by Liz Isaacson
Ever.
She managed to smile at him, duck her pretty head, and turn toward the kitchen. He felt like a satellite, like he needed to be stay near her, orbit around her. Her spirit called to his soul, and he found himself following her.
Thankfully, so did everyone else, as the next stage of the wedding would obviously take place in the kitchen.
In fact, Celia seemed to be in charge, as everyone turned toward her as she spoke in a loud voice. “Congratulations to the bride and groom!”
Another cheer went up before she got down to business. “Now we have all of Finn and Amanda’s favorites here. Cherry pie. That’s for you, Finn.” She beamed at the man with affection on her face, and Zach wondered what that would feel like.
It had been entirely too long since he’d had the gentle touch, the soft influence, of a woman in his life.
And suddenly, his family didn’t matter. If he wanted to go out with Celia Armstrong, he could. Should, in fact, if the way his heartbeat raced told him anything. He thought of his daughter and what Lindsey might say if she found out he was seeing someone.
“About time, Dad.”
The words looped in his mind as he listened to Celia detail the chocolate mousse cake, and then pull out a tray of chicken salad croissants and say, “Amanda makes these for every family party she has. It seemed only fitting we’d have them at her wedding.”
The two women embraced, and chaos erupted as people started grabbing plates and napkins and helping their kids through the line.
Zach stood back, watching. He didn’t have any grandchildren yet, but Finn absolutely shone as he took a baby from someone.
To his great surprise, he found himself standing next to Celia only a few moments later. “Did you make all the food?” he asked, though it was obvious she did.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes on the family in front of them. By his count, Finn had invited just him, his daughters and their boyfriends, and his parents. Zach knew the man was private, and he wondered who in the world he’d invite to a second wedding.
Certainly not the horde of people he and Kathy had hosted at their ceremony. And if Celia was the one across the altar….
Zach shook his head, because the idea was so ridiculous. So far-fetched. He hadn’t spoken to an Abbott since third grade when he’d screamed at her oldest brother Mack to leave Owen alone.
He hadn’t known that it was Owen who’d started the fight on the school bus. He honestly didn’t know which family had started the feud, but he knew it was over some land that bordered their properties, as well as the water rights that flowed from the Abbott’s side of the street to the Zuckerman’s land on the south.
As far as he knew, her two older brothers ran the Abbott place together, but he hadn’t kept up with the town gossip in Coral Canyon for at least three decades. Probably longer, as rumors and who was dating whom had never appealed to Zach.
“It looks delicious,” he said.
“I work for the Whittakers,” she said, finally looking at him. She possessed a pair of sparkling hazel eyes that harbored so many unsaid words. Zach couldn’t seem to look away as she continued with, “I’m their personal chef here at the lodge. I come up and cook a few times a week.”
“That’s great,” fell from his mouth, but he didn’t remember his brain instructing his vocal cords to speak.
She nodded like she’d done her duty by talking to him for sixty seconds. “What do you do?” she asked at the same time he said, “What do you do on the other days?”
She blinked, surprise moving through those lovely eyes. “I used to have several private chef jobs,” she said. “But I gave them all up when Graham hired me. He pays really well.”
“Seems like he’s doing well,” Zach said, glancing around the lodge.
Celia started to say something, but a crash in the kitchen had her jumping and then hurrying away from him. Zach would usually leave at this point. The chicken salad croissants looked amazing, sure. But he knew where to get a good hamburger in town, and it was supposed to snow again this afternoon.
Yet he didn’t leave. He leaned against the wall and pushed his cowboy hat lower over his eyes, until he could just barely see Celia as she helped clean up the mess a small girl had made.
“Stop staring and come eat,” Finn said, stepping between him and Celia, effectively ruining Zach’s line of sight.
“I’m not staring,” he said quickly.
“Of course you are.” Finn grinned at him. “I’ve seen the push-your-hat-down thing before, Zach. She’s pretty. You going to get her number?”
Yes, Zach thought at the same time he shook his head no.
“Why not? Still not dating?”
“Not her,” Zach said.
Finn’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, and Zach pushed away from the wall, unwilling to say much more.
“Amanda and I are leaving on our honeymoon in the morning,” Finn said. “If you want her number, you’re going to have to get it yourself while you’re here, or text me pretty quick.” Finn turned and went back toward the kitchen.
Zach went with him, because he didn’t need to cause a scene at his best friend’s wedding. As he loaded a small party plate with a croissant, some mousse cake, and two of the peach pie tartlets, he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to go out with Celia.
No one else had to know. She might not even like him. He might not be able to tolerate her. Perhaps the blood between all Abbotts and all Zuckermans would be bad.
And so he found himself loitering near her in the kitchen instead of going into the dining room to eat. “If a man wanted to get your number, what would he have to do?” He shoved a whole peach tartlet in his mouth, so he’d have time to think before he said anything else.
Celia whipped her head toward him, the panic and shock in her face speaking of the generations of loathing between them. “Are you serious?”
He swallowed, going over all the reasons he should walk away now. Keep his head high and get the heck out of there. Stat. But Brandon had been gone for a long time. And he would have to figure out how to deal with the feud between their families.
