by Becki Willis
“I’m trying to give you space, Genny darlin’. You’ve been through more in the last month than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. You were stalked. Pembrook came back into your life. Then the fool kidnapped you and held you against your will. You found out he was responsible for the Morgan’s deaths. You lost your home. And then you almost lost your life, because someone else from your past was so jealous and bitter she couldn’t let it go. That’s a lot for anyone to process, Genny, even a woman as strong and wise as you are.”
“I don’t feel strong and wise,” she admitted, wiping away a tear that trickled down her cheek.
“But you are. You just need a little time. The last thing you need right now is me mooning over you, babbling on about the grandchildren we’ll have one day.”
She smiled through her tears, just as he intended. “I don’t mind,” she admitted, bumping her shoulder into his.
“Take what time you need, Genny darlin’. I’ll be right here beside you, helping you any way I can.”
“Thank you, Cutter.” She leaned into his strength.
“I told you before, Genny. If all you want from me is friendship, then I’m okay with that.” His voice sounded strained as he said the words.
Genny closed her eyes and absorbed some of his warmth, some of this strength. Caught up in the wondrous feeling of safety she felt when with him, she missed the nerve that worked in his jaw. She was surprised when he spoke again, his voice low and rough with emotion.
“I just lied to you, Genny.”
She pulled away so that she might look at him. He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I’m not okay with it, but I don’t have a choice.”
“Cutter—”
He interrupted her, his voice raw. “I’ve told you twice now, Genny, that I loved you. You haven’t said it back.” It was not an accusation. It was simply heartbreak.
“I know the age difference is a big deal to you,” he continued. “You’re ashamed of us. I can’t help that I was born eight years after you, Genny. The way I see it, it’s eight years of my life wasted, not having you in it. Now that you are in my life, I want to keep you here, so I’ll do what I have to do. Maybe sometimes I’m not too gracious about it. Maybe sometimes I let it hurt a little too much. But I’ll try to do better. I’ll try not to let my feelings for you come between us. Because I will always be here for you, Genny darlin’, no matter what. You can always depend on me.”
“Oh, Cutter, I know that! I—”
“Let’s just leave it where it is, Genny,” he said, his voice on the verge of cracking. He stood abruptly, rocking the swing in his haste. “Look, I gotta go.”
“Please, Cutter, don’t go,” she begged, grabbing at his arm. “Not like this.”
He pulled his arm away, cramming his cowboy hat onto his head. He could not scramble off the porch fast enough.
“Goodnight, Genny,” was what he said.
But “goodbye” was what she heard.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She had hurt him. Genny was miserable with the knowledge.
She moped around the rest of that evening, and all the next day. Cutter did not show up for lunch. He sent a text, saying he was working on a job out of town. And that evening, instead of dropping by, he sent another text. Something about helping a friend.
It proved to be a miserable weekend. Alone in the Big House, and without Cutter there to lighten her days, Genny felt more alone than she ever had in her life. She could not enjoy her day off on Sunday. Her mind was too busy, her heart too heavy.
Cutter finally showed up at the café on Monday, but he came early, during her busiest time. He took a booth by the windows instead of their table in the back. And he carefully avoided looking her in the eyes.
She should have spoken up that night on the porch. Her silence had hurt him.
When James Callaway came in, Genny tried to give his table to another waitress. But he requested her specifically, so she put on a smile and pretended not to notice the way Cutter watched their friendly interchange with hurt, brooding eyes. And when the professor asked her out on a date for what had to be at least the sixth time since she had known him, she faltered. She glanced Cutter’s way, three booths down, hoping he had not overheard.
Cutter took one look at her guilty expression, another at the hand the professor had snagged in his, and the firefighter misinterpreted her hesitation. Cutter threw down his napkin and stomped to the door.
And in that moment, Genny knew what she had to do.
“Cutter, wait. Don’t go.”
When she called his name across the crowded café, he stopped, but he did not turn around.
Genny ignored the fact that the restaurant was full and that dozens of people were listening in, watching their every move. The look in his eyes had been her undoing. Both their hearts were breaking.
She used a page from his own playbook. She repeated almost the same words as he had said that night along the roadway, matching his solemn tone, matching his matter-of-fact delivery, as she called out in a voice strong and true, “I’m in love with you, Cutter.”
He said not a word, his back still to her. Those who saw his face saw the smile that lit first his hazel eyes, then his face. He winked at the man who sat nearby, as if to let Fred Gleason in on a private joke.
“No you aren’t,” Cutter argued, throwing her own response back at her. “You’re grateful to me.”
The crowd did not understood the tiny smile that pulled at her mouth, even as she asked in an irritable tone, “So… what? You think I’m too old and feeble to know my own heart?”
Cutter lifted his shoulder in a casual shrug. “What do I know? You think I’m a foolish Kindergartener.”
“I never called you foolish.”
“You think I’m too young for you.”
Genny blanched. He had her there, but she had come too far to back out now. And he was wrong about one thing. He thought she was ashamed of him – of them – when it was her own foolish insecurities holding her back. She wasn’t ashamed, she was afraid. Afraid of falling in love with a younger man and looking like a fool. Afraid of falling in love and getting hurt. Afraid of taking a chance at happiness.
