Chapter Eight
“Fulsom countered my counteroffer, and I took it. The deal’s done,” Sven shouted when Carl answered his phone the following morning as he stepped out of the shower. “I got everything I wanted and more!”
“Congratulations,” Carl told him, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He headed into his bedroom and dried off while Sven told him all about it. “Sounds like you handled it perfectly.”
“Thanks to Camila. Don’t let her go, man. That woman’s one in a million.”
“I plan to keep her around as long as she’ll let me,” Carl said, pulling clothes out of his closet. He tossed the towel aside and tugged on a pair of boxer briefs. He’d had to take her to the restaurant last night, and it had been hell to let her out of his sight, but they’d be together again soon. “Did you sign the paperwork with Fulsom already?”
“My lawyers are going over it, but so far, so good. This is really happening,” Sven added. “I’m shaking, man. I can’t believe it.”
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” Carl grabbed his jeans. Pulled them on.
“Yeah.” He paused. “Hey, I’ve got another call. I gotta go, but I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I know I’ve been a bit of a pest.”
“Not at all. You helped me, too.”
“Looking forward to doing a lot more of that just as soon as this deal is in the bag. I added language to the contract so Fulsom can’t back out of supporting the school upgrade even when he takes over my company, by the way. When I can, I plan to come out and lend a hand.”
“Looking forward to it.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Carl had just finished dressing when someone pounded on his front door. He crossed through the cabin to open it and found Virginia on the front stoop, her umbrella in her hand.
“I don’t know whether to shake your hand or bash your head in,” she announced, stepping over the threshold.
“The board approved the project,” Carl reminded her.
“No thanks to you. You nearly blew it. Your friend had to save the day. I should be showing him a ranch.”
Carl bit back the first answer that sprang to his lips. “Is that why you’re here? To show me a ranch?” he asked.
“I’m not here to socialize.”
“Looks like you’ve got the Founder’s Prize in the palm of your hand.”
“That’s right. Come fall, Settler’s Ridge will be Cooper land.”
Carl didn’t remind her that the Turners—and everyone else—still had months to try to even the score. No need to rile Virginia.
Twenty minutes later she directed him to drive up toward a wrought-iron gate that blocked the entry to a ranch Carl had heard about but never visited.
“Laurel Heights is a jewel,” Virginia told him. “Nothing can rival Thorn Hill, of course, but Laurel Heights comes close. Fifteen hundred acres. All usable land, except the high ground in the northeast corner. Only a little farther out from town than Thorn Hill. Handy for a city slicker like you.”
She would have made a good real estate agent, Carl thought as the gate opened automatically. Better than Megan Lawrence, who’d never managed to find him a property like this. As they drove up the winding paved road, Carl had a feeling this ranch outstripped Thorn Hill in every way imaginable. He could tell it had achieved a prosperity Virginia’s property never had, but he knew she valued Thorn Hill for its history more than anything else.
Carl was grateful for that; he didn’t want to compete with anyone else for Laurel Heights, judging by the look of the place so far. After several minutes, the carefully trimmed shrubbery that lined both sides of the drive fell away, and the vista that appeared brought Carl’s heart into his throat. An almost palatial home sat atop a rise of ground, looking out over a spread of pastures, brush and forest in the distance. “It’s—” He broke off and cleared his throat, suddenly struggling to speak. “It’s beautiful.” He slowed the car to a stop and sat looking at it all. “Don’t pull my leg on this one. I couldn’t stand it,” he said truthfully.
“I’m not pulling your leg. You did something for my family, and I reward that kind of loyalty,” Virginia said complacently.
Loyalty. Carl swallowed. Would she feel the same way if she knew about his relationship with Camila? She’d better not find out until the deed was in his hands.
“I’ll want a fast sale,” he said. “I don’t want to be screwed around again.”
“The seller is aware of that. It works in his favor, too. He needs to be in Dubai by the end of the week.”
“Dubai?” He decided he’d better not ask, although he was certainly curious.
“Oil business,” Virginia said succinctly. “This is a trophy ranch. A prosperous ranch, nonetheless, but it’s a trophy, not a real home. You’ll have to fix that, I suppose.”
When they met the owner and toured the main house, Carl began to understand what Virginia meant. Everything was perfect, but nothing was homely about the residence. He wondered what Camila would make of it. At least there would be plenty of room for her family to stay when they visited.
An hour later their tour was done, and the owner, Charles Cassidy, and his agent, Mark Fontaine, had appeared with paperwork. Virginia wandered off, bored with the proceedings, and poked around a formal rose garden. The deal didn’t take long to hammer out. Carl was offering cash and the full price. He’d known the minute he’d seen the property it was the right one.
