Chapter 14

Eli stared Trudy Davis right in the eye and shook his head. “I can’t believe you lied about a new puppy.”

Trudy waved him off and slid a to-go cup across the café counter of her bookshop, Storyland.

“I didn’t order anything,” Eli continued.

“Café rules!” Boone called from the table over Eli’s shoulder where he sat with Sam Callahan, Sam’s brother Ben, and their buddies Colt and Carter. “We get the place to ourselves from seven to nine until the shop opens, and Trudy gets to try out whatever new caffeinated concoction she’s got brewing.” Boone pointed at the Stetson on his own head and then nodded toward the similar one that Eli wore. “Glad you remembered the dress code too.”

Remembered the dress code? Eli hadn’t remembered shit other than dressing for another morning at the barn with Beth. Whatever dress code Boone thought Eli was abiding by, Eli did so against his own free will.

He lifted the cup and took a whiff of the steam pouring from the small spout. “Smells sweet,” he grumbled. “I don’t like sweet.”

Trudy laughed and then shooed him toward the table of men he was meant to join.

“Go on. Boone said he’s been trying to get you here for weeks, so I agreed to give you a little nudge. It’s not like you had anything else planned this early on a Saturday, right?”

Eli sighed, thinking of Beth alone in the arena with no one to help her onto Midnight’s back. He should at least text her that he’d been kidnapped—or lured to the kidnapping site by a willing accomplice he used to trust.

He begrudgingly accepted Trudy’s coffee. “Thanks, I guess,” he told her and then spun toward the real culprits, his brother and the rest of the lot. “Don’t you all have wives and children to spend your weekends with?” he asked accusingly.

Boone didn’t bother to look up from whatever monstrosity he was weaving together with two long wooden knitting needles. “Casey gets up with Kara on Saturdays so I can come here, and Sundays I take the early shift so Casey can sleep in.”

“Nolan spends Friday nights at the ranch with our mom,” Sam added, nudging his brother Ben with his elbow but continuing with an equally hideous design on his own knitting needles. “And Delaney’s taking Beth to her doctor’s appointment.”

“Right,” Eli lied. “Her doctor’s appointment.”

What appointment? Was Beth okay? How did he ask without sounding overly concerned? Wait, he couldn’t ask, not now that he’d just made it sound like he knew what the hell was going on. Which he didn’t.

Ben at least had the decency to look up and offer Eli one of those bro nods. “Charlotte and I don’t have kids yet, and she works Saturday mornings anyway.”

“Jenna and our kiddos help with the Saturday morning breakfast run at the ranch,” Colt said, referring to his wife and the two teens they were currently fostering.

Finally, Carter looked up from the scarf or blanket or whatever he was working on, but Eli cut him off before he could speak.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Ivy’s not due for another few months.”

He finally gave up and strode toward the three small tables pushed together and the empty chair that had apparently been waiting for him.

Eli sat down across from his brother and set his coffee cup next to two knitting needles and a ball of blue yarn.

“What are you all even making?” Eli asked. “And why?”

“Nothing,” they all said, not quite in unison.

“It’s not about the destination…” Boone began, and Eli groaned.

“If you even so much as finish that aphorism, let alone spout one more, I might have to figure out what else these needles can do.”

Boone finally met his brother’s eyes, holding his needles up in some semblance of surrender.

“We both know you’re not a man of violence, but on the off chance that you really are that pissed at me, can we call a truce?” Boone asked.

Eli crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair with a groan. “Fine,” he responded. “How long am I being held prisoner?”

He knew he was grumpier than he should have been, but Eli was a man of structure and routine. Now that he and Beth had found a rhythm that seemed to be working, he wasn’t really a fan of the routine being broken without his consent.

The other men glanced up from their projects with raised brows, looking equally curious for Boone’s response.

“This one’s Instagram-worthy!” Trudy called from behind the counter, and Eli caught her lowering her phone, which had evidently just captured the moment of Eli’s capture.

Boone blew out a breath and set his needles and yarn on the table. “We’re here until nine. Sometimes we stay past the store opening if we’re really going strong. But for you, big bro, I’ll give a one-time offer of one hour. Sixty tiny little minutes, and if you’re still pissed to be hanging with a few buddies who like to enjoy a little coffee, contemplation, and really ugly scarves, then you’re free to go.”

Eli glanced around the table at the five other men who seemed perfectly content to simply be at this table with their too-sweet coffees, their hats that looked ridiculous indoors, their piles of yarn…and each other. This wasn’t the tavern where he could sit at the bar with his back to the rest of the world, nursing a beer and disappearing into his own head. If he stayed for even as little as ten minutes, it felt like agreeing to giving up the solitude he’d so grown to enjoy.

