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

by Cindy Roland Anderson

  Mercedes put her hand over his. “There’s a difference between walking away and passing on a legacy. You get that, right?”

  Chet wondered if the warmth spreading through his body was because of what Mercedes said, or if it was because her hand was on his. Running his thumb over her fingers, Chet decided it was probably both. “You know, you’re pretty smart for a girl who wants to paint of picture of me.”

  Mercedes ducked her head. “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Chet held back his grin.

  Mercedes tucked her hair behind her ear on the side that didn’t have the bee sting. Chet tried to see if it looked any better, and she caught him scrutinizing her. Rolling her eyes, she pulled her hair back away from her face. “Well?”

  It didn’t. “A little.”

  She let her hair back down and fidgeted with her napkin.

  “It’s not fair, you know.”

  “What’s not?”

  “That you can swell up and still be that pretty. It can really intimidate a guy.”

  “Please. You wrestle cows. Is it wrestle or wrangle? I guess it could be either because you do both, but wrestle is more the physical word—grabbing their horns and pulling them to the ground—while wrangle is like rounding them up. Where was I? Oh, you have arms like tree trunks—there’s no way I could intimidate you.”

  Chet brushed his thumb over her fingers again, and Mercedes gasped. The air around their table grew thick and blocked out the sounds from the rest of the restaurant. “This is the intimidating part. How could a country guy like me ever compete with the men you’re used to in Boston, who wear business suites and take a girl to fancy restaurants?”

  Mercedes swallowed. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job. You beat out half of those guys just by opening my door.”

  “What do I have to do to beat the rest?”

  Mercedes leaned forward. If it hadn’t been drilled into Chet that you don’t kiss a girl on the first date, he would have stood up and pulled her into his arms right then and there.

  “Are we splitting dessert, or do I get my own?” she asked, as intent as ever.

  Chet paused, considering his options. “We order two different desserts and split those.”

  Mercedes broke into a wide grin. “You win, hands down.” She winked at him and leaned back.

  ***

  They ordered dessert, a chocolate lava cake and bread pudding. Though they made a valiant effort, they were unable to finish either treat. Mercedes insisted Chet take the leftovers home.

  “I’ll have them for breakfast.”

  Mercedes shook her head. “Cookies and now Lava Cake for breakfast? Your metabolism must be off the charts.”

  Chet paid the bill and left a good tip on the table. Mercedes was glad: not only was Maddie a great server, but Mercedes had waitressed for a year in college and still judged guys by how well they tipped. Some dropped money just because they had it, making sure they flashed the cash her way before leaving it on the table. Others counted every cent or made comments about docking a tip if their drinks ran low. Then there were the good guys. The ones who quietly showed appreciation. Chet fell into the third category.

  When Chet took her hand on their way out the door, chills went up her arm. She loved the strength in his hand, the calluses. They were as much a part of him as his ranch was. Musing over how his hands could be so tough and yet hold her gently, Mercedes tipped her head back and looked at the stars. “You don’t get to see this many stars in the city. There’s too many lights. But out here, you can see the shadows in the sky.”

  “Shadows?” Chet looked up. He probably thought she was talking loopy again. When she thought of the things she’d said on the ride to Granny’s, she wanted to crawl into the bed of the truck for the ride home. But with a full stomach, her head had cleared, and though she knew it sounded strange, she wanted Chet to understand.

  Mercedes pointed. “Most people pay attention to the bright spots. The human eye is attracted to light. For some reason, I see the dark ones too. Like there.” She swept her hand across the sky, as if it were close enough for her to touch. “See how it’s darker? Or rather, it appears darker because of the cloudy haze next to it?”

  “Yeah.” Chet perused the night, looking for other dark spots. “I guess you have to have both light and dark to really appreciate either.”

  “What did you say?” Mercedes turned her gaze to Chet.

  “I said, I think you have to have both light and dark to appreciate them.”

