Diamonds And Denim (Country Brides & Cowboy Boots)

by Danni Lee Nicholls

  Mick didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to even entertain the idea of packing his car and leaving the treasure he’d found in Sunrise Creek.

  He shook his head. “I’m not taking money from you. You saved me.” The reality of his words went beyond being picked up on a cold Montanan night. It resonated deep within as some missing part of his soul moved into place, like planets aligning to catch the most warmth from the sun. It was a place where his memory of Simone and even his life in New York City faded to black and white and carried little meaning. “Cooking will be my pleasure. And Shorty isn’t going to get a night off. He and I can cook together.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard about two cooks in the kitchen?” Willow asked.

  “Yep, and it’s a myth I hope to dispel. What do you say, Shorty? Besides, I don’t care how hard I tried; I could never make bread like this.” Mick stuffed another bite into his mouth, dripping with butter, crusty and warm on the outside, steaming and pillow soft on the inside. It had just the right texture and a tangy flavor and aroma of sourdough.

  “I’ll be your right-hand man,” Shorty replied.

  As they finished up dinner, the last of the sun’s rays slipped behind the mountain. “Well, we’ve got some chores to finish,” Chet said. “Willow, why don’t you take Mick home, and Shorty can get this cleaned up. I’ll take care of the feeding tonight. But you’d best hurry home. The melting snow is going to turn to ice before long.”

  Willow agreed as she slid her chair backward. Mick followed her outside into the frosty clear night. Home. It was in the sound of that word that a cold snow of reality settled on Mick. The warmth and comfort he found in Willow’s home didn’t belong to him, but he didn’t belong in New York anymore, either. There was no home on the gritty city streets of that city or in Simone’s arms and Paul’s friendship. Seattle certainly wasn’t home. Not yet, anyway, but a small flame of optimism danced around the corner of his mind. If he couldn’t belong in Sunrise Creek, could he find a sense of belonging in Seattle? Maybe home would reveal itself from the current shroud of uncertainty

  Now that he finally had some inkling as to what home felt like, a beam of doubt filtered through the fog of his future, making him wonder if he could ever find it outside of Sunrise Creek. Home was inviting, inclusive, and warm, and it had been handed to him on a plate of hash and sourdough bread. It sat around a table where grace was offered and the conversation was as warm and gravitational as Willow’s fingers brushing his palms.

  He was hesitant to leave it without knowing when he could come back to sample what Willow offered as home. Could he see her tomorrow? Dare he ask?

  He tamped down the thought. All the desire in the world didn’t mean he belonged here, and it would seem too forward to seriously consider the idea.

  Willow and her dad had work to do before he left for Colorado, and she would be busy while her dad was away. She couldn’t be running back and forth into town, so he could have some homey dude ranch experience. And even though Willow and Curtis weren’t engaged, he was still a force in her life. They shared a long-standing history, as well as the town’s backing for a wedding. He couldn’t compete with any of that.

  It was time to get realistic and get back to the motel, where he could work for Bev and get the Jag fixed. Someday, sooner than Mick wanted, all of this would be a sweet and vivid memory that would never fade in color or vivacity.

  Once in the gravel drive, Mick was wrapped in a blanket of the full night. He stayed close to Willow as they made their way toward the truck.

  “Come around with me,” Willow whispered in a hush.

  Mick, still blinking in the dark, reached to take Willow’s hand as she led him to the back shadow of the barn. Before he could speak to his surprise, Willow grabbed him by the sleeve again. “Look up,” she whispered.

  Mick followed her instructions and was greeted by strings of starlight winking at the earth, looking like millions upon millions of roped diamonds tossed upon black velvet. He sucked in his breath. These brilliant creations made his earlier concern for his own diamond studs lessen to a pinhead in the midst of such profound beauty. Who could care about such things in the face of such raw and perfect creation?

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Willow whispered.

  Mick breathed in Willow’s sweet airy scent that seemed to follow the breeze up to the heavens. “I-I—”

  “I know. They can leave one speechless.” Willow hushed. “They were my mom’s favorite thing. Before she got sick, we’d spend clear nights, mostly in the summer on the deck, watching for falling stars. It was how she spent her last night on this earth—surrounded by her family, watching for falling stars. She fell into a coma and died with this blanket of stars to cover her.” Willow breathed softly. “I look at them every chance I get.”

  Mick’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Willow …”

  Willow smiled in the dark. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “I’m just glad to share them with you.”

  “You have honored me in a way I’m not sure I deserve.” Humility silenced every other tremulous emotion, leaving Mick stilled.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she whispered. “But we should probably think about getting you back.” Before Mick could speak, she moved back into the fluorescent light offered from the top of the barn, and they climbed into Clementine with Pilot.

  Mick sat in the truck, feeling as if he’d been transported to another world where New York and Seattle and all of the angst in his life didn’t exist. Where nothing existed but the comfort of a warm and selfless woman and a web of stars that offered a splendored radiance without price every single night.

  Willow’s face was lit by the dash, but Mick barely looked at her, afraid his naked emotions would rush into his eyes and be seen. Pilot sat between them with his head on Willow’s thigh. Mick wanted to touch the dog. He wanted to touch Willow, to run his hands through her warm straw-colored hair and feel the skin on the back of her neck. Such an intimate thought.

