Rocky Mountain Hitched: Contemporary Western Romance (To Love Again Book 6) (3 page)

“How’s the leg, hon?” Betty put her hand on Isabel’s shoulder and smiled down at her. “You holding up okay?”

“Absolutely. I’m sure it’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

Betty nodded. “I made some fresh tea biscuits and hot cocoa. Come on.”

Isabel rose and linked her arm through Betty’s and limped down the hall to the kitchen. Hanging their coats and scarves on hooks, he followed behind.

“Susan and Ann left fast,” he noted.

“Susan grabbed the baby and they took off. The kids were asleep on their feet.” Betty plunked mugs in the center of the table next to a plate of steaming biscuits. Tipping a pot on the stove, she poured rich, dark cocoa into a white ceramic pitcher and added it to the table before settling into a chair. “Nice night out there?”

“Cold, but very beautiful,” Isabel said, breaking open a biscuit and reaching for the butter. “The moon was huge.”

“Tray take you down into the coulee?”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah.” She grinned at him and he winked back. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Betty turned to him and quirked a brow. “I thought you might go out again once you dropped the kids off.”

He shook his head and shot her another warning glance. “Too cold, Mom.”

His mother shrugged. “Oh, I forgot - grab the Schnapps, will you Tray?”

He rose, rifled through the top cupboard and passed the bottle to his mother.

Betty poured a generous amount into her mug. “A touch of peppermint to brighten up your cocoa?” Isabel nodded, inhaling the heady scent of mint. “What’s on the agenda for tomorrow? You coming to church with us?” She turned her focus back to Tray.

Tray stifled a smile at Isabel’s deer-in-the-headlights look, and shook his head. “Not this time. I want to show Isabel around the farm in the morning.”

“Hmph. I suppose God can spare a few minutes away from church to drop by the barn.” He split open a biscuit, and slathered butter over the steamy dough. He did miss his mother’s cooking. Many a Friday night as a child were spent watching black and white movies on television with a mug of hot cocoa and warm tea biscuit. It still spelled comfort for him, and his mother knew it. “Be sure to check on the pen at the back of the second floor in the morning. Michael said he thought there was a problem with it.”

“He mentioned the fence, but not the pen.”

“Farm’s falling apart. Nothing unusual there - a constant round of repairs and be grateful they’re just minor ones. Your father could hold the country together with a bit of wire and a roll of duct tape.”

Isabel laughed. “I wish I’d met your husband.”

“He was the love of my life, no question there,” Betty sighed. “Tray tell you about his involvement with the cloud seeding program?”

“Cloud seeding?” Isabel looked to him.

“Not yet, Mom, why don’t you tell her?”

Betty pushed back from the table and heaved her body up. “Good story for tomorrow. I’m heading to bed.” She kissed the top of Tray’s head, and rested her hand briefly on Isabel’s shoulder. “Very nice to have you here, hon.”

“Thanks, Betty,” Isabel said. “The biscuits are delicious.”

“’Night then,” she said, shuffling down the hall. Silent, they tracked her progress up the stairs and along the hallway overhead to the corner room.

Tray dragged his chair across the floor. It was torture being so near yet so far from her. Her cheeks still blushed from the cold - or maybe the Peppermint Schnapps - and her hair fell across one eye. He reached out, brushed it back, then leaned in to kiss her. A peck at first, then deeper, until he felt as warm as she looked. His body responded and he dropped a hand onto her thigh. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him gently back.

He cocked his head, questioning.

“Not here, Tray.”

“It’s just a kiss,” he said, running his hand through her hair.

“I know, but I’ll never sleep if you get me all riled up. Not to mention I still need to get up those stairs.”

He leaned back. “True. You ready to go up?”

“One more biscuit,” she grinned, plucking one off the plate. “Your mom is great.”

“She is. We were worried about her after Dad died. Thank God Michael and Susan are so close. She loves spending time with the grandkids.” He reached for another biscuit. “It didn’t throw you that the kids called you Auntie? They basically call every adult either auntie or uncle.”

“It’s fine,” she said, eyes sparkling. “Your family reminds me a little of Jenny’s. It feels so … it seems that you’re all so close and it’s fun having a big group around the dinner table.”

He ached to ask her. He could lean in, right now, and ask her. Waiting was excruciating. To hell with romance - the setting wasn’t that important, was it?
Just open your mouth and ask her.

Pushing up from the chair, Isabel braced herself against the table. “Help me upstairs, my knight?”

He slid an arm under her shoulder and when they reached the stairs, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Betty had left the lamp on and the blankets turned down. He set her on the edge of the bed and pecked her on the forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

In the kitchen, he put the biscuits in a tin, rinsed the cups and left them in the sideboard to dry. The butter went into the fridge, and the liqueur back in the top cupboard. He wiped the counter, checked the front door, and headed back upstairs.

Isabel never mentioned her family. He knew she didn’t have a large family and they lived somewhere else. But nothing beyond that. He’d been worried his family might overwhelm her, but she seemed delighted. That was a blessing. He
would
ask her tonight. Right now. He climbed the stairs, careful to avoid the squeaky step near the top so he wouldn’t wake his mother.

Her door was slightly ajar - she was expecting him - but he still tapped lightly before pushing it open. She smiled at him, over his mother’s shoulder. Betty turned her head.

“I wanted to be sure Isabel has enough blankets,” she said, “and bring her this heating pad.” She slid it under the blanket. “Is that the right spot?” Isabel nodded. “Okay, then, we’ll let you get some sleep. Come along, son.” With that, she pulled him back into the hallway. Tray threw her a kiss before Betty clicked the door shut.

“Mother, really, I’m a grown man,” he whispered.

