14
She bent over to dip water out of the river, her hair in a makeshift knot that had come half-loose, her skirt hiked up over a pair of the prettiest ankles he’d ever seen as she waded in.
He’d die for her.
It was a possibility. There was a small local war going on as the ranchers squabbled over their land and she was vulnerable, a woman alone with a child, a lovely widow doing her best to hold on to what she’d fought to build. He wasn’t about to let her lose it all.
Maybe he wasn’t a fast draw yet, even though he’d been practicing, but he was a fair rifle shot, he’d discovered, and he could put food on the table. She’d made venison stew the night before that was so tender it melted in his mouth, and despite her guarded stance, he could tell she was starting to trust him. He now had his bedroll on that old front porch.
He felt like he’d gained something special right there.
The war wasn’t over, but a skirmish had been won.
MICK EYED HIS computer screen thoughtfully, read it over again, and decided it fit the voice well enough, but wondered if it was too sentimental.
Maybe not. Men were every bit as sensitive as women were, they just didn’t express it in the same way. His father had refused to get rid of the old rocker in the corner of the living room because his grandmother had given it to him, despite his mother’s objections to the impact on her otherwise perfectly furnished space. It did stick out like a sore thumb, but he’d stood firm.
Though she came off as highbrow most of the time, Mick had certainly noted his mother had left it there even after her husband had died. That antique rocker stayed put. Maybe she was more sentimental than he thought.
So maybe he’d leave the writing as it was for now. He liked it. If a man would sleep on a woman’s front porch, he was really into her, and willing to protect her. Hopefully Matthew Brighton would agree.
Especially on a day like today. The wind had picked up, he could hear it whistling by the windows, and even the ski slopes were empty. It was getting later, or maybe just felt like it because the skies were so gray.
He was trying not to crowd Raine too much, but he slipped out his phone and thought about it and then touched the screen. She answered almost at once. “Hi. What do you need? I’m swamped.”
He grinned at her tone. Even clearly distracted, she was appealing. “This might sound crazy, but what if I asked Stephano to make a few sandwiches and throw in whatever other genius side dishes he has and we took dinner to the cabin? Daisy could come, too, of course, but I need... I don’t know, a sense of place. You said the woodstove still worked, right?”
“There’s probably a zillion nests in the chimney, even though I had it cleaned, so the whole place could go up in a plume of smoke, but as far as I know, yes. Slater just picked Daisy up so she can’t come along, but I’m up for it. I need a break. Tell Stephano I’d love some of that garlic artichoke dip he’s so famous for. I’ll come get you. What time?”
He glanced at his phone. “Is two hours too soon?”
“No, perfect.”
“Great. I’ll call when I’m on my way.”
He then phoned down to the room service number and asked for Stephano himself if possible. Probably thanks to his association with the Carson family, it was. “Can you make me whatever you think is your best sandwich, the artichoke dip Raine apparently loves, and anything else you’d add to an alfresco dinner for two in an old cabin? I’m putting myself in your hands.”
“You have chosen wisely.” Stephano sounded delighted as he announced, “I will wipe your socks off.”
Mick almost mentioned that “knock your socks off” might be the more appropriate description, but he refrained. Stephano’s English was sometimes as creative as his cooking. “I look forward to the meal.”
“You should.”
He hung up with an inward shake of the head and a grin. There was nothing wrong with self-confidence. Mick normally had a decent dose of it himself, but lately he couldn’t count on it.
It didn’t help that the front desk called and said a special delivery had arrived for him via special courier, and as he went down and signed the confirmation of delivery he knew that his life had just changed forever. Raine had turned down Slater flat. At the moment Mick was decently hopeful that that wouldn’t happen to him. Although she’d pointed out how different they were, an observation he didn’t disagree with, they’d then discussed marriage, even children and some future plans, so he took that as an encouraging sign. But he hadn’t actually asked yet.
He’d implicitly trusted Ingrid to choose a stunning ring and he wasn’t disappointed. Nestled in the satin lining inside the small box was a chocolate diamond exquisitely cut and anchored on a platinum band. The name of the jeweler making him lift his brows. The assumption she’d spent quite a chunk of his change on it was a given, but he planned on only doing this once in his life.
