Ethan put his arm around her. Lizzie felt that quick little flash of excitement, the one that sizzled along her nerve endings whenever he touched her lately.
And this time, as that thrill went through her, she realized that she was okay with it. She accepted it. Since that afternoon, they knew where they stood with each other. He wasn’t going to push her, or be an ass because he couldn’t have what he wanted from her. It was up to her to make up her mind if anything was going to happen between them.
Already, one of the long family-style tables was filled with Traubs. Allaire had saved them two seats. They sat down and greeted the newlyweds. Erin and Corey looked tanned, relaxed and happy.
The food, like the seating, was family-style, big platters of ribs and barbecued chicken to pass around, bowls of coleslaw, corn on the cob and mashed potatoes, baskets of biscuits and steak fries. They loaded up their plates, tucked napkins in their collars and dug in.
At DJ’s, you didn’t stand on ceremony. And nobody cared if there was secret sauce on your chin.
Lizzie had a great time.
There was lots of local news to share.
First, there was the gossip about the new rib place in town, LipSmackin’ Ribs. It had opened recently in the New Town Mall. DJ had been by there already. “Just to have a look,” he told them.
Shandie, Dax’s wife, chuckled. “I’ll bet your eyes about popped out of your head.”
Erin was nodding. “I heard the waitresses wear dinky short skirts and tight T-shirts that show a lot of belly—shirts with big, red lips printed on the front.”
“As in lip smackin’?” Dillon asked with a groan.
Dax teased his brother. “So, DJ, you worried about a little competition?”
“Not in the least,” DJ scoffed. “Tight T-shirts and short skirts don’t sell ribs. Take the word of an expert on the subject. It’s all in the secret sauce.”
A murmur of agreement went up from everyone at the table.
DJ also shared the news that the town’s most famous crook, Arthur Swinton, had apparently died of a heart attack in prison. Arthur, long a fixture on the town council, had been embezzling from the town coffers for years, and had been caught only the year before—the same year he’d run for mayor against Grant’s cousin Bo Clifton and been defeated.
“I hate to speak ill of the dead,” said Dax. “But Arthur was such a weasel.” He turned to DJ. “Plus, remember when he made that play for Mom?”
“Shh.” Shandie, Dax’s wife, sent a glance in the direction of her seven-year-old, Kayla, who was busy down the table spreading honey on a biscuit for DJ and Allaire’s toddler, Alex. “Little pitchers have big ears.”
Dax laughed. “Honey, you have to know Mom never gave Swinton the time of day.”
“She was the greatest,” DJ said.
“Yes, she was,” Dax agreed. “You did not mess with Mom.”
DJ went on with the story. “She slapped Arthur’s face and told him she was a happily married woman. And even if she was a dried-up old maid, she wouldn’t be saying yes to a skinny weasel like him.”
Dax was still laughing. “And then she told Dad.”
“Uh-oh,” said Erika.
“You’d better believe that,” said DJ. “Dad knocked him down a peg or two with a couple of well-placed hard rights to the jaw. I don’t think Swinton ever got over being slapped in the face and told off by Mom—and beaten up by Dad.”
Shandie shook her head. “Well, no matter what bad things he did, I hope the poor guy finds peace in the afterlife.”
Dax grunted. “Not a chance. I have a feeling his ass is on fire about now.”
“Dax!” Shandie made a show of bumping her husband with her shoulder. “That’s enough.”
He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “Your wish is always my command.”
Allaire caught Lizzie’s eye. “So will we see you tomorrow at the Tottering Teapot for lunch?”
Lizzie tipped her head toward Mr. Tall, Dark and Texan at her side. “Depends on whether the slave driver can spare me for an hour or two.”
Ethan heaved a fake sigh. “It will be difficult, but I’ll manage.”
Lizzie grinned. “I’ll be there.”
“Great. Erin and Erika are coming, too.”
Erika nodded.
