by Liz Isaacson
“We’re….” Elliott glanced at Holland. “Going to dinner,” he finished.
“Like, as a date?”
“No—” Holland started, trying to pull her hand away.
But Elliott held onto her. Tugged her closer even. “Yes,” he said. “Like as a date.”
Joel advanced one step that crowded Elliott though he was still several paces away. “She’s Dad’s physical therapist.”
“So what?” Elliott hadn’t felt anything for a woman in five years. He wasn’t letting go of this magic because she worked with his father.
“She—it’s…unprofessional.” Joel’s eyes flicked to Holland’s.
“It’s fine,” Elliott said. “We’re not doing anything wrong by going to dinner.”
Demmie stood. “Let it go, Joel,” she said quietly, shooting a glance in Elliott’s direction. She’d probably paid more attention over the past five years, had seen Elliott’s struggles in the dating arena. She put her hand on Joel’s arm and nudged him toward the exit. “Have fun, you two.” She flashed a quick smile before grabbing her purse and following Joel out.
The mood had definitely been dampened, and Elliott sat across from Holland, unable to look at her fully. A band of pressure sat around his lungs, making it hard to get a proper breath.
“He might be right,” she said, which finally pulled Elliott’s eyes to hers.
“He’s not right.”
“I don’t normally date my patients.”
“I’m not your patient.” He gazed at her evenly, some of that spark between them returning.
“It could be viewed as unprofessional.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, revealing some of that sexy shaved part. He was surprised how much he liked her non-traditional hairstyle. He’d never dated someone with hair color so obviously from a bottle, and a style so unique.
“By who?” he challenged. “My ultra-conservative brother?”
“What will your parents think?” She gave some of his fire right back to him, something he also appreciated.
“My mother will probably start crying,” he said. Her face fell. “Because she’s been praying for me to meet a woman for about five years.” He returned his attention to the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. He just didn’t want Holland to see the hurt streaming from his eyes the way it had infected his voice.
“Five years, huh?”
“Been on a lot of first dates,” he said.
“No wonder this is going so well.” The playful tease in her voice made the tension in his muscles ease. “And no wonder you cut straight to the kiss. I mean, if it’s not good, at least you know up front, right?”
He looked at her, trying to figure out if she was joking, or hurt, or something else. “I haven’t kissed a woman in a long time.”
“No?” She tucked that hair that hadn’t moved. “Well, that’s surprising.”
“Why?”
She closed her menu and leaned her elbows on it, inching closer to him. He found himself tilting toward her too. “Because you’re really good at it for being out of practice.” The teasing sparkle in her eyes sent fireworks through his system.
“I don’t normally do that before a first date,” he said. “Or after it. Honest.”
She leaned back and glanced up as the waitress approached with water glasses. “I believe you.”
They ordered, and she lifted her water glass to her lips and sipped. Elliott tracked her every move, his gaze lingering on those very kissable lips.
“And Elliott, I hope you break the mold again after our date tonight.” She giggled and Elliott’s pulse skyrocketed. He definitely wanted to kiss her again, even if someone viewed it as unprofessional.
Ty waited on the top step of Elliott’s front porch. Archer was with him, which sent another bolt of surprise through Elliott.
“You’re back,” he said to his old cabin mate. He let out a low groan as he sat down beside Archer. “How was the honeymoon?”
“Great,” Archer said, all the elaboration Elliott would get. “How was your date?”
“Great,” Elliott said. He knew why Ty and Archer were here, waiting for him. And he knew he’d tell them about the kiss with Holland. He’d always detailed his dating escapades. Difference here was that this was actually a good date. No weird stories. No tube tops. Nothing that had scared him off—except for his own strong feelings.
“You like her,” Ty said.
“Yeah,” Elliott agreed.
“So will there be a second date?” Archer asked.
“Tomorrow.” A smile curved Elliott’s mouth. He felt like he’d achieved his personal best in a race or a video game. He hadn’t made it to a second date in years.
