A battle between gratitude for Bert’s efforts and his own impatience tore at Mick. He needed to get back on the road.
Bert continued, “You’ve got a computer, doncha?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, work from home,” he said. “Isn’t that what you city folks do? Just pull up a chair and turn on your computer and work from the motel.”
Impatience laced Mick’s reply. “I can’t work from the motel. I’m a chef. I’m on my way to a job interview in Seattle.”
“You cook for a living?” Bert’s voice cracked with amusement.
Irritation outranked gratitude. Bert reminded him of his father, and his disdain for Mick’s chosen field. “I don’t cook,” Mick said. “I’m a chef. I create food.”
Bert’s smoky laugh filled Mick’s ears. “You don’t create food, mister. That happens right here in this valley. You just cook it. Now, it’s going to take me a little while to figure out this car, and the longer I stand here jawin’ with you, the longer it’s going to take. Check back with me at the end of the day.” He paused. “Oh, and I’d consider calling Seattle, just in case you don’t make that job interview.” Bert turned back to the Jag’s motor, dismissing Mick.
Mick thrust his hands in his pockets as he strode back across the street to his room. Sitting on the edge of his rumpled bed, Mick mulled over his options. He could call Simone, but he dismissed the thought. What could she do from New York? Besides, she was the last person with whom he wanted to share his troubles, since she was the cause of so many of them.
This whole trip was Simone’s idea. She was convinced that the smaller food market in Seattle would be the best place for Mick to get a leg up in the industry. Once he became well-known, they’d have their pick of destinations.
Mick had been hesitant at first, but the idea had grown on him. He was still considering the idea when he’d been mugged at knifepoint walking back to his condo one Saturday night after work. By the time he’d arrived home, with his coat ripped, his wallet missing, and his sense of safety shaken, his decision was made. The following morning, he’d told Simone he was ready to move, and they’d begun planning their trip based on a job interview at Scales, a new and upcoming restaurant in Seattle. Mick and Simone were both so sure Mick would get the job that they hadn’t even bothered to make other arrangements. Mick had asked his best friend, Paul, to house-sit, with the idea that Mick would eventually sell the New York condo once his position in Seattle was secure. Simone had been ecstatic when he’d put in his notice at Red, the restaurant where they both worked.
It wasn’t until the last minute, with her suitcase on the threshold of his condo, that Simone tearfully told him she could not leave her beloved Big Apple. Three days out of the city, the reason became evident as Mick was thumbing through his Instagram feed. Pictures of Simone cozied up to Paul while having a party in his condo gazed back at him from his phone. Some of the guests he didn’t even know. Helpless betrayal rattled around Mick’s heart and head as he racked his brain to try to find some hint or behavior that he’d missed. But he drew a blank each time. There were no private touches or secret looks between Simone and Paul. Simone never appeared to be distracted or even interested in his best friend. Every time he replayed his relationship with her, he came up empty-handed, leaving him with mounting frustration. He’d known Simone for three years. He’d known Paul for five! How long had the two of them been together?
Mick stood and pushed his phone into his pocket as the memory sliced at him like a blade against tender skin. He set his jaw and refused to give Simone the satisfaction of thinking about her.
His stomach rumbled, but he wasn’t sure if he was hungry or just nauseated. Everything about Simone and Paul left him queasy, and the idea of food didn’t appeal to him. There couldn’t be anything worth eating in this small town, anyway.
The clock read seven-thirty. It was going to be a long day. He would just have to choke down some breakfast, and then maybe he could go for a run around the lake. Since he wasn’t going to get out of town today, he might as well just try to enjoy some of its beauty while putting Simone and Paul’s betrayal behind him.
Stepping out of his room, he was surprised to see Willow’s truck pull into the motel lot. Mick tried to downplay the waves of joy that washed up on the barren shores of his soul.
She didn’t see him yet, and he watched as she lit from the truck, full of the grace and ease of a dancer. Pilot trotted beside her and spotted him first.