Okay, maybe not enjoy but expect. Comfort came with what was expected.

Sam, who sat to Eli’s right, clapped him on the shoulder.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Sam told him. “And one added perk is you don’t have my wife trying to set you up with her little sister.”

Eli coughed. He tapped his chest and cleared his throat. “Wrong pipe.” He picked up his coffee and nodded at the supposed culprit, though he was pretty sure everyone knew he hadn’t yet taken a sip.

Sam grabbed the ball of blue yarn and wooden needles in front of Eli. “Come on. I’ll get you started.”

“What the hell am I making?” Eli asked.

Sam glanced at him with his brows raised.

Eli shook his head and couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. It’s not about the destination.”

Four hours and three salted caramel white chocolate mochas later (Eli needed the caffeine), Eli had silently knit the ugliest, most lopsided…what? He couldn’t even call it a scarf because that would be insulting to scarves. But he’d made something. He’d kept his hands busy, his brain focused on his busy hands, and his ears trained on the conversation going on around him.

Kara was suddenly doing what Boone called reverse cycling, which meant she slept all day and was up all night. He and Casey had been trying to get her back on track for the past week and were both exhausted.

“You should talk to Charlotte about that at your next visit,” Ben told him, referring to his pediatrician wife. “I swear I’ve heard her talk about that happening with other patients. I bet she has a trick or two she might be able to share.”

Carter and his wife, Ivy, had been working on her birthing plan. She had the whole delivery planned out exactly how she wanted it to go, and Carter couldn’t bring himself to tell her how many babies he or someone else from his company at the fire station had delivered in barns or on the side of the road in the back of a truck for parents whose offspring decided they didn’t give a shit about their plans.

“I sure as hell hope Delaney didn’t plan to grab my hand with hulk-like strength and growl during a contraction, ‘You did this to me,’” Sam joked, but Eli was pretty sure he saw a glimmer of relived fear in the man’s eyes.

They all talked like that on and off, periods of verbose conversation followed by stretches of quiet contemplation, all the while the five of them enjoying the journey despite the result of their yarn and needles when all was said and done.

Everyone else had filed out in the last half hour or so, leaving just Eli, Boone, and a few actual paying customers in the café.

“It grows on you, doesn’t it?” Boone asked, and Eli realized he was still concentrating on his needles, his brows furrowed.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “I just feel like…I mean, I perform surgeries on everything from rabbits to Great Danes on a weekly basis. Shouldn’t I be better at this than the rest of you a-holes?”

Boone laughed. He reached across the table and grabbed Eli’s needles, forcing him to look up.

“It grows on you,” Eli’s brother repeated. “Coming out of hiding for a bit… Am I right?”

Eli sighed. “I guess you know a little about that, huh?” Sometimes Eli forgot that before Boone and Casey reconciled, they’d been estranged since they graduated high school. And that estrangement had cut Boone Murphy off from much of the town, so much so that he once tried to leave it.

“Look,” Boone said. “You don’t ever have to do this again. I thought it was just as batshit before I understood it.”

Eli brought his coffee cup to his lips and tilted his head back, actual disappointment rushing through him when he realized it was empty. “Understood what?” he asked, setting the cup back down with a sigh.

Boone tapped his own temple. “That sometimes it helps to either get what’s in here out or to at least focus on something other than whatever it is you’re not ready to say.” He raised the hours-long trail of stitches he’d been knitting since before Eli even sat down and lifted his brows. “That’s all this is, big bro. A diversion? A solution? Maybe something else? Whatever it is, it’s been working for the five of us. Thought it might work for you too.”

Which begged the question of what Boone thought the problem was that Eli needed to solve. But it was already after eleven, and Eli wasn’t sure he was ready to ask.

“Hey. I thought I was supposed to be the wise older brother imparting all my knowledge to you,” he offered instead.

Boone gave him a self-satisfied grin. “Does this mean you’ll be back next week?”

“It means I’ll think about it,” Eli told him.

“That’s not nothin’,” Boone replied, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “So I’ll take it.”

Boone’s words kept circling in Eli’s head the whole ride home. Actually, it was one word he couldn’t let go of—diversion. Was that what this thing was for him with Beth? Was that what he was for her?

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to define it when whatever it was would end the moment she left Meadow Valley. But he was a thirty-six-year-old grown-ass adult, so he supposed he thought more like one than he used to.

