Blacksmith's Beauty (River's End Ranch Book 19)

by Caroline Lee

  “Mele Kalikimaka, sweetheart.”

  “Well…” She took a sip of the hot cocoa, and snuggled closer against her father, staring at the logs in the fireplace. “It’s Christmas. Not sure about the ‘merry’ part.”

  “That’s something at least.”

  “Yeah.” Tears pricked against the back of her eyelids as she felt her father’s warm love wrap around her, and knew that she’d never again feel that from Elf. “That’s something.”

  “You know, I have a master’s degree and a CPA, and even I can’t figure this thing out.” Jace held the paper farther out and squinted at it. “Who would’ve thought instructions for putting a crib together could be so difficult?”

  “That’s because you’re holding them upside down.” Elf leaned over and plucked the paper from his brother-in-law’s hands, turned it right-side up, and handed it back.

  “Huh.” Jace peered at the instructions. “Well, that didn’t help either. It’s still all nonsense.”

  From where he sat on the floor, leaning over the crib’s headboard, Will grunted. “That’s why I don’t use the instructions.” His words were muffled as he pressed his lips together to hold onto the two screws that dangled from one side of his mouth. “Easier that way.”

  Jace rolled his eyes. “Of course you don’t follow the directions. Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.”

  Will looked up, smiling as much as he could. “Makes things more fun, huh?”

  “If by that you mean ‘Wow guys, thanks so much for spending your week-after-Christmas vacation arguing about how to help me put together the crib my schedule-obsessed wife insisted we needed now, instead of in seven months,’ then yes. Yes, I agree.”

  Elf crossed his arms and leaned one hip against the dresser in Ellie and Will’s third bedroom, which was being turned into a nursery. “Did you just call my sister crazy?”

  Primly, Jace folded the instructions. “No, I did not. I called her schedule-obsessed.”

  Will grunted again from his place on the floor. “’S a compliment, coming from ‘im.” He was trying to screw the headboard into one of the rails now.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Elf didn’t bother trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

  “Sure.”

  “Because you’re holding an Allan wrench, and those are Robertson screws.”

  “What?” Will removed one of the screws from his mouth and peered at it. “They’re the same.”

  Elf snorted. “That’s what I thought.” He straightened. “You’ve got a hexagonal tool, and Robertsons are square. I’m guessing you got this crib from Canada? They’re popular up there.”

  Jace started laughing when Will cursed, and Elf felt his first stirrings of a smile. “Maybe you should leave the construction to someone who knows something about it, Will.”

  His brother-in-law was already rummaging through a toolbox. “And let you take all the credit? No way. I’m capable of building my kid’s crib.”

  Sighing dramatically, Jace unfolded the instructions again. “I guess I’d better figure out how to read these then.”

  Their bickering might’ve continued, had Dad not stepped into the room at that moment. “You boys haven’t even started?”

  “Come on!” Will gestured at the crib pieces spread all over the floor, without looking up from the toolbox. “We’re like, halfway done already, Pops!”

  Dad grimaced good-naturedly at the nickname. “Don’t look half-done to me. Looks like you can’t tell the difference between an Allan wrench and a Robertson, is what it looks like to me.”

  Jace folded up, guffawing, and even Elf had to smile. “Perfect timing, Dad.”

  The way the older man grinned told Elf that maybe he’d guessed Will would have trouble. “I’ll get these two shaped up, son. Your mother’s in the kitchen and wants to see you.”

  Elf wondered what she wanted, but instead of asking—and opening himself up to teasing from his brothers-in-law—he just nodded gratefully to his father and slipped out, while Will began to explain how the whole experience was Jace’s fault for not being able to read the instructions properly.

  Muz was mixing up something in one of Ellie’s big bowls when Elf slouched his way into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Muz. Where’s the girls?”

  Without looking up, his mother measured out sheets of parchment paper to line two baking sheets standing nearby. “In the dining room. Apparently, Dink did such a good job on planning their turned-into-a-double-wedding that Ellie wants her to help plan Kelsi’s baby shower. They’re in there looking at ideas online.”

  “Kelsi’s?” Ellie had been all about planning for his niece or nephew recently; it was cute to hear her planning her own sister-in-law’s shower.

  “Your sister said that all of the sisters-in-law—plus Dani—are planning it for some time next month. It’ll be Bigfoot-themed of course, and will probably involve root beer, knowing these people and their obsessions.”

  “Bigfoot?” Was that a typical baby-shower theme? He wasn’t sure.

  Muz snorted and reached for a big spoon. “This is Kelsi we’re talking about.”

  True.

  She began to spoon out what looked like cookie dough onto baking sheets, and the sight pulled him up short. His mother had always been big on leafy greens—albeit ones cooked in bacon grease—and other vegetables, but didn’t think he’d ever seen her baking cookies.

  “Whatchya making?”

  Muz didn’t glance up. “Peanut Butter Blossoms, what’s it look like?”

  “Wow, really?” Elf pulled up a stool and sat at the counter where she was working. “Those are my new favorites.”

  “I know,” she huffed. “Why do you think I’m bothering to make them?”

