by Jillian Hart
"So, your family is upper class." His hands trembled as he stuffed bills back into his wallet and change in his pocket.
"My father has done very well over the years." Modest. That's what she was. She turned to pluck paper napkins from a dispenser.
"Very well?" Len chuckled as he filled two to-go cups with cola. "That's an understatement, don't you think? Your family's house is on Lake Washington's shore."
"I'm sure Cord doesn't want to hear about my family." She gave an adorable eye roll. "I'm not my family. I'm me. I don't own the yacht or a house on the lake. Just a little townhouse that's not too far from work."
"Yeah, okay, you keep saying that." Len winked in agreement and handed over two bagged meals and the sodas. "You two enjoy. Holler if you need more tartar sauce."
"We will, thanks." Emily grabbed one of the bags and a soda, shaking her head. "I was hoping not to have to talk about my family this early in the getting-to-know-you phase."
"Why's that?" Cord felt hollow as he grabbed his share of the food, too shocked to really feel anything yet. It must be the calm before the storm. "Why didn't you tell me about the yacht and the house?"
"It's no big deal. It's not what matters about me." She chose a table under a shady umbrella with a perfect view of glinting lake and blue sky. "As much as I love my family, and I do, I am my own separate person. Shocking, but true. Even if I can't live without them."
"I see." When he settled into the chair across from her, shock wore off enough to feel the pain hitting like a bullet. Emotional pain radiated through his sternum. He gripped the table edge, holding on.
Emily wasn't right for him. Not at all. Not one bit. Never could be. And she didn't realize it yet.
Woodenly, he tore the paper off his straw, his fingertips too numb to work properly. He fumbled with the paper and the straw. "Your family must love you so much."
"I'm very blessed, but they are far from perfect and I love that. They are fun and funny and maddening and great all wrapped up together in a big mess of normal family life." She punched her straw through the X in the plastic lid and crumpled the wrapper up in the palm of her hand. "You didn't come all this way to hear about my family's assets. In the car you mentioned this isn't the first time you've been to Seattle."
"Nope, I stayed at a hotel near the university a few years back." He clasped his hands together and said the blessing, but he couldn't find his heart to pray with. It was impossible to find anything through all the pain.
He'd come so far, and he was wrong. What would a woman from a rich family want with him in Montana?
Nothing permanent, that's what. He'd been right all along. Emily was too good to be true.
He'd let his hopes get too high. He hadn't meant to, he'd tried not to, but the end result was the same. He was sitting here, hurt, with the woman he wanted and could not have. She wasn't right.
His brother's predictions hadn't been far off.
"The university?" Unaware, she tucked the straw wrapper neatly into her food bag. "Were you considering going to the U Dub?"
"No, would have liked to. I came for a conference, but back when I was looking to go to college, I got a scholarship to Stanford." Time to reel things in. Hide his disappointment. Big time disappointment. "So I became a California surfer dude. Don't laugh. I spent a couple of summers lifeguarding at a county pool about two feet from the ocean. I took up surfing. I wasn't bad at it, and I had a lot of fun."
"I never would have guessed it." Humor, delight and compassion lit her gentle eyes, transforming her into an even greater beauty. She was lovely on the inside, too, her spirit stunning. "You were once a cool guy."
"Sure I was, go ahead and tease. I was cool for about five minutes, until I wiped out, but for a moment there, I really did look the part of a cool surfer dude on my board."
"I would guess more than look, but be. You're not all that uncool now, for a guy without a board. Or an ocean."
"It was the whistle that really did it, when I was a lifeguard. I was the cat's meow."
"Wow. I'm impressed."
"That was my granddad's term, not mine. But he visited and I never lived down my reputation in the family as the impractical one who went California."
"I'm not sure that is anywhere close to being true, but for a very traditional, very grounded ranching family from Montana, I bet they thought you were a spectacle to stare at."
"They still stare at me and wonder where they went wrong. It's terrible."
"That's what they say, I bet."
"True."
"It's painful, really," he quipped. Humor was always the way to go when you knew you were unable to fix what was wrong. "They favor my brother because of it."
"No, say it isn't so."
"It's true. I suffer, all because I had a dream." He winked, holding back his laughter.
She held back hers. "I feel for you, I hurt for you. At least you got to realize your surfing dreams."
"Really, it was the quest to be cool. Although I'm not exactly sure what cool is, I pretend I achieved it."
"Well, then it was not a dream deferred."
"Nope, it was an answered prayer. I had a whistle and surfing lessons."
"However did you give it all up?"
"Mostly, I ran out of summer and had to go back to class."
"That would do it. Reality. It gets in the way every time." She was still joking too, but it was there anyway, the truth behind the humor, and it touched them both.
She reached across the small table, her hand lighting on his arm. Never had he felt such comfort.
His soul leaned toward her, wanting only her.
Wasn't that too bad? He couldn't hold onto her. He knew better than to try. It was a mistake he would not make twice. Look at her, so beautiful.
Genuine emotion lit her up, dimming the rest of the world. She made the incredible beauty of the sparkling lake, the infinite sky and the glorious sun pale next her.