“I think so,” he said. “One date. If it’s too hard, or it doesn’t work out, fine. We walk away. No big deal.”
Celia huffed and returned her attention to the scene before them. Zach could practically hear the wheels turning in her head, and he liked it. She was considering it—that meant something. It meant she’d liked what she’d seen of him before she recognized him, same as he had for her.
He finished all the food on his plate, and she still hadn’t said a single digit. Folding the plate in half, he said, “Well, I have animals to care for this afternoon. Double duty, actually, as I’m handling Finn’s farm while he and Amanda are gone.” He tipped his hat at her and stepped in front of her to throw his trash in the huge can in front of the oven.
“Give me your number,” she whispered when he was right in front of her. He paused and looked down at her. Only a couple of inches separated their bodies, and he instantly felt hot all over.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.
A flush climbed into her cheeks, and she twisted and picked up a pen. “Hurry, or someone will notice.”
“And you don’t want that.” Zach didn’t phrase it as a question. These people were practically Celia’s family, and he quickly rattled off his phone number while she scrawled it on a piece of paper. She ripped that from the notebook, balled up the paper, and opened the top drawer where he’d been standing. She put the wadded-up paper in there and looked at him.
“I’m the only one who’ll even notice that.” She flashed him that smile again, and Zach’s whole being lit up.
“All right, then,” he said. “I’m a farmer, Celia. Call early, but don’t call late.” With that, he touched the brim of his hat, threw his plate away, and escaped the kitchen.
Chapter Three
After the wedding, Celia didn’t go
back up to Whiskey Mountain Lodge for a few days. Number one, Mother Nature had dumped a foot of snow overnight, and not many people were going anywhere around Coral Canyon.
Of course, Amanda had noticed the way Zach had stood by Celia as he ate, and she’d asked a few questions. Celia had managed to learn more from Amanda than she gave away, and she knew Zach lived in Dog Valley, same as Finn.
“Same as Amanda, once she gets back,” Celia reminded herself as she opened the door to the cabinet where she kept her yarn. She wasn’t feeling particularly creative that morning, and she didn’t have any grandchildren to knit little sweaters for.
She did, however, have a little dog who definitely needed another sweater before he outgrew the last one she’d made him.
A familiar pang of sadness hit her when she looked down at the snoozing black Lab at her feet. She’d just gotten him a couple of months ago in honor of Bear, the black Lab Graham had inherited when his father had passed away.
Well, now Bear had gone all the way of the Earth, and Celia couldn’t bear her time at the lodge without the old black Lab. So she’d gotten Grizz, a new black Lab, to accompany her during her hours at the lodge.
And at home, as he never ventured far from her side. Getting a puppy in the middle of the Wyoming winter had been challenging, to say the least, but Celia had survived the midnight potty training, and now Grizz just needed something to keep his chewing urges satisfied, a good spot next to her while she knitted, and his puppy chow.
When the weather warmed up, she’d teach him how to walk on a leash, how to chase a ball, and how to round up the few horses and cows up at the lodge. Maybe. Celia didn’t actually know how to train a dog, but she sure did like the company of one.
“What color, Grizz?” she asked, but he just lifted his head and looked at her. “Be that way. I think green.”
Celia glanced at the crumpled paper on the end table as she sat down. Grizz jumped up on the couch beside her and leaned into her side before settling into her thigh.
Zach’s number.
She still hadn’t called him.
She wasn’t sure why she’d even agreed to take his number in the first place. His question about what it would take to get her number was made of sheer insanity. He knew exactly who she was, and she hadn’t been able to get rid of Brandon’s words about his once-best-friend.
He’s a good man, Brandon had told her countless times.
She’d lost the sound of her husband’s voice many years ago, but she could still picture him. Still smell the aftershave he used before heading out the back door to the fields, the barns, the cattle, the goats, the life of a farmer.
Celia hadn’t kept up the farm after his death, but she hadn’t been able to part with it either. She sold all the animals and simply lived in the house Brandon had promised he’d fix up for her.
He’d tried, but the workload around the farm was too much for one man, and they didn’t have the funds to hire help as their family was young and growing. And once the cancer treatments started….
Celia pushed the thoughts from her mind. They didn’t bring sadness or bitterness anymore, though both of those emotions had spent plenty of time in Celia’s company. Now, though, she simply missed him. Missed the life she was supposed to have with him.
Missed the rough yet gentle touch of a man’s hand against her cheek as he kissed her hello after a day spent under the hot summer sun. Missed the way male laughter could fill a house as he told jokes to his daughters. Missed the scent of leather, and land, and lumber that seemed to permeate the very air around a man.
A sigh slipped from her lips as she started the sweater Grizz would wear as soon as he grew for a few more weeks.
So why don’t you want to call Zach? she asked herself, her fingers and needles practically clashing as they moved.
If she did, she’d be admitting she wanted to go out with him, and that felt like a very big step for Celia. It was a very big step.
Her phone rang, startling her and causing her to drop one of her needles. Grizz barked, and she said, “Hush. It’s the phone.” She reached for it, her heart hammering as if the big, broad cowboy was calling her.
