Diamonds and Denim
Country Brides & Cowboy Boots
Danni Lee Nicholls
Copyright © 2019 by Danni Lee Nicholls
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Diamonds and Denim
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Also by Danni Lee Nicholls
About the Author
Diamonds and Denim
Country Brides & Cowboy Boots
What is a diamond really worth? It depends on the love attached to it.
Willow Simmons is a rancher’s daughter. All of her dreams revolve around her family’s land and the long unrealized hope to wear a diamond ring offered by Curtis, her high school sweetheart. But when she rescues Mick from a Montanan storm, a precarious friendship grows into something she doesn’t expect, forcing Willow, and the town of Sunrise Creek, to reconsider everything they hold dear.
Chef Mick Wilson can’t go back to New York City. His only hope for a future is an interview in Seattle . He holds fast to a set of precious diamonds that keep him tied to the life he cherished but that left him with a string of betrayals.
But reaching Seattle isn’t possible without his car. The longer it takes the mechanic to fix his outdated Jag, the more time he spends with Willow and the less he feels like moving on.
When Mick’s past comes to find him, he has to decide if a tender and new friendship with a captivating woman is enough to stake his future on.
Chapter 1
The Jag coughed one last time as Mick Wilson eased the car to the shoulder before it rolled to a stop and died. Letting out a long sigh, Mick put his head down on the steering wheel, his shoulders slumping. A small pattering noise overrode his feelings of defeat, and he raised his eyes to see a hint of rain dotting his windshield. Focusing past the rain, Mick read the sign in front of him: Sunrise Creek, 35 miles. The soft chatter of the rain gave way to the beginnings of an urgent pelting as dark gray clouds scuttled across the sky in the hastening night.
Mick wasn’t even supposed to be on this road to the small town of Sunrise Creek, Montana. His detour from the freeway was his best effort to find a way to show Simone, his girlfriend—or was she his ex-girlfriend?—what she was missing.
Fifteen miles ago, the Jag had started acting up, as if choking on all that fresh country air, Now, he was thirty-five miles away from the nearest town and twenty miles from the freeway with its string of gas stations and truck stops.
Blinking at the downpour that now buffeted the car, the gravity of the situation hit Mick like the cold front that was barreling down on him. After all the pictures he’d taken, his phone was barely showing signs of life and was plugged into the now-dead Jag. Reaching for the ignition, Mick turned the key. The car tried to turn over, but gave up with a final wheeze.
A pickup sped by. Mick sat up straight. Maybe he could flag down the motorist. He hopped out of the car and waved his arms, hoping the driver would look in his rearview mirror, but the taillights disappeared over a knoll. A small knot of desperation tied itself in the pit of his stomach.
He folded himself back into the Jag. How many cars drove this road in the middle of nowhere, Montana? His ears strained for any sound other than a fitful breeze that pushed at the Jag with the pulse of the storm.
Fifteen minutes later, the unmistakable rumble of a motor rose over the tinny sound of rain hitting the roof. Hopping out of the car, he stepped into the road and flagged down the truck. Finally! He was rescued. It would probably be some uncouth old cowboy, but he wouldn’t complain.
Mick reached back into the Jag to pull out his scarf. When he straightened, he was greeted by a young woman dressed in old jeans, a sheepskin jacket, worn cowboy boots, and a ball cap covering her long blonde braid. The spotty breeze tugged at her hair. A black-and-white dog with long hair stood obediently at her side. Mick blinked as the squall began to taper off, leaving slate-colored skies.
“You stuck or something?” the young woman asked.
Mick swallowed. “More like ‘or something,’” he said. “The car just quit.”
She eyed the Jag with suspicion, her gaze resting on the license plate. “You’ve come all the way from New York?”
Impatience nipped at Mick and sarcasm pinged inside his head, but he kept his voice level. “Yeah. I’m on my way to Seattle.”
The young woman nodded slowly. “Well, you’re not getting there tonight.”
“No kidding,” Mick said. “Do you think you can give me a lift into Sunrise Creek? I can pay you.”
The dog rushed forward as if on some invisible signal from the woman. Mick froze as the mutt sniffed his pant leg and shoes. He saw dogs in the city, but he’d never owned one. He couldn’t even remember touching a dog.
The dog returned to the woman’s side. “You’ve passed the sniff test. So, I can give you a lift.” She reached down to pet the dog. “You don’t have to pay me, though. I’m on my way there now, but we’ve got to hurry. The feed store closes at six, and I need to get the worming medicine for my gelding.”
Mick had no idea what a gelding was, but he didn’t care. He gave the girl a curt nod before moving to the passenger’s side of the truck, only to find the dog had already beat him to the spot by hopping in the driver’s door the young woman had just opened. He greeted Mick with a happy pant from the passenger’s side window.