He laughed softly to himself as he put his truck in park in front of the clinic, and then he just full on stared. Because there was Beth on Midnight’s back, galloping around the arena, both boots in the stirrups.

“What the…”

Eli had given Beth the alarm code to Midnight’s stall for her Saturday morning groomings, but she always waited for him to help tack up the mare and get her safely in the saddle. This was so not part of the deal. Yet he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight, even as he hopped out of the truck and strode toward the fenced-in arena with every intent to put a swift end to the whole thing.

Except he didn’t have to because as soon as he made it to the fence, she caught his eye and slowed the mare to a trot, then a slow walk, and finally a complete stop right in front of him like she’d done it every day of her life.

“Before you go off the deep end…” Beth started, calling down to him from Midnight’s back, but Eli shook his head.

“We had a deal, Beth.” His words came out hoarse, his throat suddenly dry.

“You weren’t here,” she added calmly, and he could tell that she was keenly aware of how her emotions affected the large, powerful animal she rode. “And you didn’t call or text, so I did what I wanted. I did what I knew I could.”

He tried to find the same measured speech, but his heart thumped erratically as he found himself tangled in a mix of awe, dread, and anger, not sure which emotion, if any, he was actually allowed to feel.

Eli cleared his throat and forced his words to come out even, remembering what happened the last time he lost his cool in front of both Midnight and Beth. “I was kidnapped…sort of. And Sam said you were with your sister, so I didn’t…” He sighed. “Okay, maybe I should have…” Now he groaned, and Midnight shook her head, taking a couple of steps back. He held up his hands and backed his own couple of steps away from the fence. “I thought I’d be back before you got home. I guess time got away from me.” Then he remembered that he wasn’t the only one who forgot to communicate. “And it’s not like you made any mention of a doctor’s appointment.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning softly at how childish he knew he sounded.

Beth soothingly stroked Midnight’s neck, whispered something into her ear, then hopped down to the ground and tied the mare off on the fence post. His city girl was suddenly a goddamn cowgirl, and he somehow missed it happening right under his nose.

“Well, Dr. Eli Murphy,” she began, striding toward the fence and then climbing onto it, swinging her denim-clad legs over the top so her riding boots (when did she get riding boots?) pointed right at him. “Were you worried about me?”

He looked past the boots and the stolen cattleman on her head and finally saw it. Or rather didn’t see it. The walking cast.

“Your doctor’s appointment was to get rid of the cast.” It was a statement, not a question. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Beth’s chest rose and fell as she seemed to think about her answer. Finally, she shrugged. “Because I had canceled the appointment. I wasn’t going to go. Long story short is my sister found out and kept me on the books, then only let me know this morning before pushing my scared little booty out the door.” She glanced down at the ground and then back at him. “It’s not as high as the horse, but it’s a bit more awkward to dismount. Don’t think I thought much past how cool I might look if I actually managed the whole fence-climbing situation.”

Eli bit back a grin, then obliged her indirect request for an assist.

He lifted her off and gently set her feet on the ground, but instead of letting go, his hands stayed pressed to her hips.

“Sounds like you got kidnapped too, huh?” he asked softly.

Beth looked up at him and nodded.

“Why weren’t you going to go?” he added.

She pressed her palms to his chest, and he could feel his heartbeat against them, no longer erratic but now calm and steady.

“I thought it was about my career, about the doctor’s predictions for my recovery. And it still is. I have a long road ahead if I’m going to make it to next spring’s auditions. But I realize now it’s more than that.”

“Like what?” Eli asked, then held his breath.

Beth took off his hat and pressed it down over his hair. Then she banged her head lightly against his chest. “Like how much this is going to hurt when it ends.”

When it ends. Not if. Of course not if. Her life and everything she’d been working toward up until a couple of months ago were in New York City. She said it herself that she’d never had time for a real relationship before. Eli wasn’t foolish enough to think that either of them could somehow make long distance work.

He could either dwell on the facts or make the best of them. So he hooked a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so her eyes met his.

“Then let’s do what we can with the time we have left,” he told her before dipping his head and pressing his lips to hers.

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight, and Eli wondered if he could freeze not the moment but the memory of how he felt in it, something he could recall months or years down the road. He wasn’t prepared to lose Tess, and though a part of him would always love her, it was getting harder and harder to recall what that love felt like when he was in it.

Not that this whatever was love. After only a month? Not possible. Was it?

The answer didn’t matter. All that mattered was knowing his impending loss and figuring out how to bottle up this feeling, whatever it was.

“Then I have a request,” Beth whispered when they both came up for air.

“Anything, Mighty Dancer,” he replied without considering the repercussions.

He should have.