He must’ve been staring at her blankly because she said, “It’s the signature drink of the ball.”
That’s what that concoction was called. When he’d first arrived, a server circulating the crowd with a tray had offered him one. He’d taken one sip and decided he’d stick with wine.
“It’s delicious,” Rachel said. “It’s made with Irish cream liqueur, vodka, and espresso. The committee had to endure several nights of hardship tasting dozens of different cocktails to ensure we chose just the right one.”
That was good to know because he’d keep his opinion of the froufrou cocktail to himself.
He returned with a flat white martini for her and a glass of red wine for himself.
“Wine not beer?” she asked. A cloud of condensation illuminated her breath. They were crazy to sit out here, but he wanted to be alone with her.
He nodded. “I guess you could say it’s a hazard of the job.”
He lifted his glass to her. She touched hers to his.
“What do you mean hazard of the job?”
She didn’t know, which meant she probably didn’t know why he was back.
“I went to California after I left Whiskey River.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“So, I’m sure you also know that your mom agreed to drop the charges against me if I enrolled in this work reform initiative. It was a program out in northern California sponsored by a vineyard that taught me a trade. I don’t know that she really cared about me learning a trade as much as she wanted to get me across the country and as far away from you as possible.”
“You stole her car, Eli,” she said.
“No, I didn’t.”
Rachel frowned. “You confessed.”
“I never confessed. Donna had her mind made up that I did it.”
“Then why did you take the plea deal?”
“Why didn’t you believe me when I told you I was innocent?”
When she didn’t answer, Eli held up his hands. “Look, it doesn’t matter now. We can’t change the past. But I guess I have your mother to thank for setting me on the path to my future.”
“Really?” Rachel tilted her head to the side. “How?”
“The program the judge sent me to was an experimental initiative where at-risk young adults who had been in trouble—all non-violent offenders—worked the fields of a vineyard and learned how to plant and harvest. After I graduated from that program, I joined the Army because I felt like I needed the discipline it would teach me. After I served my tour of duty, I ended up going to college and taking what I’d learned at the vineyard a step farther and exploring more about viticulture.”
“You studied viticulture, as in winemaking?”
Eli nodded.
“That’s great. I’m happy for you, Eli. Are you working at a vineyard or winery now?”
“Actually, Logan and I bought some property and we’re starting a boutique winery and vineyard right here in Whiskey River. In fact, it’s a little northwest of Harwood House.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open. “So, you’re back? To stay?”
Eli sipped his wine. “Looks like it. But enough about me. I want to know about you. How did a nice girl like you get mixed up with an organization like Women of Whiskey River?”
He laughed to let her know he was kidding and gestured toward the windows. Condensation clung to the windows allowing them an Impressionistic peek at the dance floor. The colorful twinkle lights strung across the ceiling looked like mini shooting stars. He caught a glimpse of Carol Butterfield, who was dancing very close to the Reverend. She had a glass of wine in one hand and the other curved around the nape of her husband’s neck. At least someone would be getting lucky tonight.
“What are you talking about?” Rachel asked. “The Women of Whiskey River Service Organization is a great group. They raise a lot of money for the community. I can’t think of anything that could be wrong with that.”
“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with them. But I do remember a time when you would’ve rather run naked through an event like this than joined a group of stuffy conformists.”
She shrugged. “People change, Eli. People grow up. I grew up.”
He hadn’t intended to upset her. But it looked like that’s the way the conversation was shifting. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but it would take time. Right now, he was better off nodding and changing the subject.
“What have you been doing for the past decade?” He sensed her tensing up. She looked away, first at the row of empty cocktail tables and glowing propane heaters, then down at her drink. “A lot of things. I have a business. I got married. My husband died. I have a child.”
The words connected like a punch to the gut. Died? Rachel was a widow? He hadn’t even considered the possibility. He’d assumed they’d divorced.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged and sipped her drink, as if it was the way she coped with condolences.
“How long?”
“A little more than four years.”
And she had a kid.
“Boy or a girl?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” She blinked at him like she hadn’t heard the question right.
“Your child. Do you have a son or a daughter?”
“I have a daughter—Katie.” Her face softened when she said her little girl’s name.
“How old is she?”
“Three.”
She brushed something off her face and then looked up into the inky sky. “It’s snowing, Eli. We’d better go inside. You’re probably freezing without a coat.”
He hadn’t really noticed the cold. The space heater was keeping him warm. Plus, he’d been too wrapped up in her. She held out her hand, palm up, caught some snow, and rubbed her fingers together. “It’s really starting to come down.” She stood and picked up her martini. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Of course, he followed her. Story of his life. Or, at least, it should’ve been. Maybe if he’d followed her the first time instead of moving to California things wouldn’t be so complicated right now. They both had a lot of baggage, a lot of things to sort out and talk about.
This time, he wasn’t going to give up that easily.