  He grinned. “I didn’t know you could.”

  “Well, you know what Shakespeare said: ‘Let’s make Heaven a place on Earth, Horatio.’”

  “Pretty sure you’re thinking of the line from Hamlet about there being plenty of stuff I don’t know about the world, and presumably your baking habits… But if Heaven is on Earth, then it probably involves peanut butter and chocolate, so I think the whole thing makes sense.”

  Muz slipped the baking sheets into the oven, then straightened with a snort. “Everything I say makes sense.” Then, to Elf’s surprise, she picked up a plate of Peanut Butter Blossoms —warm from the oven, with the chocolate kisses still melting slightly on top—and plopped them down in front of him. “Now, I know these aren’t as good as Miranda’s, but I need a taste-tester.”

  Elf grinned and bit into a cookie. She was right; they weren’t as good as Miranda’s, but they were pretty darn close. He nodded encouragingly while he chewed.

  “Good.” Muz nodded, then planted her palms on the counter and leaned towards him. “I just fed you those to keep you occupied so we can talk.”

  Her words made Elf freeze, as he remembered some truly awkward conversations with her over the years. “About what?” he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she snapped, almost automatically. Then she seemed to deflate. “Chew and swallow, and then tell me, Elfikins. What’s wrong?”

  He followed her instructions, and reached for another cookie. “Nothing’s wrong, Muz.”

  “Oh, Elfikins.” She sighed. “You can fool your father and your brothers-in-law, and Ellie’s too tired these days—and too wrapped up in planning for the baby—to notice much of anything. But Dink and I can tell you’re not happy. I told her not to bother you about it, but we can both see that you’re not spending time with that nice girl anymore. Is that why you’ve been sad since Christmas? Because Belle broke up with you?”

  Elf paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth. Had he been that obvious? Well, no, apparently not, since no one else could tell something was wrong. But Muz and Dink—who always seemed to understand him best—had figured him out. And here he was, thinking he’d done a good job of hiding his pain from
his family.

  And from himself.

  He sighed and placed the cookie back on the plate. The peanut butter flavor had turned to ashes in his mouth, and it just seemed kind of sad, to try to capture the Christmas spirit in a cookie, when he was hurting like this.

  “Yeah,” he admitted to Muz. “Yeah. I…” He swallowed, still looking at the plate of cookies. “I did something stupid. Well, it wasn’t stupid at the time, because it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but it ended up being the most special thing to ever happen to me. Belle, I mean.” He was making a mess of explaining.

  “Did you explain all of this to her?”

  “I’ve tried.” She wasn’t picking up her phone or answering his texts.

  “Do you love her?”

  He met his mother’s eyes. “More than I thought it was possible to love someone, after such a short amount of time.”

  Muz nodded. “Then I think you should try harder to make her understand whatever you did. Or to understand that you’re sorry. She’s a smart girl, and so nice. All of us could see how much she loves you, and it’d be silly to throw that all away.”

  She loves you. Elf’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

  “Oh, Elfikins.” Muz straightened with a smile. “I know so. Now, go out there and try harder to convince her. After all: ‘Faint heart never won fair lady’ and all that.”

  Elf blinked. “Muz, that actually made sense. A lot of sense.”

  “Of course.” She waved him out of the kitchen. “I keep telling you that everything I say makes sense, but you people just ignore me.”

  Elf snagged a few Peanut Butter Blossoms on his way, and dropped a kiss on the top of his mother’s head. “I love you, Muz.”

  “I love you too, Elvis. Now go talk to your Belle!”

  I’ll try.

  Because there was one place he hadn’t tried to contact her. One more place to check, before he showed up at the Copper Cabin and did the whole standing-in-the-rain-with-a-boombox-over-his-head thing.

  Plopping himself on his sister’s couch, he pulled out his phone and navigated to the chat forum. Before he logged on, he took a deep breath. He hadn’t logged on in the days since the Christmas Eve fiasco, because…well, because their chat sessions seemed somehow sacred. Like, Hunk and Queenie had been friends for long before Elf and Belle had met in real life. Long before they’d kissed. Long before he’d fallen in love.

  He hadn’t wanted to use that connection to manipulate her into forgiving him. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he had to know. Was Muz right? Did Belle love him? And if she did love him, was it enough to forgive him for taking that dumb bet?

  His thumb hovered over the “Log In” button. If Muz was right, and Belle did love him, then he would tell her how he felt. No, that wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to show her how he felt.

  There was a project he’d been contemplating last week, a project he hadn’t had time to seriously consider. But if she loved him, then he’d get started on it as soon as possible. Tonight, even, if the forge was still warm.

  He swallowed, then pressed the button, praying she was online.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hunk’s ping sounded throughout Belle’s bedroom, and she found herself smiling before she remembered. Remembered that Hunk was really Elf, and that she’d been hiding in here for the last five days, trying to avoid him, and Christmas, and River’s End Ranch in general.

  She hadn’t been very good company, she knew, and her family had abandoned her to hit the slopes most days. Even Daddy would rather make use of all the fresh snow that big storm dumped a few days ago than hang out here and watch her mope.

