Chapter 6
“Women like a man who can cook,” Violet told Leo.
It had been a few weeks since he’d replaced her battery, and she was doing her best to coach him on how to get Christine’s attention. Especially since their almost-kiss. Violet was afraid that if he didn’t land in someone else’s arms soon she’d cave and do something stupid like fall into his arms, lips puckered and ready.
Leo was adamant Christine wasn’t interested in his cowboy side, and had discounted him due to it. Which meant they needed to somehow surprise her, make her reevaluate him.
“And bakers are a plus. Even though women may act like they don’t want baked goods, we secretly do. This would be a sneak attack.”
“The way to a woman’s heart?”
“Just like with men.”
Violet went into her pantry, the old wood door creaking on its hinges. There was something about the space, with all its shelves and the scent of various ingredients, that made her think of warm kitchens on a cold winter’s day, the sweet scent of butter, cinnamon and sugar baking together, and wonderful memories.
“These are from my tree.” She set a large jar of peach slices on the counter. “We’ll make a cobbler and you can give it to her as a Christmas gift, or a just-because gift. I’ve got an amazing recipe that all the ladies here in Sweetheart Creek love. They always ask me to bake a cobbler for events.” She held up a warning finger. “I’m going to teach you how to make it, but if I catch you selling or sharing this recipe or making it for anyone other than Miss Pretty Perfect Princess, you’re toast. Got it?”
Leo solemnly held up his right hand. “I swear.”
“If she doesn’t like this, then there’s something seriously wrong with her.”
Secretly, Violet was beginning to think there was something wrong with Christine. There had to be a defective gene somewhere, because how could she not be smitten with Leo? He was kind, as well as a loyal friend. Easy to hang out with. And he had his priorities straight—which, from what she’d learned, not all professional athletes did. Or at least their priorities were very different from Violet’s.
So far, Leo had tried flowers, asking Christine out and doing small things for her. She clearly wasn’t interested, but Leo wasn’t willing to see that. Violet hoped this gift either opened Christine’s heart or opened Leo’s eyes.
“Not only is this a gift,” Violet explained, “but it’s doing something nice for her. This will show her you think of her, that you’re willing to take some time from your day and make something she’d enjoy.”
“Would you like it if someone baked you a cobbler?” Leo asked from his spot at the kitchen’s island.
“I think every woman would—secretly. Although some might be alarmed by the gesture or wonder if you’re straight.” She sighed, one hand on her hip. “Honestly, we can be a strange lot, becoming suspicious of a man who bakes. But why should we? Baking is awesome. I’d love it if someone brought me baked goods.”
Violet gnawed on her lip and thought about it. “Maybe this isn’t a smart plan.”
“I want to do it, though.” He had a mischievous look in his eyes, and again Violet hesitated.
“Why? She might hate it. It could backfire, in terms of what she believes baking will say about you. This is a risky idea.” Violet began putting the ingredients back in her pantry. “I’m a weird egg. I mean, how many women go out for drinks with some guy and they—”
“Barf all over your shoes?”
“Ugh. You heard?” Leo had joined her in the pantry and was studiously retrieving all the items she’d put away, returning them to the island.
“Daisy-Mae told Maverick, who mentioned it when we were working on some plumbing.”
“Are you sure you still want advice from me?”
“Yes.” He was in the kitchen, organizing the ingredients so he could read the labels. “The cobbler will be a test, to see how evolved she is regarding gender roles.”
“Still a bad idea.”
“You don’t think she’s evolved enough?”
“I give poor advice. Nothing has worked so far.”
“It’s my delivery. This…” he swept an arm over the growing pile of ingredients “…is all in how I package and sell it to her.”
“Serve it in a manly baking dish?” Violet asked, using a deep voice that made Leo smile.
“Mangled topping, and an absence of bows and gingham.”
“Sorry, but the topping is always perfect. That’s the beauty of lots of butter. It melts and smooths out any imperfections left by the baker. And don’t tell her you made it with me. She won’t enjoy hearing that.”
“Okay, so I’ll tell her I was thinking of her.”
“Yes.”
“And I was thinking of peaches…”
“No.”
“Thinking of my dear sweet grandma.”