“Do you have a date in mind for closing?” Mark Fontaine asked.
“A week from today?” Carl ventured. He had a feeling Cassidy wouldn’t balk, and he was right.
“A week it is,” Fontaine said after a nod from Cassidy.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Whitfield.” Cassidy shook Carl’s hand.
“I’m looking to keep this quiet for now,” Carl told him. “That all right with you?”
“Fine with me. I’m not in town much, anyway.”
“Good luck in Dubai.”
“Enjoy your new ranch.”
Carl still couldn’t believe the man could walk away from a place like this. A few minutes later it was all over, and Cassidy and Fontaine had gone, telling him to stay and explore the property as long as he wanted to.
“All settled?” Virginia asked, joining Carl at his truck.
“All settled.”
“You’ll be moving soon, then?”
“Yep.” He wouldn’t tell her how soon. “Keep it to yourself, though. I don’t want to jinx it. And if this deal falls through for any reason, I’ll make sure Sven reneges on his promise about the school. Got it?”
“Whatever,” Virginia said, but he was sure he’d just bought her silence. He opened the door for her, and she settled herself in the passenger seat.
“Speaking of which,” Carl went on. “It was mighty convenient for you that the owner of Hilltop Acres decided to sell to someone else right when you needed me to help with the school.” That had bothered him for a while.
Virginia shrugged. “A very deserving couple bought it. The wife is the granddaughter of someone I know at the Prairie Garden. What would have been a small property for you was the perfect size for them. Funny how these things go.”
“Yeah, funny.” Meddlesome woman had nearly messed up everything for him.
“Funny how losing Hilltop Acres ended with you finding the ranch of your dreams,” she added tartly.
Carl couldn’t help but chuckle as he shut her door and walked around the truck.
Hell. She was right.
“We’re back,” Fila said when she and Juana burst into the restaurant laden with shopping bags. While they’d prepped the food earlier that morning, Fila had pushed Juana to think of a special dish to cook up for the lunch crowd and then had taken Juana to the grocery store to buy the ingredients.
Camila was thankful to her friend for helping Juana like that. While her cousin’s initial trepidation seemed to have calmed down, she still seemed overwhelmed at times. Camila wanted to make the transition easy, but she was still finding it hard to think of anything except being with Carl the other night.
She couldn’t wait until they were alone again, but she wasn’t sure when that would be. All Carl had said when he dropped her at the restaurant that night was he’d call… soon.
“Did you find everything you needed?” She caught sight of Juana’s face and paused. Juana didn’t look happy.
“We did our best,” Fila said.
“Everything is so different here,” Juana exclaimed. “None of the fruits and vegetables are fresh enough, the masa flour is too processed, the cheeses and spices are all wrong.”
Camila glanced at Fila, and Fila shrugged. “My mom taught me to cook an Americanized version of our culture’s food, so she was the one who had to struggle with the differences, not me.”
Juana hastened to say, “I mean no criticism, but tiny differences add up.” She pulled a tomato out of a bag, lifted it to her nose and sniffed it. “This is red, but it doesn’t smell ripe. No wonder you put sugar in your salsa.”
Camila nodded. Her father had complained about the same things all her life. “What did you decide to make?”
“Chiles en nogada.” She saw Camila’s confusion and explained, “It’s a lot like chiles rellenos but served on celebratory occasions. The dish incorporates the colors of our flag: green chile peppers, a creamy white nut sauce and sweet red pomegranate seeds.”
“That sounds—” Camila paused. It sounded far too strange to catch on in Chance Creek. Hot peppers and cream? Pomegranate seeds? That was a stretch. But Juana was grinning ear to ear, and she had to admit a dish that physically embodied the Mexican flag seemed like a fitting way to introduce their new authentic Mexican recipes.
“That sounds perfect,” she made herself say.
Juana set to work while Camila and Fila went about their usual chores getting ready for the lunch crowd. They’d decided to offer samples of Juana’s dish to everyone—and see how many people ordered it. Fila made a big sign to advertise the special entrée and posted it near the cash register. Bess, who ran the till, also handed out the samples.
As people began to trickle in, Juana hovered over the stove, making sure to be ready to dish out plates, but as the minutes ticked by, no orders came for the chiles en nogada, and Camila began to wish Fila had pressed Juana to make a simpler dish.
“Don’t worry,” she told her cousin. “The lunch crush has just started. Things will pick up.”
Things did pick up—for her and Fila. Finally someone ordered Juana’s dish, and Juana jumped into action, quickly serving it up and passing it through the window to the front of the restaurant. But then more minutes ticked by and no more orders came.
