by Kim Redford
She’d never tell him, but she’d wondered if their sudden, inexplicable passion for each other might dissipate over time. It hadn’t so far. If anything, it had grown stronger the more they were together. They usually didn’t have much time for each other during their busy days until late at night, after she got off work. Fortunately, the burnt-cookie scent had dissipated or been eradicated by the determined efforts of the Settelmeyer family, so they could enjoy her place again. When the lights were out and the folks were gone, they’d walk hand-in-hand to her cabin, where they would share news of their busy days and their red-hot passion, and then cuddle in sleep.
Christmas had come to Wildcat Hall. The Settelmeyers had installed beautiful holiday decorations in the Hall, the beer garden, the cowboy cabins, and in the trees of the Park. They’d even put up a small evergreen tree with bright-gold bows and shiny silver balls in her new home. She hadn’t added any packages under the tree yet, but she wanted to get something special for everyone in Slade’s family, as well as the Settelmeyer family. She thought Morning’s Glory and Adelia’s Delights would be the perfect places to shop for everyone when she had time. As far as Slade went, he would be much harder to buy for, but she could probably find something great at Gene’s Boot Hospital.
All in all, she was feeling better about her situation. Houston seemed almost like a distant dream, although she knew her old life still awaited her there. Fern kept in touch by text, and she seemed to be doing well, or at least pretended to be happy in her current situation. It was hard to tell what was real and what was not with her sister, but performing always suited her, so surely she was doing okay. Primarily, Slade filled her thoughts and dreams, as did Wildcat Hall and all she wanted to accomplish there.
With those thoughts, Peter Simpson came to mind. She hadn’t heard from her friend and she was glad, but she wanted to get the situation settled while it was on her mind. She picked up her phone from behind the bar, nodded to Alicia, and stepped outside. She could hear the band playing, and it would drown out what she was about to say for anyone inside. She hit speed dial.
“Ivy, you still hanging out in the wilds of Texas?” Peter asked with a chuckle.
“Still here. And liking it better all the time.”
“Knew it. Hunky cowboy firefighters, isn’t it?”
“Maybe one in particular.” She smiled at just the thought of Slade.
“Do tell.”
“Not now. I’m working.”
“Okay. But I’ll hold you to it.”
“Later, then. Right now, I’m calling to ask you to take Wildcat Hall Park off the market. I just can’t see selling it.”
“You are hooked, aren’t you?”
“I’m getting there.” She rubbed fingers across the scratched belt buckle that said it all.
“Look, don’t worry about it. If you get an offer, you can decide how you and Fern want to handle it. Besides, you haven’t been there long enough to know what you may want to do later.”
“But, Peter—”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“No.”
“I won’t pursue a sale hard. If a buyer turns up, let’s leave that option open.”
“I simply don’t feel right about it anymore.”
“I hear you. But your emotions may be talking instead of your head. Let’s just let it be for now.”
“Okay, I guess.” She sighed, knowing he was being practical, but she wasn’t feeling practical.
“Now go out there and enjoy your guy. Leave this to me.” And he was gone.
She stood there a moment, feeling like she’d made a wrong decision, but Peter was always right, and he was practical, too. City had come crashing into country, and she’d been drawn back into her old city world after talking with him. Where did she really belong? Slade Steele. That’s where she belonged…and she knew it. After Christmas, she’d be firm with Peter, take the Park off the market, and no one would be the wiser.
She glanced around, returning to the reality of her new life. It was a Friday night, so she could hear Craig and his country band playing in the dance hall. Folks were back there, listening, dancing, drinking, while more had spilled out into the beer garden with its twinkling blue lights in the trees. Tonight was a night for sweaters, needing little more to keep warm, particularly when folks heated up on the dance floor.
She walked back inside, still feeling uneasy. Things were winding down in the front bar with only a few customers still nursing beer, wine, or coffee and cookies. Fortunately, folks had taken a shine to the new addition to the menu, so she was encouraged to begin the other ideas she and Slade had discussed early on. Until now, they hadn’t had the time to implement more, but she was anxious to get there.
She glanced over at Alicia, still looking fresh after a long day as she wiped down the bar and chatted with a customer sitting on a stool. She wore her family’s traditional crimson, long-sleeve T-shirt with the Wildcat Hall logo emblazoned on the front, Wranglers, and black cowboy boots. She’d pulled her long, blond hair into a single plait down her back.
When she caught Alicia’s eye, she beckoned her to come down to the end of the bar.
“What is it?” Alicia asked, joining her. “Are you tired? Do you want to knock off early?”
“It’s not that. I wanted to ask you about coffee and cookie sales.”
“They’re good…maybe great even closer to Christmas, if Slade will cut the cookies into holiday shapes like trees, elves, reindeer, that type of thing, then sprinkle them with red or green tinted sugar. Customers want festive and happy and familiar. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes indeed. Slade and I are already there. When do you think we should start?”
“Next week won’t be too early.” Alicia glanced down the bar to make certain she wasn’t needed by a customer, then looked back at Ivy.