He felt Raine would love it. He sent off a quick text to his brother. Tell Ingrid I’m smiling. Thanks.
Ran texted right back. Good luck, loverboy.
He went back to his room, wondered what a man wore to propose at a haunted cabin at night, and finally decided maybe he should go shopping at some point because the best he could do was dark, tailored slacks and a white shirt along with his infamous loafers. Definitely vintage Mr. Boardroom, but then again, he was living out of a suitcase at the moment. He hadn’t known exactly what to expect from this visit to Mustang Creek.
More writing was out of the question. Instead he paced, tried to watch the news and turned it off since it was the wrong night to hear about what was awry in the world, and instead turned on a classical music station and checked his email. Not much going on during a holiday week and he was enjoying the respite from his normally hectic schedule, so that was just fine with him.
It was ridiculous, but he was nervous. Like he was seventeen and about to pick up his first prom date.
But he was far from seventeen, he reminded himself as he clicked off the computer screen. And he needed to get a grip. He took a calming breath, deep and slow.
He could handle this. Ask the question, hopefully get the right response, and if she chose to be as pigheaded as a feisty mule—a description he’d undoubtedly picked up from Red somewhere along the line—he’d reconsider his tactics.
The elegant bag with Stephano’s latest masterpieces was delivered right on time and he was more than ready to make the call. “I’ll be there in a few minutes with the requested dip in tow.”
“I’ll be ready.”
I’ll have the ring and the question.
He didn’t say it, but he certainly thought it as he left the resort and got in his car. He did make one stop in town before he drove to her house, and when he pulled up the light was a warm, welcoming glow in her window.
He knocked and walked in when he heard her call out a welcome. Jangles of course went in for the kill, but by now Mick was ready for it and dodged away. Raine was smiling. “Nice move for a city boy. But he’s going to mope. Give him a couple of treats to make him feel better while I grab my keys.”
Of course, the cat understood every word. He followed Mick into the kitchen and stared unwaveringly at the correct jar on the counter.
Message received.
He got out a handful of treats and put them in the bowl. Jangles devoured them in about two seconds. Mick had an impulse to deal out more, but Raine came in then and said, “No, that’s enough, he’s playing you. He does that. Let’s go.”
She jiggled the keys.
He wasn’t positive he was composed enough for this evening, but he decided to take his cues from Jangles, who had collapsed into a relaxed sprawl on the floor, his eyes half closing. His pose screamed: stop worrying.
Mick escorted Raine out the door. “Let’s go while the food is still at least semi-hot. It smells like heaven.”
“What is it?”
“No idea.”
“You ordered it, right?”
He held her elbow as they made their way down the snowy sidewalk. “I gave Stephano carte blanche, though I did specifically request the dip you wanted. He promised I would be impressed—at least I think that’s what he was saying.”
“He does have a way with words, doesn’t he?” She pushed a button to unlock the vehicle. “One of the many things I love about him.”
He set the bag in the back and got in. “You don’t mind driving in this weather?”
“No.” She didn’t, he could tell. “Wow, it does smell amazing in here.”
“That man loves you right back. Whatever is in there is because I mentioned your name. I can take zero credit.”
She backed up the car and they tackled the street. “I’m already starving. The cabin, huh? I appreciate your enthusiasm but you should be forewarned this could be an interesting journey. The snow has somewhat melted off, but it’s blowing around more than a little. Luckily this little buggy can handle just about anything.” She patted the steering wheel. “I’ve been there a thousand times. I think I could find it blindfolded.”
* * *
Maybe she’d been optimistic.
It wasn’t whiteout conditions, but it was very near, and in broad daylight it was a challenge without a road of any kind, so in the dark it was close to impossible.
Mick seemed pretty determined that the cabin be their destination though, and she sensed it had something to do with the manuscript. She was pretty good at reading people and more in tune with him than most—and Mr. Cool, Calm and Collected was wound up about something. There was tension in his shoulders and a set to his jaw that said something was certainly on his mind.
Maybe it was just that he was making some big decisions, but she didn’t think so. Mick Branson did that every single day and didn’t even blink about it. He made up his mind and sailed on that ship full-steam ahead.