Willow’s eyes followed her dog and met his. The earlier joy surged through Mick when Willow’s face mirrored the same feelings of cheer and delight that welled up inside of him.
She looked even better than last night with her fresh curly blonde hair in a sloppy bun. Freckles sprinkled her radiant skin, and her long, lean form seemed to be a copy of her name. She was dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and a down vest, and Mick no longer wondered how she managed in this country. She was meant to be here, surrounded by this untamed beauty.
Mick smiled. “What brings you here, miss?”
Willow smiled in return. “You, sir,” she said with a tilt of the head. Then she laughed. “Well, you, and Topper needs his worming medicine.”
He grinned. “I knew I’d be a distant second to Topper.” He paused. “Who is Topper, by the way?”
“He’s my gelding.”
“Ahh … and what exactly is a gelding, may I ask?”
Willow’s smile grew wider and moved into her eyes, emanating luminescent warmth. “A male horse that is no longer a stallion.”
Mick frowned. “Oh, poor Topper.”
Willow laughed. “He seems to have made the adjustment,” she said. “Or at least I hope so. He’s a pretty happy boy.”
Mick reveled in the sound of Willow’s laugh and the way her voice formed words. He wanted to keep her talking. “And I see you’ve got Pilot with you this morning.” Mick looked down at the dog, who greeted him with a happy pant.
“Pilot goes with me everywhere,” Willow said. “Doncha, boy?”
Mick gave her a sagacious smile. “Yes. I know.”
Willow laughed again as she bent down and roughed up the dog’s ears at the same time Mick reached to touch him. Their fingers met in Pilot’s fur as their eyes locked for one brief moment before Willow pulled back.
Willow’s touch sent sparks through Mick, taking the air from him. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman affected him in this way. Had Simone ever made it hard to breathe? In Willow’s company, he could hardly remember. He swallowed, hoping to quickly recover. Embarrassment shot through him as he wished for one more brush of her fingers against his. Instead, he focused his gaze on Pilot, who grinned at him with a knowing look, leaving Mick hopelessly exposed.
Willow stood and jerked her thumb toward Bert’s shop. “I see the Jag is in the bay. What’s the verdict?”
Relief plowed through Mick. At least Willow didn’t pick up on his feelings, or if she did, she had the courtesy to pretend otherwise. He would have to do better at hiding them, even during this short exchange, to make sure she couldn’t read his attraction. Pushing his defenses into place, he concentrated on Willow’s question about the Jag.
“Bert said to check back with him at the end of the day.” Mick’s gratitude was short-lived. He didn’t want to talk about the Jag. He wanted to linger in Willow’s company. He changed the subject. “Let me show you something.”
Willow fell in beside him as he walked toward his room. Once he stepped inside, she hesitated.
“No. No. Not in the room, but on the other side.” Mick paused for a moment. “Just stay here,” he said as he walked toward the back door and opened it. “Come on and look.”
Willow followed him to the opening beauty behind the motel.
“Look at this.” Awe filled him once again as he waved his arm toward the lake and mountains. “It’s—it’s so beautiful.”
Willow took it all in. “Yeah. I never get tired of it,” she whispered.
Mick noticed warmth come into Willow’s eyes. “You really love it here, don’t you?”
“It’s deeper than love.” Willow became thoughtful. “It’s more of a reverence. This place is a part of my DNA.” Willow turned toward Mick. “Would you like to see more?”
Mick’s heart quickened with possibilities. “I’d love to.”
“How about a walk around this lake? There’s a big park not too far from here, and some really cute neighborhoods lakeside.”
“Do we walk or drive?”
“We can walk.”
Mick and Willow hurried through Mick’s room, where Mick grabbed his jacket. Pilot strode beside Willow. Soon, the three of them were strolling along a paved footpath lined with quaking aspens and the velvet backdrop of the evergreens. The lake peeked at them from behind the trees, and all was aglow in unfolding morning light. Neither of them spoke as they wandered through the sunlit and dappled forest.