“Slade’s so busy with the upcoming cattle drive, the café, and his pie business during the holidays that I’m reluctant to put any more on his plate. And yet, this is important, too.”
Alicia nodded in understanding as she tapped a fingernail on the scarred wood of the bar top. “It’s just sugar cookies, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’d like to sell cowboy cookies, too, but for now I’m focused on Texas tea cakes.”
“And we’re busy, too. This time of year and all,” Alicia said. “But, like you say, it’s important to offer new items, so we bring in more customers to grow the business.”
“True. Maybe I need to bake—”
“Please, no. You really don’t have the time. You’re building out the website, and it’s looking good with every improvement you make to it.”
“Thanks. I wish I had more time.”
“I hear you.” Alicia took a deep breath as she squared her shoulders. “Here’s what I suggest.”
“What?”
“Mom is a good cook, even great by most standards. I’m not bad myself. We have a big country kitchen with a six-burner stove and two ovens at home. We’re frequently asked to bake cakes and cookies for local fund-raisers. Folks will even pay extra if it’s a Settelmeyer. We’re not professional, mind you, like Slade and the Steele family. But I don’t see why Mom and I couldn’t make cookies in small batches for the Hall, if you like the idea.”
“It’d be a real blessing.” She gave Alicia a warm hug. “If you’ll work out the cost, I’ll be happy to pay extra.”
“Thanks.” Alicia grinned in approval. “There’s this pair of red boots at Gene’s that I’ve been drooling over.”
Ivy chuckled, understanding perfectly. “Go get them, because you’re on for cookies.”
Alicia joined her laughter, looking pleased as punch. “I’ll tell you something else. If Slade had time to bake pies for us, they wouldn’t go amiss here. He’s really got a fabulous rep as a pie baker.”
“He already sugg
ested it. Pie would be great with coffee. But we’d need to cut, plate, and serve, so I’m concerned that’s too much extra work.”
Alicia shook her head. “I don’t think so. We cut the pies ahead of time, buy paper plates and plastic ware, then watch the customers chow down.”
Ivy laughed at that positive image. “Okay. If you think it’s possible, I’m not about to hang back. Let’s see if we can clear an area to make space for it behind the bar.”
“Let me talk with Mom and Dad. They’re good at that type of thing. We might need to set up a separate table.”
“Sounds great.”
“Do you think Slade could have pies to us by next week?”
“I hope so. I’ll ask him.”
As if their discussion conjured him, the front door opened, revealing its beautiful Christmas wreath, and Slade stepped inside.
Ivy felt her heart speed up at the sight of him. He never failed to enliven her world simply with his presence, and that was before he spoke or touched or helped or gave her that special look that meant she was always foremost in his thoughts, just as he had become in her life.
“You’re done early tonight,” she said, smiling at him.
“I needed an Ivy fix.” He smiled back, eyes lighting up.
“Not coffee or wine?” Alicia teased him with a big grin.
“Nope. I need Ivy—nothing else will do.” He walked up to the bar, put both elbows on it, and leaned in for a kiss.
She quickly obliged, not minding one bit being a fix for Slade.
“I just finished up several orders. Sydney’s going to mail them out for me in the morning.”
“And you didn’t bring us pie?” Alicia asked, shaking her head in disappointment. “We could sure use a slice right about now.”
“I would’ve if I could’ve, but I barely got those orders done as it was. Nothing left over, not even a crumb.”
“I hope you can make time for us,” Ivy said. “Alicia says we can serve pie with little muss or fuss.”
Slade groaned, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “It’d be great exposure for my pie business and to entice more customers into the Hall, but the orders are coming in steady now, particularly after Ivy upgraded my website.” He stopped on that excuse. “I can’t let y’all down, can I?”
“You can probably let me down,” Alicia said, “but Ivy is another matter.”
“I guess I better let you off the hook. After all, I did make your website irresistible.” Ivy chuckled, reaching out and patting Slade’s shoulder.
“It’s made a big difference.”
“I was just hoping—”
“You’re right. I need to make time for local businesses. And especially you. Pecan pies sell best. Let me get hold of Gillette’s. They run the best pecan farm in East Texas. I’m a rancher, but I appreciate farmers.”
“We wouldn’t have much to eat without them, would we?” Ivy said.
“Amen,” Alicia said. “Anyway, ranchers are farmers, too, even if we do it on a small scale.”
“True enough. We always have home gardens.”
“Nothing is better than fresh veggies in the summertime and canned ones in the winter,” Alicia said.
“I don’t have that experience,” Ivy said, “but I’m sure it’s a good one.”
“We’ll get you hooked on country food in no time.” Slade smiled as he leaned in closer, as if unable to resist her, like iron filings drawn to a magnet.
“I appreciate your help with the pies. It’s great,” Ivy said. “I hate to bring up something else since you’re being so generous, but we discussed offering weekend specials, like beef stew or chili, in the winter.”
Slade groaned, shaking his head as if it was all too much for him. “I remember. If we weren’t in the middle of the new ranch and the upcoming cattle drive, I wouldn’t hesitate to throw in on the project.”
