She’d just have to keep this early-morning treat a little secret. “Hey,” she called up to the boys on the roof. “I have key lime bars and blondies.” She glanced around for a place to set the plate. “Should I—?”
“We’ll come down,” a dark-haired man with a full beard called. She’d met Brett yesterday, and he didn’t say a whole lot, which unsettled her. The quiet ones always did.
He greeted her first and took one of each bar. He’d eaten his whole key lime bar before the other two men appeared. “This is fantastic, Miss Grace,” he said. “My wife would love these.”
Jon and another man, Luis, selected their treats too. Grace wasn’t sure what to do. Say “Great, enjoy,” and walk away? She should. Anyone else probably would. But she wanted to breathe in the clean, minty scent of Jon’s aftershave and press her cheek to his chest to feel his pulse bump against her skin.
“Morning,” she said to him as Luis moved away to find a spot of shade.
With his mouth full, he simply nodded. Once he swallowed, he said, “Mornin’, Miss Grace.”
She indicated the blondie. “You like it?”
He considered it. “It’s great, yeah.”
Her heart fell to the dirt and rebounded back to her chest like a yo-yo. “You don’t like it?”
He put the rest of the bar in his mouth—he obviously liked it. That, or he was really hungry. Or maybe he was part goat and would eat anything. “I think it’s great,” he said. “I just like chocolate brownies better.”
“Yeah, I get that.” She flashed him a grateful smile. “Chocolate is the way to go.”
“So this is…?”
“Key lime bar,” she said. “It’s tart and sweet.”
He cocked one eyebrow at the dessert and then at her before taking a bite. He moaned and his beautiful eyes closed. “Gracie, you’re a genius in the kitchen.”
Grace’s chest swelled with pride. “Thank you, Jon.” She glanced over her shoulder as a couple of trucks came around the bend and pulled into the Courage Reins parking lot. “Well, I better get these over to the people across the street.”
Jon’s intense stare made her blush, though she wasn’t sure why. “All right then.”
Grace felt like he was dismissing her, because it wasn’t the reaction she wanted. She wanted him to ask her to stay just another minute, or touch her hand before she left, or ask her to come back at lunchtime so he could see her again.
Something tortured passed through his expression before he turned away. “Thanks for the treats, Grace.”
“Yeah, thanks Grace,” Brett called, and Luis lifted his hand in gratitude. As Jon moved away, another snag of disappointment caught behind Grace’s lungs. She turned and hurried across the street, so she wouldn’t have to be rejected by him so openly and completely in front of other people.
Her pride had been punched, and she tried to eradicate the pinch in her chest before pushing through the door of Courage Reins. The receptionist glanced up and then nearly toppled his chair as he stood and came around the counter.
“Miss Grace, welcome.” Reese beamed at her, and her wounded pride lifted a little bit. “What do you have for us today?” He stopped and leaned against the counter as Pete poked his head out of the conference room.
“I am so happy Heidi is opening a bakery,” he said, a grin gracing his strong features.
She smiled at the cowboys. “Key lime bars and blondies.” She passed the plate to Reese, who set it on the counter. “I have more in the car. I just need a couple for Heidi and the other women.”
“I’ll help you get them,” Reese said. He followed her back to the car, his injured leg dragging a little bit. “My wife will be upset she stayed home today.”
“Sneak one behind the counter,” Grace said.
“Pete’ll be able to sniff that thing out by lunch.” Reese chuckled. “The lieutenant has the nose of a hound dog.”
“I can take it to her on my way home,” Grace offered. “Is she not feeling well today?”
A grave look of sadness etched itself across Reese’s face. “She’s…okay. It’s….”
“Never mind,” Grace said quickly. She’d only met Reese and his wife Carly a couple of times at church and their personal lives were none of her business. She busied herself with cutting the bars and sliding them onto another paper plate.
“Our adoption fell through,” Reese blurted. “Carly spoke to the birth mother last night, and she’s…dealing with the loss today.”
