Summer in Snow Valley (Snow Valley Romance Anthologies Book 2)

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  He’d dated on and off since high school, enjoying the Christmas Ball, school dances, and dates sledding or horseback riding. But no one had ever lit a fire inside him the way Mercedes had. The way she’d talked about them going to lunch felt as natural as sliding on his leather work gloves. It just fit. Her brush-off stung, and he was embarrassed enough to never leave his ranch again.

  Chet threw a bag of grain over his shoulder with a grunt and hauled it into the barn. He dropped it in the corner of the tack room and went back for the next one.

  Whitney and Aiden pulled in, a cloud of dust drifting away as they came to a stop. Chet raised his free hand to wave before disappearing into the barn. It wasn’t long before Lady Morgan, Aiden’s border collie, trotted in. She practically sat on his foot, waiting for a scratch behind the ears. Chet petted her and sent her off to explore the barn. He’d left her a bone and knew she’d find it soon.

  Aiden came in and went straight to the tack room for a lead rope. “S’up.” He nodded to Chet.

  “Not much,” Chet replied.

  Aiden pulled Chet’s horse, Goldie, out of her stall. Together, Chet and Goldie had gone all the way to the high school rodeo finals Chet’s senior year. They didn’t take the calf roping title, but Chet was offered scholarships from several college scouts. He’d completed his associate’s at Utah Valley University. At home for the summer, he’d broken his collarbone and tore a ligament in his roping arm when a stack of hay rolled off the back of the feeding truck and pinned him. He lost his scholarship and had to move home permanently, but felt lucky to be alive.

  Goldie still had a few good competing years in her, and Chet was happy to see her get a workout.

  Whitney led Old Grey from his stall. She was here to make sure Aiden didn’t get hurt and to give him pointers. A champion team roper, she was stiff competition, even for Chet in his prime.

  “Hey.” She smiled at him over the back of Old Grey.

  He nodded and went out for another bag.

  He came back in as Whitney threw a blanket over Old Grey’s back. “Did you get the de-wormer I asked for?”

  Chet threw the sack down. He was supposed to pick up de-wormer for Lady Morgan at the IFA. He looked at his truck. If it hadn’t been loaded before his run-in with Mercedes, he probably would have forgotten the feed. “Sorry.”

  Whitney tossed one of Mom’s old saddles onto Grey and said, “No biggie. I’ll go tomorrow. How was your day?”

  “Fine.”

  “Well, it looks like it’s about to get a whole lot better.” Whitney nodded her head toward the open barn door, where an egg carton of a car pulled to a stop.

  Chet hurried around Grey and picked up the bit. “You go talk to them.” He gave Whitney a gentle shove.

  “What?” Whitney faced him with her hands on her hips. “No. I doubt they drove to your house to see me.”

  Chet looked up to the heavens, hoping inspiration would strike. There had to be a way to get out of talking to Mercedes. He didn’t want to relive or recount his humiliation.

  “Hello?” Mercedes called into the barn.

  “Hey, come on in,” called Aiden.

  Chet threw him a dirty look Aiden was too oblivious to intercept.

  Mercedes walked slowly into the barn, taking in the open tack room door, the horses poking their heads over the stall doors to see who was here, and Lady Morgan chewing on a bone in the corner.

  Chet groaned. She looked amazing. He’d never survive this. Whitney pinched his arm, and he jumped away from her and into Mercedes’s line of sight. Brushing the horse hair off his shirt, Chet slowly made his way over to where she stood holding a plate in her hands. Cat was nowhere in sight.

  “What brings you out this way?” he asked.

  Mercedes tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She glanced at Whitney and her cheeks colored. “I, um, made you some cookies. To say thank you for this morning.”

  “Sweet.” Aiden rubbed his hands together.

  Mercedes laughed. “Sorry, they’re for Chet. You can’t have one unless he says.” She passed the plate to Chet and looked quickly down.

  Was she embarrassed about today or were the cookies bad? He decided to wait to try them until she’d left, just in case. When he looked back at her expectant face, he braced himself to taste them in front of her. He picked the smallest cookie and tried to look nonchalant as he took a half-bite. Darn it all if they weren’t soft and warm.