The girl jerked her thumb toward the bed of the truck. “You can ride in the back.”
Mick’s mouth fell open. “What? This is a Balenciaga jacket.” He plucked at his jeans. “And these are Balenciaga jeans!”
The girl said nothing as she moved toward the cab and spoke to the dog.
Mick sighed as his indignation washed from him in the rain. She was going to put the dog in the back. He’d have to contend with some dog hair, but it would be better than whatever waited for him in the bed of the truck. It would be warmer, too.
She threw him a blanket. A cloud of animal hair and dust rose up around him as he caught it.
“You might need that,” she said. “There’s an autumn chill in the air.”
“What about him?” Mick protested as he pointed to the dog.
“His name is Pilot, and he’s stays up front with me. He’s not much of a cuddler with strangers, so he wouldn’t help keep you warm anyway.”
Exasperated, Mick jabbed his finger toward the dog again. “Why can’t he ride in the back, and I ride in the front?”
The young woman laughed. “Do you think I’m going to let a stranger in the cab of my truck? No sirree. Besides, P
ilot is a front-seat dog. Now, do you want a ride into town or not?”
Mick weighed his options. He’d waited fifteen minutes before she’d come along, and in the time they’d been sparring, no other vehicle had driven by. The rain had quit for the moment, but the sun was masked behind a gathering of ominous iron-gray clouds hugging the mountains. The landscape offered less hospitality with every passing minute. He wondered how long he would have to wait for another vehicle, and who would be in it. The vision came to mind of a bunch of country yahoos with cheap beer in their bellies and sporting guns in the racks in the back window of their pickup. He might end up riding with the cows in the trailer. Besides, Sunrise Creek was, no doubt, a one-street town. The place probably rolled up like a scroll at six, and he needed to talk to the mechanic tonight.
With a regretful look toward the Jag, he pushed the fob only to realize nothing worked. Hurrying back to the Jag, he locked the car manually before hopping into the back of the truck. Pushing himself against the cab, he huddled under the blanket in what he hoped would be out of the wind.
The young woman slammed the tailgate. “And don’t try anything funny,” she said. “I pack.”
Mick looked heavenward. “Well, I’m all packed, too. But I’m leaving my stuff in the car for now. So can we just go? I need to see if I can get a tow tonight.”
The woman laughed again as she climbed into the truck.
The sweet bell-like sound of the woman’s laugh filtered through Mick’s deteriorating mood, but he pushed aside the small ray of joy and sat up. “Hey, wait a second. How long to town?” He spread the blanket around him, praying the mess would come out of his clothes.
“About thirty minutes. Hunker down now. I’ve got to move if we’re going to get there before everything closes. I hope we make it.” She slammed the truck door.
Mick closed his eyes and leaned against the cold steel of the cab. Wait until he told Simone this story. Oh, wait, he wouldn’t be telling Simone anything. Sadness gathered in his chest as the pickup gathered speed. The cold autumn wind whipped around him as he huddled under the blanket. But the deepest cold was seeping from the realization that Simone had sent him on this trip in order to break up with him. Was that the cold wind that stung his eyes, or did he miss Simone that much?
Chapter 2
The truck pulled to a stop. Mick peeked out from underneath the blanket to see a red, white, and blue neon sign that read, “Bert’s Auto Repair.” The light of the sign was stark against the fading evening. Its brightness mirrored in the wet and gritty pavement of Bert’s parking lot.
The young woman got out or the cab and pulled open the tailgate. “Welcome to Sunrise Creek,” she said with a flourish.
Mick nodded as he tried to stand. Gosh, he’d never been so cold in his life, and New York City was cold! But then, he’d never ridden in the back of a pickup going at least 50 mph in forty-five-degree weather. He hopped out of the truck, and the jarring motion shot pain up into his hips as he tried to straighten up.
Rubbing his hands together, Mick shivered. A small, wiry man walked toward him and the woman. When he got up close, Mick figured he must be seventy years old. “I’m guessing you’re Bert,” Mick said.
“Yes, sir, I am.”
A small sense of relief trickled through Mick. “Well, I got a Jag sitting on the shoulder about thirty miles from here. Do you have a tow truck?”
Bert looked him up and down. Then he turned his gaze toward the young woman. “It’s quittin’ time,” Bert said. “And I got me some fine beef stew and biscuits waiting at home.”
The idea of beef stew made Mick’s stomach contract, while the thought of the Jag spending the night alongside the road filled him with dread. His suitcases with everything he needed for his job interview in Seattle were tucked inside the trunk. “Please,” he said. “I’ll pay you double.”
Bert looked at the young woman. “What do you think, Willow?”
Mick smiled to himself. Willow was a beautiful and breezy name.
Willow raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
Bert looked back at Mick and squinted in the near dark. “Are you going to pay me with those rocks you’ve got stuck in your ears?”