“No.”
“That she’s too skinny and needs fattening up?”
Violet giggled.
Leo’s tone turned more serious. “That I wanted to share my grandmother’s most beloved dessert with her because I heard she likes peaches, too.”
Violet’s heart softened. “Yeah. She’ll love that, even though it’s technically a lie.”
“Not really. My grandma baked lots of peach desserts.”
“Then you’re very thoughtful and sweet.”
“How’d you know my two middle names?”
Laughing, Violet set to work teaching Leo how to crumble the brown sugar and butter together.
He was an efficient, enthusiastic cook, catching on quickly. His strong hands and wrists worked the butter, flour and sugar into a lovely mix for the topping.
“Cinnamon?” he announced, ceremoniously dropping a teaspoon of the spice into the bowl and sending a small scented cloud into the room. “Oops.”
The counter was already dusted with other ingredients, evidence of their work.
“Are you sure you haven’t baked before?” she asked as he expertly dropped dollops of topping over the waiting peach slices, then over the batch they were making for themselves.
“I watched my mom a lot. She wouldn’t let me help. Said I was too messy.”
Violet stepped back when he lifted the two dishes.
“Into the oven?” he asked. She opened the door for him, sending a blast of heat into the room.
“When are you going to find a player for me?” Violet asked, as they started cleaning up their mess. So far, Leo hadn’t produced a single soul.
“The best ones are taken.”
She sighed. The older she got, the truer that was, it seemed.
They had a cup of tea while they waited for the cobblers to brown. Before long, they were scooping vanilla ice cream over steaming bowls of peaches and their wonderful, crispy and soft topping.
Violet closed her eyes as she took the first bite. “Mmm.”
She glanced over as Leo tasted his. His brows curved upward and he quickly shoveled more into his mouth. “So good!”
Laughing, they ate until there was nothing left of their dish.
“Don’t tell the team’s dietician!” Leo stated.
“I won’t. Besides, Athena would never believe we ate the whole thing.” Violet grasped her stomach and leaned back. “Wow, I’m so full.”
“I can’t believe how much you packed away.” Leo bent to look under the table. “Where did you put it all?”
“Trust me. It’s all in my stomach.” She groaned. “I need to stop at one helping.”
“It’s not your fault. This stuff is irresistible.” Leo eyed the dish they’d made for Christine. “Think Christine would mind if we ate hers, too? Because this stuff is seriously the way to someone’s heart, and right now I’m falling hard.”
“So? Is Christine yours forever? You didn’t text me!” Violet fell into step beside Leo as they walked from the parking lot to the arena. It had been several days since they’d baked cobbler together, and with an out-of-town game thrown into the mix he hadn’t managed to bring her up to speed.
“Sorry.” In fact, as much as he hated to admit it, he’d been avoiding her, not wanting to tell her what had happened. He was losing faith in his plan, and without the woo-Christine strategy where would he be with Violet? Would she want to hang out as often if they didn’t have the common goal of training him to act like he was in love?
Man, when he thought of it that way, it seemed really messed up.
“Oh, no.” She stopped walking, her expression stricken. “She can’t tolerate gluten? Why didn’t I think of that?”
Leo stopped as well, tipped his head back and sighed. Violet had worked so hard to help him. How could he admit he was ready to give up? But how could he keep moving forward when his heart wasn’t in it any longer?
It was so easy being with Violet. And with Christine…it wasn’t. Why couldn’t he just hang out with Violet all the time and have his life unfold in the way he envisioned it? He’d worked hard for so many years with barely a rest. He was tired and wanted to enjoy where he was, but how could he? He didn’t have what he needed in order to securely start a family.
Christine was still the answer. The two of them were compatible in that they were focused on the future and not on emotions. Little risk and all benefit.
And yet they weren’t clicking.
Violet rested a hand on his arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t clam up on me.”
“Seriously, nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Leo sighed.
“You don’t look like a man who gave away my prized cobbler to the woman of your affections. Unless you’re tired. Did she thank you in a very personal kind of way?” She elbowed him with a sly grin that made him laugh. Until he thought of the reception he’d had from Christine. She was not evolved enough to appreciate baked goods from a man, and there had been no intimate thank you, that was for certain.