Erin beamed. “We wouldn’t miss it. I loved the Bahamas, but it’s good to be home—and we can plan that girls’ night out I promised you when you saved the day and baked my wedding cake.”
“Girls’ night out?” Shandie looked interested.
“I hope we’re all invited to that,” Allaire chimed in.
“Oh, absolutely,” Erin told them.
Erika added, “The more, the merrier, I always say.”
“We’re thinking about maybe this Friday night, but we can firm it all up tomorrow.”
“Can’t wait,” said Lizzie.
“Me, neither,” said Erin. “It’s going to be fun.”
“Did you have a good time tonight?” Ethan asked Lizzie as they drove back down the mountain.
“I did.”
“I think you like it here.” His eyes gleamed through the darkness of the cab, and then he turned his gaze back to the road again.
“I think I do, yes.” She gave him a smile.
They rode the rest of the way in silence.
At the house, she asked him if he wanted coffee or a last beer.
He gave her a crooked smile. “If I do, I’ll get it myself. You are officially excused for the evening.”
It was so strange, the feeling she had right then. Kind of sad and let down. He was only being thoughtful. She knew he didn’t mean it as a rejection. And he certainly had a right to a little time to himself if he wanted it.
How many evenings in the years she had worked for him had he said he was fine on his own and didn’t need anything more from her that night?
Hundreds, certainly. It was no big deal.
It was only that she had become accustomed lately to his constant attention. He’d been chasing her, spending every minute he could with her. And while he was chasing her, she’d told herself that she wished he would stop.
And now, true to his word that afternoon, he had stopped. And she wished that he hadn’t.
Which was silly and unreasonable and counter productive.
Still, it was how she felt.
Because I’m in love with him. Because he holds my heart…
Ugh. Really. She was going to have to buck up a little here. She had some big plans for herself. She was reaching a major long-term goal. And turning into a ball of sentimental mush over Ethan Traub?
No, not in the plan.
“Well, all right,” she told him in a voice that made her proud, a voice that in no way betrayed the disappointment in her heart. “See you tomorrow.”
She went to her rooms, where she drew a hot bath and soaked for an hour.
The water was soothing. Still, when she climbed from the tub, she just didn’t feel much like sleeping. She put on an old pair of sweats and sat on the still-made bed and channel surfed.
Nothing caught her interest. So she picked up the phone and called a girlfriend in Midland. They talked for twenty minutes, about how the girlfriend was getting along in her new job, and about how Lizzie was doing way up there in Montana.
When she hung up, she felt even more on edge and dissatisfied than before. She sat there staring at the dark eye of the TV, thinking how her friend in Midland seemed like a casual acquaintance now. Really, she had more of a rapport with Allaire and Erin, with Erika and Tori McFarlane, than she did with a woman she’d known since she was in her teens.
She supposed it was her fault, for letting her life get so filled up with Ethan, for letting him become the center of her world, her boss at work and at home, and also her best friend.
“Ugh.” She tossed both the remote and the phone down on the bed. Maybe a little chamomile tea would help her sleep.
She put on her flip-flops a
nd went out to the kitchen, which was quiet—dark, except for the soft glow of the under-counter lights. Had Ethan gone out? She told herself she was not, under any circumstances, going to check the garage to see if his car was there.
That would just be too needy and pitiful for words.
Instead, she brewed her tea without turning on the over head lights and went back to her room, where she sipped slowly and congratulated herself on not taking even one step down the short hallway to the inside garage entrance.
It wasn’t until she turned off her bedroom light that she noticed the muted glow out on the back deck. She couldn’t resist stealing a peek through the blinds: Ethan. He was sitting out there in a chaise lounge with a beer in his hand. The dim deck light didn’t reveal much, just the shape of his body, stretched out in the chaise. She couldn’t really see his face.
She watched as he raised the longneck in his hand and took a sip. What was he thinking, sitting out there all by himself? She longed to go and ask him.
