The live band was playing a nice mix of Christmas songs and singers and standards, which Rachel loved. The singer was crooning a respectable rendition of the old Bobby Darin song More. He was doing a good job. There was also a female singer who had a bluesy, smoky voice a lot like Diana Krall.
Rachel hummed along as she scanned the room again looking for Avery. She noticed that Savannah was no longer on the dance floor with Harlan.
Her stomach rumbled and it dawned on her that she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything except for taste-testing all morning. She didn’t put anything out for public consumption without tasting it first. It was only good business sense to sample the food as a guest or client would. Because her reputation depended on every bite—savory or sweet—tasting scrumptious.
She thought about making herself a plate and enjoying it as the other guests were—just to make sure everything was okay—but she put a hand on her diaphragm. This dress was so tight, maybe she could just look at the food. Make sure everything was in order.
As she turned toward the buffet, once again, she was nearly overcome by the heavy scent of lavender. She glanced around. Was it someone’s perfume? That didn’t make sense because earlier when she and Savannah had walked to the bride’s room, no one had been around. It might have been a little spooky if she didn’t love the scent of lavender so much.
Well, okay, it was still a little spooky even if she did love the smell.
Maybe it was some kind of air freshener used to promote the local lavender fields: a cross-promotional arrangement. She made a mental note to talk to Ariana and Juliette the owners of Lavender House Farms and Lavender Dreams—the shop on the square in downtown Whiskey River—about procuring some lavender buds to use in her shortbread cookies. It could be a new recipe for her seasonal summer offerings.
In fact, maybe they could come up with a cross-promo deal of their own. Maybe she could ask Becky and Boone Harwood, owners of Harwood House, to offer the lavender cookies to their guests at the inn in a three-way cooperative deal.
The wheels were turning and she was lost in promo heaven when someone put a hand on her shoulder and made her jump.
“Hello, darling.” Her mother, Donna Morgan, leaned in and blew an air kiss on Rachel’s cheek. “Look at you in that dress.” She leaned in again and whispered, “It’s awfully tight. Be careful how you sit. You don’t want to rip the seams.”
Rachel forced a smile. “Thank you, Mom. You look beautiful, too.”
She did. Her dark brown hair was swept back into her trademark French twist. Tonight, it was secured with a jewel-encrusted comb. She wore a gown with a shimmery, white silk organza top and a black A-line skirt made from the same expensive material. Her makeup was impeccable as was her jewelry: generous diamond studs on her ears, a tennis bracelet on her wrist and an enormous, glittering cocktail ring on her right ring finger. All of the stones were real. Now that Donna had money, her motto was, Life is too short for costume jewelry.
“Is that a new dress?” Donna’s red lips flattened into a hard line.
“Avery—”
“You really should’ve purchased the next size larger, Rachel. Just because you can get into a dress doesn’t mean you should wear it. There’s no shame in going up a size if it fits better. In fact, there’s a slimming quality to it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Thanks for the confidence booster, Mom.
Leave it to Donna to put the diss in dysfunctional, especially on a night like this.
“Well, good evening, gorgeous ladies.” Wyatt Kelly, CEO of Kelly Boots walked up and planted kisses on Rachel’s and Donna’s cheeks, and just like that, the conversation between mother and daughter was over. Donna turned her full attention to the most influential man in town.
Rachel was used to it, and tonight, she was glad that she wouldn’t have to respond to her mother’s comment. Donna loved to spar. But learning to deal with her mother’s acerbic tongue had helped Rachel develop a thicker skin. Dealing with her mother’s absenteeism had been more difficult, and there was a time when she’d taken it personally. It felt like every other person—or at least the ones who had the potential to throw business Donna’s way—were more important to her than her own daughter.
But Rachel finally realized she had a choice. She could let it affect her or not. She’d come to the conclusion, where her mother was concerned, the fewer expectations set, the lower the chance of being disappointed. That philosophy had served her well. It had also made it a no-brainer that Katie would be the most important person in her life—more important than status, business, and money. She was going to be the mother to Katie that Donna had never had time to be for her.
Donna was so deep in conversation with Wyatt Kelly that she didn’t notice when Rachel slipped away and continued her trek toward the food.
Seams be dammed. She’d changed her mind. She was going to eat.
“There you are.” Avery materialized in the crowd, looking blonde and beautiful in her sleeveless burgundy velvet dress. She was so beautiful, she stood out amidst the people of Whiskey River who were dressed in their black-tie finest.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Avery said. “Where have you been hiding? You haven’t been in the kitchen, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been right here. In fact, I’ve been looking for you.”
“Well, here we are,” Avery said. “That dress was made for you, Rach. I knew it would be perfect on you, you sexy thang.”
As Avery glanced around, Rachel bit back the urge to ask Avery to be honest—was the dress too tight?
But Avery said, “Now, where did he go?”
“Who?” Rachel asked.
“The guy I want you to meet. Remember?” Her voice was sing-song suggestive. “Oh! There he is.” Avery grabbed Rachel’s arm. “Over there talking to Logan.” She nodded in the direction of a tall guy, whose back was to them. He had longish, curly dark hair.