But of course, he couldn’t be. He didn’t have her number.
“Reagan,” she said after she answered. “How are you, sweetie?”
“Hey, Momma. How’s Grizz?”
Celia paused, her head automatically cocking as she heard the buzz in her daughter’s voice. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she said, but Reagan’s voice carried amusement. She was probably about to shriek, and Celia held the phone away from her ear.
Sure enough, in the next moment, the shrill noise came through the line. “Mom, Dale asked me to marry him!”
Happiness rushed through Celia. No, joy. “Praise the Lord,” she said, bringing the phone back to her mouth. “Tell me about it.”
Of course Reagan was going to tell her about it. That was why her daughter had called in the middle of the day on a Friday. Celia loved listening to the excitement in her daughter’s voice, and she loved Dale too. They two of them had been dating for two years, and they were both set to graduate from the University of Wyoming in just a few months.
“So what are you thinking for a date?” Celia asked, setting aside her knitting in favor of her planner. Yes, it was still on paper, though both of her daughters had tried to get her to convert to an app. An online calendar. Something. They’d even created one they could share, but she only looked at their events; she never created any of her own.
What would she put on it? Knitting, 8 am to noon.
No, thank you.
“We’re going to wait and see what jobs Dale might get,” she said. “The interviews for the engineering graduates start next week. Then we’ll decide. If he gets a job out-of-state, I’ll want to get married before we go in the fall. But if not, I’d kind of like a Christmas wedding.”
“That’s less than a year, either way,” Celia said, flipping ahead to September as if she had any conflicts written on the calendar.
“We can do it, Momma,” Reagan said. “I’m not fussy, remember? That’s Ruth.”
“Ah.” Celia smiled, because Reagan was more of a throw-her-hair-in-a-ponytail type of girl while Ruth curled every strand into ringlets. “Well, I’m open. I didn’t like the winter wedding, but if that’s what you want.”
“How was Amanda’s wedding?”
Celia looked up from her planner, her thoughts automatically moving to the best man at the wedding. “It was lovely,” she said. “She and Finn are so happy.”
Reagan didn’t ask if Celia had met anyone, though she and Dale had met at a wedding. Reagan had stopped talking about Celia dating about five years ago, and Celia had been glad at the time. Now, though, she wanted her daughter to ask her. Maybe she could work through some of the things troubling her if she could talk about them with someone.
“I have another question,” Celia said.
“I’m coming home for Spring Break, so we can plan everything,” Reagan said. “That’s only three weeks away.”
Celia cleared her throat. “All right. This is…about me.”
Reagan said nothing, and Celia wondered if she’d shocked her daughter into silence. Determined not to chicken out, she blurted, “I met a man.”
More silence, and Celia could not predict what Reagan was thinking or what she’d do. So when another shriek came through the line, Celia took the full brunt of it right in her eardrum.
“Momma!” Reagan rushed on to ask about six questions in the span of one breath, and Celia started laughing too.
“Slow down, honey. He was a guest at the wedding. The best man, actually.” Celia didn’t know what else to say. She’d never been too terribly affected by the feud between her family and Zach’s, as her brothers had inherited the farm. She’d left for college, met Brandon—though he was a Coral Canyon native too—and gotten married. They’d had twelve wonderful years together before the Lord had called
him home.
Celia shook her head, her ability to speak somewhere behind the lump in her throat.
“Are you going to go out with him?” Reagan asked.
“I don’t know,” Celia managed to say through the tightness at the back of her tongue.
“Momma,” Reagan said, sobering. “You should. Tell me what you’re doing right now. Wait.” Her voice snapped, and Celia knew what was coming. She reached over and patted Grizz.
“You’re knitting. Knitting, mother, when you could be getting ready for a fun lunch with a man.”
“You don’t even know who it is.”
“It doesn’t matter, Mom. You should go out with him. You haven’t gone out with anyone since Daddy died. No one. Not one single person. Not even coffee, or—”
“Okay, Reagan,” Celia said. She didn’t want to argue with her daughter. Her eyes landed on the notebook paper again, and she said, “I think I’ll call him.”
Reagan squealed, and she said, “I’m calling Ruthie right now. Call me back as soon as you can.” The line went dead, and Celia chuckled as she lowered the phone to her lap. She didn’t need the paper, as she’d programmed Zach’s number into her phone days ago.
Feeling reckless and brave at the same time, she swiped and tapped to bring up his contact. With trembling fingers, she finally touched the green call button and lifted the device to her ear.
Chapter Four
Zach didn’t answer calls from numbers he didn’t know. He found them annoying, and the last couple he’d answered had tried to get him to sign up for some bogus life insurance policy he didn’t need.
Maybe he was in a bad mood, because five full days had passed since he’d given Celia Armstrong his number. The woman hadn’t even so much as texted him a simple hello.
“Celia,” he said, spinning back toward the shelf where he housed his phone while he worked in the barn. What if that phone call had been her? And he hadn’t answered.
He held very still for some reason, wishing there was a way to determine who’d called. He yearned for the simpler times of his youth, where there was a way to figure out who’d called with a reverse look-up feature. Such a thing only existed on landlines now, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one of those.