“There’s a big drift by the porch,” she noted out loud. “We’ll be walking the last bit. Luckily there’s still firewood piled inside. I brought a lighter for the lantern in case all the matches are damp and you should put on those boots Mace gave you.”
“I bought some for myself, and a sleeping bag, some candles, and a fire log to get things going for our impromptu camping trip.”
No wonder he’d loaded several bags besides the food into the back of her car. She’d wondered if they were going off to safari in deepest Africa.
Snow swirled around them in ghostly forms, circling the windows, brushing the hood, occasionally obscuring the entire structure. Raine put up her hood. “I’ll go unlock that reluctant door if you’ll bring the stuff in. I’ve got the food, so don’t take too long, or it will all be gone. Just a friendly warning.”
“Consider me warned. Stephano would never forgive me if I moved too slowly to sample his latest creations.”
“The artichoke dip alone will make you weep with joy.”
“I’m going to take your word for it, and get inside as soon as possible.”
The first blast of wind hit her square in the face. She’d watched the forecast and knew it was supposed to calm down, but it about knocked her over. She scrambled for the doorway, almost forgot the bad top step, and then struggled with the key.
The door opened like magic and she practically fell inside, first because she’d braced for its usual resistance and was caught off guard by its easy surrender, then because another gust propelled her from behind.
By some miracle Raine managed to keep her balance as she stumbled in, and despite the dark, she avoided the old couch that undoubtedly had mice in it and made it to the table. The lantern helped as soon she managed to get it lit, and just then Mick came through the door like a pack mule, loaded down with everything a man could carry and maybe more.
He panted, “I thought the wind was going to die down. I think it’s getting worse.”
She watched him dump the bags on the floor. “It is supposed to calm by dawn. I think we’re spending the night right here.”
“Well then, let’s get the fire started.”
Her grandfather never would have dreamed of using anything as modern as a fire log to light that old woodstove, but then again, it was remarkably handy. Mick knelt there, dusted in snow, and the log caught with one touch of a match. She was happy to see it seemed to be venting properly because the room didn’t instantly fill with smoke.
“I brought a tablecloth from home. For all I know there’s a bear hibernating in the single closet where things like that are kept, and I’m not going to look. Clean utensils and paper plates as well, since everything gets so dusty when it isn’t used.”
Mick agreed. “Let’s not go bear hunting.”
He was a typical man and had brought candles, but nothing to put them on, so she dug out a couple of old plates, and set the table and it was...well, nice. Tablecloth, candlelight and an undeniably attractive man. What more could a girl want?
Food, for one, and maybe some heat. Fortunately, the stove was starting to take care of the temperature, and the howl of the wind outside did add to the cozy ambience.
She was even able to take off her coat as they sat down to discover what wonders Stephano had prepared for them. One sandwich consisted of watercress and smoked salmon with aioli on French bread, the other one roast beef layered with what had to be artisan cheese and served in some sort of homemade rye that had flecks of fennel, too. There was also a pasta salad with tiny shrimp and Kalamata olives, not to mention Raine’s prized artichoke dip, and to top it all off, a key lime cheesecake.
It looked delicious.
Quite the alfresco picnic. It was hardly a wild guess that food like this had never been eaten in the cabin before. “I suspect my grandfather subsisted on pemmican or something similar,” she told Mick jokingly. “He did like good whiskey and believe it or not, applesauce. There are several groves of apple trees on the property. I remember the smell of applesauce simmering on the stove from my childhood.”
“That stove has to be from the Civil War era. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It isn’t new, that I can promise you. But it works just fine.”
“I can tell, since it is warming up in here.”
The candlelight played nicely off the masculine lines of his face. If she hadn’t seen him interact with Daisy and Ryder, holding babies, laughing with Blythe and Harry, and joking with the Carson brothers, she might worry more that she was influenced by his good looks. Being her, she blurted out what she was thinking. “Don’t get all full of yourself, but you’re as handsome as this dip is delicious.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “Now there’s a rare compliment. Because you made a really good call on the dip.”
“I always make good calls.” She shamelessly took another helping. “But lucky for you, there’s plenty. Even I can’t eat all of this. Stephano must like you.”