  Clearing his throat, he tried to recall his status as temporary, both in Sunrise Creek and in Willow’s life. “So, when does Curtis come home?”

  Willow shrugged. “He’s not supposed to come home until Christmas. This is his last year of school.”

  “He won’t be home for Thanksgiving?”

  Willow shook her head. “Four days isn’t really enough time to get here and back from Texas. Plus, he’s got a ton of schoolwork. He’ll wait until Christmas.”

  Mick opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. There was finality in Willow’s tone. She was finished talking about Curtis.

  Once they got to Bev’s motel, Mick opened the door and slid out of the car before turning around to face Willow. “Thanks,” he said. “For everything.”

  Willow grinned. “Well, now you know where your food comes from.”

  Mick nodded. “And the stars, too,” he said quietly. More words pushed up into his throat, and he tried to swallow them, but they refused. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again,” he said.

  Pilot’s head came up and he gazed at Mick as the air between the three of them changed with the look in Willow’s eyes. Mick couldn’t quite name it, but it gave him hope to think that maybe she enjoyed him as much as he loved being with her.

  Willow laid her hand on Pilot’s shoulder and looked down at her dog for a moment, as if deciding something. Then she looked up at Mick. “Me too,” she whispered. “How long will you be here?”

  Mick looked across the street. There was no sign of Bert, but light spilled from one of the bays into the darkening night. The Jag stood with its hood up. Bert was working late.

  A surge of mixed emotion pulsed through Mick. He was grateful to Bert for making such an effort to get the Jag fixed, but he was hesitant to leave the loveliness he’d found here. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It looks as if Bert’s got the car inside. I’ll check with him and let you know.”

  “I’ll look forwar
d to it.”

  Mick was hesitant to close the door, but he shut it and stepped away from the truck. Willow put Clementine in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Tucking his emotions back inside, Mick hurried across the street to find Bert buried under the hood of the Jag. “So, what’s the verdict?” Mick asked.

  Bert straightened up and looked at Mick. “The parts came in today,” he said. “I’d say we’ll have you out of here in another few days, if everything else checks out.”

  Mick pasted a grin on his face. “Do you take credit cards?”

  “Sure do.” Bert wiped his hands on a dirty rag. “I bet you’ll be glad to be on your way.”

  Mick looked across the street. Thoughts of his time with Willow and the raw magnificence of Sunrise Creek wrapped around his earlier desire to move to Seattle, shifting everything he believed he knew about his future. “It sure is beautiful here,” he mused.

  “Well, until the winter sets in. Winters are hell,” Bert said. “You’d best be on your way before the first big snowstorm.”

  Mick blinked. “When is that supposed to hit?”

  Bert shrugged. “Don’t know. Just be packed and ready to go.”

  Mick nodded. Talking to Bert was the piece of the reality puzzle Mick needed to slip into place. Sunrise Creek could offer him nothing more than it had already given, and after cooking for Willow and her family, it would be time for him to leave. No matter how Willow made him feel, Mick did not belong in Sunrise Creek.

  He offered Bert a grim smile before leaving the brightly lit bay and hurrying across the street in the cold that came from both the weather and Bert. The mechanic would not miss him when he was gone.

  Walking into the motel room, Mick was surprised when his phone pinged. His first thought was of Willow, but when he read the text, he found it was from Simone, stating she was just checking in since she hadn’t heard from him in a while.

  No emotion rose in Mick. The pinprick of jealousy and hurt over her betrayal did not rise to the bait of her surprise text. Instead, Mick deleted her message as he flipped on the room light. He didn’t want thoughts of Simone intruding on the serenity of his time with Willow and her family. The day had filled him with warmth and a kind of love that was entirely new, love that could be found in family and acceptance, unrushed and abundant.

  Turning off the light, Mick pulled his coat close and moved outside, where he was drawn to the lake. The lapping of water on the shore lulled him into peace, while lights flickered from the few homes on the banks, their reflections casting a warm glow on the water.

  The night had grown cold with the disappearance of the sun, but the sky still offered light. Mick hurried back into his room, pulled a blanket from the closet, and wrapped it around himself before finding one of the chairs near the shore. He looked up into the night sky. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, stars began to wink into place, shy at first, but eventually showing themselves. If he was very still, he could see their reflection on mirroring water.

  His thoughts turned to Willow and the moments they’d shared as she’d talked of her mother. It seemed such a fragile thing, her whispered reverence and the love of which she spoke, like the light of these stars dancing on the lake. If he got closer to that love, it would grow strong. Even if it wasn’t his to share, the strength of it had the power to change him forever.

  Chapter 13

  Willow came home and sat with her dad as the fire snapped and popped. Pilot sighed and settled at her feet.

  “That was a nice evening,” her father said as he put the paper away. “He’s a pleasant sort of fellow.”

  “You sound surprised,” Willow said.

