Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set

by Patti Ann Colt

  Jonathan crossed his arms. “You told me this. What else?”

  She licked her lips. “I’m the one that’s bringing the pieces. He’s as whole and real as it gets.”

  He sighed, apparently exasperated with that answer. “For the sake of argument, what do you mean by that exactly?”

  She ticked examples off on her fingers. “He has an incredible, fulfilling life. His family. His job. His little league. His singing, choir, church. Everything in his life lines up with who he is. He needs a woman who will embrace that.”

  Jonathan lifted his hands in an imitation throttle. “He had a woman who embraced that.You!You went to little league, you went to family dinners, you went on a date in the park and danced, and you understood the man, and he you.”

  She shook her head, vehemently disagreeing. “Circumstances of the moment. Because of Walter. The truth is, I paint. And pet your cat. And he didn’t understand who the woman was. I don’t know who this woman is!”

  He rose and moved to stand next to her. “Youchoose to paint and pet my cat. For the last ten years, you’ve chosen to be the artist. You can choose now to be anything else you want. If you need to figure out who the woman is, then go after Tom and find out.”

  “It’s not that simple.” She looked down at her hands and picked a bit of paint off her fingers.

  Jonathan mumbled in French under his breath. “Yes, it is that simple. And for the record, you haven’t just been an artist for the last ten years. You’ve been my friend. My mother, my friends, and your other clients haven’t just embraced the paintings, they’ve embraced you. You cannot paint the way you do without being genuine. Your paintings get to the heart of the emotion, the sentiment about places. They always have.”

  “Once again, we’re talking about the paintings. Dammit, Jonathan, that’s my point.” She paced to the window and back.

  He leaned against her worktable. “Dammit, Summer. That’s my point. Your heart and your emotion are right there. What do you want? To give up painting and go bake croissants? You think Tom will love you more? You aren’t a pastry chef. You are an artist. You can’t cut that out, but you can add to it. And Tom fell in love with the woman who’s an artist. He’s a bright man. He knew what he’d found in you.”

  She frowned at him, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t cut out being an artist. It’s part of my whole, but I can’t figure out how to piece Tom into the picture.”

  “Go back to Echo Falls and piece you into his picture.”

  “I did that for three weeks. I don’t fit.”

  “You didn’t want to fit,” he argued. “You wanted to hold a grudge. Did you consider that maybe you were whole there to start with? In the beginning, as a young girl, you had church, family, school, with an affinity to the place that helped you develop as an artist?”

  She sank onto a stool, listening, desperate for a way out of her thinking. “No, I never have.”

  “Your argument with your grandfather overshadowed everything. Doesn’t mean your wholeness wasn’t there. You fractured yourself to leave, to build this artist’s life, because you desperately needed to prove to your grandfather you were right. It was what needed to be done at the time. It’s time to go home,cher, or you’ll be ninety and old and still petting my cat.”

  “I’m having trouble seeing myself in Echo Falls.”

  “Really?” He straightened abruptly, startling her. “Really? Sometimes you are so blind. I don’t know whether it’s your art or your personality,” he said, irritation rolling off him.

  She pulled back, affronted, and glared at him. “What?”

  “What? Seriously, Summer. Ever since you came back, you’ve done nothing but paint. Six paintings in three weeks. Unheard of pace. And look at these.” He crossed to the paintings. He lifted the first one— a fishing boat on the reservoir. “Echo Falls.”

  He crossed to the next one. “Olivia’s house. Echo Falls. The Fourth of July parade. Echo Falls.”

  “Well, it was your bright idea to do Echo Falls scenery for my show.”

  “Yes, it was. But we have more than enough with the vintage Summer LeFey from the house. You’ve gone above and beyond that.”

  She stayed silent, not able to justify that. She was painting what she felt.

  The final one he lifted, a low moan escaped from her throat. She painted that one in a fourteen-hour painting binge.

  “Hm, your grandfather’s house—or is it your house now? Your grandmother’s garden muted in the evening light. Nicely done, by the way. There’s a black truck in the driveway, a swing set with a child in the front yard.”

  Jonathan turned the painting to the light. “And what’s this? A dark-haired man and woman kissing on the porch swing. That’s you and Tom. Whether you painted that on purpose or subconsciously, this is your dream, Summer. This is what you want. Echo Falls is where you belong. It’s part of you. Why can’t you see that?”

  She stared at the painting for long moments and Jonathan, bless him, kept his mouth shut. She hadn’t really thought. She’d just painted, free- flowing an image that persisted to bother her waking and sleeping. How was it possible that she could paint what she couldn’t mentally wrap her mind around?

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ve got guests arriving in fifteen minutes. I have to go. Are you joining the party?”

  “Yes, just let me think for a minute.” Summer licked her lips, fighting a terrified ball clogging her throat. Letting go of a way of thinking took guts. Did she have enough left? For Tom?

  “Deal.” He started across the room, Suzy prancing after him. “And no more painting in designer couture.”

  She wiped her charcoal hands on a rag. “I promise. Jonathan?”

  He stopped in the doorway.

  She blew him a kiss. “I love who you are inside.”