  So here she was, curled up in bed with Tootles draped over her feet, warming them, and her laptop open on the bedside table, softly playing her favorite Elvis songs. And apparently, without realizing it, she was still logged in to the forum. Had she been logged in this whole week? How come he hadn’t tried to contact her there yet?

  She’d been ignoring his texts and calls, not sure if she was strong enough to take Daddy’s advice and confront Elf. It was easier to just pretend that the week leading up to Christmas hadn’t happened, and she hadn’t fallen in love with a hunky blacksmith, who’d turned out to be one of her best friends. It was easier to just ignore him, and in a few days, he really would be just a memory. The Kalani family was going back home to Orofino after the New Year, and she could start trying to get her life in order.

  Elf would just be a memory, and she still wasn’t sure if he’d be a good one or a bad one.

  She blinked, suddenly realizing that she’d been staring at her computer blankly for the last minute, the pit in her stomach yawning wider and wider with each passing heartbeat. He was there. He was online, in their chat forum. Had he logged on to speak to her? Or was it just habit, and he’d been logging in all the time, only she hadn’t noticed it? If she pulled her laptop closer, and navigated to that tab, would she see his icon and user name blinking at her, with an invite for a private chat?

  It would be better to just ignore it. Ignore him.

  Huffing slightly, Belle went back to her crossword puzzle.

  Elvis ____ Presley. Five letters. She snorted and wrote in “A-A-R-O-N”. Beyond easy. Hunk would laugh when she told hi—

  No! No, she wouldn’t be telling him. Sure, two weeks ago she would’ve rushed to pop online and leave him a message. She could just imagine it: “You’ll never believe how EASY the crossword clues are these days!”

  But not now. She stared blankly at the pad of black and white squares in her hand. Not now.

  Now, she had to sit here with the knowledge that he was online. Maybe trying to talk to her, to explain his hurtful actions. Maybe not. But she wouldn’t know, because she wasn’t going to pick up her computer and check. She was just going to let it sit there, not knowing…

  With a suddenness that dislodged Tootles from his comfortable snooze, she threw down the crossword and lunged for the laptop.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she opened the tab, and saw his name, saw the chat window. He was trying to talk to her.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Belle?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Belle, are you there?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Listen, honey, I’m sorry.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: and I’m sorry for calling you ‘honey’ there. I know I shouldn’t. I know I don’t have any right to anymore. It just slipped out.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Belle?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Please let me explain.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Are you there?

  How long had he been typing? Hoping she’d respond? Belle swallowed. What was the harm in letting him explain? Like he was begging to? He had apologized.

  To her surprise, her fingers shook as she typed simply, “I’m here.”

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Oh, thank God.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Please, Belle, just let me explain. You don’t have to say anything.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Type anything, I mean.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: But just don’t shut down until I have a chance to explain. Please.

  He was typing so fast that his messages were popping up one right after the other. Belle curled her fingers into fists and placed them on her lap, staring at the chat window on her laptop screen.

  What was he going to say?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: OK, here goes.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: I know I’m a flirt. I always have been. I think it comes from being raised in the south or something. I like to make ladies smile. But that’s not really important. Since moving out here to River’s End Ranch, since seeing how happy my sisters are, married to good men, I want that.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Not being married to good men. That’d be awkward.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: But finding real love. Stable, healthy love based on friendship. I’ve been jealous of them for months.

  Belle remembered talking to Hunk over the last months, and the hints he would drop about feeli
ng down, or uncomfortable, or being adrift and looking for something. He hadn’t said what it was, but now—in retrospect—it wasn’t hard to imagine that this was what he meant. What was it like, for a man who’d spent his life flirting and casually dating, to actually ache for a long-term commitment?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: Anyhow, my friend Andrew hasn’t had any luck with the ladies either. I think he’s looking for love, but didn’t realize I was too. He thought that I was just “love ‘em and leave ‘em” he said. Maybe he was jealous.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: He made this bet with me. He didn’t think that I could get a kiss from the next woman who walked through my door. I’m not sure why he made it, and I’m even less sure why I took it. It’s not like I was looking for a quick kiss from someone. I just wanted him to shut up about it, and I was willing to give him the $100 to make him drop it.

  She swallowed, remembering that first moment she’d walked into the hot forge and seen a gorgeous, shirtless blacksmith and felt something primal and urgent grab hold of her. Had they just made the bet? That moment?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: And then you walked in. And I was really, really glad for that bet all of a sudden. You were prettier than any woman I’d ever seen, and I REALLY wanted to kiss you. I thought maybe a quick kiss from someone wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: But you turned me down flat. Which was OK. I mean, you were used to men just looking for a quick kiss, right?

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: But I couldn’t forget about you. And not because of that dumb bet. I was moping around, thinking about you, and Andrew basically told me that he’d made that bet to teach me a lesson.

  HunkaHunkaBurninLuv: I mean, he didn’t SAY it, because guys don’t say stuff like that to each other. But you know what I mean. He wanted me to lose, to have to admit that I wasn’t some Casanova.