  Aiden reached for a cookie, and Chet pulled the plate away. “Nope—mine.”

  His possessiveness earned him a smile from Mercedes.

  He took a big bite and savored it, taunting Aiden, who tried again and just missed when Chet stepped back. They tousled, and the cookies slipped around on the plate. “Okay, back off and you can have one.” Chet glared at Aiden.

  Aiden took his cookie and inhaled it. “Those are so good,” he said with his mouth still full.

  “How can you tell? You barely tasted it.” Whitney shared an eye roll with Mercedes.

  “Dude, what did he do to earn those?”

  Mercedes gave Chet a small smile. “He faced a giant.”

  Warmth flooded through Chet as their eyes met. Understanding perfectly her reference to Sam, the look in Mercedes’s eyes bolstered him like a knight on a quest. It was impossible for him to fail in her eyes, he had slain the giant.

  “Come on, cookie monster, we’re burnin’ daylight.” Whitney clicked her tongue and Old Grey followed her out the door.

  Aiden took advantage of Chet’s distraction to swipe another cookie. He untied Goldie’s reins from the hitching post and followed his mom out to the corral, leaving Chet and Mercedes alone.

  “Thanks for the cookies,” Chet said, hoping to head off any uncomfortable silences. “I’m going to hide them in the house so Aiden doesn’t eat them all.”

  Mercedes chuckled and fell in step beside him. Chet wasn’t sure he liked the idea of her hanging out. He tended to do stupid things when she was around, like think about kissing her or invite her to lunch. He hadn’t actually invited her, but she’d rejected him nonetheless.

  Mercedes broke through his thoughts. “Thank you for your help with Sam.”

  “It was no trouble. Glad I could help.” He opened the back door. “Hang on just a second.” He left her outside; it was just safer that way. Opening the oven, Chet slid the whole plate in and shut the door. Not the most imaginative hiding spot, but it would at least slow Aiden down.

  He stepped out the door and found that Mercedes had moved so she could see the roping pen. Whitney rode up on the roping dummy and let her loop fly. It landed true with a thwack. Chet grinned.

  “She makes it look easy.” Mercedes nodded her head in Whitney’s direction.

  “She was Best in State.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  They watched Aiden take a turn—and miss. He shook his head and re-coiled his rope.

  “It’s like a painting.” She gestured her hands to include the yard, the barn, the corral, and the field beyond.

  Chet shrugged. “It’s home.”

  Mercedes got a faraway look in her eye. “Strange, but it feels like a home to me, too. And it’s nothing like Boston.”

  “You can come over anytime.” His eyes dropped to her lips and then jerked back up to her eyes. “I mean, if you want to.”

  “Thanks.”

  The way she answered quickly and didn’t expound left Chet to wonder if he’d embarrassed himself again.

  Mercedes turned in a full circle. “Your spread is beautiful. Is that what you call it, a ‘spread?’ I mean, I guess you would just call it ‘land’ or ‘property,’ but it kind of spreads out when you come up over that hill and that was the word that came to mind.” Mercedes cut herself off and her cheeks turned pink. “I’m rambling. Do I sound like a dork?”

  Chet’s heart stumbled over Mercedes and the way she looked at his ‘spread.’ “You do not sound like a dork,” he assured her. “This land has been in my family for
generations.” He turned toward his field, green with early hay. It would be ready to cut in a couple weeks. “It’s seen generations of hard work and family. Sometimes, it’s like they’re still watching over it.”

  “Maybe they are,” Mercedes said softly.

  “My dad thought so.” Chet shifted. “We’ve had developers make offers and there’s a company bound and determined to get a spot on that hill.” He pointed. “But my dad refused, even when times were tough.”

  “Sounds like a good man.”

  Chet grinned. “Stubborn too.”

  “He’d have to be, to build a spread like this.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Chet ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t given his dad enough credit. Now that Chet struggled under the load of a heavy mortgage, he appreciated what his dad had done all the more.

  Mercedes shuffled her feet and took a deep breath. “Hey, I was wondering …”

  Chet came out of his thoughts.