But the truth was, she had already fallen; long ago, if she were being honest with herself. And nothing could hurt as much as the weekend without him had, when she wondered if she had lost him for good.
“A wise man once told me that this age thing between us,” Genny recalled, as she took a few tentative steps forward, “‘is what it is.’ We either accept it or we don’t.” She took another step, her voice softening. “I’ve decided to accept it.”
“Sounds like a cool guy,” Cutter replied. “Maybe we should invite him to the wedding.”
“W—Wedding? What wedding?”
“Ours, of course.”
While half the people in the room gasped, Cutter finally turned around to face her, his smiling eyes slightly mocking. His voice was a wee bit condescending when he said, “Come on, Genny, you have to know I’m remodeling the house for you. I’m always asking for your input. You said you loved window seats. I put in half a dozen. You said you wanted a soapstone counter top. It arrived last week. You want two dishwashers and those fancy warming drawers. I’m putting them in. For you. The house is custom made to your liking, right down to the porch swings out front. You had to have noticed.”
Oh, she had noticed, all right. She had noticed and called herself a thousand kinds of fool. The house isn’t for me, she would scold herself, even as her heart spun dreams of how she would decorate it, how she would one day share it with Cutter.
She swallowed hard. “I—I thought the warming drawers were for your apple turnovers.”
“They are,” he allowed. There was a swagger in his step as he moved one count closer. “But everybody knows you make the best apple turnovers in the county.”
Fred nodded, confirming the fact. “It’s true. She does make the best turnove
rs.” A dozen onlookers nodded in agreement.
“You know what I told you about them,” Cutter said, taking another step. This wink, slow and sexy, was just for her. “I told you I’d give up apple turnovers, if I could taste your sweet kiss every day.”
Genny felt a blush warm her cheeks, heard the whispers that flew through the air. “I remember,” she said breathlessly.
“We talked about grandchildren. And I told you I planned to marry you one day.”
A smile played on her lips. “So this is a twofer thing,” she surmised.
He shrugged again, but his eyes twinkled in merriment as he narrowed the gap between them. “I figured marriage was the only way to guarantee a lifetime supply of both. The perfect twofer-one deal.”
“You forget. I haven’t said yes yet.” She stopped a few feet from him. “For that matter, you haven’t even asked yet.”
“Are you going to make me get down on one knee?” he playfully grumbled. “These pants are pretty tight, you know.”
She was insane. It was the only explanation. Love had taken over her brain and rendered it addled, as surely as dear Mrs. McSwain’s.
“Fine,” Genny quipped smartly. “Then I’ll do it.”
She ignored the shocked gasps that ricocheted around the room. With no thought to her pride, Genny dropped to her knee. To Cutter’s complete surprise, and to the utter delight of all those who watched, she smiled shyly up at the firefighter.
“Cutter Montgomery, I can think of only eight reasons this is a bad idea. But I can think of a dozen reasons why it makes perfect sense. So I have a question to ask you. Cutter, can I marry you?”
His hazel eyes danced with delight, but he held in the jubilant cry that swelled his chest. Propping both hands upon his hips, he pretended to scowl. “Only a dozen? I ought to make you stay down there on your knees until you come up with at least the first hundred reasons.”
A grin soon split his handsome face as he offered her his hands. “Come on, Grandma Gennecut; let me help you up before I say yes.”
The crowd behind them chuckled. A few women released a dreamy sigh, while one or two of the men called out words of encouragement.
As Cutter put one arm around Genny’s waist and pulled her in close, he waved them off with other hand. “Don’t mind us, folks,” he called over his shoulder. “Go on about your meal. I’m going to kiss my fiancé now, and remind her of a dozen more reasons why we should get married.”
As he lowered his face to hers, Cutter’s voice was warm and adoring. “Genny darlin’, we’ve wasted too much time as it is. I vote we make this Gennecut thing permanent, as soon as possible.”
“I like the sound of that,” she whispered against his lips. “Mr. and Mrs. Gennecut, forever.”
“Forever.”
You are invited to spend Christmas in The Sisters, coming Nov. 2017.
***
Thank you for reading! I hope you’re enjoying yourself as much as I am with this series! Many readers tell me it’s like spending time with old friends.
Now for the hard part: the business side of an otherwise delightful career.
This is the part of my job I don’t like. You’ve already done me the honor of reading my book, and now here I am asking for more. I’m asking for a review. (It’s like inviting you to come for dinner and expecting you to bring your own batch of Gennydoodle cookies!) And I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important, but reviews are HUGE when it comes to the success of a book. It may seem like such a small thing, but it makes a world of difference for an author.
So, please, if you’ve enjoyed your time with Genny, Cutter, Maddy and the family, please leave a review on Amazon. Reviews on BookBubs, GoodReads, or other sites of your choice are an added bonus, like icing on that cookie!
Feel free to contact me at [email protected], at https://www.facebook.com/beckiwillis.ccp/, or at www.beckiwillis.com. I love visiting with readers!
Books & Reading Order in The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series
1 Chicken Scratch
2 When the Stars Fall
3 Stipulations & Complications
4 Home Again: Starting Over
5 Genny’s Ballad
6 Christmas in The Sisters
7 The Lilac Code
8 Wildflower Wedding: With a Killer Reception
9 Untitled