“So you really like her,” Ty said.
“Kissed her,” Elliott said. “So I guess I really like her.”
Archer whistled at the same time Ty whooped. “A kiss on the first date,” Archer said. “Wow.”
“It was actually before,” Elliott said, a giddiness prancing through him that felt silly. “And during. And after.” The pressure of her mouth against his was almost palpable, the taste of her chocolate dessert still on his tongue.
“You really don’t mess around,” Ty said.
“There’s something about her,” Elliott said. “It’s like she’s….” He let his voice trail off, because uttering the words “my soul mate” to these two other rough and tough cowboys felt stupid.
But Elliott wondered if she really was his soul mate. If such a thing even existed.
Chapter 6
Do you want to sit by me at church tomorrow?
Elliott’s question wafted around in Holland’s head like a cobweb. He had her pressed against the front door, his mouth tracing a pattern on her neck and ears she really liked.
She couldn’t believe she’d met him three days ago. She felt like she’d known him for three years, that he’d taken twelve months to ask her out. Taken her on dozens of dates before kissing her. And that they were just now advancing to the next stage.
But it had all happened in seventy-two hours.
Still, she heard herself say, “Sure, church tomorrow,” and she felt Elliott’s lips curve upward as he smiled against her throat. He pulled back, leaving her cold and craving more of his kisses.
“Want me to come pick you up, or can we meet there?”
“I usually go with Cecil,” she said. “So we can meet, especially since the church is almost at the mouth of the canyon. No reason for you to come all the way over here and then go back.”
He touched the tip of his nose to hers. “Great, I’ll see you then.” He went down the steps backward, that delicious smile making his face as close to perfection as Holland thought possible. She pressed one palm against her pulse as he sauntered back to his truck and got in. He waved as he drove away, and Holland exhaled, trying to organize her thoughts and emotions.
An almost impossible task.
Cecil yanked open the door, causing her to yelp as she nearly fell backward into the house. “What are you doing out here, young lady?” he asked. He glanced up at the dark light bulb. “And why isn’t this working?” He flipped the switch several times.
“I don’t know,” she fibbed, not wanting to tell him that Elliott had reached up with his bare hand and loosened the bulb enough to leave them in darkness. Leave them to be able to smooch without the prying eyes of the neighborhood—of Cecil.
Holland ducked past her cousin without meeting his eye. “Did you make any of that orange hot chocolate?”
“You know I did. You’ve been standing out on the porch smelling it for ten minutes.” He followed her into the kitchen.
Holland had been caught, and she knew it. She poured herself a cup of the fruity-chocolatey drink and glanced at him. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Cecil’s normal quick wit and rapid comebacks didn’t happen. He sighed as he sat at the bar, and she had her answer.
“I just feel…something for him that doesn’t
make sense.” She curled her fingers around her mug. “From the very moment he walked through that doorway, I—I’ve only been able to see him. Think about him. He’s kind, faithful, hardworking, funny. He helps his parents. He—he—he’s wonderful.”
And Holland truly believed he was. Tonight, they’d simply picked up street waffles from the food truck and wandered the streets of Gold Valley. He’d detailed memories from his childhood, with his brothers, in the park, at the waterfalls, all of it.
She hadn’t said a whole lot more about her family, but he hadn’t pushed her. He’d said he understood messy, and that they’d deal with her sisters as they had to.
They.
She’d liked the sound of that single word so much she hadn’t been able to articulate much for several minutes.
He spoke like they had a long future together, and Holland had to admit she’d started thinking the same way. After only three days.
“I feel slightly insane,” she admitted to Cecil. “He asked me to sit with him at church tomorrow.”
A panicked look crossed Cecil’s face, but he covered it quickly. “That’s great, Holland.”
“You’ll still sit by me, right?”
“Why would I? I don’t need that third wheel status too. Divorced is bad enough.”