  “Can I get that bucket from you?”

  “Bucket?”

  Mercedes pressed her lips. “Yeah, the one you said we could borrow … you know, when we were at the feed store … Sam …” She trailed off and looked away.

  Chet had spent the whole afternoon trying to forget what happened at the feed store. He’d done such a good job that he forgot that in his pathetic attempt to impress her, he’d offered a bucket. I’m a regular knight in shining armor. He mentally kicked himself as he said, “Sure, there’s one in the barn.”

  He’d hoped she would wait in the yard and give him a chance to regain his confidence, but she followed him through the doors and right into the tack room.

  “I just have to get the horseshoes out of it.” Chet leaned over and grabbed a handful of rusted iron out of the bucket.

  “Why do you keep them? Are they valuable? I mean, if you could reuse them they might be worth something, but back home we would take them to the salvage yard. My grandpa used to let us take the soda cans in when we were little and then we’d go for ice cream. Come to think of it, I doubt we ever made enough to pay for an ice cream. Not in one trip. But those shoes look a lot heavier than soda cans. So, do you sell them?”

  If Mercedes didn’t look so cute when she went on like that, Chet would have laughed at the idea that used horseshoes were valuable. Her thought process played out on her face, and it went from curious to happy memory and back to curious. “I use them to make hooks and things. Like those.” He pointed to the wall next to the door, where several horseshoe hooks held winter coats and overalls.

  Mercedes flipped around and took a moment to inspect them.

  They weren’t anything special. All he’d done was bend a horseshoe in half and attach it to another shoe that he’d pounded flat. The flat shoe was nailed to the wall, and the bent shoe formed a deep hook. They were rustic, and the ones in his barn were his worst efforts, because he gave the best ones to his family for their barns or coat rooms.

  Chet got the bucket emptied and took it out to the spigot to rinse it out. He was just finishing up when Mercedes came to join him.

  “Those are really great.”

  Chet shrugged. “They do the job.”

  “Did you do that welcome sign too?”

  Chet’s eyes automatically went to the top of the doorway. “Yep.”

  “And that clock?” She pointed.

  “Yep.” Chet kicked the dirt. He wasn’t used to people noticing his projects, and Mercedes was really looking them over.

  “They’re creative and ...” She tilted her head. “... beautifully rustic. I like that you left them all rust-covered. Could you make some hooks for my grandpa’s house? They’d be perfect for the mud room off the kitchen. I mean, if you have the time and I’d pay you of course.”

  Chet smiled. “I usually make them when I shoe the horses.”

  “Okay. We aren’t starting on the kitchen until later this summer, so that will work. Let me know how much I owe you.”

  Chet opened his mouth to protest the payment when Mercedes placed her hand on his forearm.

  “I think I messed up this morning.” She licked her lips, and Chet swallowed, glancing down at her hand resting on his arm. She looked down too, and seemed surprised that they were so close.

  He didn’t mind, he just wasn’t sure how to read it. One minute she was flirty and the next she refused his help or offer for lunch. Mercedes made his head spin in several directions. He enjoyed it at the same time it made him leery.

  “I’m sorry for what I said today. I think it came off rude, and that wasn’t my intention.”

  Chet forced a smile as he processed this new information. It sounded like she’d meant to turn him down, she just hadn’t meant to be rude about it. Everything came into focus: the cookies, borrowing the bucket, it all made sense. Mercedes wanted to be friends, but that was all she was after. Maybe she was flirty by nature and he shouldn’t have read so much into their encounter this morning. If he was being fair, it wasn’t as much what she said or did as it was the way he reacted to it. It wasn’t her fault she made him feel ten feet tall. She just had that effect on him.

  Chet forced the bucket between them, and Mercedes’s hand dropped from his arm. “Well, you had been through a traumatic experience.”

  Mercedes accepted the bucket. “Traumatic experience?”

  Chet stepped back. “Sam hit on my sister, Chelsea, once, and I swear she came out here looking like she’d been chased by a mountain lion.”

