by Liz Isaacson
Gordon Escariot was a tall, ginger-haired cowboy with a loud mouth. Elliott wasn’t sure how he’d become the expert on everything from horseshoeing to spring planting to construction, but no matter what they talked about, Gordon knew more than Elliott. Had experienced more. Had an opinion about every little thing, and he never let anything slide.
Having a conversation with him leaves me exhausted, he sent to Holland one night. I’m coming down tomorrow no matter what. Maybe we can do a late dinner after I visit my parents?
Sure, she texted. And ask him about ballet. Think he knows about that? She included a winking emoji, and Elliott smiled.
But yes, Gordon probably knew all about ballet, including all the French terms. Elliott wasn’t willing to find out, and after dinner, he’d taken to his bedroom to avoid talking to the other cowboy. Jace wouldn’t be happy about that, but Elliott was in survival mode.
Several cowboys made it down the canyon on a particularly sunny Sunday, and he stepped over to the pew where Holland sat with her cousin. “Hey, beautiful,” he drawled.
She looked up at him, a squeal coming from her mouth in the next moment. “Elliott!” She jumped up and flung her arms around him. “You haven’t been to church in weeks.”
“We’re livin’ in mud and slush up there, sweetheart.” A thrill traveled from the top of his head to the soles of his feet because of her reaction to seeing him. Cecil scooted down to make room for him, and he sat on the end of the row with Holland tucked against his side.
After church, he drove home with her, and Cecil started working in the kitchen. Elliott sat on the couch with Holland curled into him. He closed his eyes and let the peace and slowness of the Sabbath wash over him.
Next thing he knew, Holland was saying his name. “Elliott? Elliott, wake up.”
His eyes opened, but he wasn’t sure where he was.
“Cecil has lunch ready.” Holland’s beautiful face filled his vision, and he reached up and cupped her face in his hands. She smiled at him softly, lovingly, and he wondered if she’d look at him like this on their wedding day.
So maybe men did think like women sometimes.
For a few weeks there, he’d wondered if perhaps the thing that had sparked so hot between them in the beginning was only that—a spark. But he knew gazing at her that there was a whole lot more than a spark to the inferno swirling through his core. He only hoped she could feel it too, and that they’d figure out when to take things to the next level.
Chapter Ten
“So we’re on for Thanksgiving at your parents’ house?” Holland asked a few days before Thanksgiving.
“Yeah,” Elliott said, his voice hard to hear on the phone line. He hadn’t been down from the ranch in two weeks, and Holland was starting to wonder if this winter would ever end. And it hadn’t even really started yet. But it had snowed or rained every day for the past thirty days, and she was tired of it. Tired of not having Elliott next to her. Tired of sitting by Cecil at church. Tired of their long-distance relationship, which relied on calls and texts.
“Cecil’s coming, right?” he asked. “My mom is gonna love his chocolate tarts.”
“It’s not traditional Thanksgiving cuisine,” Holland said, flipping another page in her magazine. Even Cecil had had to work late tonight. “He’s worried about that. He said he can do pecan pie. Or pumpkin, though he said he needs to find a new recipe because he doesn’t like the one he’s been using.”
Holland didn’t get the difference between recipes if they both made the same thing, but she’d humored Cecil and said that yeah, definitely, he needed to find a better pumpkin pie recipe.
“He can bring whatever he wants. Or nothing. My mom doesn’t care.”
“All right.” Holland looked at the lip color on the model in the magazine, wondering if it would be too bright for a wedding. She circled it anyway, deciding to do a lip color challenge for the month of December. Ask her patients which one they liked best for a spring bride.
Or summer, she told herself, as things between her and Elliott had slowed to a crawl. It was really hard to kiss the man when he rarely left the ranch. Still, whenever he did come into town, she had to compete for his attention with his parents, and now with Cecil’s cooking.