  His face relaxed into a broad smile. “See. That’s why I brought you home even after you smashed a painting over my head.” He winked at her and left.

  ££££££

  As a cop, Tom had faced down many tense, life- altering situations. He’d had family and friends in jeopardy, where his knowledge and skills had made the difference in their safety. He’d been at Walter’s side for years, guided by an honorable principle that he’d learned from his grandparents about family. Yet, here he stood, luggage in hand, at San Francisco International Airport, hailing a cab and feeling out of his element, guided by one thing. He loved and needed Summer, so wherever he had to go he would.

  He gave the address to the cab driver. When the car stopped at the gate of a grand mansion, Tom almost turned around and went home. The lights were all on, with limousines and luxury cars in the driveway, and security at the gate.

  “Where do you want me to drop you, buddy?”

  “Pull up to the gate.” He’d have to hope he could get them to ask Jonathan to let him in. Several long minutes passed while the security team called the house and received an okay from Jonathan to enter. The cab driver passed through the gate and drove up the long driveway, stopping by the front steps. Tom shoved several bills at him. “Thanks, man.”

  “Good luck,” the man muttered, staring at the house.

  Jonathan met Tom at the door with a big grin. “You are a welcome sight, my friend.” He gave him a pat on the back, and then told one of the staff to take his luggage.

  Tom looked around. “Sorry, I had no idea you were having a party. I could wait somewhere for a while.”

  Jonathan snorted. “Not on your life.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then Tom saw Summer, and his mouth fell open. He tumbled in love like he had standing at the bottom of the stairs for their first date. Wrapped in midnight blue and diamonds, she outshone the couple she was talking to like a hundred watt light bulb to a night light.

  “God, she’s beautiful.”

  Jonathan smiled. “Yes, she is. Go get her. And Tom, be patient with her. She’s a work in progress.”

  “Understood.” Tom shook his hand.

&n
bsp; Despite his jeans, oxford shirt, and cowboy boots amidst tuxedos and designer gowns, he walked across the foyer and into the living room, never taking his eyes from Summer. He knew the second she saw him, saw the little breath of surprise, and gauged her face to see her reception.

  “Tom,” she mouthed.

  Her response was so unlady, unparty, unmannerly, that he wasn’t prepared. She handed the champagne flute off to the gentleman, took three running steps into Tom’s arms, and burst into tears.

  He caught her and pulled her close. “Not quite the reaction I was going for—but it’ll do.” Her lips found his, and he was more than willing to accommodate her, even with Jonathan and San Francisco’s elite looking on.

  Finally, they broke away, both breathing heavy. She squirmed, and he dropped her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

  He debated long and hard about how to tell her. “San Francisco Police Department is testing.”

  She froze. Her face screwed up in confusion, and then comprehension dawned across her face. “No! No!”

  Tom’s hopes shattered like crystal on marble.

  She cupped his face and kissed him. “We’re going back to Echo Falls.”

  He shook his head. “I’m going where you are.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “No, it’s not. You said…”

  She put a finger over his lips. “I love you.”

  That stopped him.

  “You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen,” Jonathan interrupted from behind him. “Let’s go to dinner, shall we?” He took the arm of the lady closest to Tom and led the couple away, stopping in the doorway to encourage the dozens of others to leave. The rest of the guests reluctantly followed, gazes darting their direction.

  Tom didn’t care if they all stood there and listened.

  “Let’s go to my suite.” She took his hand and pulled him in the opposite direction.

  Next to the grand staircase, she opened a door that led to a short hall. Her bedroom was three times the size of his apartment with a sitting area, a small kitchen, and a pedestal bed sharing the space in a blend of whites, greens, and blues. She turned on a lamp by the sofa and another light in the kitchen area.

  Tom looked around the modern space, off balance and unsure. “Say it again.”

  She came into his arms. “I love you.”

  The anxiety and hurt dissipated, and he bent to lightly kiss her. “Are you sure this is what you want? Bret and I checked this morning. There are dozens of police departments in a seventy-mile radius. I can find work. We can stay here.”

  She looked around as if just now seeing the place. “I don’t belong here. Jonathan made me see that tonight. I belong with you.”

  “We could belong to each other here.” He had to offer, had to be sure. “We would work it out. If you haven’t figured it out, I’m as committed to your painting as you are. I would never ever stop that.”

  She gripped his hands, overcome. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I could never take you away from Echo Falls. It’s who you are and why I fell in love with you. I paint and sleep here. That’s not a life. Not the one I want anyway.” She slipped into his arms and held tight. “And I don’t want you to give up the thing that makes you complete.”

  He pulled back and gaze at her. “You make me complete. The rest is just details”

  She smiled, tears filling her eyes. “I missed you so much.” She went up on tiptoe and begged for another kiss.

  He obliged her, this time taking her mouth with a thoroughness that satisfied every need save one. “Your grandfather should have come after you when he found out where you were. I didn’t want to make that mistake. I thought about this every minute of every day that you were gone. I love you. I want you to be my wife. I want it all. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Let me show you something.” She took his hand and led him to a side door and flipped on the light. Her bedroom suite connected to her studio.

