Her Cowboy Billionaire Butler

by Liz Isaacson

“Can I call Wes?” she asked the empty horizon in front of her. She’d taken to praying out loud as she walked with Collie, as he never asked her who she was talking to and never gave her any answers. Her mind was free to wander, and her heart was open to hear.

  “Will he really come if I ask him to?”

  Just like all the other times Bree had asked that question, verbally or not, she felt the same answer: Wes wasn’t a liar. He’d said she could call or text when she was ready, and he’d be waiting.

  But what if that’s not true? What if something has changed?

  Bree hated what-ifs. She’d lived for so long with so many, and she frowned as she tried to change the two she’d allowed into her mind.

  “What if it is true? What if nothing has changed, and he’s just waiting for you to call him?”

  She let Collie off the leash and he scampered around, frolicking in the nearly frozen grasses and shrubs along the water’s edge. He seemed to know exactly how far he could go without falling into the water, though there wasn’t much flowing in the river right now.

  He took care of his business, and Bree turned around to go back through the orchard and the yard to the house. She’d definitely been gone for more than five minutes, and she suspected her mother wanted her grandparents to come while Bree wasn’t in the house to greet them.

  She knew Mom had been talking to everyone in the family. She’d been to Vermont a few times in the past seven weeks, and she’d rekindled relationships with aunts, uncles, and cousins. She’d seen her father’s father a couple of times, but her mom’s parents actually lived in Maine, and this would be the first time Bree would have to face them.

  “Come on, Collie.” She continued walking, grateful for the warm boots she wore that protected her feet. The back door had been cracked, and she heard voices the moment she stepped out from under the apple trees. Everything carried so well in the silence when there were no neighbors close by to absorb the sound.

  Bree’s heart pounded harder and harder with every step she took, and not only because the way back to the house was slightly uphill. She mounted the steps as Collie ran ahead of her, and the corgi nosed open the door to enter the house first.

  The talking stopped, and Bree had a few seconds of complete doubt while she crossed the deck. Her fight or flight instincts kicked in, but she wouldn’t run away. Not again.

  She knew better than that now.

  She inched open the door too and stepped inside, Collie’s leash hanging from her fingers.

  “There she is,” Mom said, wearing a bright smile with her festive apron and dark brown sweater. Her mother had a sweater for every occasion, and Bree loved the stripes, the jewels, the patterns, the intricate snowmen and trees knitted into them. She wore a pair of turkeys as earrings, and she looked like a professional had done her makeup so she could do a TV interview.

  Bree felt put together a bit wrong as she scanned the people in the kitchen. Her parents. Grandpa George, her father’s dad. And then her mother’s parents.

  They seemed to have shrunk quite a bit from the two people Bree held in her memory, but instant tears came to her eyes.

  “Hey, Gramma,” she said, dropping the leash on the table though it was already set and the leash was dirty. She hurried around the table and counter to her grandmother and leaned down to hug her.

  A sob burst from Gramma’s mouth, and Bree didn’t hold back her tears. That was another thing she’d learned. She didn’t have to hold everything so tight. She didn’t have to hold anything at all.

  The Lord could—and would—carry anything she couldn’t. Anything she could too.

  “Oh, sweet pea,” Gramma whispered. “We’ve missed you so.”

  A warm hand landed on Bree’s back, and she knew that belonged to Pops. She didn’t want to let go of Gramma quite yet, because while she’d aged, and her hair had changed colors, and wrinkles appeared around her eyes, and she carried more weight, she smelled exactly the same.

  Like, sugar and coffee, with a hint of freshly baked bread in there too.

  “I missed you too, Gramma,” Bree said, feeling movement around her.

  She opened her eyes and turned into Pops, who was still taller than her though not quite as big as she remembered. “Pops.”

  He said nothing, but Bree’s body vibrated slightly as his did, and she didn’t mind all the crying. For a while there, she’d thought she’d spontaneously combust if she didn’t figure out how to stem the tears. But now, they cleansed her. They made her whole for a few minutes, and then they washed away the bad and left room for the good.