  Mercedes’s head spun, and it had nothing to do with the medication. Both light and dark. “That’s all sorts of profound.”

  Chet opened her door and she climbed in. “How so?” He leaned against her door. The night air was comfortable and they were alone in the parking lot. Soft yellow light spilled from Granny’s front window, and a bright moon hung in the western sky.

  Mercedes took a minute to think before answering. “Before I came here, things were pretty dark. I guess dark would be a harsh word … discouraging, dismal, hopeless. Like those words are any better. The point is, the moment we arrived in Snow Valley, it all turned around, and, and, things are good, they’re brighter.”

  Chet nodded once. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Mercedes got the impression he took credit for some of that, and she was glad. Chet was definitely one of the reasons she could see just how destructive her relationship with Jeremey really was. Chet was the light to Jeremey’s dark.

  He bounced his shoulder off the door, shut it, and went around to the driver’s side. As he started the truck and flipped on the headlights, Mercedes held back a gasp.

  A light is best used to illuminate items, make them clearer. Mercedes turned in her seat so she could look at Chet. Light puts things in perspective. Being with Chet was like that. He shone light on her, and she, in turn, could see her worth reflected in his eyes.

  Mercedes wiped at the moisture that gathered on her lashes.

  Chet reached over and took her free hand. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Mercedes chuckled and sniffed. “Bee sting,” she explained. But it wasn’t really the swelling that got to her. It was the overwhelming feeling of being guided by the Lord’s hand to be in this truck with this man at this very moment, so she could see that the darkness she’d passed through would make her time with Chet that much sweeter.

  She reached across the space between them and gave his hand a little squeeze. He smiled in return.

  “So, tell me more about these hidden chambers in the pyramids,” said Mercedes.

  Chet’s jaw dropped. “Are you mocking me?”

  “What? No. Why would you think that?”

  Chet shook his head. “It’s just something Vicky said today.” He looked over, still skeptical.

  “Why did they have to use a robot? Why not just open the room?”

  Chet shifted in his seat. “It has to do with exposing the stuff inside to fresh air …”

  Chet continued on, and Mercedes found herself entranced listening to him go on about oxygen content and the desert climate. He really had a broad knowledge base. Another point in the pro-Chet column. One date and he was racking up the RBI’s.

  ***

  When Chet pulled into Mercedes’s drive, he realized he’d talked all the way home. He’d almost made it through the night without “spouting off,” as his family would call it. So close …

  “Well, you’re still awake. I must not have bored you too much,” Chet joked.

  “Are you kidding? It was great. I can’t wait for the sequel.”

  Relieved, Chet took the hint. “How about next weekend? It’s the Founders’ Day Festival. We could watch the reenactment and cruise the food tables.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Warmth spread through Chet’s chest. “I’ll get your door.” Chet took Mercedes’s hand to walk her up to the porch. He always hated the doorstep scene. There was so much
pressure. Do you kiss her goodnight? Would she even want him to? Well, not on the first date. If the way his heart drummed in his chest was any indication, he might not be able to hold out much longer. He wanted to soak up every second with Mercedes, so his steps were slow.

  “Did you get your sink fixed?” he asked.

  “No. Between the doctor and our other projects, there just wasn’t time. Aiden said he’d come tomorrow though. Do you think you could stop by?”

  Chet ran his thumb over Mercedes’s knuckles. “I’ll be cutting hay all day. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe next time.”

  Chet grinned. “Knowing Aiden, there will be plenty of opportunities.”

  They shared a look, and once again Chet had to hold back his desire to pull Mercedes close and kiss her till the rooster crowed.

  Mercedes stepped close and gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for dinner,” she whispered.

  Chet’s blood pumped loudly in his ears. Mercedes smelled like coconut, all mysterious and sweet.

  “Good night,” she said as she slipped through the door.

  Chet pressed his hand against the wall. What this girl could do to him! He was in serious trouble.