But she didn’t. She got into bed and resolutely shut her eyes.
The next morning Ethan was gone when she got up. He’d left her a note on the kitchen table saying he had a couple of meetings in town and he’d see her at the house when she got back from lunch with the girls.
She felt deflated somehow. That he was gone. That she wouldn’t see him until the afternoon.
Really, she had to stop this…obsessing over him. He was finally giving her a little space and she ought to enjoy having a few hours to herself for a change.
She had her breakfast, baked a batch of double-fudge cookies and then spent the remainder of the morning at her desk, handling general correspondence for Ethan—writing letters he’d outlined for her, answering emails that didn’t require his personal touch. Beyond dealing with mail and messages, she went over the reports he’d done on their work in the field the past week and a half. He’d sent them to her computer and she proofread them for errors, getting them ready to forward to Midland.
There was also an email from the broker she’d hooked up with in Midland. One of the two storefronts she had her eye on for the bakery had just taken a serious dip in asking price. The broker said the seller was really motivated now. Was Lizzie ready to make an offer?
She wrote him back that she would think it over and have an answer for him within the next couple of days.
The morning passed quickly enough. She met her new friends at the Tottering Teapot at noon. As always when she got together with Allaire and crew, she had a great time. They got after her some more about opening her bakery in Thunder Canyon. To make them stop, she promised again to think about it—and then realized that, maybe, she really was thinking about it.
Which totally surprised her. Sometimes a person just never knew the secrets of her own mind….
Erin said the French baker had sent her a check while she and Corey were in the Bahamas, a full refund of her money for the cake he’d failed to bake. Erin added, “He also sent a very stiffly worded apology. I felt a little sorry for the poor guy, if you want to know the truth.” A glowing smile lit up her beautiful face. “But I guess I can afford to feel sorry for him because our Lizzie saved me from one of the worst tragedies any bride can face.”
Our Lizzie. Okay, Lizzie really liked the sound of that.
And yes, after lunch, she did wander down the street to check out the empty bakery again. Her heart turned over when she saw the for-sale sign in the window. She realized she had been hoping it might be there.
Her hands were shaking a little as she got out her BlackBerry and entered the Realtor’s name and company: Bonnie Drake, Thunder Creek Real Estate. She punched in the contact numbers from the sign.
It didn’t mean she would actually call one of the numbers.
But, well, every day she stayed in Thunder Canyon, she found herself growing more attached to the place. And now, with Ethan learning to accept the changes that were coming, she could see how it could work. They could run into each other now and then, in town or at some local event, and it wouldn’t have to be an awkward moment. They could simply smile and say hi.
And walk on by.
That it could actually be that way now should have cheered her.
But it didn’t. It only made her sad. She really needed to snap out of this funk.
When she got back to the house, he wasn’t there. He called about two to say he was over in Bozeman meeting with a couple of landmen. He’d be back late. She didn’t need to have dinner ready or wait up for him.
“Tomorrow,” he said before he hung up, “be ready by eight-thirty in the morning. Breakfast up at the resort.”
“That’s right. It’s the golf-cart and horseback tour….”
“Dress for riding.”
She said she would be ready. And he hung up.
And she felt…bereft. Just draggy and sad and totally neglected.
So she spent the rest of the day baking. She made bread and croissants, a chocolate peanut-butter pie and raspberry kuchen.
Baking, as always, lifted her spirits considerably. By the time she turned in that night at ten, Ethan was not yet home and she told herself she really didn’t care. He had his life and she had hers and she was just fine with it being that way.
Total lie, yes. But a comforting one, nonetheless.
In the morning, he was dressed in Wranglers, a chambray shirt and rawhide boots, an old bandana tied around his neck, ready to go when she emerged from her rooms at 8:20.
“Chocolate peanut-butter pie and raspberry kuchen,” he accused. “I came in at eleven and there they were.”