  “Welcome home, buggy,” Pops whispered, and then he stepped back.

  Bree busied herself with wiping her eyes and cheeks while her mom welcomed everyone for their Thanksgiving feast. As she explained that the sweet potato casserole had walnuts in it, Bree looked around at everyone. There were six of them there. Only six.

  She couldn’t even imagine a holiday with so few people, as she’d spent almost the last decade with the Whittakers at the lodge.

  But this small family gathering possessed a healthy spirit too. God was here too. She enjoyed this too.

  “All right, Jerry,” Mom said. “Say a prayer, and let’s eat.”

  Bree bowed her head, glad when Pops slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. The acceptance they freely gave her made her marvel, and then fresh tears to fill her eyes with gratitude. She wanted to accept and forgive others too.

  “Amen,” she said when her father finished the prayer.

  “We’ll do what we’re grateful for at the table,” Mom said. “And Bree has asked that it not be her.” She cut her a look, not truly making eye contact.

  “So,” Gramma said, latching onto Bree the moment Pops let go of her hand. “I hear you’re seeing a man in Wyoming.”

  “Kind of,” Bree said. “We’re on hold at the moment.” She picked up a plate, noting that it was Gramma’s fine china. “You brought your plates.”

  “Yes.” Gramma gazed fondly down at them, and Bree did too.

  “I always loved eating on these as a kid,” Bree said, not holding back the thoughts of her past when they came into her mind. “They’re beautiful.”

  “They don’t make them like this anymore,” Gramma said. “That’s for sure.”

  “That’s because they can’t make yellow paint that hideous color anymore,” Dad said, picking up his own plate. He grinned at Gramma, who scoffed at him as she smiled.

  Bree liked the “hideous” yellow rim on the plates. They also had depictions of a bounteous harvest—grapes, pumpkins, corn, and pheasants—painted on them, and she did love them. They spoke of easier times, when she’d have to call the armchair before dinner so she could sit in it afterward. Otherwise, Bronson would do it, and then she’d be on the floor while they watched their traditional after-feast movie.

  “I hope you can push play again with your cowboy,” Gramma said, going with Dad over to the table to take a spot. Bree watched her, and she found herself hoping for that exact same thing.

  And she knew it was up to her to push the right button to make it so.

  Or in this case, start tapping and swiping on her phone.

  After dinner, after the movie ended, after pie and ice cream, everyone went home. Bree helped her mother clean up, and the sun had started to set by the time she had a moment to stand and think about what she might do next.

  “Mom?” she asked.

  “Hm?” Her mother looked up from the book she’d picked up.

  “Do you think…I mean, I’ve told you about Wes.”

  Mom put down the book and scooted to the edge of the couch. “Are you going to call him?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “And? What are you going to say?”

  “That’s the part I can’t quite figure out.”

  “I wish I could help you.” She indicated the couch beside her, and Bree went to sit by her.

  “Maybe I should just, I don’t know. Find him a gi
ft and show up at the lodge at Christmas.”

  “Will he be there?”

  “I don’t know why he would be.” If she were him, she wouldn’t go to the site where her heart had been shattered. “But I can ask Elise. She’ll know if he’ll be there.”

  You should ask Colton. The thought ran through her mind, unbidden. Yes, she’d put Colton in a box of his own for the past couple of months. She’d needed the space from him to figure out what to do about his brother. To figure out who she was without the touch of a Hammond in her life.

  See, they were made of pure gold, and sometimes that glint could be blinding.

  She needed to apologize to him too.

  “I’m going to go make a call,” she said.

  “I’ll be right here,” Mom said, reaching for her book again, as if this would be a simple call. As if Bree would come back from the bedroom where she stayed when she came and be smiling and happy.

  She wouldn’t, and they both knew it.

  But she went down the hall and into the bedroom. She closed the door and locked it. She plugged in her phone and started doing that tapping and swiping she’d been thinking about earlier.