Mick set his jaw. What a country yahoo. Who pays for car repairs with diamond earrings? He took a deep breath and counted to five. It wouldn’t do to irritate the only mechanic in town. “I’ll pay with a credit card.”
“All right,” Bert said. “Let me call the wife.” Bert excused himself.
“Where are you staying?” Willow asked.
Mick hadn’t thought of shelter for the night. He was supposed to be in Missoula by now. Looking around, he found the Sunrise Lake Lodge across the street. “I’m guessing that’s the only game in town.”
Willow followed his gaze. “There are other hotels, but this one is close. Do you want me to walk you across the street?”
Embarrassment and irritation swelled through Mick. “No. I think I can manage it.”
“Well, I’ll go and tell Bev to expect you,” Willow said. “And I’ll check in on you in the morning.”
Mick tightened his jaw. “I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”
“Oh, you’ve already been that.” Willow laughed. “I have to come back into town in the morning. The feed store closed, so Topper won’t get his worming meds tonight. He’ll be thanking you, though.”
Mick didn’t have any idea what Topper was or why he needed to be wormed, but he didn’t care. The earlier adrenaline that had fueled him seeped from his body, leaving him with staggering fatigue at his unsettled reality. He just wanted to get the Jag fixed and head west to Seattle and civilization. No more scenic byways for him. Still, he needed to show more appreciation for the problems he caused this young woman. After all, she saved him from a cold fate. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Truly I am …” He began fiddling with his wallet. “Here, let me at least pay you for gas, since you have to make a second trip.”
Willow laughed again, the lilting sound drew Mick, giving him a sense of calm as he stood in the gritty parking lot with the evening filtering into night. The fatigue lifted its heavy curtain, allowing him to study the woman with her bright, laughing eyes and wayward blonde hair. Her serene presence made him smile.
Willow continued, “I’ll make a deal with you. If my car ever breaks down in New York, you can rescue me.” She laughed again. “I’ll even sit in the back.”
Mick gave her a look of doubt. “You don’t look like the type of girl who ever needs rescuing.”
“Well, now, I’ve never been to New York before.” Willow laughed again, as if the idea of going to New York was a shiny thought.
Bert came back out. “All right. Let’s go get that car of yours.”
Mick suddenly wished Bert would step back inside. He basked in Willow’s sweet wit, which somehow soothed him and mitigated his earlier feelings of stupidity. On this dreary and damp night, the sound of her laughter warmed him.
“See you in the morning.” Willow gave a quick wave as she turned toward her truck.
Mick watched her leave. It was as if she was taking the only ray of sunshine with her in an otherwise gloomy day.
“Do you want to get that car tonight or not?” Bert yelled from where the tow truck was parked.
Mick tore his gaze away from Willow’s retreating form. “Yes, of course,” he said as he jogged toward Bert.
Mick settled into the cab of the tow truck. The smell of old oil, gasoline, and stale cigarette smoke assaulted his nostrils, making him want to gag. He surprised himself by wishing he was in the back of Willow’s truck. It might be cold, but it smelled of hay and clean air.
“She’s going to marry my nephew.” Bert jerked his head in Willow’s direction. “So don’t be getting any big-city ideas.”
Mick gave the elderly man a quick look. He was right. His only idea was putting Montana in his rearview mirror as soon as possible.
Chapter 3
Driving
out of town, Willow put several miles between her and Sunrise Creek before slowing the truck and taking the opportunity to glance up into the fading midnight blue of winking stars from the clearing and cold sky. Their pinpoints of warm, sparkling light looked so close, it was as if she could reach out and pull one down to her chest to keep her warm in the absence of her mother, who loved the web of stars that were promised to the Montanan night
Any time of year, her mom would gather her and her father to sit around the fire pit to watch for falling stars. During her mother’s final summer, before her body succumbed to cancer, it was how they spent every evening. Even when her mother was too weak to walk, Willow’s dad would carry her out to the deck, place her in the big, comfy lounge chair, and wrap her in blankets. Once she was settled, the three of them would count falling stars.
Her mother died under that big Montana night sky, with her husband and daughter by her side, covered by a blanket of stars. The hospice nurse said it was a good death, peaceful and without remorse.
At first, Willow resented the nurse’s observations. There was nothing good about her mother’s death. So many future memories were stolen from her mom, and Willow was robbed of even more. How could that be good? But when she remembered her mother slipping into the world beyond those stars, Willow could not deny the embrace of peace that came as her mom breathed deeply, as if taking in every reverent scent and sound of her mortal existence one last time before leaving it. That was five summers ago, and the recollection of that night was still so vivid, so clear, that she could name the constellations that witnessed her mother’s passing and where they stood in the night sky. Even now, the memory brought a sad, calm stillness to Willow’s soul.
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