“She didn’t try it.”
“What?” Violet was standing in front of him now, hands on her hips. He almost laughed at her expression. She was like a pit bull, ready to jump on his enemies and defend him. “Why not?”
“She’s off sugar and wheat and unhealthy fats, and everything good in this world.”
“Good things like you.”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
They walked into the arena, the security guard nodding at them as they flashed their staff passes. “Have a good game tonight, y’all,” he drawled.
“Thanks, man,” Leo replied.
“Shouldn’t this all be easier? I mean, if she’s the right one, it should be simple.” Leo stopped several feet later to open a second door that would give them access to the locker rooms.
Violet stared at him, and in that moment he would have given up his contract to get her take on what he was feeling and what he should do about it.
He wanted to skip the complicated, distracting romance and inevitable fights he’d heard about from his friends. He wanted a partnership like his parents had. They had the right idea. Work hard, raise your family, go out for a game of Bridge once in a while.
Simple. They were coming up on forty years in just a few days and he’d be flying out to celebrate with them.
That was what he wanted.
“I’m not a good coach.” Violet sighed, looking defeated. “I mean, we should have seen this coming. She wears designer clothes and lives in a world I don’t at all understand. I fear I’ve mucked up your chances with her.”
“But why didn’t she at least try our cobbler?” Leo held in his frustration. Christine had been surprised by the gift. It was thoughtful and homemade. Just as Violet had instructed. But Christine hadn’t immediately dug into it like he’d expected, hadn’t even taken a few polite bites. She’d looked at it, smiled sweetly, then sent it back home with him.
“Not even a bite?” Violet groaned and clapped her palms to her face. “You have to stop listening to me.”
“No way.” He tugged her hands from her cheeks. “I need you. You warned me this was a bad idea.”
“Whatever my first instinct is, you should do the opposite. Christine and I are poles apart. She’s glamorous and famous and has this amazing job,”
“No, my instincts are wrong.”
“Pretty sure mine are.”
“The women I grew up around ate whatever. It’s like I don’t even know or understand Christine…” He paused, thinking over his confession. Why was he pursuing her if he didn’t know her? Was it enough that she lent the right image and that he believed she would help him get where he wanted to be?
Weren’t there people you could hire to help you market yourself?
Why was he trying so hard to get Christine Lagrée to see his potential?
Because she knew sports and was connected to the same world he was, just in a different way. He knew they could help each other.
But it wasn’t happening.
“Ranchers burn off tons of calories working on their land,” Violet said, still arguing that he wasn’t in the wrong, it was her.
But if that was true, it was likely because of him and his stupid plan to woo a woman who couldn’t see past his cowboy roots.
“You eat cobbler,” he pointed out.
“I do.”
“And you don’t work on a ranch.”
“Also true.”
“Maybe Christine is defective.”
Perhaps that could be her word. Although maybe when he was around it was simply uninspired.
Violet gave a snort-laugh. “She’s not defective. She’s very nice.”
“I’m starting to think I don’t understand women at all. This is hopeless.”
Violet touched his arm. “Hey, you understand me, and I’m not a rancher. Don’t beat yourself up.” Her voice turned gentle. “I hate to say it, but maybe the two of you just aren’t compatible or meant to be. You’re not her type.”
“How is that even possible? Have you looked at me?” He shot Violet a grin and she laughed.
“There’s that down-home modesty shining through again.”
“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. He could use a hug right now. Not only to ward off the crappy feeling of failure, but to thank Violet for being such an awesome, loyal friend.
She blinked, then tentatively curved her body against his for a hug there in the chilly hallway. He sighed, releasing the tension from his body and mind. Hugging Violet made everything feel doable again. Maybe even attempting to woo Christine one last time. She did laugh at his jokes and return his text messages, at least. So maybe it wasn’t entirely hopeless.
“Where’s the cobbler? Need help eating it?” Violet leaned back and looked up at him. “Tell me you didn’t leave it with her so she could toss it as soon as you were gone.”
“Not a chance.”