  Wes and Colton’s names both came up on the screen, as they shared a last name.

  She reached down and tapped on the top one. The line held its breath, and Bree did too.

  Then it rang.

  Then Colton said, “Holy stars in heaven, it’s Bree Richards,” in that playful, cowboy voice she’d missed so much. “What are you doin’ callin’ me?”

  “I wanted to talk to you,” she said, her voice somewhat hoarse. “I wanted to apologize, Colt.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said, the teasing quality of his voice nearly gone now. “You don’t have anything to apologize to me for.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “I pushed you away, and we both know it. So don’t act like you weren’t upset or that you didn’t miss me.”

  Colton chuckled, and Bree felt the first rays of laughter in her soul too. “Fine,” he said. “I missed you.”

  “I miss you too,” she said. “So when I get back, will you take me to lunch? We can talk more then.”

  “Of course I will,” he said. “I can’t wait.”

  Bree took another deep breath as a little bit more of the negativity in her soul filtered out. “And Colt, I wanted to ask you something.”

  “Ask me anything, Bree.”

  “It’s about Wes.”

  “I was hoping it would be.”

  Bree’s chest tightened, because she missed Wes so much. She couldn’t even adequately describe how much she longed to see him, and talk to him, and kiss him.

  “I might have more than one question,” she said, her voice pitching up.

  “Ask them all,” he said. “He’s here for the weekend, but he went with Hunter and Gray to the lodge to get ice cream sandwiches. Did you know they’re doing crazy contests during Thanksgiving too?”

  Bree burst out laughing, more sunshine pouring into her soul. “And you didn’t go? You love ice cream sandwiches.”

  “I needed a break from the twins. I stayed here with my parents and Annie. We like the quiet.”

  “I think you’ve aged a decade since you retired.”

  “Ha ha,” he said, but he didn’t deny it. “No,” he said to someone on his end of the line. “It’s Bree.”

  “Anyway,” Bree said. “First question: do you think Wes will forgive me?”

  “Yep,” Colton said.

  “Second question, and it’s really two parts. First, will he be there for Christmas?”

  “I’m working on that,” Colton said. “Keep going.”

  “If he is,” Bree said. “Will you get him up to the lodge?”

  “By any means necessary.”

  Bree smiled. “And then, will you help me find the perfect gift for him, so I can show up at the lodge on Christmas Eve, when we do the gifts and the stockings and the tree lighting? Then I can give it to him in front of everyone, and tell him how much I love him, and beg him to forgive me. I figure he might not walk out if there’s an audience.”

  Colton let a couple of seconds go by, and then he burst out laughing. “Bree, he’s not going to walk out anyway, but I actually think that’s a great idea.”

  Bree thought so too. Wes didn’t mind being in the spotlight, she knew that. And he loved the people at the lodge—and more importantly, they loved him.

  “So you won’t be in Vermont for Christmas?” Colton asked.

  “Nope,” Bree said, deciding on the spot. “In fact, I’m going to invite my parents to the lodge, and get them there by any means necessary. Then they can meet Wes.”

  “I think you meant then they can meet me,” Colton teased.

  Bree giggled, and it had been a while since that had happened. “Ohh, is that what I meant?”

  “I’m liking this plan,” Colton mused.

  “Put your thinking cap on,” Bree said. “The gift has to be really good.”

  “Oh, whatever,” Colton said. “You’re the only gift he needs.” Something loud sounded on his end of the line, and he said, “Oh my heck. They’re back already. Gotta go.”

  “Okay,” Bree said, but Colton didn’t hang up. Something scuffled and scraped against the microphone on his phone, and she suspected he’d shoved the device in his pocket.

  So the call was still open when she heard Wes ask, “Who were you talking to?”

  “No one,” Colton said, and even from thousands of miles across the country, Bree heard the false note in his voice.

  But she fixated on the other male voice, the one that made her heartstrings hum and her pulse pounce.

  “We brought you four ice cream sandwiches,” Wes said. “My favorite is the mint one.”