After several minutes, they came to a gazebo that overlooked the grassy park and lake, surrounded by the sound of water lapping the shore and the breeze descending to meet it. Sitting on a bench under the roof of the gazebo, Mick closed his eyes and breathed deep the scent of pine, fir, and autumn crispness. Willow sat beside him while Pilot lay at their feet.
They sat in silence that deepened with each breath they shared. Mick was afraid to speak for fear he would shatter the spell that held him bound with Willow beside him.
“There isn’t any place like this,” Willow whispered.
Mick opened his eyes to find that the beauty still remained, as did Willow. “Sometimes I see things on TV. You know, nature shows of Yellowstone or some other beautiful place. But that’s always framed within the confines of the screen. Nothing comes close to the grandeur of it all.”
“Shhh …” Willow whispered. “Don’t tell anyone. Let’s just keep this as our secret.”
Mick turned to look at her. The idea of keeping a secret with Willow thrilled him. The breeze played with her blonde hair that had fallen loose from her bun. Tendrils blew across her face, framing her green eyes, which seemed to be a mix of the deep evergreens and blue water. He wanted to reach out and touch her skin, warmed by the morning light. Instead, he stretched down and ruffled Pilot’s fur. “He’s a very good dog. How old is he?” Mick asked.
“He’s six. He’s in his prime now. He’s a big help on the ranch, but he’s more than that. He’s my best buddy.” Affection laced Willow’s words as she stroked Pilot’s ears.
“I never had a dog.”
“Oh, you’ve missed out.”
Mick ran his hand over the dog’s muzzle as tentative affection for Pilot settled within. Pilot gave him a quick warm lick of his tongue. “It appears so.”
Willow grinned. “He likes you.”
The thought pleased Mick, but he wasn’t sure he believed Willow. “Dogs like everybody,” he said.
“Nope. That’s not the truth for Pilot.”
Satisfaction trickled through Mick. It gave him pleasure to think Pilot was somehow choosing to like him, in spite of their rough beginning.
“Is this your first time out west?” Willow asked.
Mick straightened and gave a little laugh, his face coloring with a shade of embarrassment. “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “I mean, who else would think to cross the nation in a car that probably can’t make it over the Rockies in September?”
Willow looked up at Mick from her position of petting Pilot. “If anyone can get the car up and running, it’s Bert. He may be the only mechanic in town, but he’s also very good.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because my life is in his hands.” Mick wasn’t sure he cared about Bert or the Jag at this moment.
Willow gave Pilot one last caress before straightening. “So, your folks never traveled?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, we went to the beach every summer. But my folks weren’t all that interested in …”
“Not all that interested in what?”
“Well, me. I guess.” Mick paused. “My folks are good people, but they never quite understood me. I was interested in cooking from the time I was ten. My mom wasn’t much of a cook, and my dad thinks I should give up my dreams and join him in the car business. The fact that I’m moving to Seattle to pursue a job as a chef is incomprehensible.” Mick swallowed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t something I’ve ever talked about. I guess it’s a bigger deal than I thought, but I don’t need to air it out to you.”
“Sometimes, when I get really quiet, this kind of stuff comes to the surface for me, too. This place has a way of helping us get still. It’s part of what I love about it.”
Mick shifted in his seat, discomfort pushing at him from within. “Is there more to see?”
Willow stood. “Absolutely. On the other side of the park is an older neighborhood with cute little houses on the lake. Do you want to take a look?”
“I’d love to.”
Mick, Willow, and Pilot continued out of the park and into the neighborhood street. Most of the homes were small and older with expansive lawns that sloped to the water. All of them were well-kept.
“I’ve always wanted to go to the ocean,” Willow said. “I went once when I was a kid. My folks took me and my best friend, Ruby, to the central Oregon coast. Someday, I hope to travel the whole of the West Coast.”
Delight alleviated some of Mick’s angst around his earlier sharing with Willow. Her willingness to tell him something that mattered to her made him feel less alone in his vulnerable display of his feelings that leaked out of him.