  When he got home, Chet was surprised to see David and Whitney on the porch swing. It was a clear night, and they had a blanket across their laps. David’s arm rested behind Whitney and she snuggled close to his side.

  “Reliving the glory days?” Chet teased. David and Whitney spent many a night of their courtship on that very swing. “If you start kissing, I’m sending you home.”

  “Smart aleck!” Whitney threw the small pillow at him. Chet caught it and laughed.

  “You’re in a good mood. How’d the date go?” asked David.

  Chet leaned against the porch rail and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Good.” He knew he was smiling like a dope. Let them tease. He’d had the best night of his life and he didn’t care who knew it.

  “I see you finally washed the rust bucket,” David said, glancing at the truck.

  “Yeah, she looks pretty good, doesn’t she?”

  “What did you two talk about?” asked Whitney.

  “Egypt,” Chet said with a grin. “Pharaohs, graffiti, the mummification process ...” Chet shrugged. “You know, normal date stuff.”

  Whitney smiled, but David shook his head.

  Chet held up his hands. “What was I supposed to do? She asked.”

  David and Whitney exchanged a look. “Well, I’ll be,” was all David could say.

  “I think Chet may have found his match,” Whitney said to David.

  David faced her. “Maybe. He’s not really in a spot to get serious about someone, though. Maybe he should have held off. He can barely make ends meet; how’s he supposed to support a wife and kids?"

  Chet’s jaw dropped.

  “These things have a way of working out.” Whitney patted David’s knee. “We didn’t have much when we started out.”

  “We didn’t have the debt he has.” David gestured to Chet, but didn’t include him in the conversation. Chet leaned back, his arms folded.

  “If it’s meant to be …”

  “Don’t get all rosy-eyed. We both know it’s tough running a ranch and raising a family. He doesn’t have anything to bring to the table.”

  Whitney’s voice got higher. “Nothing to bring to the table? He has his land, cattle, the house, and a good work ethic. What more could a woman ask for?”

  “He’s one bad season away from foreclosure. What kind of a life is that to offer a woman?”

  “Oh, you, you act like you’ve done this all on your own. We built what we have together, and they will too.”

  “Hello!” Chet waved his arms to get their attention. “Just got back from a first date here. Could you two stop planning my failure as a husband, please?”

  Whitney cringed. “For the record, I was rooting for you.”

  “Thanks.” Chet rubbed his cheek. “Is there a reason you’re on my porch swing and not yours?”

  David leaned forward and put his elbows on his legs. Whitney reached over to rub his back. “Dad called this afternoon. I told him the cell tower guys were back. He wants you to give him a call on Sunday when you have time to talk.”

  “Yeah, all right.” Things had gone so well with Mercedes, he’d put the whole tower thing out of his mind.

  “What’s your thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I need to talk to Dad. He was pretty against it, and I feel like I should know why before I make up my mind.”

  “Well, whatever you do, we’ll support ya. We wanted to make sure you knew that.” David stood and offered his hand to Whitney.

  “Thanks. That’s kind of you,” said Chet. Not particularly helpful, but it was nice.

  “Have a good night.” Whitney waved as they walked toward David’s truck.

  Chet let himself in the house. He kicked off his dress boots and then lined them up by the door. There was a day when Sunday boots, work boots, mud boots, and football cleats piled high next to the front door. Those days were long gone, but Chet wondered what it would be like to see a small set of boots next to his. He shook off the image and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  In a way, he agreed with David. What did he have to offer Mercedes except a whole lot of debt and a long work day? It was discouraging. If only his dad could have held off another five years. Then Chet would have been able to save enough for a decent down payment.

  He looked around the house. One of the reasons the loan was so high was that it included the house and all the outbuildings. David had a much lower payment because he’d bought the land and then built as he could. Not that Dad overcharged Chet. The loan was fair; it just wasn’t fair timing.