  “You’re not supposed to say your favorite,” Colton said.

  “Yeah, okay,” Wes said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t get that memo.”

  “He’s not, right, Annie?”

  “You’re really not,” she said.

  Bree suddenly felt like a stalker—not to mention an outsider—as she listened to their conversation happening so close to her, and yet so far away.

  “Didn’t someone tell you that?” Annie asked.

  “No, I bet they didn’t,” Colton said. “Remember how it was always Bree to lay out the rules for things like ice cream sandwich competitions?”

  “Yeah, well, Bree wasn’t there,” Wes said darkly. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you try to work her into every conversation we have.”

  “I do not,” Colton said.

  Bree’s heartbeat picked up steam.

  “Uh huh,” Wes said. “I can’t wait to go home.”

  “And where is that, exactly?” Colton asked, his voice a bit acidic. “You don’t have a place in Denver. Your house is a half-mile from here. Are you moving back here?”

  “I don’t know,” Wes said. “But then at least I won’t have to try to dodge you when you’re all Bree-this and Bree-that.”

  “I do not—”

  Bree cut off the call by touching the red phone icon on the screen. The resulting silence held equal parts excitement, hope, and fear.

  “You have a plan,” she coached herself. “This is going to happen.” She got up and headed for the door. She had a lot to do to put the plan together, and the first step would be convincing her parents to come to Whiskey Mountain Lodge for the holidays.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “I cannot believe I’m doing this.” Wes rode in the back seat of Colton’s SUV, the scenery outside his window as familiar as his own face.

  Because he was going up the canyon to Whiskey Mountain Lodge for Christmas. He had a packed bag in the back and everything. He, Hunter, and Gray were staying in a room in the basement that had two queen beds, and Annie had said it was quite nice. Apparently, she’d stayed in that room with her two daughters last year.

  No one in the SUV said anything. Colton and Annie rode up front, and they
’d all but shoehorned him into the vehicle while Gray had tossed their luggage in the cargo space behind the seat. Hunter rode next to him, smart to stay out of adult conversations and situations, and Gray sat on the other side of the SUV, also looking out his window.

  He hadn’t said a word about Elise in weeks, and Wes didn’t want to ask. He was sick and tired of Colton asking him about Bree, and he didn’t want to make Gray feel the way he did. A certain level of tension also rode in the SUV, even when Colton flipped on the radio and Jolly Old Saint Nicholas came belting out of the speakers.

  Hunter started to hum along, and then sing, and before he knew it, Wes’s spirits had started to lift. Colton had told him a dozen times that Bree wouldn’t be at the lodge. She was once again off to Vermont to see her family, and Wes should’ve been happy for her.

  He was happy for her.

  He was also extremely disappointed she hadn’t called or texted him yet. Not even once.

  His heart broke again, right there in the SUV as Colton rounded a corner and the towering Tetons came into view. Wes had given up on picking up the pieces and trying to stitch them back together. His heart would only break again the next day. Sometimes in the next hour.

  The littlest things reminded him of Bree’s silence, and the woman seemed to be everywhere in Coral Canyon. Literally, everywhere. He’d run into her friend from the employment office last night while buying sodas, and he’d seen a black sedan exactly like hers in the grocery store parking lot not ten minutes later.

  Each time, his heart had started to beat again, throbbing painfully against all the shards that were stuck in there wrong. In the end, it hadn’t mattered, because when he realized it didn’t matter if he saw Willie or Bree’s car—she hadn’t called him. She hadn’t texted him.

  They weren’t getting back together this Christmas.

  He wondered how small pieces could get, because with each re-breaking of his heart, they seemed to get finer and finer, the edges sharper and sharper.

  So he wasn’t picking them up anymore. If his heart wanted to keep beating, it would have to figure out how to heal itself.

  Colton pulled into the parking lot, where many other cars and trucks already were. He didn’t bother with a spot but pulled right through the driveway where Wes used to check people in, take their bags upstairs, and then come back to move their cars to a space as part of the valet service at the lodge.