Again, he held open the door for her. When they stepped inside, it was like hitting a wall of heat—between the crowd and the fires in the fireplaces, no one was feeling the December chill in here. Except for him being on the receiving end of the icy chill emanating from Rachel since he’d asked about her daughter.
“Thank you for the drink and conversation,” Rachel said over the music. She handed him back his tux jacket. “I need to check on things in the kitchen and make sure everything is going smoothly.”
He let her go.
For now.
Chapter Four
Eli was back.
And suddenly Rachel felt seventeen years old again. And not in the giddy, breathless, smitten teenager kind of way. No, this was more of an awkward, displaced, what-the-hell-do-I-do-now nervousness that had her glancing around the ballroom as she walked toward the kitchen, looking to see if her mother had seen her with Eli.
She put a hand on her heart. For God’s sake, she was a grown woman. She shouldn’t care what her mother thought. She was twenty-nine years old. She was supporting herself. She had a child of her own. Donna Morgan had no say in what Rachel could and couldn’t do. She was not allowed an opinion on the Eli situation.
Rachel didn’t even have an opinion on it yet. She didn’t know how she felt, despite the way her heart slammed wildly against her ribcage at the mere thought of him.
Eli was back.
And damned if it hadn’t taken every ounce of reason she possessed to keep herself from leaning in and kissing him. She still wanted him. Her body still wanted him. But her brain was much smarter than her traitorous body. Thank God.
She had Katie to think of. She didn’t date because of Katie. Because of Katie and because she had no time. Any spare ti
me she had, she devoted to her daughter. She refused to be like her mother had been, working so much that Rachel had basically raised herself, growing up behind dead-bolted doors, the modern urban prison of the latchkey kid.
Her mother had done the best that she could. But now that Rachel had Katie, now that Donna had amassed a small fortune—more than enough to retire comfortably—she was still a hands-off grandmother, in much the same way that she’d been a hands-off mother. Donna was clearly happier at work.
Rachel vowed that she would never be like her mother in that regard. She would work hard to provide for Katie, but she would also be there emotionally for Katie. She would work hard to strike a balance between the two.
Of course, that left no time for Eli—or any man, for that matter.
The food looked delicious. She had just decided that Polly was doing a superb job of directing the staff to keep the trays replenished when her phone rang. She glanced down at the screen and saw Betty Claus’s name illuminated on the screen.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Betty was a sensible woman. She wouldn’t call on a night like tonight unless it was an—
“Hello? Betty? Is everything okay?”
Rachel plugged her free ear with her finger trying to block the noise of the band, which suddenly sounded deafening, and made her way into the kitchen.
“Hello, Rachel, I’m so sorry to bother you, but Katie is having a tough time tonight. Seems like no matter what I do, she won’t stop crying. Like I said, I hate to bother you, but I have to admit I’m a little concerned.”
Now that she was inside the kitchen, Rachel could hear the heart-wrenching sound of her daughter crying in the background.
“Oh, Betty, I’m sorry. Is she sick?”
“I don’t know, dear. She doesn’t seem to be running a fever, but she just hasn’t been herself tonight.”
“Do you think I should come home?”
It was rhetorical question, really. Betty wouldn’t have called her unless she thought Rachel needed to be there.
Before the older woman could answer, Rachel said, “Betty, don’t worry. I’m on my way. I just need to let the other members of the committee know that I’m leaving and I’ll be home as quickly as I can.”
“Oh, Rachel, I hate to do this to you.”
“Don’t you worry one second. Honestly, I’d rather be home with my daughter, especially if she needs me, and I can tell she does.”
“Please drive safely. The weatherman is saying conditions out there are going downhill fast. Be careful, dear.”
It took about ten minutes for Rachel to give Polly final instructions and arm her with her phone number and then round up Savannah and Avery and let them know that she had an emergency.
Lesser friends might have thought emergency was overstating it, but when it came to her daughter’s welfare, her friends always understood. There was no second-guessing or cajoling as there had been earlier today when she’d expressed her trepidations about getting dressed up and actually attending the ball. Savannah and Avery assured her that they had everything covered. They even offered to keep an eye on Polly’s efforts.
Soon, Rachel stood under the portico, clutching the garment bag and shivering as she waited for the valet to bring around her car. As she waited, Eli stepped outside.
“You’re leaving without saying goodnight?” he said.
“That’s your M.O.” Rachel smiled to let him know she was joking. Sort of.
For the second time that night, he draped his jacket around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s so cold out here. You really don’t have to wait with me.”
He pulled the coat’s lapels closer. It was such a caring gesture. It made her think of the times in the past that he would do things like brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Or gently wiping away her tears and listening to her side of the story after she and her mother had gotten into yet another argument.
Eli never had a lot of money and sometimes he’d been a little rough around the edges, but he had always been loving and kind to her. He had always treated her like a princess.