Grace’s muscles tightened and her motions stalled. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She put her hand on Reese’s arm. “I didn’t know you were trying to adopt.”
Anger and hope and regret passed across his face. “Have been for a while.” He took a deep breath. “It’s okay. I have faith in the Lord. I believe He’ll give us a baby when the time is right.”
Grace marveled at the strength in him. “And Carly? She believes that too?”
“She does,” he murmured as he took the plate of goodies from her. “We just all deal with setbacks in different ways, even if we have faith. Right?”
Grace smiled at him. “Of course, right.” She thought about her own losses, the enormous weight of debt she carried on her slim shoulders. She had faith things would work out—just as surely as Carly did—but sometimes seeing the light through the darkness was more difficult than anticipated. Grace knew that better than most.
“Thank you, Miss Grace.” Reese tipped his cowboy hat and started across the street. She watched him go, a silent prayer for him and Carly floating through her mind. It felt good to pray for someone else for a change—she’d spent so many months praying for herself, for her cupcakery, for what she wanted that she’d somewhat forgotten that others experienced pain and trials too.
She inhaled deeply, taking the fresh scent of ranch air in through her nose to clear her head. Thank you for bringing me to Three Rivers. The peace she felt here lifted the weight of the money she owed and the failure she felt so keenly.
Chelsea emerged from the front door of her house, one baby strapped to her body and her toddler’s hand in hers. Grace smiled in their direction and collected the remaining treats before glancing toward the construction site.
She wished Jon would be standing on the roof, watching her. But he wasn’t. He was bent over, his focus only on his work. Grace sighed, not sure why she’d expected him to act any different, and headed into the house for another day of baking.
Jon hated the disappointment he’d caught on Grace’s face. He’d wanted to hold her, breathe her in, brush his lips along her cheek, but he couldn’t. Not in mixed company, and he probably shouldn’t at all if he didn’t have plans for something more long-term. He didn’t want another three-month relationship with Grace. He’d already done that, and been unsatisfied.
With every pulse of the staple gun, a question burst into his mind. So what do you want to do?
He placed another tar shingle and pressed the stapler flush against it. Staple, staple.
Move to Three Rivers permanently?
What would you even do here?
Another shingle. Another couple of staples.
Is there a construction firm here?
Maybe you could start your own. And do what?
He reached for another stack of shingles, the heat even this early in the morning almost unbearable. But it wasn’t really. The temperature had skyrocketed since Grace had shown up with those treats, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a blue flowered tank top.
The shingle made a slapping sound against the roof as he threw it down. He positioned it, the muscles in his back stretching as he placed the stapler along the edge. Staple, staple, staple.
Build sheds?
Are there housing developments here?
Enough home improvement jobs?
As the shingles went down in even rows and the minutes passed, Jon tormented himself. By the time Brett called to him to come down to get out of the sun and get a drink, Jon hadn’t arrived at a sol
ution yet.
Maybe there wasn’t a solution. Maybe he should accept Grace’s goodies whenever she brought them, mind his own business, and go back to Oklahoma City when the job ended, just like he’d been planning.
He’d certainly never looked at Three Rivers as a permanent place to put down roots. The very thought actually made him physically ill, and he stumbled on the ladder. Brett lurched forward to help him, knocking Jon’s hat off.
“I’m okay,” Jon said. “I’m fine.”
“Come get a drink now.” Brett’s commanding tone wasn’t lost on Jon, and he actually appreciated it. He’d known Brett since childhood, watched him get married and go off to war, had been there when he’d come home the first time, and the second, and the third.
He obeyed Brett, relishing the icy water as it touched his tongue and flowed down his throat. But he knew he wasn’t dehydrated, at least not enough to make him stumble down a ladder, something he’d navigated easily for decades.
He refused to look toward the homestead, instead closing his eyes and breathing deep.
“Eat this.”
He opened his eyes to Brett holding a Snickers bar toward him.
