Lois Dyer – A Coulter's Christmas Proposal (страница 2)

The pilot’s voice sounded in the cabin, pulling Eli’s brooding gaze and attention away from the view outside his window.

An hour later he had landed, rented a pickup truck, and was driving north on the highway toward Indian Springs. Neither Cade nor Zach had answered their phones when he’d called to tell them he’d landed, so he’d left messages saying he was on his way home. He wasn’t surprised when they didn’t return his calls. During summer, ranchers worked long hours and were often out of range of cell reception. He figured he’d reach the ranch before they even got his messages.

The late-afternoon sun slanted into the cab, heating the interior. Eli left the window rolled down, his arm resting on the sill, the breeze filling the cab with the scent of sage and clean, clear air unclogged by smog and exhaust.

The digital clock on the dashboard told him it was just after 9:00 p.m. when he slowed, turning off the highway to drive beneath a high arch of wrought iron that spelled out Coulter Cattle Company. The formal name had long ago been shortened to the Triple C by family and locals.

The gravel ranch road was smooth beneath the truck’s wheels. Eli’s lips curved in a faint smile.

I can tell Cade’s home, he thought. His oldest brother’s attention to detail was thorough and Cade had never put up with potholes for long. Each of the boys had become adept at using the blade on the big John Deere tractor to grade the gravel road and keep it in good condition. But Cade had been the best at moving snow in winter and smoothing out ridges in spring and summer.

Eli crested a rise and he caught his first look at his childhood home. Across the valley below him, beyond the creek and its bridge, was the cluster of buildings that made up the headquarters of the Triple C.

Something soothed, settled inside Eli. Surprised, he absentmindedly rubbed his hand over the left side of his chest.

What the hell? He hadn’t expected to feel anything good. He hadn’t wanted to come back to Montana, and if Zach hadn’t told him he was needed, he would have gone back to New Mexico when he left Spain.

Lights winked on in the cluster of buildings across the valley and Eli realized that full dark wasn’t far away. Northeast Montana wasn’t quite far enough north to share Alaska’s midnight sun, but during the summer months, sunset was much later than he’d grown accustomed to in southern Spain. He remembered being a boy and spending summer evenings playing baseball outside until long after 9:00 p.m., before darkness finally prevented him and his brothers from seeing the ball.

He took his foot off the brake, the truck picking up speed as he drove across the valley and rattled over the bridge before reaching the house and outbuildings. The muted sound of music floated in the open cab windows as he switched off the engine and pushed open the door.

Eli paused as the music struck a chord with him. What was it Zach had said when Eli called to tell him he was on his way home?

Oh, yeah, he thought. Zach said he’s having a party to reopen the Lodge.

He frowned, trying to calculate days and failing. He didn’t remember what day it was exactly but figured there was a good chance the Lodge opening was tonight.

He glanced at the house, dark except for the glowing light over the door on the front porch.

His stomach chose that moment to rumble in loud protest.

If Zach’s throwing a party, there has to be food, he thought.

Eli pulled the pickup door closed again and switched on the engine once more, leaving the ranch yard to drive down the gravel lane that led from the house and barns and along the creek to the Lodge.

He rounded a bend, and before him the Lodge and its grounds were ablaze with light. Couples strolled across the drive and onto the lawn that slanted down to the creek.

Eli eased the truck around the circular drive, stopping to let guests pass in front of his bumper, and double-parked in front of the main entryway.

Without giving a thought to his faded jeans, boots and travel-wrinkled shirt, he stepped out onto the drive and climbed the shallow steps to the long porch that nearly circled the Lodge.

He stepped inside the lobby and halted, his gaze searching the crowd for Cade and Zach.

Amanda Blake sipped champagne, the crystal flute cool in her hand, and tried to pay attention to the conversation. She stood with her friends, a married couple who were the delighted winners of opening-week reservations at the Lodge, and two other couples. Despite the interesting company, however, her focus wandered as she looked about the beautiful lobby of the Coulter Lodge. The expansive area was thronged with guests. Men in suits and women in cocktail dresses mingled with ranchers wearing pearl-snapped Western shirts, bolo ties and cowboy boots. Scattered through the crowd were several girls in pretty summer dresses casting glances at teenage boys in crisp shirts, slacks and boots.