Until the day, after her mother had agreed to drop the charges, he’d walked out of her life without a single word. Without saying goodbye.
She started to ask him if her mother had made his cutting ties one of the stipulations, but the valet attendant finally appeared. Only he didn’t have her car. He was out of breath from running and his bulky coat was wet from the snow—or was that—
“Is it raining?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “And there’s a problem with your car. I can’t get the engine to turn over.”
“Are you kidding me?” Rachel cried. “You have to get it to work. I have to go home. There’s a sick child waiting for me.”
“I understand and I’m sorry, ma’am. But I think there may be something wrong with your alternator. We even tried jump-starting it, but the battery won’t hold a charge. Is there anyone else who can drive you?”
“I will,” Eli handed his claim ticket to the valet and the kid was off and running again before Rachel could say thank you.
“I hate to ask you to do this,” she said. “You’ll miss the rest of the ball.”
“I drove myself rather than riding with Logan because I didn’t even think I’d stay this long.”
Why? Why was this happening? The last thing she needed was to be beholden to Eli. But what other choice did she have? She had to get home to Katie.
“I hate to ask you to drive me. Logan’s compound is in the exact opposite direction from my apartment. It’s going to take you way out of your way.”
Eli glanced at his phone. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet. I’ll take you home and I’ll be back to the compound by ten. Don’t worry. You won’t owe me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She bit her bottom lip. He’d always been able to read her. Or maybe she’d just been that transparent.
“On second thought,” he said, “if you wanted to make things square between us, make me some cookies. You were always good at that.”
“I own a cookie shop now.”
“I know.”
His confession made her stomach jump. She wrinkled her nose and turned toward him. “Oh, really? And how did you know?”
“I have my ways.”
“Why did you leave without saying goodbye, Eli?”
“I tried to get in touch with you. I texted you and asked you to me to meet me at the gazebo in the park.”
“I didn’t get your text. I would’ve been there if I had.”
Her words made his gut clench. Their gazes locked in a showdown. Her eyes looked so clear, so earnest that he wanted to believe her. He’d never known her to lie to him. But he also couldn’t remember an incident of a text just vanishing into the ether. He’d had texts that were delayed, but not ones that were never delivered.
The valet arrived with Eli’s truck, preempting their conversation.
“This is us.” Eli nodded to the big, shiny black Ford F-150 rumbling in front of them.
He helped her into the cab, which was warm from the dashboard heater. The truck smelled new, like leather and success. The last time she’d seen him he’d driven a beat-up Toyota Celica that required him to carry a jug of water so that he could refill the radiator and sometimes he had to push-start it. It dawned on her that she had no idea what he’d been doing all these years, except for the general explanation of learning the wine business. He’d done well for himself, but there was so much that she didn’t know about him now.
The road that led from Harwood House to downtown Whiskey River was south of the highway.
The valet had turned on the windshield wipers.
He slanted a glance at her and returned his gaze to the road. Good thing because it was sleeting even harder now.
“What?” she demanded.
This time he didn’t look at her, but even in the dim light, she could see the way his mouth tilt
ed up at the corners. “It’s been more than a decade since the last time I saw you, and you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Yes, I have.”
Was he kidding? She’d lost thirty pounds since the last time she’d seen him.
“How have you changed? Because I look at you and see the same girl I loved.”
The same girl I loved.
The words warmed her from the inside out. But she wasn’t the same girl anymore.
“A lot has changed,” she said.
“So, besides your marriage and daughter, what is different?”
A lot.
“Having a child changes you,” she said.
“I imagine it would.”
“My life isn’t my own anymore. I have to put Katie first and sometimes that calls for sacrificing what I want to give her what she needs.”
“It sounds like you’re talking about something specific.”
She shrugged. “I mean, it’s all good. It’s all fine. I don’t have any regrets.”
“None?” he asked.
You.
But if she’d gone after him, she might not have her daughter. So, how could she regret not ending up with Eli?
“What?” she asked. “You want an example?”
“Sure.”
Was he fishing? Was he trying to get her to admit that losing him was a regret? It had never been his M.O., but seeing each other again after all these years hadn’t been anything like she’d expected. She told herself the shiver weaving its way down her spine was only because it had turned so cold.
They were both thrown off their games. Or at least she was.
“Okay, I have one for you,” she said. “I own a cookie shop. It does a good business and you know how much I’ve always loved to bake. Well, what I’d really love to do is open a restaurant, but most new restaurants fail in their first year because there’s so much competition out there. So, even though that’s a dream of mine, it has taken a back seat because I need something stable.”
“Are you saying you’ll never do it?” Eli asked.
“Probably not until I after I put Katie through college and see that she’s supporting herself.”
“You’re a good mom.” His words trailed off and Rachel was happy to let the conversation go. They fell into a silence. They were almost to downtown Whiskey River, to her apartment on the square.
A Texas Christmas Homecoming Page 5