“Oh, come on.” She sipped her hot chocolate, enjoying the citrusy tang of the orange. “No one’s judging you for being divorced.” Especially since his ex-wife had gone off the deep end and left town without a word to anyone. She still hadn’t come back to Gold Valley, and Cecil had boxed up everything of his ex’s and put it in a storage unit.
“And I saw Lena Lopez eying you last week.”
“She was not.” But a hopeful glint entered his eyes.
“She was,” Holland said. “In the foyer. She was leaning into the doorway, and smiling at you.” Holland grinned and pressed into the counter as if reenacting the encounter from last week. “You should talk to her tomorrow. Maybe consider asking her out.”
“Oh, I’ve considered it,” Cecil muttered.
The simple sight of Elliott Hawthorne standing on the sidewalk outside the church, wearing a pair of black slacks, a sky blue shirt, and a yellow and blue striped tie with that black cowboy hat was enough to send Holland’s pulse into the stratosphere.
She nearly squealed and skipped over to him, but kept her step even lest she break a leg in the heels she’d chosen to wear. Shiny black, they matched the black pencil skirt and the black and white polka dotted blouse.
Elliott saw her from dozens of feet away, and his gaze devoured her as she came nearer. “You remember Cecil,” she said, indicating her cousin beside her.
“Of course.” Elliott extended his hand for Cecil to shake. “You’re a few years older than me. Were you in Ray’s class?”
“Between him and Donny,” Cecil said, shaking Elliott’s hand with a smile.
“He’s sitting with us,” Holland said as she laced her hand through Elliott’s elbow. “He’s got his eye on Lena Lopez.”
“Holland,” Cecil said in a warning voice.
“Oh, Lena,” Elliott said. “I went out with her last summer. She adores yellow roses.” He tapped the brim of his cowboy hat. “You could start there, and be in a great position to get that date.” He stepped toward the front doors, and suddenly Cecil was his shadow.
“You went out with her?”
“Once.” Elliott glanced at Holland. “I went on a lot of first dates.”
“Why no second date?” Cecil asked.
“She wasn’t my type.”
“Do you think I’m her type?”
Elliott paused and looked at Cecil. “I have no idea, man.” He chuckled. “I don’t even know what my type is. I just knew there wasn’t a spark there.”
“Not a spark,” Cecil said thoughtfully, entering the church first.
Holland followed Elliott inside and claimed his hand again. “So there are sparks between us?”
“Entire firework shows,” he whispered as they went into the chapel and slid onto a bench. He lifted his arm and tucked her into his side. “You can’t feel it?”
Oh, she could feel it. She put her hand on his knee and squeezed, causing his muscles to tense and him to duck his head close to her ear.
“So you do feel it.” He chuckled as the pastor got up and started the sermon.
Holland tried to listen, but it was almost impossible when everything she looked at was overlaid in lace and diamonds. She’d spent more time pinning designer wedding dresses and different cuts of diamonds on her Pinterest board in the last twenty-four hours than she had in the entire time she’d been engaged.
The urge to pull out her phone and search through the options for party favors nearly consumed her, but she kept her device out of sight. She didn’t want Elliott to get spooked by her ravenous wedding thoughts—which were ridiculous really.
She’d known the man for four days.
Her phone buzzed but still she didn’t pull it out. The preacher spoke about standing for what was right in this new day and age, and she tried to focus on the words. But her phone vibrated again.
Could be Lisa, she thought, which prompted her to pull the phone out from under her leg.
Her mother had texted. Lisa just went into labor. She told me she’s going to put the baby up for adoption.
Holland’s heart didn’t know if it should rejoice or droop in sadness. She knew Lisa would be devastated to let the baby go, but she also believed that baby deserved a family with a mother and a father.
Holland had texted just before her Italian meal with Elliott that Lisa needed to think about the child more than herself.
No judgment, she’d sent. But do what’s best for that baby.