“I’m fine.”
“Eat it.” He shook the candy bar, the plastic wrapper rattling.
Jon glared as he took the bar and unwrapped it. “Commander, it’s not the heat.”
Brett cocked his head and appraised him in that calculating way all Army men had. Jon had briefly considered following his friend into the Army, but he’d chosen the Marines instead.
“What is it then?” Brett asked.
The water he’d drunk sloshed against his stomach walls. “It’s Grace Lewis.”
Brett’s gaze wandered to the homestead, and Jon could practically see Brett’s wheels spinning. “That’s Grace Lewis? The Grace Lewis? The one you liked in high school?”
Jon pressed his mouth into a thin line and nodded.
“Didn’t you take her to homecoming?”
“Yep.”
“She moved….” Brett reached up and rubbed his beard, his eyes thoughtful. “Funny how you and her ended up here at the same time, all these years later.”
“We went to dinner last night.”
Brett switched his shrewd gaze to Jon. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Jon filled his cup from the orange cooler again, taking a minute to get away from Brett’s blazing eyes. “I like her, okay? But….” He looked out over the endless horizon, the undulating fields, imagining he could see the little town of Three Rivers, where he’d never wanted to come.
He turned back to Brett. “But she just moved here to help Heidi open her bakery, and well, I threw a fit about even coming here for a few months to work.”
Brett started nodding before Jon finished speaking. “What do you have lined up after this?”
Jon didn’t want to say “nothing,” but he did anyway.
Brett gave him the courtesy of thinking for several minutes while Jon munched on the candy bar. He did feel new life entering his bloodstream from the sugar, and he took off his cowboy hat and wiped his forehead.
“Maybe God brought you here to reconnect,” Brett finally said.
Jon had already entertained that idea, and told Brett so.
He held up his hands. “Okay, I won’t counsel you. I’m just sayin’ that it’s not the first time the Lord has used Three Rivers to help two people reconnect.” He stacked his cup on the top of the orange cooler, whistled for Luis, who had wandered out onto the plains, and started up the ladder to resume work on the roof.
Jon took a few extra minutes in the shade, contemplating how he felt and what Brett had said. He mulled over possibilities for a long-term relationship with Grace, but before he could truly come up with one viable option, the woman who’d been tormenting his every waking thought for the past twenty-four hours came walking toward him.
Grace had begged Heidi to wait until lunch—when all the cowhands would come to the house anyway—to allow samples of the goods they’d baked that morning. She didn’t mind traipsing all over the ranch—it was one way to get in her steps for the day—but she didn’t want to face Jon again until they could be alone.
Yet there he stood, alone, in the shadowy doorway of the barn he’d been working on all morning. Yes, she’d taken a peek here and there in between batches of sourdough and honey wheat, and while the cupcakes baked, she’d brainstormed staple flavors of frostings and fillings while she stood at the wide wall of windows in the kitchen.
Jon had been on the roof all morning, his focus admirable, his work ethic second-to-none. Why, oh why, had Heidi timed her delivery of samples with his morning break?
“Hey,” she said as she approached with a tray of her cupcakes clutched in her hands. She really wanted him to like them, as if his opinion alone could resurrect her failed business in Dallas.
“Salted caramel chocolate,” she said indicating the cupcakes on her left with her chin. “And peanut butter chocolate chip. Oh, and Heidi sent samples of her bread too. Sourdough and honey wheat. She says she’ll be making sandwiches out of the bread at noon. Everyone is welcome to come eat lunch at the homestead.”
Jon patted his flat stomach. “I just ate.”
Her spirits deflated. “I made the cupcakes. You like chocolate.” She hated that the desperation in her voice had sounded so loudly.
“Look, Grace—”
“Okay,” she said loudly as she moved to the ladder. “Boys, there are cupcakes here.”
It took less than ten seconds for Brett to shimmy down the ladder. He took one of the peanut butter cupcakes Grace had presented him with, and the look of pure bliss on his face brought a smile to Grace’s face.
