have in stock. The dinner menu would be simple, but delicious.
At the first rooster crow — the time Nolan normally woke up — Tilly started breakfast. Her heart hadn’t felt so light in months and she couldn’t stop herself from whistling a happy tune.
“You’re up early,” Nolan said from his makeshift bed in front of the fireplace, rubbing his eyes. His hair stood up in spikes that made Tilly smile.
“I’ve got a very busy Thursday,” she said, cracking eggs into a bowl. “You?”
He yawned before answering. “Same ol’, same ol’, unless the train brings trouble. Whatchya making?”
Tilly laughed. Same old Nolan. She could practically hear his stomach growling from across the cabin.
“Waffles with honeyed blackberries and a dusting of confectioner’s sugar. Bacon burnt just the way you like it, though I have no idea why. Eggs à la Suisse with sautéed wild chanterelle mushrooms I picked yesterday. And, of course, coffee ‘so thick your spoon can stand up in it.’”
How anyone could drink the sludge he preferred was beyond her. Of course Nolan would eat just about anything set in front of him, but Tilly was determined to refine his tastes a little. At the very least, she wanted to spoil him.
“Wow,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his long john-clad body as he came over to watch her cook. “What did I do to deserve such a special breakfast? You know I’m happy with oats and coffee.”
“Oh, should I stop?” Tilly asked, pausing as she beat the eggs. “I don’t want to go to the trouble if you’d rather have a bowl of bland oats.”
“No!” Nolan’s eyes grew wide with panic, as if she wasn’t simply teasing him. “I couldn’t want anything more than eggs whatever-you-just-said and something-or-another mushrooms!”
Tilly grinned at him and resumed beating. “That’s better, Mr. Wheeler.”
“So, um…” Nolan said, his eyes skimming all the supplies she’d set out. “What’s for lunch?”
Tilly laughed so hard she snorted. “You’re incorrigible!”
Nolan grinned and shrugged.
“Actually, I need you to stop at Silas’ for a few items for dinner,” she said. “Do you think you could do that around lunchtime? I’ll make you a smoked salmon and soft cheese sandwich as a thank you.”
Nolan pretended to swoon. “Oh, maybe that’s what I want for breakfast,” he moaned. “No! Waffles, eggs-whatever, something-mushrooms and a salmon sandwich. Now that sounds about right!”
“Don’t be silly, you’ll spoil your lunch and dinner.”
“Speaking of dinner…” Nolan waggled his eyebrows at her.
Tilly sighed and rolled her eyes. “If you must know, braised beef, soufflé potatoes, green beans with Hollandaise sauce, and potage santé.”
“Potato Santa?” Nolan looked positively perplexed.
“No, potage santé,” Tilly corrected, then sighed. “Soup.”
“Oh. Um, are we expecting company or something?”
Tilly blushed and dropped her head toward her bowl of waffle batter so he wouldn’t see. “No, I just wanted to make you a nice dinner. The list is there on the table.”
Nolan picked up the scrap of paper, and Tilly peeked up at him as he read it. His eyes grew wide and she knew he’d spotted the first item on the list. It would have been impossible for him to miss it since she’d written the word heavily in all capital letters.
Clearing her suddenly tight throat, she said, “And for dessert, I’m making apple pie.”
He looked up at her, a smile playing at his lips, but she could tell he wasn’t sure if he should act happy or surprised.
“Really?” he whispered.
Tilly lifted her head and met his gaze. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life.
“Really.”
Nolan broke into a grin and rushed to her, pulling her into his arms. Instead of feeling wary or frightened, as might have happened before she’d fallen so helplessly in love with her new husband, Tilly had never felt more at ease. She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, smiling up at him.
For a moment, Nolan seemed utterly carefree, but then a shadow crossed his eyes. “Are you sure?”
Tilly’s gaze and smile never wavered. “Absolutely.”
“May I kiss you?” he asked, his eyes dropping to her eager lips.
“You’d better!”
Nolan hadn’t taken his eyes off the clock for more than a few minutes since he’d walked into the office that morning. Naturally, he was looking forward to lunch — always — but he really wanted to make sure to buy everything on Tilly’s list for dinner. Especially the apples.
Over the previous two weeks, she’d used the initial bushel of apples Silas had given them in more dishes than Nolan could count — and none of them had been a pie. So now that she was ready to make their marriage real in every sense of the word, he didn’t want anything to get in the way.
He watched as the minute hand ticked almost imperceptibly toward noon. The moment it jumped into place, Nolan leapt from his chair and bolted for the door, Tilly’s list safely tucked into his jacket pocket.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” Joel asked as Nolan threw open the door.
“Dinner!”
He was already halfway down the street by the time Joel shouted, “It’s barely lunchtime!”
Nolan skidded to a stop in front of MacGruder’s Mercantile. He inhaled deeply and tried to control his breathing. If Silas didn’t have apples, he’d spend the rest of the day climbing trees to collect enough for a pie. How many did it take? Ten? Twenty? He’d collect them all!
“Mornin’, Nolan,” Silas greeted him when he entered. “What’s that pretty wife of yours need?”
“I have a list,” Nolan said, handing the scrap of paper to Silas. He hoped the older man couldn’t see the slight tremor in his hand.
“Alrighty, lemme see here…” Silas patted his front shirt pocket, then his back pants pocket. “Now where did I put my gosh-darned glasses?”
“They’re on your head, Silas.”
“Oh!”
Nolan chewed on his lower
lip as Silas read the list, praying silently he’d have every ingredient. As an avowed hater of cooking — even though he was a dedicated lover of food — he had no idea which ingredients were important for a pie…except the apples, of course.
“Well?” he asked, shifting from foot to foot as he waited.
Silas glanced at him over the top of his glasses. “Well what?”
“Do you have everything on this list?”
Silas pulled his glasses off and narrowed his eyes at Nolan. “‘Course.”
Nolan sighed in relief. “Thank goodness!”
Still suspicious, but obviously bored with Nolan, Silas started pulling items from his shelves. He seemed to be moving purposely slow, but Nolan didn’t dare accuse him of it or else the crotchety old fellow would no doubt slow down even more.
“How are you feeling these days, Silas?” Maybe changing the topic to his recovery would help the man get a move on.
“Fine, fine. Doc Sturgis says I’m fit as Mrs. Jameson’s fiddle. Just a bit of a limp, really, but Doc told me to use that blasted crutch for a while yet.”
“Ha! I’m surprised you agreed,” Nolan said with a laugh.
Silas raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t, but then Tilly got wind and made me promise.” He shook his head and turned back to the task at hand. “Reminds me of my beloved Katie.”
Nolan frowned in confusion. “My wife reminds you of your horse?”
“No, ya fool,” Silas replied, scowling at Nolan. “My wife. Named the horse after her.”
“Oh.” Red-faced, Nolan didn’t know how else to respond over his faux pas. “I didn’t know you’d been married.”
Silas huffed. “What, you think I just sprouted here and never did nothin’ else in my long life, boy?”
“No, I just…I mean, I only…”
“Don’t fret, son. I was just joshing ya a little.” Silas dropped another item into the crate he was slowly — so very slowly — filling. “My wife Katie and me had thirty wonderful years together. Started out in Vancouver back before the dawn of time. I worked in lumber, but that’s a young man’s game. Decided to start a little store up here, get away from the big city.”