“So?” She stepped back, breaking that warm, delicious contact. He hadn’t realized how beat-up he’d been feeling and how much he’d needed that hug from a friend. Her support was always the best. But hugs? You couldn’t top them. Especially the way Violet’s petite body packed a punch that would knock the wind out of you if you let her.
“Cobbler?” Violet repeated. “We can pick up ice cream on the way home.”
He shot her a guilty look.
“What?”
“I already ate it.”
She gave a bark of laughter. “You lie! You’re hiding it somewhere so you can have it all to yourself.”
Leo chuckling, ducked her playful shove. “Why do you think I sucked on the ice during the last away game? I ate it all.”
“No.” Violet breathed the word, her tone incredulous. “All of it? The whole thing?”
“Don’t tell Athena I veered off the diet plan.”
“Veered? You ate almost two entire cobblers in what—three days? You smashed her plan into a guardrail and over the cliff.”
He gave a sheepish smile. “They were really good.”
They began walking side by side again, almost at the locker rooms. “Two cobblers? And after you gave Maverick and Dylan such a hard time about eating dessert at Thanksgiving, here you are binging like nobody’s looking.”
“Moment of weakness. We all have ‘em.”
“Did Coach Louis say anything about your skating?”
“He subbed me so fast I think he noticed. But he was smiling.”
“Smiling? He didn’t even rip you a new one about the team needing a win or something?”
“Nope. He’s been a bit odd since he moved back to Sweetheart Creek a few weeks ago.”
“Do you think he’s in love?”
Leo laughed. “Louis? No way.”
The day his coach fell was the day he would, as well. Never going to happen.
Leo looked around the familiar old farmhouse kitchen. Somehow, it seemed brighter than it had when he was a kid. And his parents appeared happier, too. Less burdened and preoccupied.
Was it because their kids had moved out and were somewhat established in their adult lives, so they could focus on themselves? Or was it because they had friends and family here to celebrate with them tonight? Or because their ranch was in a good place financially?
He figured it was likely the latter, and he was grateful he’d been a part of helping them achieve it.
He grabbed the plate of nachos he’d been sent to retrieve and returned to the living room, which was brimming with friends and neighbors who’d come out to celebrate his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary.
While he’d been growing up, his folks had barely celebrated their own birthdays, let alone an anniversary. It was nice to see them so happy, and definitely worth squeezing in the flight between game days. But it was also unexpected.
Setting the nachos on the food table, he went to stand beside his mom, Jenny-Lee. “What made you two decide to celebrate this year?”
“Because we can.”
“Then why not the others?”
She shrugged, doing one of those familiar frown-smile things she did. “We were too busy with the ranch and keeping our heads above water. We were also raising a bunch of hooligans.” She winked at him.
“Right. Business comes first.”
“We let our relationship sit on the back burner for a long time. Too long.”
“You have a partnership first and foremost,” he said, letting her know he understood.
She gave him a strange look.
“It’s smart,” he said.
The frown was back, deepening with every word he spoke.
“When you run a business or a brand…you don’t need distractions,” he insisted, waiting for her to agree.
His mom was really studying him now, with a sort of curious expression similar to one he saw on Violet’s face when they talked about these things.
“I hope you’re not taking what you saw us doing and using it as relationship advice.” Her tone was stern.
“But…” He gestured to the banner someone had painted that said Congratulations on 40 Years!
They’d made it. What they’d done worked.
Jenny-Lee squeezed his arm. “A relationship has to be nurtured. You can’t neglect it.”
He gestured to the banner again.
“Come with me.” She dragged him back to the kitchen, where she pointed to the table. “Sit.”
He grabbed a chair, and she collected the ceramic cat cookie jar from the counter, then joined him at the table like old times. He took two of her homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, savoring the sweet cinnamon taste. It made him think of baking cobblers with Violet.
His mom took a cookie for herself and plunked the jar on the table between them.
“A lot of our time went into the business when you were younger. So much was riding on it and we were too exhausted at the end of the day to put effort into our relationship.”
He nodded. He remembered those years, the exhaustion and strain.
“We considered separating a few years ago.”
“What? Why?” They’d been inseparable. It had driven him nuts, seeing the lack of efficiency when they’d both work on the same job together instead of dividing and conquering the ranch’s never-ending to-do list.
