by Jane Porter
“No, it’s really perfect. I love the simplicity of the design. It’s elegant and the diamond is so sparkly.” She felt a rush of emotion. This was all suddenly very real. “So, we’re marrying this Thursday.”
“Or sooner.”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Why not?” he said. “We’ll have dinner at my place tomorrow night, show off your new ring, and get married the next day.”
She exhaled in a rush. This was most definitely getting real. “Okay.”
He looked at her steadily. “You’re not sure.”
“I… no… that’s not true. I’m sure about us.” She bit into her lower lip, thinking about dinner tomorrow night. “I just don’t know how they will feel when we announce our news. But maybe there won’t be any easy way to break the news.”
“We could just start with the engagement,” he said.
“And hide the part about us getting married the next day?”
“I wasn’t going to invite them to the ceremony at the courthouse.”
“I don’t want to deceive them. I hate dishonesty.”
“I do, too, but I’m beginning to think the best thing to do is tell them after, so there isn’t a lot of drama ahead of time. Unless you enjoy drama…”
She laughed. No, she most definitely did not enjoy drama. She’d left California to escape drama. “It’s going to be challenging either way, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “The drama will pass. Things will settle. It’ll get easier.” He smiled sympathetically. “But first it’s going to get harder.”
“Great,” she muttered.
“So tomorrow, for dinner, what sounds good?”
“How about I make dinner and bring it up with me? That way there is no fuss at your end.”
“That’s a lot of work.”
“Joe, I have nothing to do all day. I need a purpose.”
“Do you miss working?”
“I do, actually. I’ve always worked.” She glanced down at the big sparkly white diamond on her finger. It was truly gorgeous. “I’ve been thinking about looking for a part-time or temporary job. Not sure how you’d feel about it, but I’m not used to not working, and it’d help make time pass faster.” She paused and looked up at him, trying to gauge Joe’s reaction. “Would you mind me getting a job here in town?”
“No. But what happens after you move to the ranch?”
“I’d like to keep working if I could. Obviously, once we have kids that would change things, but until we do, I wouldn’t mind driving from the ranch into town. I’m used to driving.”
“It’s a hard drive in bad weather.”
“I’m a careful driver. I don’t take unnecessary risks. I just need to ship my car out from California, but I could do that soon.”
“Is your car four-wheel drive?” he asked.
“No. It’s a little Prius. Gets great gas mileage.”
“Which might work for the summer, but not our winter. Roads up where we are can be treacherous with a hard rain.”
“I can also sell my car and buy something here. My sister-in-law’s family has a car dealership in Tulare. I’m sure they’d sell it for me.”
“That would probably be the best way to go. There’s no point trying to get your car here, just to sell it. We’ll look for a car for you for here. But for tomorrow, I’ll pick you up.”
“Sounds good. I was thinking I’d make lasagna. I know we just had Italian the other night but I make a pretty mean lasagna if your family likes it.”
“Granddad loves lasagna and he doesn’t get it very often, but where would you make it?”
“I’m going to ask Eliza if I could use the kitchen here at Bramble House. She might say no, but she might say yes. If she says no, I’ll just pick up something at Rocco’s that I can bring with me.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be here tomorrow at five.”
*
The next morning Sophie walked to the grocery store to buy the groceries needed to make dinner, and then returned to Bramble to make her homemade red sauce. She ended up making two large lasagnas, one to be eaten tonight, and the other to be put in the Wyatts’ freezer for another night. As she layered the red sauce and noodles and cheese, she kept glancing down at her diamond ring, distracted by the sparkling stone on her finger.
She was officially engaged. They’d be marrying tomorrow. Things were moving fast now.
Joe was there a few minutes before five to pick her up, and he helped her carry all the dinner items to his truck, where the lasagnas went on the floor of the back of his cab.
At the ranch house, she turned on the oven and put one lasagna in to reheat, and then halfway through, added the loaf of garlic bread. She tossed the salad as everything warmed.
“You look pretty cute in my kitchen,” Joe said, entering through the back door. He’d been in the barn checking on the horses and as he hung up his coat and set his hat upside down on the narrow table, Sophie’s heart turned over. It was suddenly so very domestic, and it crossed her mind that this was what it’d be like when she lived here. She’d be busy prepping dinner and he’d come in and hopefully he’d always smile at her as if she was rather irresistible.
She smiled at him, pleased and yet also shy. “Do I?”
“You do.” He went to the sink and washed his hands. “You make me hungry.”
“Must be the garlic bread.”
“Hmmm. No, it’s you. Hard to explain, but it feels right seeing you in here. You kind of light everything up and make the room feel good.”
It was probably one of the nicest things she’d ever heard and for a split second her eyes burned and a lump filled her throat. “You just made my day, Joe Wyatt.”
He reached for a dish towel and dried his hands. “Granddad told me that Mom is hoping to talk to you. Do we have time before dinner?”
“We’re probably ten minutes away from eating. But I could also let everything sit a bit. It won’t hurt the lasagna if it sits awhile before we serve.” Sophie hesitated. “Do you know what she wants to talk to me about?”