  Maybe that was the same with Mercedes. He met an amazing girl, but the timing was off. In reality, he didn’t see himself financially ready to settle down for at least three years—maybe five. He shouldn’t pursue her until he had the means to support a family.

  He groaned. He’d already scheduled a second date. A second date he was really looking forward to. They could see the axe throwing competition and eat some of Tina’s famous cherry pie. There were several concerts scheduled in the park. Burying his head in the pillow, he worked to take his mind off the many wonderful things that could happen with live music, starlight, and Mercedes.

  He tugged on his pajamas, determined not to worry about marrying a girl he’d only had one date with.

  Chet slumped onto his bed.

  Denial was impossible.

  Mercedes understood him in a way no one else did and accepted him, every part of him. Even the parts those closest to him struggled to understand. She was also talented, smart, and could build a deck, for the love of Pete! He threw himself back on the blankets. It was hopeless. He was falling in love with Mercedes and had no idea what to do about it.

  Chapter 15

  Mercedes tucked her legs up underneath her on the bed. Late at night was one of her favorite times to draw. The house was quiet, no one stirred, and the hush allowed her to delve into her imagination without interruption. When she was a kid, she would hide under the covers with a flashlight and a sketchpad. At first she filled coloring books, shading with crayons and blending to create depth. When Cat turned one, Mercedes could think of nothing more valuable to gift her than a one-of-a-kind coloring book featuring her favorite toys. That was the first time she set out to create art, and she hadn’t looked back since.

  Mercedes opened her sketchbook and pencil case, running her fingers over the neatly lined drawing utensils. Before she prepped a canvas to paint, she wanted to pick an image. The best way to sort through them was to get them all down on paper. Then she could evaluate them with a critical eye. She hadn’t planned on rationing her canvases, but it could take weeks to order more and have them delivered. She could drive to Billings, but that would also take time.

  She started with the first time she’d seen Chet. The day they pulled into Sno
w Valley and found Chet mending the fence, his back straining as he pulled the wire tight. The image was new and somewhat hazy, as seen through the dirty glass. Then she moved on to Chet talking about his land and the family bond he felt when he worked there. Sketching Chet and Aiden leaning over a joist was a joy. The contentment she’d felt watching the two of them flowed easily onto the page.

  Flipping to a blank sheet, Mercedes moved on to the day she’d found Chet in the barn, pounding away at a horseshoe. Using bold lines and smudges, she formed his silhouette, rough and rugged. Her pulse quickened as she outlined the cords in his forearms. Her hand moved quickly, urgently across the page.

  Before she could think about it, she moved on to a new page and her final image of Chet, this one in the soft dash lights as he drove her home tonight. Her hand slowed and she took her time, softly caressing his jaw into shape. When she was done, she was spent. Without the energy to examine her work, she set them on her dresser and crawled under the covers.

  ***

  Mercedes felt someone shake her shoulder. She groaned. Her eyelids were just too heavy to open. “What time is it?”

  “Time to get up.” Cat shook her again. “We have to finish the railing today, and Aiden will be here around one to work on the sink.”

  “I’ll throw on my overalls and meet you downstairs.”

  Cat made a face at the mention of the overalls and shut the door behind her.

  Mercedes straightened her blanket and then laid the pages out in chronological order. She took a giant step back and stared at each one. When she got to the last two, her cheeks flushed and her pulse quickened.

  She’d told Chet that she painted moments that were full of feeling. If the sketch was any indication, she was feeling all sorts of passion—like blood boiling, steamy kisses, and hot breath, attraction—when she’d seen him at the forge. She’d drawn him as a powerful, iron-bending fire god.

  She flipped the paper over and took a deep breath. Apparently, Chet was more of a temptation than she was willing to admit, and she was still vulnerable to the charms of attractive men. If that’s all there was to Chet, then she was sure she could brush him off. But Chet wasn’t just a hot body or a handsome face. He was thoughtful and generous.