“It’s okay,” Ivy said. “I just needed to know if it was on or off the table.”
“No, it’s not okay.” He straightened up. “Tell you what. Granny might be up for it. She’d view it as good promotion for the Chuckwagon with the tourists, as well as helping another local business. And you.”
“I’m just making a lot of extra work for you and your family,” Ivy said. “Y’all have already been so good to me that I hate to push for more.”
“You’ve helped me, too, with the website.”
“I can do more with it. And I will.”
“Thanks. It’s enough for now,” he said. “Anyway, I already discussed adding to the menu with Fern, so you aren’t the only one suggesting we expand our business. It’s good…for the Chuckwagon and the Hall. It’s just that—”
“Time.” Alicia looked from one to the other. “And it’s the holidays.”
“Let me talk with Granny. If she can’t take it on, I’ll find another way. I’ve already thought it’d be good if we served old-fashioned corn fritters with the stew and chili.”
“That’d be delicious,” Ivy said.
“Yum.” Alicia rubbed her stomach as she glanced down at the end of the bar to check on patrons.
“Let me see if I can get that show on the road in the next week,” Slade said.
“Thanks.” Ivy gave him a big smile. “But please don’t push beyond what is reasonably doable.”
“I won’t.” He glanced down the bar.
A customer looked their way with a nod, then got up, set down a tip, waved goodbye, and walked outside.
“Hope I’m not driving off business,” Slade said.
“You’re not.” Alicia walked down, put the tip in the tip jar, and picked up the empty beer bottle. “He comes here every evening after work and now is about the time he usually leaves.”
“That’s a good customer,” Slade said.
“The best,” Alicia said, agreeing. “Can I get you anything now?”
“Not a thing.” He looked at Ivy. “But Ivy can give me a dance.”
“You want to dance?” she asked in surprise.
“I’ve been listening to Craig’s band, and it’s got me hankering to toss you around the dance floor.”
Ivy laughed at the image. “You might get me out on the dance floor, but there’ll be no tossing about. I’m only up to something slow and steady.”
“Slow is exactly what I have in mind.”
“I don’t want to leave Alicia holding the bag here.”
“Go on, you two. Enjoy yourselves.” Alicia pointed toward the dance floor. “We’re winding down, and I can handle it on my own.”
Slade held out his hand to Ivy. “Join me?”
“Thanks, Alicia.” She took off her apron, hung it on a hook, and walked around the bar. When she clasped Slade’s hand, she felt the familiar zing of awareness arc between.
He leaned down close to whisper. “I couldn’t get a country song out of my head all day.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think you’ll recognize the refrain.” He grinned down at her. “You’re always on my mind.”
And she knew just what he meant.
Chapter 24
Slade walked hand in hand with Ivy into the dance hall, feeling like it was their first date. They’d gone from zero to one hundred in the first moment they’d met. Now they needed time to get to know each other better. With the intense schedules they both kept, it was almost impossible to take time out just for fun. And he’d meant it—she was always on his mind.
Christmas lights in blue and white had been strung in the rafters, echoing the blue lights in the beer garden. A few families sat at tables, enjoying the music and the dance, chatting together…grandparents and parents introducing their young ones to the community that’d been gathering there for generations and would, hopefully, continue for generations to come.
He wanted Ivy to exper
ience the dance hall as a community center, not just a place that had been dumped on her, forcing her to work long hours every day till her sister returned to take over. He’d like her to appreciate Wildcat Bluff County in all its variety, so she’d come to love it like he did. Possible? The verdict was still out, but he lived in hope she’d come through just like she had on every other thing set before her since she’d arrived on his doorstep. But most of all, he just wanted her to love him. They could work out everything else.
For tonight, he simply planned to enjoy the evening. He was tired, but in a good way. The work she’d done on his website still amazed him because it was really generating more social media interest and bringing in more sales for the holidays. If he got his pie-baking business off the ground, then he could branch out into other small-batch products, because he absolutely believed in providing the best unique products to folks across the country.
One good thing had come amid all the work—the cattle rustlers hadn’t struck again. Maybe they’d done all the damage they were going to do and were gone from the area. He’d like to catch them and stop their nefarious schemes, but if they were really out of his hair, that’d suit him, too, particularly if there were no more fires. Unfortunately, there’d been no news on Fernando, but Slade wasn’t giving up hope. And Storm still believed her beloved bull would be home for Christmas. He’d hate to see her disappointed, but he’d done all he could do for now, so he simply had to let it be.
As he stood there with Ivy, waiting for a slow song, Wildcat Jack came waltzing up squiring a pretty gal in a full skirt that swirled around her knees. Jack was lithe and lean, wearing his trademark pearl-snap shirt, jeans, and boots, with his silver hair in a single braid hanging over one shoulder. He said he was seventy-nine and holding, but nobody knew his real age—or cared. He was as strong a DJ on KWCB as he’d always been, and the women still loved him as much, if not more, as ever.