Wait. Time. It was one of the things Violet had listed. Maybe spending time together was a way they expressed their love for each other.
His mom’s smile was sad. “A lot of reasons.”
“Name one.”
“Because our son, who was supposed to be going out into the world and making his own way, had one foot stuck on the ranch, which was pulling him down.”
Leo looked his mom dead in the eye and said, “And I would do it all again.”
“I know. But no son should ever have to sacrifice like that. For a while, at the beginning, your dad was holding on to the money you were sending, planning to give it back to you. We came really close to letting the bank foreclose.”
“You didn’t want the help?”
“No parent would ever wish to need to be bailed out by their kid. It’s…”
Humiliating. Humbling. Shameful, even. He’d never thought how they might feel about his help, had only thought of how they’d feel if they’d been turfed off their land.
“Your name is on the deed.”
“What?” How would they get that past the lawyers and banks without his knowledge? Could you even do that?
His mom reached across the table, laid her hand over the one still holding his forgotten cookie. “It was give it to you or to the bank.”
“Yeah, don’t give it to the bank.”
“Your dad decided that if this place meant that much to you, it should be yours. Your money, your asset. We’re just taking care of it for you.”
“What? No. It’s yours, Mom. Yours and Dad’s.”
“We were going to discuss this tomorrow before you fly out.” Her eyes were damp.
“Why did you decide to stay?”
“Because this land is part of our family history. It’s in our blood. Could you imagine growing up anywhere else but here?”
He shook his head.
“It wasn’t just about you kids. It was about us a bit, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who am I without the ranch? Who is your dad? The idea of leaving the land sent him into a depression.” She laughed and pulled her hand away, leaving Leo’s feeling cold and abandoned. “Could you see the two of us working for someone else? Their terms, their schedule. Or even just see us sitting at a desk all day?”
He shook his head wryly. At one point early in his rodeo career he’d agreed to a short contract to help a saddle company with some marketing. He hadn’t realized how much time he’d be sitting behind a computer, learning spreadsheets. He’d lasted four days.
“So here you are.”
“Here we are.” She opened her hands.
He leaned forward. “I hope your names are on the deed as well, because the amount I sent doesn’t cover even half the value.”
“We learned to celebrate what we have. See the abundance amid scarcity. The idea of losing all this reminded me and your father why we’re here. What made us good together. We had to find a way to re-appreciate it all. Including each other. You know your dad and I were high school sweethearts?”
Leo knew they’d started dating in high school, but the word sweetheart had never been used to describe their relationship. It had been more a story of how they’d both had the same plans for ranch life, family and kids.
“We could see how our life was going to unfold after graduation. And I knew I’d have my best friend at my side. It was wonderful. It helped us through so many tough times.”
Leo thought of all the things his parents had gone through, the looks they used to share at the end of the day, that unspoken language they had. Was that their friendship speaking?
“Did you hear we’re going to spend three weeks in the Caribbean?”
“The Caribbean? Do you even own bathing suits?”
She laughed. “We’ve always wanted to go, so we rented a little beach hut along the water. We’re going to sit there and enjoy each other’s company.”
“For three weeks?” No cattle to check on or feed. Just sit and talk. He couldn’t see it.
“For three weeks.” Jenny-Lee grinned. “It’s time me and my love had some time just for ourselves.”
Me and my love?
Where were the parents he knew?
And he had shares in this ranch?
He wasn’t sure how all of this new knowledge changed his world, but he was fairly confident that it would.
“Don’t give me that look,” his mom said with a laugh.
“What look?”
“You know your dad and I love each other very much. Marriage isn’t some platonic business deal. We would have never made it through the hard times without some pretty deep love for each other.”
“But…” Leo closed his eyes, trying to summon all his thoughts into one question. “How did you manage to stay together for all these years if you weren’t doing those little things that tell each other you love them?”
“Maybe we were, and it wasn’t for you to see.” She gave him a look that suggested he mind his own business, then got up, taking the cookie jar, and laughed at his baffled expression. Leaning forward, she whispered, “Bridge night.”
“What about it?”
“Neither of us knows how to play.”