Joe shook his head.
“Do you think she knows about the engagement?” Sophie asked.
“I haven’t told her, and you’re not wearing the ring,” he said.
She patted the pocket of her jeans. “It’s right here. I was going to put it on when we share the news. Should I put it on now?”
“No.” He put his hands on his lean hips and looked toward the dining room and family room beyond. “I don’t know what she’s going to say. I’m kind of worried.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll survive.”
He growled his displeasure. “I hate this.”
“It’s just a phase, right?”
“I admire you, Sophie. You look delicate but you’re pretty dang tough.”
“I told you, I’m a farmer’s daughter.” She went to him, put her hands on his chest, and stood up on tiptoe. “Kiss me for luck.”
He did. He kissed her as if she was his, and only his, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips, before stroking inside her mouth, making her body warm and melt. Kissing him always made her want more, and the more promised to be unbearably good.
She was breathing hard when she stepped back. “Wow. Kissing you is like the Fourth of July. Fireworks every single time.”
He laughed, softly, appreciatively, and gave her butt a pat as she headed for the family room. “Shout if you need me.”
“Ha. Just don’t let the lasagna burn. It needs to come out in ten. I’ve already taken the foil off.”
“Setting the timer now,” he answered. “But brace yourself; I have a feeling she’s going to ask you a million questions.”
“That’s okay.”
“They might be uncomfortable questions,” he added as she reached the swinging door.
Sophie turned, glanced back at him. “What makes you say that?”
“Because she spent the morning asking me a lot of uncomfortable question
s.”
“Ah.”
“Want to put off the interrogation?”
She squared her shoulders, shook her head. “Nope. Let’s do this.”
A million uncomfortable questions, Sophie repeated to herself, as she made her way down the hall and into the small paneled family room where the TV had already been muted in anticipation of Sophie’s arrival. “Hi,” Sophie said, as she entered the room. “Am I interrupting anything?”
Mrs. Wyatt gestured for her to sit, her hand waving to the upholstered sofa opposite her armchair. “Joe said you’d made dinner tonight.”
“Yes, lasagna. I hope you like lasagna.”
“Haven’t had it in years.”
“It’s my mom’s recipe.” Sophie sat down, and smoothed her emerald-green blouse over her hips. “She’s a good cook. At least, we all think so.”
“She’s still alive?”
Sophie nodded. “She lives on our dairy farm in Tulare.”
“Is that where you still live? Tulare?”
“Actually, I was an hour north. Just outside of Kingsburg.”
“Why there?”
“I worked for Brazer Farms and they were headquartered there.”
“What did you do?”
“Import and exports.”
“You met Joe online,” Mrs. Wyatt said, abruptly changing the direction of the conversation.
Sophie refused to let herself be rattled. “Yes.”
“Why go online to meet a man?”
“I work long hours, and I’m not the type to go hang out in bars.”
“Why Joe? What made him the one?”
Joe’s mom would need a good answer. “Joe is solid,” she said, choosing her words with care. “He’s honest. I admire his integrity.”
“That’s it? Nothing about his body or his good looks?”
Sophie’s face heated. “Do you want me to tell you he’s hot? That I think he’s gorgeous and has an incredible body?”
“I’d find it more believable. Integrity and honesty are hard to measure over the internet.”
“I liked his photo. He has a great face, a strong face. I found his profile appealing.”
“What did he say in his profile? I asked him to show me this dating app but he said you have to be a member. That made me suspicious. And so I’m trying to figure out why someone like you, would be here.”
“You mentioned Joe’s looks, and yes, he’s easy on the eyes, but I liked that he was a rancher. I liked that he made it clear that he was committed to his Montana ranch and his family. I liked that he was upfront about what he wanted—he wants to marry and have a family, and he plans to raise his kids here on his property. He made it clear that he’s not looking to move, and he’s not wanting a city lifestyle. He wants his children where he was raised.”
“That didn’t strike you as awfully one-sided to you?”
“It struck me as real. Truthful. I’d far rather a man tell me his limitations than pretend he’s open to all kinds of things, when it’s not true.”
“Life on a ranch is hard. Joe will always spend more time with the land, than with you.”
“My dad was up at four thirty every morning to milk the cows, and was in bed early after the evening milking. There weren’t a lot of vacations because he couldn’t leave the cows, or the milking, to anyone else.”
“Your mom didn’t mind?”
“My mom viewed herself as his business partner. She knew when she married him that it was a family dairy. She knew that Dad had been raised in that house and that once he married, he’d raise his kids in the same house. If I was a boy, my kids would be growing up on the same property, too.”
“So your grandparents shared the same house?”
“They built another house on the property for themselves. After she was done raising kids, Grandma wanted something a little nicer, with more creature comforts, so Grandpa built her a custom house giving her everything she ever wanted.”
Mrs. Wyatt studied Sophie for a long moment. “We don’t have a fancy house. We don’t have anything modern. Joe wants to build something for himself one day, at least, that’s always been his plan, but he hasn’t even started. If you end up with him, you’re going to be living with me and his grandfather, and then when Joe’s brothers come home, they fill the place up. You won’t have a lot of privacy.”