Her mother’s next message said, She wants you here. Can you come?
This time, Holland’s heart knew exactly what to do, and it sank all the way into her shoes.
“You gonna go?” Elliott whispered, his mouth so close to her earlobe that his bottom lip caught against the edge of her ear.
She shivered, pure delight flowing through her. It didn’t mix well with the desperation firing through her, screaming at her to stay in Gold Valley. She’d warned her mother she might not come back to Idaho Falls very often. Her mom had seemed understanding at the time. And if she went to see Lisa, she’d have to see Brenda. And wherever Brenda was, Jordan was sure to be.
So many ripples, she thought.
If she didn’t go, what would that do to Lisa?
Let me talk to my boss, she texted to her mother. Then she immediately started praying that Kevin would say he simply couldn’t spare her.
Holland put another pair of shorts in her suitcase, her mood worsening by the moment. Elliott had dropped her off, kissed her, and gone back up the ranch. Reluctantly, sure, which buoyed Holland’s spirits for about two seconds before she remembered that Kevin had been so understanding. So much like, “Take as much time as you need.”
Holland didn’t want to take any time. But she couldn’t see how she could get out of going.
I know you don’t want to come, her mom had texted while Holland waited out the rest of the sermon. While she texted Kevin. But Lisa really wants you here. She needs someone strong to help her through this.
Holland didn’t feel strong. And she’d feel even weaker as soon as she crossed into Idaho Falls.
It took seven and a half hours to drive to Idaho Falls. If she could delay just a little longer, she’d get there closer to midnight. She’d buy herself until morning before she had to see anyone but her mom.
Maybe Brenda would’ve already been to the hospital to visit. Maybe Holland wouldn’t have to see her or Jordan. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
She sighed as she went to gather her toiletries. Give me patience to deal with my sisters, she prayed, finishing her packing and heaving the suitcase off her bed.
“Well, I’m off,” she said to Cecil, who sat at the kitchen table with a plate of toast and a bowl of beef stew in fr
ont of him.
He abandoned his food and stood, taking her suitcase from her. “I’m sorry, Holland,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said, following him out to her car.
“It’s not.” He put the suitcase in the trunk. “It would be like me going to meet Serene. It’s absolutely not okay.” He grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t let them hurt you again, okay?”
Holland knew exactly who he was talking about—Brenda and Jordan—and she nodded, her tears threatening to overflow from the kindness of her cousin.
Then she got in her car and set it on a course south, back toward the one place she never wanted to go again.
Her legs felt numb and she had to go to the bathroom something urgent by the time she pulled into her mother’s driveway. Only a dim light shone from somewhere within the house, and her mom’s car wasn’t in the garage.
She called, “Mom?” as she entered, but no one answered. The house was empty, and Holland sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward for the opportunity to be here alone, even if only for a few minutes.
Half an hour later, her mom entered the house looking tired and worn. “Sweetheart,” she said as Holland rose from the couch where she’d been texting Elliott.
“Mom.” A fierce rush of love and missing filled Holland as she hugged her mother. “How’s Lisa?”
“Fine.”
“The baby?”
“It was a healthy baby boy. She didn’t even hold him.” Emotion choked her mother’s voice, and Holland finally allowed her tears to overflow.
Her mom released Holland and moved into the kitchen where Holland had made coffee. “I know it’s silly, because I’ve been pushing her toward adoption since the day we found out she was pregnant.” She poured a cup of coffee and added a heaping spoonful of sugar to it. “It’s harder than I thought it would be. That’s my grandchild.”
“I know.” Holland put her hand on her mom’s shoulder. “Did you get to meet the couple?”
She nodded as she sipped. “Lisa and I chose them together. They were so emotional, so grateful, so wonderful. Lisa didn’t want to see them.” She exhaled and Holland led her to the couch so she could rest. “I met with them for a few minutes in the waiting room.”