He inched away, scooting into the chair as far back as he could go until he was out of her reach. She lifted her hand from his arm, and the emotional connection between broke.
They were just two people sitting together at a patio table watching the view.
Just two strangers, after all.
5
The awkwardness was back. Emily picked at the last of her fries, chose one and dunked it in a puddle of tartar sauce. This time the awkwardness felt different. Not coming out of shyness, but because of something more serious. It had started when she'd reached out to touch him and he'd pulled back.
Maybe she'd moved too fast. Maybe he'd decided he didn't want to get that close to her. What if he had changed his mind about her? Whatever the reason, she tucked away her disappointment and prayed it didn't show.
"How's your uncle's wedding plans coming along?" she asked to break the silence.
"Fine, as far as I know. I'm real happy for him. No one deserves it more." Cord finished his fries, not looking up. "Everything has turned around for him. It's God's grace."
"What a blessing." She felt the distance growing between them and she didn't know what to do about it. She wanted to feel closer, not a world apart. "An August wedding sounds lovely, but so soon. Will they have time to get everything ordered and set up?"
"Apparently. The venue had an opening, so they jumped and took it. One of those God things. Perfect timing, but he had to scramble to try and pull it all together. Move the cake order up, get a band and a photographer, get the church scheduled, but it will work out. It has to. They deserve it."
Something soft and tender reflected in those eyes of his, so deep, a sign of the man's love for his family. Her heart twisted with the power of a wish that was fading.
Avoiding her gaze, he grabbed his soda cup and drained the last of his cola.
She didn't know what else to say to attempt to bridge the distance between them. He'd pulled away from her touch, and he was pulling away emotionally. She feared she had her answer. This wasn't going to work.
Disappointment hit her like a tsunami. He'd spent just enough time with her to change his mind. Skip had just taken longer to do it, but this was the way it went with her romantic hopes. And the thought of losing Cord ached like no other.
She crumpled the paper box of french fry remains and dumped it into the food sack. "Shall we go?"
"Yep, I've done all the damage I can." He crunched up his sack and empty soda cup and climbed to his feet, moving with an athlete's agility and laid back appeal. He took her sack and cup and ambled over to the garbage can. A few women seated at other tables looked up to take note.
Not that she could blame them. He made a fine picture with the breeze tousling his dark hair and the sun gilding his impressive physique. The quiet power eliminating from him could steal a woman's breath away. He definitely looked like the kind of man who could put words into action, the type of man who kept his promises.
A tiny twist of wistfulness gripped her. She busied herself putting on chap stick and finding her keys so he wouldn't catch her watching him as he walked up.
"That hit the spot." He stuck his hands in his pockets, thumbs out, looking like a magazine ad with his charm and rugged masculinity.
She definitely had to get her wishing under control.
And her disappointment.
Well, that had been the risk of having him come visit. Things hadn't worked out.
She took a steadying breath and lifted her chin, hoping her dignity showed. "I'm glad you liked the food. I haven't asked how you like the Seattle area."
"It's a pretty city." He matched his pace with hers, heading back toward the sidewalk. "The lake is really something. I like that you can see the mountains and all these trees. Yet there's all this stuff going on."
"Yes, too bad the city isn't your thing," she said, doing her best to keep the conversation going. She did not want another awkward silence stretching between them. That would feel too much like a failure. It was better to hide behind small talk. "Are you already missing home?"
"A little. I miss my cattle and my horses," he clarified. "And Kate. I spend most of every day with them all. But Kate is family. I spend most minutes of the day with her. God's creatures have their own personalities. They're good company."
"It sounds like it. I've never met a cow."
"Never?"
"I've seen them in fields when we've been out biking, but I didn't feel the need to get off my bike and climb the fence to meet them." This was definitely better than silence. She just had to keep it going for a little while longer. "We lived on the edge of the city limits, with some acreage. The neighbors around us had horses. I was simply never around cows."
"I can't imagine it." He winked, lightly teasing, perhaps trying to fend off silence, too. "I grew up with cows everywhere."
She smiled. "I had to fill my time somehow, since there were no cows available. So, Mom kept me busy with more activities than I have time to list. Ballet, tennis, piano, flute, art, golf, languages for a start."
"Wow. I know how to ride a horse. How to milk a cow. Put up hay. That's about it."
"Stop with the joking."
They smiled together, and for a moment she could see what might have been. Companionable conversations and laughing together through the years, of having this good man by her side. One that seemed to be everything she'd hoped for.
That was a lot to lose. She felt the dream fade, one she'd held from his first written words to her. The sun went behind a cloud, like a sign from above. She looked down at her keys and hit the unlock button. She wanted to end this the right way so that he would never guess she was hurting.
Disappointment? That was no longer the word as she circled around her car. He opened her door and held it while she slipped onto the sat.
His nearness made sweet tingles skip down into her soul. Looking up at him, he was larger than life, the good-at-heart man she'd been praying for. But something had changed, and it was clearly time to let him go. She wanted to ask about it, but she was too shy. She didn't know how to start.