“I didn’t have a lot of privacy growing up. There were five of us kids.”
“So why aren’t you there now?”
Mrs. Wyatt was relentless, but Sophie wasn’t going to be intimidated. “Because you don’t take a dairy and divide it five ways. We always knew my oldest brother John would take over from my dad, and he has. My brother Michael works with him, too, but my other brother has become a lawyer. My sister”—Sophie broke off and drew a breath—“she just recently married and is enjoying being a newlywed.”
“What does she do?”
“She was a preschool teacher for a couple years but isn’t working right now.”
“Did you like your job?”
“I did.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I’m taking a break from it. But they’d hired me back if I wanted to return.”
“You quit your job to come here?”
“I was already looking for something else.”
“Why?”
“I’d been there since college. Change is good.”
Summer reached for her cane, bringing it closer to her legs. “California dairy folks are Portuguese or Dutch. I take it you’re from a Portuguese family.”
“I am.”
“This fruit farm, fruit company, you worked for, were they also Portuguese?”
Sophie hid her surprise. “Yes.”
“Will it be a problem for your family that Joe isn’t Portuguese?”
“No.” Sophie saw Mrs. Wyatt’s expression, and she shook her head firmly. “When I marry, it’s going to be someone that’s right for me, not necessarily right for my family.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted but, before she could say anything, Joe appeared. “Dinner is ready and on the table,” he said. “Come eat before it’s cold.”
Joe helped his mom to her feet and escorted her to her chair before pulling out Sophie’s chair at the dining room table. “You survived the inquisition?” he asked under his breath as she sat down.
“Everything is fine,” she reassured him. “But will it be when we tell them about the engagement?”
“Leave it to me,” he answered. “I’ll bring it up when I think the time is right, I promise.”
He kept his word. They got through dinner with Joe and his grandfather doing most of the talking, discussing weather and if the predicted storm would really come to pass.
Sophie could barely eat, though, thinking about their announcement and wondering how his grandfather and mother would respond. But finally dinner was over and Joe poured cups of coffee and they were sitting at the table when Joe bluntly announced that he and Sophie were engaged.
“I asked her to marry me Sunday night, and she said yes,” he added. “We’re not interested in a long engagement, either.” He looked at Sophie. “Have you shown them your ring?”
“No, but I’d love to,” she said, shyly drawing the ring from her pocket and sliding it on her finger. She turned her hand around so they could see the flash of fire in the diamond. “It’s a beautiful ring.”
For a moment, there was stunned silence and then Mrs. Wyatt asked, “Do your brothers know?”
“No, you’re the first we’ve told,” Joe answered, which was true.
Silence stretched and then Melvin Wyatt got to his feet, came around the table, and kissed Sophie on the cheek. “Congratulations,” he said. “Looking forward to having you join the family.” He stopped by Joe’s chair, and clasped him on the shoulder before stepping out of the room.
Sophie felt strangely moved by Melvin Wyatt’s congratulations and kiss. It was kind, and it felt sincere. Mrs. Wyatt on the other hand loo
ked as if she’d been turned to stone.
Her expression was completely frozen.
Mrs. Wyatt finally spoke. “You two barely know each other.”
“It just feels right, Mom,” Joe answered, reaching out to cover Sophie’s hand with his. “And I know it’s going to be a change having Sophie here, but it will be a good change.”
Mrs. Wyatt’s brow lowered and her gaze rested for a long moment on Sophie before she sighed. “We will see, won’t we?”
*
Joe made Sophie a cup of peppermint tea and told her to take a seat at the kitchen table while he cleaned up. “I’d feel guilty watching you work,” she protested.
He pulled out a chair for her, and stood there until she took it. “No need to feel guilty if you’re keeping me company. Usually, I’m in here on my own.”
“Do you always do the dishes?” she asked as he quickly, efficiently, scraped and washed.
“Yes.”
“Even though you cook?”
He covered the remaining lasagna with foil and put it in the fridge. “Yes.”
She propped her elbows on the table. “What about the nights you meet me for dinner?”
“I make dinner before I go.”
She blinked, shocked. “Every time?”
“It’s easier for them.”
“And harder for you.”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to make more work for my mom and grandfather.”
“I had no idea.”
“I’ve enjoyed our dinners out. I get tired of my own cooking.” He quickly buffed the silverware dry and put those away as well. “And your lasagna was fantastic. Better than Rocco’s.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but not true.”
“Take a compliment, Sophie. Let me be impressed.”
She glanced around the tidied kitchen. Joe had made very quick work with cleanup. “I’m the one that’s impressed by you. You work all day outside and then come in and take care of everything inside, too.”
“I don’t want to talk about me.” He closed the distance between them, pulled her from her chair so that he could sit down in it, before drawing her down on his lap. “Much better,” he said.
Sophie’s pulse raced. Air seemed to catch in her throat. Being this close to Joe was almost overwhelming. Energy crackled around him. Awareness sizzled between them.