He did kiss her completely every time they were together, and she had pinned so many wedding dresses to her board, perhaps she should be thinking of a fall wedding instead. After all, it would take her a couple of weeks just to go through the pins and narrow down her choices based on season, color, and price. Even then, she’d be lucky to be able to choose a favorite.
Their conversation ended, and Holland divided up the increments she needed to endure until she’d see him at his mother’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. Over one hundred and fifty. She sighed, abandoned her magazine, and pulled out her phone to text Lisa.
Over the past couple of months since Lisa had had the baby, she seemed to be doing better and better every time Holland talked to her. She smiled at Lisa’s, I have some good news!
Gratitude descended on her, and she was glad she had something to fill the time this winter evening as snow fell outside her window.
Thanksgiving morning dawned with the scent of chocolate, and Holland took a few extra minutes in bed to smile to herself. She found Cecil in the kitchen, up to his elbows in chocolate pudding.
“Help me put plastic wrap on these,” he said. “So they don’t get a skin.” He seemed a little frazzled, so Holland jumped in and helped with the plastic wrap. Cecil carried the trays of covered tarts into the garage. “It’s cool enough in there to act like a refrigerator.” He clapped his hands together when he returned to the kitchen. “So, are we excited for this Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Sure,” Holland said, pulling out a coffee mug and a carton of cream. “Are you?”
“I’m glad I don’t have to go to my parents’ house,” he said. “Jules and Gregory will be there. All happily married with children and dogs and blah.”
Holland poured herself a cup of coffee and contemplated her cousin’s words. “You’re still a valuable member of your family,” she said. “Just because you’re divorced doesn’t make you inferior.”
“I know it doesn’t. I just feel like I don’t belong.”
Holland quirked her eyebrow at him. “And you want to come hang out with me and my boyfriend at his parents’ house? How is that better?”
Cecil bobbed his head, which meant he had a secret, and Holland’s curiosity burst through the roof. “Cecil,” she said, drawing his name out. “Why do you want to come to Elliott’s house so badly?” She glanced around. It was barely eight AM, and the tarts were already done. He must’ve gotten up at five to get the shells baked and cooled enough to pour in the pudding.
He sighed and leaned into the counter. “Merry said her god-daughter would be there. She thinks we’ll be…compatible.”
Holland stared at him, his words taking a few moments to organize themselves into meaning. “You’re meeting a woman today?”
“For the first time,” Cecil said. “Though I’ve texted her a few times. So I would appreciate it if you’d be all….” He waved his hand around like he was completing a magic spell. “Complimentary of me. My cooking. All that.”
Holland grinned and sipped her coffee. “Of course I’ll be complimentary. You’re a great guy, Cecil.” She sipped her coffee. “Sorry it didn’t work out with Lena.”
“Elliott was right. There was no spark.” He shrugged. “Maybe there will be today.”
“Maybe.” Holland put her coffee on the counter and stood. “I’m going to shower. Lunch isn’t until one.”
“But Merry said to come anytime,” he called after her.
“No earlier than ten,” she said over her shoulder. “Elliott’s planning to be there at ten.” And while Holland liked his parents just fine, she didn’t want to hang out over there without Elliott.
She and Cecil arrived at the Hawthorne’s closer to eleven, mostly because Cecil did
n’t want to be seen as “overeager.” By the time they stepped out of the howling wind and gray skies, Holland was a bit on the overeager side. She hadn’t seen Elliott in over a week, and she didn’t know she could miss a person so much.
He stood in the kitchen, saying something to his mother, who manned several pots on the stove. Another woman rose from the couch, where Sean also sat, her blue eyes only for Cecil.
“You must be Tara,” he said, extending his hand for her to shake.
“And you must be Cecil.” She smiled and put her hand in his. Holland watched their exchange carefully, noting how sparkly Tara’s eyes were and how wide Cecil’s smile.