She grinned. “I hope you had some of each.”
“I did. Keep that up and I’ll have to poke a new notch in all of my belts.”
She thought how she’d love to wrap her arms around him and claim a nice, long good-morning kiss. And then she wondered if he’d been out with someone last night—someone other than a couple of landmen. Someone pretty and petite, someone with well-behaved hair who didn’t dither over saying yes to what she wanted.
He was watching her kind of thoughtfully. “Something bothering you?”
“And you ask that why?”
“You baked bread. And croissants, too. And also double-fudge cookies.”
“So?”
“That much baking usually means there’s something you’re upset about. When your dad died, I gained ten pounds, remember? Took me months of busting my ass at the gym to lose it.”
I think I’m in love with you and I also think I want to buy a bakery right here in Thunder Canyon….
No. Really. Not now. It wasn’t the time.
If any time ever would be. “We should get going.”
He frowned, but then he agreed, “Yeah, you’re right.”
They took their hats and jackets from the pegs by the door to the garage and headed for the resort.
There were six of them in the group, as it turned out. Lizzie, Ethan, Grant, Connor and Tori McFarlane—and also Grant’s wife, Stephanie.
Grant seemed especially pleased to have his wife with them. Steph, as everyone called her, was a Thunder Canyon native, like Grant. She ran the family ranch. They had a four-month-old, Andre John, whom they called AJ. Grant’s mom was watching the baby so Steph and Grant could have a day to themselves.
They all had breakfast at the Grubstake, the resort’s coffee and sandwich shop. And then they toured the golf course. That took over an hour. Like most golf courses, it was lovely and green with lots of nice trees and a few gorgeous wind-ruffled ponds. But, well, what else was there to say about it? Lizzie had never been much of a golfer.
Ethan, Grant and Connor agreed to meet the next morning at six. They would play all eighteen holes, so Ethan could get a feel for the course.
They went to the stables next, where their horses were already tacked up and waiting for them. Grant had ordered a picnic from one of the resort kitchens. He and Steph carried the food on their mounts in saddle baskets.
It was
a beautiful day, the sky as blue as a baby’s eyes, dotted here and there with cottony clouds. They took a series of switchbacks, moving upward, past a settlement of pricey-looking resort condos. Some of them, Grant explained, were for renting out to guests who wanted more of a private living situation than that offered in the hotel at the main clubhouse. And some of them were owned by regular resort visitors.
Farther up, spaced wide apart, were a series of one-of-a-kind cabins for big-spending guests who wanted total privacy. These Grant pointed out from the trail at a distance. Lizzie thought each cabin looked so inviting. Each was built of natural stone or logs and surrounded by tall evergreens.
They continued to wind their way up the mountain. Gradually, the trees thinned out as they reached the higher elevations. Abundant wildflowers grew on the windy, open mountainside. It was up there, not far below the rocky, snow-crested peaks, by a bright little stream, that Steph suggested they stop for lunch.
They hobbled the horses. Under a lone, wind-twisted spruce tree, they spread the big blanket Grant had brought, anchoring the corners against the gusty, cold wind with rocks they found on the hillside. They all had their jackets on by then.
But the view was so spectacular that nobody minded the cold. Spread out far below them were wild, overgrown canyons and green rolling pastureland. You could even see the town itself, looking quaint and picturesque in the distance.
They all got comfortable and shared the light meal. There were various excellent cheeses, fresh-baked bread, fruit, summer sausage and sparkling water.
Lizzie spread brie on a slice of crusty bread. “Food always tastes best when you’re out in the open.”
Ethan, who sat next to her, raised his bottle of sparkling water. “To good food, good company—and the great view.”
They all joined in the toast.
A moment later, Ethan leaned close. “Admit it.” He pitched his voice for her ears alone. “You love it here. Thunder Canyon is one of those places. You come for a visit and before you know it, you realize that you’re already home.”
Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan Page 11