  He followed her through the door, took in the skylight, the large windows, the aroma of paint and turpentine, and the scattering of canvas and paintings. At her worktable, she dropped his hand and went to a stack of paintings stored against the wall. She lifted one and kept it carefully turned away so he couldn’t see.

  With a somber face, she walked toward him. Her lips trembled, her eyes glazed with moisture. “I want you to have this one. I couldn’t sleep for several nights. Missing you, especially after we talked those times.” She gave him a gentle smile. “Finally, I got up at midnight one night and painted this.”

  She turned the painting toward him, propping it on the workstation. It was of Walter’s house—her house. His truck was in the driveway. A little child played on a swing set in front, and he and Summer were sitting on the porch swing kissing.

  “My future with you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

  Tom choked up, an emotional lump the size of the reservoir stuck in his throat. He pulled her to him, cupped her face, and kissed her.

  “I want to be more than a painter. I want to be the woman you love. I want baseball games, family dinners, and Boo and Lindy’s pumpkin magic. Show me how,” she pleaded.

  He turned her to the painting and used his finger to trace the swing set and the front porch swing. The life and vibrancy of the work wrapped around his heart. “You already know how, honey.”

  Tears slipped down her cheek. He bent to kiss them away.

  “Do you like it?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her green eyes deep pools of hope.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. I like it.” He stopped and cleared his throat again. “Love it, in fact. I love you. This one goes above the mantel.”

  He left the painting propped on the worktable and took her hand. He led them back to the suite, where he pulled her to the large bed. He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to make love to her, seal the connection, bond them in a way where there could be an acknowledgement of all the spoken feelings.

  She turned her back. “Unzip me and make it fast,” she grinned.

  Tom gave the zipper a yank and let the dress fall to her ankles. Her back was bare, just a small scrap of lace underwear between him and bliss. She stepped away from the dress. “So much for haute couture.”

  He quickly shucked his boots and socks, shirt and pants, dumping his cell phone and watch on the bedside table while she turned down the bed and took off her diamond necklace and earrings. She eased under the covers, and he was right behind her, pulling her naked body against him, sharing her sighs as their skin touched.

  His emotions swelled again, so deep he wondered how he ever made it this far in his life without this belonging to buffer him. “I love you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, and yes, I’ll marry you. Although that wasn’t much of a proposal,” she said in a husky rasp.

  He laughed, and the emotion that had been riding high in his chest eased. “I’ll do better when I give you the ring.”

  She softly caressed his face. “Deal. Now, kiss me goodnight,” she crooned, her eyes liquid with happy tears.

  With quiet laughter and a loving murmur, he complied, melding their future.

  Thank you for joining me in Echo Falls.

  If you would be so kind, please visit Amazon or Goodreads and leave a review. Every review helps other readers find Echo Falls and I’d love to hear what you thought. Thanks.

  Patti Ann

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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  Patti Ann Colt lives in Arlington, Texas. She enjoys having her handsome grandson underfoot and her three grown children nearby. A life-size cutout of John Wayne stands near her desk and supervises her writing. When she’s not working, she’s hanging out with assorted extended family, playing with five bed-hogging dogs, cooking something scrumdillyicious, sewing, researching genealogy, and, of course, reading—both print books and on her Kindle.

  Where you can find her:

  Websit
e: http://www.PattiAnnColt.com

  Blog: http://thecleverwriter.com

  http://worthadamnfood.com

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  Email: PattiAnn@PattiAnnColt.com

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  Books by Patti Ann Colt

  Homespun Stories of Family, Adventure and Romance

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  Echo Falls, Texas

  A Hometown Romance Series

  The Daddy Spell

  Five-year-old sisters Boo and Lindy want a daddy -- and anything goes in their quest, including a secret spell known only to the twins. On a lonely country road, Chad Applegate appears out of nowhere to help the girls and their mother rescue an injured dog. Robin Harmon's stubborn independence and breathtaking curves mesmerize the handsome pumpkin farmer, and her daughters charm him. In turn, they are fascinated by his tales of pumpkin magic. Despite Chad's captivating blue eyes and tender kisses, Robin cannot believe his happily-ever-after promises. Experience has proven those kinds of dreams never come true. Will Robin deny the possibility of forever or will her daughter's daddy spell work its magic?

  The Sweetheart Dance

  Although Echo Falls high school teacher Meg Applegate aches to belong to Bret Cara body and soul, he maintains a hands-off policy. She is wife material and violates his no relationship philosophy based on years with combative parents. But when a practical joker spikes Meg’s drinks at the Valentine’s Day Sweetheart Dance, Bret comes to her rescue—and she astounds him with a hot, sensual kiss. Assisting the police department in tracking teen felons, Meg takes the opportunity to snag the handsome cop’s attention and they launch an affair based on Bret’s ‘no strings’ rules. But each searing encounter conflicts with her beliefs and dreams. She cannot maintain their bargain forever, but despite making love he seems no closer to giving her what she needs. When Meg’s conscience demands more from him, will Bret walk away or deliver his heart?