“Hey, beautiful.” Elliott joined her and slipped his hand along her waist. She promptly forgot about Cecil and his new lady friend. Only the sight of Elliott’s happy-hazel eyes existed. The scent of his woodsy cologne. The warmth and roughness of his touch.
“Elliott.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he smiled as he gently nudged her toward the living room. Toward privacy.
“Excuse us,” he said, glancing around to everyone as he took her hand and led her out into the garage. A chill skated across her skin, only partially because of the temperature outside. But mostly because Elliott swiped off his cowboy hat and gazed down at her with love and desire riding in his expression.
“I missed you,” he said, dipping his head as if he’d taste her mouth. He didn’t, which shot disappointment through her. But he tailed his lips along her jaw and nipped at her earlobe, and everything was just fine.
“I don’t like it when you’re sequestered up at the ranch,” she whispered, slipping her fingers into his hair.
He ran his hands up her sides and cupped her face in his palms. “I can see that.” He grinned as if he’d just won the lottery, and she tipped up on her toes to kiss him. She poured everything she had into the kiss, and he responded eagerly. Maybe overeagerly. Holland didn’t care. She craved his touch, his kiss, his presence.
“Holland,” he said breathlessly, stroking his thumb across her bottom lip before he kissed her again. Deeper and deeper she fell in love with him, sure that his absence had made her heart grow fonder for him.
“Holland,” he said again, pulling back completely this time. “Holland.”
“What?” she asked, searching his face for any hint of what he wanted to say.
“I love you,” he said, a smile bursting onto his face. “I’ve known it since the moment I laid eyes on you right in there.” He half-nodded behind him, indicating the house. “I’m so grateful for you in my life.” He tracked his fingers down the side of her face.
A party started in Holland’s chest, little bursts and pops of excitement mingled with disbelief. “I’m in love with you too,” she whispered.
He chuckled, shook his head the slightest bit, and kissed her again.
Holland started living her life in days, not half-hours. Five days of work. One day of church. One day off, and not always a Saturday. Seventeen days of bad weather.
Elliott’s schedule was easier, but getting down into town wasn’t. Holland stopped by his parents’ house though his father’s physical therapy had ended a while ago. She made sure their sidewalks got shoveled and they had the groceries they needed. All the stuff Elliott would normally do, if he was able to get down the canyon.
Christmas came and went, and still Elliott didn’t propose. He gave great gifts, sure. Just not any that came in black ring boxes and sparkled like the stars.
One of her New Year’s resolutions was to bring up marriage with him. They’d talked about everything else—children, jobs, hopes, dreams, all of it. But he had not once mentioned a wedding.
She’d started weeding through the dresses she’d pinned, and eliminating colors, and she may have even stopped into the jewelry store downtown to see what the selection was like.
The first week of January, Holland got a text from Lisa that said I made it! along with a picture of her with her feet in the ocean, her skirt gathered around her knees in one hand, her face an absolute picture of joy.
She had made arrangements to go to California, and Holland’s heart expanded with happiness for her sister. Even if she was a bit jealous of the golden sunshine in the picture while she had to deal with yet another winter storm warning.
So glad! she sent back. Send lots of pictures. It’s currently forty below zero in Montana. Yet somehow her car started every morning and she managed to make it to her patient’s homes though the roads were slick and snow-packed.
A few days after Lisa had arrived in California, the sun broke through the clouds in Gold Valley. Holland immediately texted Elliott and asked if he could come down for dinner. He agreed, and Holland hurried through her appointments and headed back to Cecil’s.
She took precious time to curl her hair, apply eye make-up, and slip into a tight pair of jeans and a sweater the color of blueberries.
Knocking sounded on the door, and her excitement soared toward the sky. She took a few extra seconds to slip into her ankle boots, which added a couple of inches to her height, before pulling open the door with a smile and a giggle already emanating from her mouth.
But Elliott didn’t stand there.
The light laugh died in her throat.
“Hey, sis.” Brenda cocked her hip, the white fur along her neck shifting slightly.
