The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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“This one has writing on it, too,” Betsy pointed out. “But it’s not English.”
“It’s French,” he said. “If those years of college French were worth anything, I should be able to translate.”
Betsy got up and rounded the table, peering over his shoulder. “What does it say?”
“Vous et nul Autre,” he murmured. “You and No Other.”
“What?”
“That’s what it says, ‘You and No Other.’” His eyes softened. “Whoever had this engraved was obviously very much in love.”
Betsy loved the sentiment. “You think it’s stupid.”
To her surprise the smile left his lips. He shook his head, suddenly serious. “Not at all. Actually I hope to feel that way about my wife. And I hope she’ll feel that same way about me.”
Even though he didn’t say her name, from the look in his eyes Betsy knew Ryan was thinking about Adrianna.
That feeling of closeness that had begun to build, disappeared. “Ready for breakfast?”
“You still need a tree.”
“So you say.”
Ryan met her gaze. “I’m not giving up.”
Betsy steeled her resolve. “I’m not either.”
But as she got out the skillet, Betsy knew she wasn’t talking about a tree. Rather, she was talking about the man sitting across the table, the one she loved.
You and no other.
Give up? Not on her life. Not as long as there was a chance he could love her, too.
* * *
Ryan had known a lot of women over the past fifteen years. None of them like Betsy. Most of them barely knew what a kitchen was, much less their way around it. Adrianna had been right, Betsy was a fabulous cook. The breakfast she’d made had been the best he’d ever tasted.
Each egg had been a perfect sunny-side up, the bacon crisp without being brittle and the brioche French toast, well, even though he was full, his mouth watered just thinking of it now. But her talents didn’t end in the kitchen.
She had a keen eye. After she’d showered and he’d cleaned up the kitchen, they’d driven to a Christmas-tree farm not far from Jackson. With it being Black Friday, there weren’t many searching for a tree.
Ryan found one almost immediately, but Betsy had shaken her head and pronounced it too tall. Then he’d found a tree that was beautifully shaped, wide and full. She’d dismissed it as too short.
For someone who hadn’t even wanted a tree, she was being awfully picky.
“I’ve found it,” he heard her call out.
He quickened his steps, which wasn’t easy because of the snow on the ground. Yet it was beautiful outside. The day was clear and the breeze, while cool, had that crisp bite he’d always liked. Overhead the sun shone brightly in a blue sky.
Ryan followed the sound of her voice, grabbing on to a tree branch to help him make his way up a steep slope, wondering how she’d made it. Ryan could see by her tracks that she’d slipped and inched her way up the incline while he was checking out trees farther down. But she hadn’t complained or called to him for help.
He finally made it close enough to get a good view of the tree that had met with her approval. It was a Douglas fir, thick without being stubby, tall but not straggly. A perfect specimen. Sort of like the woman who stood beside it with her head cocked.
“This one has it all,” she said with a decisive nod.
“It will do.”
Betsy nodded again. “Now we have to find one for you.”
Ryan frowned. “I thought this would be mine.”
Betsy’s lips twitched. “Nope.”
She looked a bit too self-satisfied for his liking.
“Because it’s yours...” Ryan grabbed a handful of snow, packed it slightly, then let it fly.
It sailed past Betsy’s head and splatted against the tree.
Betsy whirled. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Testing how your perfect tree handles snow load.”
“Well, stop it.”
“Not yet.” Without pausing, Ryan quickly made another snowball. This one clipped the top of the tree.
He smiled. How long had it been since he’d made a snowball, much less thrown one? He really should get—
Snow hit his chest.
Giggles filled the air.
He fixed his gaze on Betsy. “Did you deliberately hit me with that snowball?”
She shook her head, while doubling over with laughter.
“You know what that means....” He scooped another handful of snow and carefully packed it, his gaze never leaving hers.
Her laughter ceased. She straightened and her eyes flashed a warning. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His smile widened. “You started it.”
He released his snowball the instant she released hers. He aimed for her chest. Hers hit him right in the face.
From that second it was game on. The balls flew fast and furious. Ryan bobbed and weaved, but Betsy had a deadly aim. After several minutes, even with gloves, his hands felt frozen and his cheeks stung from where she’d nailed him. Three times. But he was having so much fun he didn’t want it to end.
“Stop this right now.” The portly owner of the Christmas tree farm huffed and puffed his way up the hill, giving a little yelp as Betsy’s last snowball barely missed him. “What the heck is going on here?”
“She’s got a wicked arm,” Ryan said, only half joking. Because he had the snowball in his hand, it seemed a shame to waste it. He let it fly.
“That was unfair, Harcourt,” Betsy called out. “He’d said to stop.”
“Good to know you’re a woman who follows the rules.” He knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but he couldn’t help it.
“I’m going to—” She reached over to grab some snow, but the owner held up his hand.
“If I see one more snowball flying through the air, I’m not letting either of you have a tree.”
Ryan thought of how long it had taken them to find even one acceptable specimen. “Truce.”
“I’m the winner,” Betsy announced.
“You two can discuss that later,” the owner said. “Did you find a tree you wanted? Or were you too busy hitting each other with snowballs?”
Betsy caught Ryan’s eye and they burst out laughing.
The old man looked at them as if they’d lost their mind.
Twenty minutes later, the tree had been cut and placed in the back of Ryan’s pickup. When he saw Betsy shivering, Ryan nixed looking for a second tree.
“One’s enough,” he told her. “For today. Besides I’d like to get out of these wet clothes. I imagine you would, too.”
“I am a bit chilled.” Betsy hunched her shoulders against the wind.
“I’ll drop you and the tree off at your place, then I’ll go home, shower and come back. We can hang the ornaments tonight.”
“Uh, actually, Adrianna and I are getting together this evening.” Betsy glanced at the blue sky. “Because