He closed her door and circled around to the passenger side. He tucked his long legs behind the dash and settled into the seat beside her. It was just the two of them and the awkward silence.
"I'll take you back to your hotel now." Her words were shakier than she wanted them to be. "Unless there's some other place you wanted me to drop you off? Do you need to run an errand?"
"No, just the hotel, please." Emotion cut crinkles around the corner of his eyes. "I guess our day together is at an end."
"I guess so." Relationships didn't work out all the time. She certainly didn't want to make this harder for him than it had to be. She slid the key into the ignition and gave it a turn. "Maybe it's best to be honest."
"Honesty has always been my policy."
"You're not going to see me tomorrow, are you? You've already spent enough time with me. You've found out what you needed to know and you're leaving."
"I've been trying to figure out how to bring the subject up," he confessed.
"I could tell." She swallowed hard, fighting the hurt. "You don't feel the same way about me that you did earlier. I understand. I don't meet your expectations and that's okay. At least we tried and now we know."
"It's true, I can't deny it." He confirmed her worst fears in his gentle, low tenor and just like that, in the kindest way possible, he shattered her heart.
He'd stopped caring about her. She took a wobbly breath, determined to hide the strike of pain rippling through her.
"I can't deny I thought you had a good chance of fitting into my life. You have both feet on the ground, you love animals, and you are just perfect." He reached for his seat belt and clicked it in, taking his time to find just the right words. "You are those things, but you're also not what I expected and it's thrown me."
"I was honest with you online, Cord."
"I know you were." He wanted to reassure her of that. The fault wasn't hers. He'd done things wrong. He'd failed to ask the right questions. "It was all me."
"You weren't honest with me?" A frown tucked into her forehead.
He gazed into her soulful eyes and saw a well of disappointment. A hurt he shared.
Way to go, cowboy. A day spent in her company and you've already blown it. Big time.
Not that there had ever been a chance of this working out, he knew that now, but no way did he want her hurting like this. He couldn't live with himself if he caused her harm. "I am honest, and you know I care a lot for you."
"And I care a lot for you." She stumbled over the words, keeping her chin up. She shook her head, scattering silky, lightly curling locks. "What's changed?"
"I have more information about you, that's all. There's no way you are going to be happy settling for a man like me." It was a simple fact.
"I wouldn't be settling." Instead of smiling, sadness reached her eyes.
He wasn't sure how to do go about doing the right thing without hurting them both. The sun beamed through the glass, heating things up even as the air conditioning cooled it. This wasn't easy to say. "I work ten hour days six days a week. During calving season and harvest, it's closer to sixteen. Sometimes eighteen. On Sundays I take time out for church and a few hours for actual relaxing. I can't see you being happy with that kind of lifestyle. You're just too good for me."
"You're kind. That's a nice way to end things."
He swallowed hard, fighting to get the truth out, what he was afraid of most. "I don't want to end things. Maybe it would be best if we stayed friends."
"Friends?" She leaned forward to flip on the air conditioning. "I did have a lot of fun today."
"I did, too." Except no way could he see a woman who spent time on a yacht liking working life on a cattle ranch. "It's a remote lifestyle."
"True."
"How long can you go without a movie theater? Shopping in a fine department store? And as for gourmet restaurants? Forget it. There's a steakhouse under an hour away. I don't want to disappoint you.
"
"I've already figured that out. I don't think it's as big of a difference as you think. But I can't say you're wrong. I love my job, I love my life here. I'm simply lonely and wishing I had the blessing of a good marriage."
"Me too. Let's face it, you are the best catch that could come along for me. But I'm not the best for you. I can't move here." He suspected he wasn't saying this right, but he was doing his best. He wanted to make her understand. "My days are dedicated to the animals and what they need. They eat first, they are tended first, if one is sick, I stay up at night with him or the hired men do and take care of him. I do what it takes. It's a responsible life."
"I can't say I know much about that." Vulnerable eyes met his. "But you are honest and that is saying a lot about you."
"Not really, I'm saying this badly and I'm sorry for it." He rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated with himself. "I don't want you to take the let's-be-friends thing as not being good enough. You are mighty fine, and more lovely than I ever imagined. You are everything and more."
"Oh, I see." She reached out to lay her hand on his arm in a show of comfort and stopped midway, her compassion so compelling he could not look away.
When she set her hand on her knee instead of touching him, he knew why. He remembered pulling away from her. That act had said something he hadn't meant to, so he reached over and covered her hand with his.
The instant they touched, his soul stilled.
Unfair, he thought.
"Maybe you should tell me about your ex-girlfriend." Understanding gentled her voice, breaking past his defense and his defeat. Time to fess up.
"Well, now that we know each other better and we have all that will-this-work-out, out of the way. I wanted to ask a question, so I might as well, right?"
"Right."
"Well, online you mentioned you'd had a bad breakup. Once," she emphasized. "I didn't press you for more info because I was shy and I was afraid I would give away how much I was hoping for you."
"I get that. Me too." He grimaced, bowing his head. "This isn't easy. I don't talk about it, although Alex will not let me live it down."