“I’ve never been to the West Coast,” Mick murmured. “I hear it’s beautiful.”
“Maybe you can send me a postcard,” Willow replied.
Mick felt as if he’d struck gold with idea of keeping in touch with Willow, but he kept his face turned from her, hoping she wouldn’t read his unabashed delight. “I’d love to send you some pictures.”
Willow moved ahead for a moment before stopping and pointing down a one-lane road that hugged both the mountain and the lake. Small homes, cabins, and cottages dotted the lakeside. “Many of these are vacation homes,” Willow explained. “Once the snow flies, the folks won’t be back until spring.” She stopped and pointed to a small home with wood-framed windows and a river-stone chimney. “Except that one belongs to my best friend, Ruby. They’re remodeling their home now. That’s why there’s that mess in the driveway. She was born and raised here, like me. We’ve been friends since forever.”
Mick studied the house. It looked sturdy, cozy, and well maintained. “Friends since birth?” he asked.
“Practically.” Willow grinned. “Since kindergarten, anyway. You’ll probably meet her sooner or later. She owns the Jumpin’ Bean coffee stand not too far from the motel.”
“I’ve seen it,” he said. “And I’m hoping she makes a good cup of coffee. It’s one of the things I miss about Sim—”
Willow looked at him quizzically.
Mick caught himself. There was no need to bring Simone into this conversation. “It’s one of the things I miss about New York.” He changed the subject. “I bet it snows a lot here.”
Willow nodded. “We get a ton of snow.”
Mick turned his face to the fragile autumn sun and allowed it to sink through his skin before turning back to Willow. He didn’t want to think about snow. He only wanted to soak up the company of this lovely young woman, her dog, and the beauty offered by the glorious morning.
Their walk continued in silence until they came to a dead-end sign at the end of the street. There was a narrow footpath that beckoned into the trees. Mick turned back to face Willow, hope registering in his voice. “What’s back in there?”
“It’s a hiking trail that covers the circumference of the lake, or you can climb up to Sunrise Falls. That trail moves up the side of the mountain. It’s quite steep, but it’s got some great views.”
“Do you ever have to worry about bears, wolves, or cougars?” Mick peered into the
deep forest as his earlier fears diminished. Somehow, it felt safer than the concrete jungle of New York, where anyone with a knife could rip your life to shreds with a few quick strokes of the blade.
Willow looked into the trees. “Yeah. Kind of. I mean, most of the time, they’ll leave you alone if you leave them alone. We worry most about our cows.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mick said. He turned to Willow, the desire to continue on their walk growing large. He resisted the urge to ask Willow to continue with him. He longed to bask in her company and conversation, but she wasn’t in town to see him. Not really. She had errands to run and most likely a list of chores waiting for her back home. Still, the idea of exploring the views of the lake and the wooded mountainside with Willow and Pilot beckoned him before an edge of sorrow crept into his tangled thoughts like ivy.
He would never explore this path with Willow or Pilot. If Bert was the magician Willow claimed, he would have the Jag running in no time. Maybe it was better if they just left things here. “I guess we should head back.”
Willow agreed. “Yeah. I’ve got a couple of stops I need to make before heading home.”
As they turned around, Mick breathed in the consolation that he hadn’t made a fool of himself by asking for more of Willow’s time, in spite of his desire. He would try to simply be grateful for this moment afforded him.
Once they reached the motel, Mick stopped at Willow’s truck. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am it was you who stopped to pick me up last night.”
Willow gave a little laugh. “Way better than some uncouth old farmer.”
Mick wasn’t sure if Willow was serious or teasing. “No. It’s not that—I mean—well, I did worry about gun racks in the back of some of these pickups.”
Willow burst out laughing. “And with good reason!”
Mick smiled. “Well, at the very least, you spared me some embarrassing moments in front of a few good ol’ country boys.”
Willow continued to chuckle. “Oh, you got that right.”
Diamonds And Denim (Country Brides & Cowboy Boots) Page 3