Camila was as hard-pressed as usual to keep up with preparing their stock dishes, but when she looked up and caught Juana blinking rapidly, her chin lifted in the air in a valiant attempt to hold back tears, she knew she had to do something.
“Be back in a minute.” She ducked into the restroom, pulled out her phone and called Mia Matheson, Fila’s sister-in-law. “Mia? Have you had lunch yet?” She explained the situation as quickly as possible. “Can you grab a few people and come order Juana’s dish? It’s killing me to watch her, and really the dish is great if you know what to expect.” She’d sampled it earlier and realized her mother had served it sometimes when they were kids. She simply hadn’t thought of it in years.
“I’m on it,” Mia said.
Twenty minutes later several orders for Juana’s dish rolled in. And then a few more. And then a few more. Camila said a silent thank-you to Mia for obviously rounding up a bunch of their friends. Juana was beaming now, especially when Bess called in through the window, “The Mathesons want to meet the new chef!”
“Come on,” Camila told Juana. “Let’s go show you off.” She led Juana out to the main part of the restaurant and made the introductions. “Juana, this is Mia Matheson, her husband, Luke, his brother, Jake, and his wife, Hannah, and Fila’s mother-in-law, Lisa.”
“Your cooking is divine,” Lisa said. “I’ve never tasted anything like it. Pomegranate seeds in a nut sauce. What will they think of next?”
“Thank you,” Juana said shyly. “It is a very traditional meal in my country.”
“I can see why. It’s yummy,” Hannah said. “Totally different from anything I’ve ever had.”
“I had to make Luke try it,” Mia confided, “but even he thinks it’s good.”
“I’m more of a hamburger kind of guy,” Luke said. “I didn’t think I’d like this, but I do.”
Juana took that in. “Maybe it’s too… strange… to start with? Should I try something more familiar?” she asked.
Camila held her breath; she hadn’t wanted to dictate that course of action to Juana, but now her cousin was making the connection herself.
Luke nodded. “Around here folks are kind of traditional. Some people are adventurous when it comes to food, but a lot of us aren’t. We like beef. Do you know how to make anything with beef?”
“Si!” Juana nodded her head.
“Something that looks kind of like something I might have eaten before?”
She thought about this.
“What if you took a traditional Mexican beef dish of some kind and wrapped it in a tortilla?” Hannah suggested. “We eat burritos all the time.”
“Burritos?” Juana sighed and nodded. Camila knew why: Mexicans didn’t eat them the way Americans did. “Si. I can make delicious burritos.”
“But not too spicy,” Mia cautioned.
“Not too spicy,” Luke confirmed. “A man likes to be able to taste his food.”
“Not too spicy,” Juana agreed. “I can do that. I guess.” She made a face.
Camila laughed along with the rest of the group. “We’d better get back to the kitchen.” As she ushered a much happier Juana back to the swinging doors, a new group of customers walked into the restaurant.
“Ooh, what’s that?” Camila heard a woman ask.
“It’s new,” Mia told her. “You can try a sample at the counter. It’s amazing.”
“Can you come for a ride? I need to show you something,” Carl asked several days later when he arrived at Fila’s Familia just after nine.
Camila glanced back at the kitchen to find Fila waving her away. “We’ve got this,” she called out. Juana was helping her prep food. She’d come a long way during the week and already moved around the restaurant kitchen like she’d been working there for years. Over the past couple of days, she’d designed several different burrito fillings and kept offering taste tests to the customers, keeping a running tally of votes. Once she’d gotten past her nerves that first day, she seemed to get a kick out of the process of trying out dishes and getting feedback. Camila had no doubt soon her dishes would be favorites at the restaurant.
“Guess I’m free to go.” Camila let Carl lead her to the door. In his truck, as he drove them toward the edge of town, she asked, “What’s this all about?” She couldn’t help reaching over and touching his arm. He took her hand and held it as he drove, rubbing his thumb over her palm until her body thrummed with need. Twice they’d managed to be together, slipping off in Carl’s truck and finding quiet places to park off the road. But Camila was afraid sooner or later they’d get caught like that. The danger added a little thrill, but she was ready to spend a whole night with him.
“Soon,” he kept saying whenever she spoke that desire out loud.
She wondered what he was waiting for. She didn’t want to leave Juana alone too much so soon after she’d arrived, but her cousin could stand a single night alone in the cabin.
“It’s a surprise.”
He turned on the radio and hummed along to a country song. Sunshine flooded the truck cab, raising Camila’s spirits. She loved spending time with him no matter what they did, and life was good with Juana fitting in so well at the restaurant and her parents happy about their impending move. Even Mateo seemed upbeat these days, sending her texts about his plans for turning the restaurant into a nightclub. He kept sending her lists of bands he wanted to book. She had high hopes for how that would turn out.