  Mercedes laughed, and Chet’s heart tugged. It was a distinctly feminine sound that washed over him like warm spring water. He was mesmerized by the way her eyes danced when she laughed.

  She caught him staring and quickly looked away, rubbing at that spot behind her ear. “I’ll bring this back when we’re done.”

  “No rush,” said Chet.

  Mercedes climbed into her car and waved as she pulled out.

  Chet was still watching her car when Aiden and Whitney left the corral. They came up behind him, and Old Grey nudged him in the shoulder.

  “Hey.” Chet twisted his head to check for horse goo on his shirt.

  “How was your visit?” Whitney and Aiden turned their horses and followed Chet as he grabbed a bag of grain from his truck.

  “Fine. She needed a bucket.”

  “That’s a big project those girls have taken on.”

  “Yep.” Chet disappeared into the tack room, stacked the bag on top of the others, and walked back out.

  “Did you invite them to church?” Whitney asked.

  Chet shook his head. He hadn’t even thought about it.

  Whitney put her hands on her hips. “You should have at least told her what time services start.”

  Chet scratched his cheek. “Yeah, probably.”

  “What about Thursday?” asked Aiden.

  Chet pulled up short. “Thursday?”

  “Mom says we have to fix Mercedes’s front railing we broke when we took her bread.”

  Chet pointed at Aiden. “You broke it.”

  Whitney huffed as she pulled the saddle off Old Grey. “Chet’s right, you broke it.” She set the saddle on the stand and flipped her hair out of her eyes. “But I don’t know how to fix it, and his dad has the irrigation water this week. I thought maybe you could help him out.” Whitney dusted off her palms.

  Chet knew she worried about Aiden, about his attitude. Fixing the railing would be a good lesson for the kid. It was one Chet thought he could learn from, too. Not only would it set the example that if you break something, you take responsibility for it, but he’d gain some woodworking experience that he could use throughout his life.

  Those good reasons outgunned the one reason Chet would stay away—his pride. He ran his hand over his face, sucked it up, and said, “I’ll meet you there Thursday at six.”

  Chapter 8

  Mercedes found Cat at her computer. “Hey,” she said on her way through to clean up the mess she’d made in the kitchen. Wanting to get the cookies to
Chet while they were still warm, she hadn’t bothered to put away anything before she raced out the door.

  Cat hurriedly shut her computer and jumped to her feet. “Hey.”

  Mercedes paused to give Cat a once-over. Her eyes were wide and she was holding her breath. This was the second time she’d jumped when Mercedes came in. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

  Cat glanced down at her laptop and then smiled. “Everything’s great. You just surprised me.”

  “Lost in your fantasy world again?” Mercedes teased.

  When Cat was caught up in drafting a story, she would joke that she could only be reached in her imaginary world. Mercedes didn’t understand Cat’s fascination with historical figures, but she understood the need to create. In fact, her mind had turned over several ideas for paintings while standing in Chet’s yard watching Whitney and Aiden together. The way the light bounced off the horse’s mane and how Aiden’s face was half shadowed under his ball hat entranced her. But it was the sight of Chet talking about the land and his heritage that had her mind spinning. His sincerity was beyond words and she’d felt the whisper of generations past as he spoke. If she could capture that on canvas … She shook her head. Painting just wasn’t a priority lately.

  Cat ignored her teasing. “Did you get the bucket?”

  Mercedes held it up and let it dangle from her fingers.

  “Ah, the power of cookies.”

  Mercedes rolled her eyes.

  “Did he ask you out again?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ask him out?”

  “No.”

  Cat pouted. “Were you nice?”

  Mercedes raised one eyebrow. “I got the bucket, didn’t I?”

  “Touché.” Cat stretched her arms out and yawned. She took a cookie and went to the fridge, where she pulled out the milk.

  Mercedes put away the flour and sugar first, her mind on Chet more than on where baking supplies were supposed to go. She really liked the hooks he’d made. They were creative, Western, and functional. She could probably sell a ton of them back home. One couple she’d met through Jeremey was remodeling an old barn into a guest house. They would love a set. Mercy shook her head; Chet had all sorts of skills that surprised her.