Wow, was Rachel’s immediate reaction. Because he ticked all the boxes of the type of guy she found attractive—tall, dark, broad shoulders. But it was only a visceral reaction. To his back. He might not even be her type once she got a better look at him.
Either way, it wouldn’t go any farther than a polite hello. Okay, maybe a dance if he was a nice guy. Even if he was, she had no use for a nice guy.
Avery took Rachel’s hand and all but dragged her over to Logan and his entourage.
“I found her,” Avery said. The guy turned around and fixed her with a pair of hauntingly familiar chocolate-brown eyes. Eyes that once upon a time had melted her insides like marshmallows over a flame. Eyes that belonged to none other than—
“Rachel, this is Elijah Lane. Eli, this is my best friend, Rachel Wood.” A slow smile spread over his handsome face. A face that was so familiar it made her simultaneously ache and rejoice.
“I was hoping I’d run into you tonight,” he said.
“You know each other?” Avery asked.
“We do,” Eli said. “Rachel and I go way back. Don’t we?”
Oh, yeah.
All the way back to a time when she was young and naïve and didn’t know how to protect her heart. But this time she knew better. This time Eli Lane wasn’t going to get the chance to break her heart again. How was it that she simultaneously wanted to turn and run and throw herself into his arms? Damn him. The last time she saw him he’d been tall and lean, still growing into his man’s body. She hadn’t realized it then because she’d been so consumed, so blinded by love. He’d been her everything. Her first love. Her best friend. Her world.
The decade that they’d been apart had taken the sexiest man she’d ever known and turned him into sheer perfection.
Painfully aware of how the green dress accentuated every curve, she stood taller and sucked in her stomach. Why had she done so many taste tests? Why had she eaten so many cookies and s’mores? And at least he could’ve had the decency to have gotten fat or lost his hair or l
et slip some of the magic that had held her so raptly under his spell and was calling her back even now as they stood here.
They’d barely said hello, yet the chemistry still sizzled. Her attraction to him was nearly palpable, despite how he’d broken her heart.
Yeah, but hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, that’s all on me.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Rachel said, taking extraordinary care to keep her voice steady. “Given how you were in such a hurry to leave Whiskey River.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “I asked you to meet me, but you never showed up.”
Avery and Logan were watching them, but his entourage had melted into the crowd.
“That’s not the way I remember it,” Rachel said. “You didn’t ask me to meet you.”
The intensity of Eli’s gaze made her heart hurt.
“I think we have some things we need to talk about.”
Chapter Three
The heart wants what the heart wants.
Eli’s heart had never wanted anyone but Rachel, despite the way she’d given up on him.
She looked exactly the same as she had the last time he’d seen her. Long auburn hair, hanging halfway down her back. Almond-shaped emerald eyes, the color of a mountain spring. He’d wager those eyes and lips and that body still held the key to his happiness. If he stared into those eyes too long he’d be confessing his heart. Especially because a couple of stealthy inquiries had told him that Rachel wasn’t married anymore. He couldn’t find out the details, but that was all he needed to know.
“Why don’t we go somewhere and talk about all of those things—somewhere we can say all the things we need to say?”
“Well, I see you two have a lot of catching up to do,” Avery said. “We’ll leave you to it.” Neither Rachel nor Eli said a word as Avery and Logan headed toward the dance floor.
“What are you doing here, Eli?”
“I’m attending a charity ball. Same as you.”
She put her hands on her hips. “The last time I checked, things like this weren’t your gig. So, I’ll ask you again, why are you here, Eli?”
“I came here looking for you. Is that what you want me to say?”
The corners of her mouth quirked up, just enough so that the dimples on either side winked at him. Only it wasn’t an amiable wink. They weren’t saying welcome home; let’s go get reacquainted with each other because we used to be so good together.
No, the dimples he’d loved so much, the ones that used to drive him mad—tonight, they crowned the edges of a smile that looked disappointed.
“I really don’t know what to say to you,” she said. “Do you have something to say to me?”
She only gave him a few beats to answer. He couldn’t find his words before she turned and walked away. In an ironic soundtrack to the moment, he realized the band was playing the Zac Brown Band song, As She’s Walking Away. But not before he grabbed her hand and stopped her. She didn’t try to get away. She just stood there with her back to him, her hand in his.
“Dance with me,” he said. “Please.”
He didn’t give her a chance to refuse. He led her to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. The music was too loud and the floor was too crowded for them to talk, but it gave him a chance to hold her.
The feel of her in his arms took him back. He couldn’t remember the details of a lot of things that had happened over the past ten years, but the memory of how their bodies fit together flooded back, muddying his initial I’ll-show-her purpose for coming tonight.
He lost himself as they swayed together to the song, dancing a little too close for the song’s medium tempo, but she didn’t resist and he didn’t want it any other way. In fact, she seemed to cling to him as tightly as he clung to her. When the music ended, he dipped her back slightly. As she stared into his eyes, he was tempted to kiss her; he almost did, but his better judgment stopped him.