“While we have a minute, I’ve got a question,” Carl said.
“Fire away.”
“I thought you grew up in Mexico.”
Camila bit her lip. Here it was, the topic she’d been dreading. But this was Carl. He’d come clean about the secrets he was keeping. It was her turn.
“I lied,” she said.
“Why?”
“When I first got here, I thought people wouldn’t take me seriously as the owner of a Mexican restaurant unless I was from Mexico. I was having a bit of a crisis. Leaving home—it was harder than I’d thought.”
Carl nodded. “I guess I’ve seen and heard enough these past few days to understand why you’d feel that way. Are you going to tell your friends?”
She thought about that. “I guess so. They aren’t going to care one bit, are they?”
“Nope.” He chuckled, and she thought about Juana, hiding her desire to come to the United States out of fear of what her parents would think—and then learning her mother meant to send her here whether she wanted to go or not.
“Life is weird,” Camila said. “We spend a lot of time worrying about the wrong things.”
“You’ve said a mouthful.”
Camila straightened when Carl turned into a driveway, pressed a button on a remote control to make a gate open and continued on, stopping only when the grounds opened up to reveal a ranch spreading all around them.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s lovely. Is it for sale?” She couldn’t let herself hope it was. This wasn’t just an average ranch; it was a stunning property.
“Not anymore.”
Her heart sank. Of course not. But this was the kind of ranch Carl wanted—that must be what he’d brought her here to see. Something to hope for in the future—
“I bought it last week. Just cleared escrow this morning.” He held up a key. “Want to take a look?”
Camila’s breath caught. “You bought it?”
“Yep.” He was grinning ear to ear.
“You really bought it?” she asked again. “And it’s yours? No tricks? No way to lose it again?”
“It’s mine. Ours, someday, I hope. Do you like it?”
“Carl—it’s beautiful!”
“The house needs work to make it a real home, but I think you’ll like it.” He drove the rest of the way up the drive and parked. “Come and see.” When they reached the front porch, he unlocked the door and led the way inside. Camila gasped when she took in the view from the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen was something out of a dream: miles of stone countertops, a huge island with seats for eight. An eight-burner professional stove. She turned in a circle, trying to take it all in—
But came to a stop, tears stinging her eyes when she caught sight of Carl down on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. The cowboy grinned up at her.
“Camila, I know I should wait. I know we need to date, get to know each other, plan and dream—and I’m okay doing all those things. But please—say you’ll marry me when we’ve done all that. I can’t deal with the suspense any longer.”
Camila couldn’t answer. She hadn’t realized until this moment how afraid she’d been that they’d never get here. Her hands were shaking. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. A tear spilled down her cheek.
“Camila?” Carl reached for her hand, and she laughed a little, nervousness overtaking her. “Hey,” he said. “You’re not supposed to laugh at me. You’re not supposed to cry, either.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at… life. It’s so good,” she managed to say through her tears. “I didn’t know it could be so good.”
He surged to his feet and caught her in his arms. She went up on tiptoe to kiss him. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was—not that someone like Carl would fall for her, but that he loved her enough to wait until she was ready.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he finally said when he pulled back. “Will you marry me?”
She was making him wait again. “Yes,” Camila told him. “Yes, I will marry you.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She’d gladly marry him—right now if he had an officiant hidden somewhere.
“It’s my huge-ass house, isn’t it?” he asked when they broke apart some time later. “I mean, who could resist this?” He gestured to the enormous kitchen island.
“Not me,” Camila said. “But it isn’t the huge-ass house. It’s the man. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Carl took a ring out of the box. “You didn’t even look at this yet.” He slipped it onto her finger.
Camila gasped. The diamond-studded ring he’d chosen was exquisite. She felt like a princess wearing it. As he encircled her in his arms again, she had a feeling Carl would always make her feel that way.
He loved her.
And he’d put down roots here—he’d bought a ranch. Her ranch soon.
“I can barely take all this in,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me about this place?”
“I had to make absolutely sure Virginia couldn’t take it away again. She’s the one who helped me find it.”
“You think she would try to stop the deal if she knew you were with me?”
“Yes. Just to be ornery,” he said. “But now she can’t hurt us ever again.”
“Does that mean we’re going to tell the Turners and Coopers about being engaged?”
“Hell, yeah. I’m going to tell everyone.” He lifted her up and twirled her around. “I’m going to marry Camila Torres,” he shouted.
Camila laughed. “You’d better drive me back to town. I’ve got to help with the lunch rush.”
“Sure thing.” He set her down and led her toward a wide set of stairs. “But first let me show you the master bedroom.”