Holland couldn’t respond, almost like the sight of her sister had muted her vocal chords. Her thoughts, however, raced around a track screaming What in the world is Brenda doing here?
“Can I come in?” her sister asked. “It’s freezing out here.”
Chapter Eleven
Elliott gripped the steering wheel as he rounded the last bend and the horseshoe shaped waterfalls came into view. For a few minutes there, he’d kept a prayer streaming from his mouth, begging the Lord to get him down to the valley safely.
He had no idea how he was going to navigate that road again tonight. He had a distinct feeling he shouldn’t, but he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in his clothes either. He hadn’t been planning on seeing his parents at all tonight, and unless he called them, he’d have to cut short his dinner date with Holland to be sure he arrived before they locked up for the night.
After he pulled up to the curb at Holland’s house, he called his mom. “Hey, Ma,” he said. “I came down to see Holland tonight, and I don’t think I can get back up to the ranch safely. Will you leave the door open for me? I’ll lock up when I get there.”
She agreed, and Elliott faced Holland’s place. He’d checked to see how late the jewelry store stayed open, and if they went there first, maybe their dinner would go later than even Elliott knew.
Nerves assaulted him, but he steadied himself. He loved Holland. She loved him. The next step involved diamonds and churches and a place where they could sleep in each other’s arms.
Another car sat in the driveway, but it was probably Tara’s. Holland had reported that Cecil and Tara had hit it off at Thanksgiving and a relationship had started soon after that. No matter what, he couldn’t just blurt out his idea of going to the jewelry store before dinner.
He cursed his choice of slippery footwear but made it to the front porch without incident. He knocked and waited where he usually just went in. He didn’t want to interrupt Cecil and Tara, though, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to breathe shallowly so his lungs wouldn’t freeze together.
The door opened to reveal a shapely woman who wasn’t Tara or Holland. She wore a dress that seemed sewn into her skin and didn’t provide nearly the warmth she needed for a winter night like tonight.
Her hair fell over her bare shoulders in curls, and her ruby red lips parted into a smile. “Hello there, handsome,” she purred.
Elliott glanced to his right to check the house number. Surely he’d gotten it wrong. Nope. This was the right house. “Oh, uh, I’m looking—”
“Elliott.” Holland’s relieved voice sank right into his soul. She hurried up behind the other wo
man, and he saw some similarities in them. “Back up, Brenda, and let him in.”
Brenda.
The name rang in Elliott’s head. Holland hadn’t mentioned her sister stopping by for a visit, and he tried to make eye contact with her. She wouldn’t look fully at him though, not for longer than a heartbeat. She tripped over the rug and mumbled something to herself.
Elliott had never seen her so anxious, and he immediately despised her sister for causing it.
“Did you bring them?” she asked, finally meeting his eye.
“Bring…? Oh, yeah.” He started nodding when he realized she was playing a game here. He had no idea what the rules were, or what to say next.
“Did you leave them in your truck?” Holland tucked her already flat hair, a gesture that normally he found cute, adorable.
Brenda circled him like he was live bait, and his skin crawled. “Yeah. Yes,” he said. “Should we go check them out?”
“Oh, let her go,” Brenda said lazily, like Holland would do whatever she said. “It’s cold out there.” She brushed her body against his, causing him to flinch away from her. She and Holland were so different, and Elliott could hardly believe they were sisters.
“I’ll go with you,” he said, making a hasty escape toward the front door. Holland didn’t even put on a coat before following him out.
“She just showed up five minutes ago,” she said, her breath hanging in the air in front of her. “I can’t get rid of her. She said she and Jordan broke up, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go, and Cecil’s out with Tara, and I didn’t know—” She sucked in a breath, her face lit with panic.
Elliott put his hands on her shoulders and slid his fingers down her arm. Back up. “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s just go.”
She nodded, and he helped her into his truck and got the heater going. Holland stayed way over on her side, and Elliott missed her presence right beside him.