“Let’s get a drink and go sit down,” he said.
This time she did pull away. “I have things I need to do tonight, Eli. I’m working. I’m not just here to party.”
It was a dig. Her defenses were up and he suspected she was trying to hurt him by bringing up his not so illustrious past. The time he would’ve rather partied than do anything constructive—like go to college. That was one of the many reasons her mom made it her mission to ensure they broke up.
He and Rachel had met when they worked at Baron’s Steakhouse. She was a hostess. He was a bartender. She was only seventeen. For her, the job was pocket money.
He’d worked to pay his bills. It had been decent money and the job hadn’t been too taxing. Hell, he’d only been twenty years old at the time. They were too young, and he’d had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He had to do something that allowed him to bring in the most money to maximize his time. He was supporting himself and paying his aunt to take care of his younger brother Caleb. They’d moved in with their aunt Angela after their mom had been killed in a car accident. Eli had moved out of his aunt’s apartment when he turned eighteen. But Caleb was still a minor and there was no way the courts were going to let Eli have custody of him. Angela had four kids of her own. The last thing she needed was another mouth to feed, but when Eli said he would help out, she’d let Caleb stay.
“I’m not the same person I was eleven years ago,” he said.
Rachel opened her mouth to say something but stopped as if she’d thought better of it. “Nobody is the same, Eli. We all grow and change. We all evolve. Or at least we should.”
“I’m sure you’ve changed too,” he said.
Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t say anything.
“That’s why I hope we can cut each other some slack and…talk. That’s all I’m asking, Rachel—for you to talk to me.”
Her face softened. She looked at him for a moment as if she was weighing the pros and cons. Finally, she said, “We can talk, but it’s so noisy in here. Why don’t we go out on the terrace in the back?”
The band was playing the song Santa Baby and a woman who looked familiar but whom he couldn’t place was performing an interpretive dance in the middle of the parquet dance floor. She had ahold of some poor man’s tie and was using it like a rope to pull him toward her as she sang along and moved her hips from side to side, telling him that she had been an awfully good girl and assuring him that there were a lot of men she hadn’t kissed.
The dance looked borderline burlesque.
Rachel and Eli caught each other’s gazes and shared a secret smile that took him crashing back through the years to better times when he knew she was the only woman in the world he would ever love.
“Remember Reverend Butterfield, the pastor of the Methodist Church?” she asked.
Eli nodded. “Vaguely.”
“That’s the good reverend and his wife, Carol.”
Rachel arched a brow and it all came back. Carol Butterfield had caught Eli and Rachel making out in his car in the parking lot behind the church. She’d created an international incident out of it, first, calling a tow truck that arrived while they were still in the car. The only way that Mrs. Butterfield would release the tow truck without it taking Eli’s car was if Rachel called her mother and told her what happened.
Donna grounded Rachel for a month and made her spend sixty hours doing service work for the church. Not only was she at Carol Butterfield’s beck and call, but Carol also had sixty hours to lecture Rachel on the sin of premarital sex. Eli wanted to take half the hours since he was part of the perceived sin, but Carol and Donna wouldn’t let him come around. Carol threatened to take out a no trespassing order if he set foot on the grounds again. Even on Sundays.
That was the first time Donna had forbidden Rachel to see him.
“It looks like Mrs. Butterfield finally learned how to have a good time,” Eli said.
And at least her Santa Baby dance was a good ice
breaker.
He put his hand on the small of Rachel’s back and the two of them walked toward the patio door. It gave him a chance to get close to her again. He loved the curve of her back—he’d loved every curve of her body, how she felt in his arms, underneath his own body—and if he kept up this train of thought he was going to end up very frustrated because he’d promised her all they would do was talk.
Hell, he had no idea if she’d welcome more than talking. It was presumptuous of him to even wonder. Just as he had changed, so had she. Her being here tonight at this charity ball, being part of the Women of Whiskey River Service Organization and part of the committee that put together a party like this was the biggest change.
He held open the door and they stepped out onto a terrace that ran the length of the building and jutted out another several feet. The night was cold and the nighttime sky was covered in white clouds that bounced the ambient light back at them like a reflector. A blanket of new-fallen snow had started to form on the lawn. The bright white of it illuminated the tree-lined view with soft blue light.
A collection of tall stainless-steel patio heaters radiated warmth, but barely took the edge off the cold and the dampness. The temperature must’ve dropped ten degrees since he’d arrived. He rubbed his hands together and then gestured toward a table that was covered with white tablecloths and dotted with floral centerpieces. Other than the two of them and the solitary bartender, who was wearing a parka, the area was empty and quiet, affording them about as much privacy as they were going to find tonight.
They claimed a table. Eli pulled out a chair for Rachel. After she was seated, he took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She didn’t protest. In fact, she uttered her appreciation. As she pulled the lapels of the jacket closed, he looked at her for the longest time, drinking in her beauty. She was mostly the same, but there was something strangely different, a quality he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
God, he had to stop staring at her.
“What do you want to drink?” he asked.
“I’d like a flat white martini, please.”
A Texas Christmas Homecoming Page 4