“Lunch at noon,” she told him and Luis before turning toward the equine therapy center. Kelly and Chelsea had spent the bulk of the morning talking about Pete and his program, who they worked with, and how Pete needed more cowhands to help because his clientele had expanded so much.
“Grace, wait.”
She turned at the plea in Jon’s voice, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Instead, she cocked her hip and waited.
“I want one of those caramel ones.”
She made him to come to her, her pulse speeding with every step he took. He selected the smallest of the cupcakes, though they all seemed to be the same size. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he took a bite, the whipped cream smearing across his upper lip. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and everything inside her wanted to lean closer and lick the cream from his lips.
Startled at the strong urge, she stepped back. “Enjoy.” She turned before he could see the burning in her face.
“Grace, I don’t live in Three Rivers.”
A few seconds passed before his words registered in her ears. A few more for her to face him again and set the tray of goodies on the ground, her movement slow and jerky at the same time. “Okay,” she said to the top of his cowboy hat, as he’d ducked his head to finish his cupcake.
He licked his fingers and met her eye. “I don’t live here, and I don’t….” He exhaled and looked away.
“You’re not interested,” Grace said. “It’s okay, Jon. Really.” Her heart would recover. He’d only been in her life for one day. Surely it wouldn’t take that long to get over him. Certainly not as long as last time. She started to move away again.
“Wait, what?” His fingers landed on her bare upper arm, sending electricity to her fingertips and into her forehead. “Of course I’m interested.” His hand slid down her arm and into hers. “I’m really interested in you. I’m not interested in living in Three Rivers.”
Ah, so there it sat. She blinked at him, not quite sure which part of what he’d said to process first. The fact that he was interested in her? Or that he’d been cold and distant that morning to deliberately push her away because he wasn’t a permanent resident of the town where she now lived?
“I—How long wil
l you be here?” She examined the worksite behind him as if the wood could tell her when the barn would be finished.
“Through Christmas probably. I was hopin’ to be home for the holidays, actually.” He ran his free hand up the back of his neck, disturbing his hat the slightest bit. “I’m sorry about this morning. I don’t know if you noticed, but—”
“I noticed.” She squeezed his fingers. “And it’s okay. We don’t have to get married by Christmas.” She smiled up at him, leaning into his body a little bit more and taking his other hand with hers. “Right?”
Heat and desire ran through his eyes as he gazed down on her. She lost herself to the chemistry between them, the current that connected him to her, the shelter of his cowboy hat as he dipped his face closer to hers.
For one breathtaking moment, she thought he’d kiss her right then. Her lips tingled in anticipation of meeting his again. Sure, she’d kissed him before, but it had been a long time and she couldn’t quite remember the taste of him, the shape of his mouth against hers. And she wanted to.
His lips skated across her cheek, landing in the hollow just below her ear. “So, what are we gonna do?”
“Do?” She mimicked his hushed tone, her hands sliding up his impressive biceps to hold onto his shoulders. His kiss, though it hadn’t landed on her lips, had rendered her weak.
“It’s only a few weeks until Christmas.”
“It’s two and a half months until Christmas, Jon.” She giggled, the sound fading into a gasp as his breath coasted across her skin.
“It’s too soon,” he whispered.
Something clattered above them, and Grace jumped out of Jon’s arms, startled and embarrassed at the same time.
“Jon?” Brett called. “Oh, there you are. You comin’?”
Grace had the feeling that Brett had seen their embrace and done his best to spare them the embarrassment of catching them.
“Yeah.” Jon didn’t look away from her. “I’m comin’.”
“See you at lunch.”
He took a couple of steps backward and lifted his hand in farewell, before turning and striding toward the ladder. She watched him haul his tall, muscular frame up the rungs and disappear onto the roof.
Christmas in Three Rivers: Three Rivers Ranch Romance Novella Collection Page 15