Clearly, she thought with approval, the Coulters had invited not only their guests and out-of-town media people, but also their neighbors and local friends, creating a vibrant mix. The high-ceilinged room was filled with chatter and laughter that occasionally drowned out the four musicians stationed at the far end of the room.

She half turned from her small group, letting her gaze skim the room, taking in the huge stone fireplace at one end, the massive silver-and-copper sculpture of mustangs in full gallop mounted on the wall behind the reception desk. Amusement curved her mouth as she noted a small cluster of teenagers giggling in the corner before she shifted her attention to the main entry.

Amanda made a mental note to thank her friends for inviting her tonight. This inside view of the newly renovated Coulter Lodge provided invaluable information for the biography she was writing on Melanie Coulter, the artist who had created the fabulous wall sculpture of horses.

And if she was lucky, she thought, perhaps she would have another chance to speak to the artist’s sons Cade and Zach Coulter about granting her an interview. They hadn’t been cooperative when she’d approached them nearly a week ago, but she hadn’t given up hope of finding a way to convince them.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering idly how tall the custom entry door was since the carved piece over the top seemed much higher than normal.

Her musings were abruptly interrupted by the man who stepped over the threshold and into the room, halting a few feet inside.

Amanda caught her breath, feeling her eyes go wide as she stared.

He was dressed in a rumpled white shirt, open at the neck, the sleeves rolled back over powerful forearms. Faded jeans covered his long legs and he wore dusty black cowboy boots.

His attire was far more casual than any of the other guests’ but it wasn’t his clothing that riveted Amanda. He had coal-black hair that fell from a widow’s peak to brush against the collar of his shirt at his nape. The planes of his face were sharp and clear, with high, sculpted cheekbones and a strong jaw, his mouth sensual below a straight nose. But it was the eyes that held her the most. Below slashes of eyebrows as black as the glossy fall of his shaggy hair, his thick-lashed eyes were astonishingly, unbelievably green—so pale a green they seemed overlaid with ice.

Amanda shivered. He exuded an aura of quiet, restrained power that seemed to vibrate the very air around him. He appeared supremely unconcerned that guests were turning to look at him as his gaze moved over the room.

As she watched, unable to look away, the stranger’s mouth curved, a smile lighting his face, turning it from handsome to movie-star gorgeous.

Cade and Zach Coulter strode through the crowd and reached him, taking turns to clasp his hand and pull him into hard hugs.

With the three black-haired, green-eyed, tall and powerful men standing side by side, recognition hit Amanda like a freight train.

Oh, my God. That’s Eli Coulter.

“Damn, Eli,” Cade said, his eyes warm, his deep voice raspy with emotion. “What’s with the hair? You couldn’t find a barber in Spain?”

“Not one I wanted to let near me with sharp scissors,” Eli told him with a grin.

“We let you out of our sight for a year and you come home looking like a girl,” Zach told him with an affectionate smile.

“Yeah, right,” Eli said dryly. Like both Cade and Zach, Eli knew his voice was unsteady, the tones rougher than usual. With silent acceptance, he recognized and acknowledged the deep undercurrent of emotion that lay beneath their teasing. He always enjoyed catching up with his brothers whenever they managed to get together. But this time, their reunion held deeper, more powerful implications. Joseph Coulter’s death had shifted the playing field, and despite his long estrangement from his father, Eli knew Joseph’s passing had changed what he’d come to accept as normal. They’d all have to come to terms with a future that had a vastly different landscape. He jerked his chin at the brightly lit, crowded lobby. “Quite a party you’re throwing.”

“Yup.” Zach turned, his gaze moving over the huge room. “We invited all the Lodge guests, plus all the neighbors and everyone in town who wanted to come. You know Indian Springs. Folks can’t turn down an invitation to a party.”