“I’m starting to believe that. Just try the pasta salad. I want that at our wedding.”
She was still mid-bite when he slid a small box across the tiny table. His smile was wry. “I would be on bended knee, but have a feeling that part isn’t as important to you as the question itself. I would love it if you would agree to marry me, Raine. You’d have the last vote on the pasta salad being served at the reception, of course. The dip is a given.”
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate, which spoke volumes to her.
And to him, which was reflected in his expression.
“You’re sure.”
“I didn’t sound sure just now? What about you?”
“Absolutely. Now that’s settled, maybe you’d like to open that.” He nodded toward the box.
She complied and took in a deep breath. The ring was both gorgeous and unusual, and in the candlelight the gem in the exquisite setting winked with tones of brown and bronze. It was Mick Branson–style over the top, and she had no idea what to say.
“Mick.”
He reached over. “I take it you like it. I think I’m supposed to put it on your finger, but I’ve never done this before. If I mess it up, let me know.”
He definitely didn’t mess it up.
He must have slid the ring on the right finger and said the right words because he was engaged.
Officially.
“Wedding date...when do you have in mind? Just wondering since I’m one hundred percent certain my mother will ask that question.”
For the first time since he’d proposed, Raine looked uncertain. “I haven’t even met her.”
“Oh, she’ll consider that an unimportant detail. She’ll be so thrilled I’m finally getting married that she’ll get immediately involved. I, for one, would like something very understated. But it’s your day. I’ll just be tagging along.”
“Not so. You’ve promised to bring the dip. You’ll be the star. As for the date, I’d like mid-May. It’s so gorgeous here at that time of year.”
“Done. Stephano can cater. Perfect. That’s settled.”
“I loved Bex Calder’s wedding dress. I might count it as my borrowed item, if she doesn’t mind. We’re about the same size.”
“Food, dress, ring, date. Our work is done. As for my wardrobe, I’ll wear pants, I promise. No one will be looking at me anyway, not with you in the room. My brother as best man, Slater, and Ryder as groomsmen and I think we have a wedding all planned. Let’s keep it simple.”
“You do remember you’re Mick Branson, right?” She laughed and shook her head. “I somehow think it won’t be simple. I believe celebrities will be invited and Ryder would be the most nervous groomsman on the face of the planet, and Drake would bring his dogs. My bridesmaids would all be pregnant—”
“So how about we set the date for sooner, with just me and you instead? I’m good with that.” He was more than good with it. He’d marry her standing in a muddy field in a rainstorm. “Apply for a marriage license at the Bliss County courthouse and have it over and done?”
It was what he wanted. Simple. The fanfare held no appeal. If she wanted the big event—then of course, yes, every bride was entitled to that—but if he was given a choice...
He’d keep it low-key.
Raine put the last scoop of dip on his plate. “How offended would your family be? No movie stars, no corporate executives except you, not even them.”
That he could assuage her on. “You do realize that being Mick Branson really isn’t my agenda.”
“You know, I do. I love that about you.”
“There will be a party.” He confessed that tidbit almost reluctantly. “My mother will want to throw a reception at some point, but quite frankly, everyone in my family travels so much that getting them all together at the same time probably means planning the wedding out a year or so, and I don’t want to do that. I have zero desire to wait.”
“If you think Blythe and Harry won’t throw a shindig, you’re dreaming, cowboy. So we’re looking at two parties, and I doubt they’ll be quite the same. I’ll have to buy heels for one, and will be able to wear my favorite pair of comfortable old flats to the other. They could do that in May instead.”
“We could just not tell anyone and let them believe we’re living in sin.”
“If you think Daisy wouldn’t spill the beans, then think again, and I would tell her the truth.” She took a bite of her sandwich and after she swallowed, said, “Oh my gosh, Stephano must really like you. We might have to set the cheesecake out on the front porch to save it for breakfast.”
Raine would do that. She’d eat key lime cheesecake for breakfast without a thought.
She’d accepted his proposal in a run-down cabin in Wyoming during what he expected was now a whiteout snowstorm. The entire structure shook with the next gust of wind.
But unlike in the book he was writing, Mick mused with a private grin, he was not going to have his bedroll on the front porch this particular night.