  “I guess I am,” her father replied. “Folks in town made it sound as if he was some sort of creep that blew in on an ill wind. I guess everyone just feels the need to protect what you and Curtis have, and they don’t want any interference from an outsider. You know how people are around here.” Her father got up from the couch and headed toward the hallway and his bedroom.

  Willow blinked as her father left the room, his words echoing in her brain. What did she and Curtis have? Disappointment and confusion crowded into Willow’s earlier fragile glow. It squeezed her heart like curling ivy vines. Willow wanted to deny her budding despair, to make sure it didn’t claim any part of her. But the withdrawal of her father’s company left her with nothing but her thoughts, and there was no escaping her disillusioned hope.

  Sitting in Marilyn’s Diner, she’d had to tell Mick she was not engaged to Curtis, and the announcement had shaken something lose. For years, she’d bought into everyone’s expectations that one day, there would be a ring from Curtis that would lead to a wedding. But as the years ticked by, Curtis hadn’t ever broached the subject. Why didn’t she? For years, she’d longed for this engagement, but she hesitated to speak to that desire.

  After her mother became ill, Willow cried to anyone who would listen, including God, praying and begging for her mother to live, spilling her desperate need to everyone in town. Sympathy abounded, but no one could stop the onslaught of cancer cells that spread through her mother’s body, leaving Willow empty and numb.

  Now, she hesitated to speak aloud the things she so fiercely desired, including the promise and a ring from Curtis. A tingling shame rose up her neck and colored her face as she thought about Mick’s question, and how she had to answer his pressing inquiry.

  Willow sighed, but in the absence of tears, there was a stinging call beckoning her to explore the well-charted lands of her and Curtis’s shared history. It could offer comfort and hope.

  But the last few years had not been shared. Curtis was in Texas and had a life there, and Willow moved through her days in Sunrise Creek without him. It was time to look beyond their history and focused on their empty present and unknown future.

  Willow pushed that thought away, but the reality would not be dismissed. Instead, it pushed back on the breath of Mick’s presence. Not only was he asking meaningful questions; he was showing that her answers had slipped out of the neat little box she had created for herself with the help of her family and her hometown and into an unblinking glare that brightly illuminated the charade she had lived for the last five years.

  Willow took in a sharp breath. She was not engaged to Curtis. Her heart contracted with sudden and piercing anguish.

  Her breathing grew still as she plumbed the darker depths of this fact. Spreading her left hand in front of her, the accuracy of her empty ring finger settled into the fertile spaces in her soul. With delicate intention, she gave the seedling a safe place to sprout as she probed this old truth that held a new reality.

  What now? Nothing came. No whispered answer or direction. Only a silent echoing that reverberated through the space where the promise of her future with Curtis had been carefully constructed by her and those around her, but now it rang as hollow as an empty well.

  Chapter 14

  The following night, Willow’s hand was warm and wet, and Pilot was whining on the outside of her fuzzy world of sleep. Turning over, she pushed the dog away. “Down, Pilot.” He knew better than to get on the bed. He never jumped on the bed.

  Pilot’s whining became more insistent, and he began to lick her face.

  Willow woke up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What is it?” she slurred.

  Pilot jumped off the bed and ran to the closed door of her bedroom. His whine became a yap and then a bark.

  In the silence that followed Pilot’s bark, the soft purring of a truck engine came through Willow’s closed window.

  Willow sat up in bed. The cows! Someone was trying to steal the cows. With them separated out, it would be easy to figure out which cows were ready for the feedlots. They were in their own pasture. Willow thought better of turning on the bedroom light and instead threw back the covers and felt for her sweats, which she pulled on in record time. Pulling on her boots without socks, she hurried to her dad’s door.

  He appear
ed before she could knock, fully dressed and with the shotgun. “Those McPherson boys,” he muttered under his breath.

  Willow followed her dad outside, carrying the huge spotlight they used to find coyotes, wolves, cougars, or other animals that might prey on their herd. She kept the light off as she bent down and made Pilot stay indoors. The last thing she needed was for him to get accidentally shot or run over by a cow or the truck. She heard him whine and bark at the door.

  Rounding the side of the barn, she and her father saw the pickup with the trailer attached sitting with the engine running just inside the gate to the pasture. The lock hung useless and the cut chain swung limp with the gate wide open. The truck motor purred and the running lights provided a murky light to see the herd. Two men were rounding up a few cows and pushing them into the trailer.

  “Unload those cows!” Chet bellowed, his voice filling the night.

  Silence followed, and the sound of him cocking the shotgun and leveling the firearm against his shoulder reverberated off the trailer. The men stopped in their tracks.

  Willow snapped on the light and shined it in the direction of the two men. Her dad was right. Joshua and Andrew McPherson.

  “The police have already been called,” Chet said. “So just back those cows out of that trailer right now.”

  Both men hesitated.

  “Do it!” Chet yelled.

  Andrew was faster than his brother, and he scurried into the trailer and began pushing the cows back out into the pasture. The other man followed with a sullen expression.

  Shorty sidled up to Chet and stood with his pistol pointed at the two young men near the trailer.

  “Glad you’re here,” Chet said.

  “Glad to be here,” Shorty said.

  “We don’t mean no harm,” one man said.

  “Shut up, Andy,” Josh said.