“You are. And you can see her in the morning. My house, my rules.” She enveloped him in a big hug. “She’s a keeper, Tray. I hope you’ll make an honest woman out of her.”

“Maybe if I ever get a minute alone with her …”

Betty chortled and turned toward her room. “I put extra blankets on your bed. It’s gonna be a cold one.”

In his old room, the windows were frosted over. He closed the blinds, changed his clothes and dove under the covers. He’d wanted to prolong the kiss they had started in the kitchen. He’d wanted to live dangerously and get their blood boiling again. His was boiling again now just thinking about her. Two doors down and he couldn’t reach her. Torture. Grabbing his phone, he sent her a text.

Goodnight, my love.

His phone chirped back.
Sleep well, my knight. Xoxoxo

That would have to do for tonight. He tossed and turned a long time before sleep finally graced him.

CHAPTER THREE

“I had no idea it was so big,” Isabel said.

“Careful, someone listening might misinterpret that remark.” Tray laughed and threw his arm over her shoulder.

She elbowed him in the side, but his heavy jacket buffered the effect. “Who will overhear it? The horses? The chickens? Where are the chickens?” She tilted her head at him in that way that made him want to ravish her.

“In the next barn,” he said. Everyone was at church and they had at least an hour to themselves.

“So, here we have the horses, saddles, tools,” she said, pointing things out as she walked along. “What is this big machine?”

“Really? You don’t recognize a combine?”

“I would, if it was in the field during haying season. Of course I would.” Pink tinged her cheeks, reminding him most of this was new to her. “But there are three barns? Where are the cows?”

“We only keep a couple of cows for milking.” He jerked his head toward the back door. “They’re in the far stalls.”

“Your brother said you farm mainly wheat?”

He nodded. “And canola. Sometimes mustard. That’s why my father was so involved with cloud seeding. The hail storms that roll through here in the summer can completely wipe out a crop - and an entire year of income.”

“Did that happen to your family?” Her face darkened.

“Many times.”

“How do you bounce back from something like that?”

“Sometimes you don’t. Even with the help of government subsidies, most family farms in this area end up going further into debt. If the bank pulls the loan - which happened to a couple of our neighbors - you can lose everything overnight.”

“That’s horrible,” she said. “How many acres does your family have?”

“Four sections, a little over 2,500 acres. It’s been in the family for almost a hundred and forty years.”

Isabel whistled softly. “That’s a long time.”

““It’s a good story, that my mother is sure to tell you at some point. My father’s relative - I’m not even sure how far back - first came to the west as a mail order bride to marry the man who claimed this land.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“You’re fascinating,” he said, bending to kiss her. “I know a nice hay loft we could visit.” He wiggled his brows.

She laughed. “You don’t have more to show me?”

“I have a lifetime to show you,” he said, his breath slowing. His heart pounded against his chest, like a scene from an Edgar Allan Poe story. Surely she could hear it. He pulled her tighter and rested his forehead against hers. “Isabel, oh God Isabel, I love having you here.”

“I love it, too.” She tipped her head up to meet his eyes and pecked him on the lips. “It’s so different from my everyday routine. I’m loving every minute.”

He pulled her closer. “I love you,” he murmured. “You’re everything I’ve always wanted.” He dropped to one knee in the hay and pulled his hat off. He looked up and she made a small “oh” sound. He drew in a deep breath. “Isabel …I hope this doesn’t feel too sudden, but … we’re not kids, you and I …”

She took a small step back. “You’re going to propose to me in the barn?”

“Well, damn it, I tried to set up a romantic sleigh ride last night but all the kids came along.”

She stroked his hair. “I’m teasing. But are you? Proposing?”

“What else do you think I’d be doing on one knee in the middle of the barn?”
I should give up.
He started to rise, but she held him in place, hands on his shoulder.

“Tell me, I want to hear what you have to say. You know, when we’re together - any time, any place - it’s romantic for me.”

He grinned and let out a breath. “I know it seems soon. But damn it - I could have died at New Year’s. And seeing you flying off that horse yesterday, my heart nearly stopped. We’re not kids. We know what we want.” He reached up and took her hand. “What do you say? Lying in the hospital in Banff I realized I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I’d love for that life to start now. Or at least as soon as possible.”

Isabel closed her eyes and toed at the hay.

He waited the longest time, struggling to slow his breathing.
Take a chance, Isabel.
“You sure know how to keep a guy in suspense, girl.”

She opened her eyes, bright with tears. Grasping his biceps, she pulled him up and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him almost breathless.

“Is that a yes?” He tweaked her nose and stared into her eyes. “Please Isabel, tell me --”

“Yes, it’s a yes.”

He folded her into his embrace and squeezed her. The horses shuffled in their stalls, one of the cows mooed. He would hold this moment in his heart forever. He kissed the top of her head.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Maybe with a long engagement.”

“Don’t go getting cold feet already.”

“I’m not, I’m just …”

“Trying to set the parameters? You’re not in charge anymore, Dr. Chapel. This is about you and me now, so don’t go thinking you’ll be making all the decisions.”

She poked his chest. “Alrighty then. But … are we going to tell your family?”

“Let me think about that …”

“Clearly, they’re expecting it. They haven’t been exactly subtle.” She grinned.

“True… Mom has her heart set on me asking you in the coulee where Dad proposed to her. Why don’t we go riding after lunch and tell her after that?”

She backed out of his reach. “I don’t have a problem with that, except I don’t plan on ever getting back on a horse.”

“Well, that’s another discussion,” he said. “But isn’t that what you’re doing agreeing to marry me? Getting back on the horse? I mean, if you can do it figuratively you may as well—”