Page 20 of Wild Spirit Revival (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #1)

Molly sank onto the edge of her bed, her mind whirling with conflicting emotions. The room felt suddenly empty without Elijah’s presence, yet his lingering scent, a mix of leather, pine, and something uniquely him, filled her senses.

“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself. The happiness of realizing her feelings for Elijah warred with the pragmatism she’d depended on to guide her life.

She stood, pacing the small confines of her room. “I came here to build my career, not to fall for a rancher,” she muttered.

A knock at the door startled her from her reverie. “Miss O’Sullivan?” It was Faith Goodell, the owner of the Mystic Gazette. “May I have a word?”

Molly composed herself before opening the door. “Of course, Faith. Please, come in.”

As Faith entered, Molly noticed the woman’s eyes dart to the crate of dry plates, then back to her. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all. Why don’t we go downstairs to talk? I believe there is coffee in the parlor.”

“Of course.” Faith headed into the hall, with Molly a few steps behind.

Once the two had poured coffee and found seats, Molly leaned forward. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, this may sound presumptuous, but I wanted to ask if you might work for the Mystic Gazette as a reporter. The town is growing, and I’m finding it hard to keep up.”

Molly pushed aside her personal turmoil as she considered the surprise offer. “I must say, you’ve caught me by surprise. It’s a fascinating offer. You do know I plan to travel to Yellowstone, then continue west to the Pacific Ocean?”

“Yes, I know.” Faith leaned forward. “I understand you have a relationship with a newspaper in Chicago. If you aren’t tied to them on an exclusive contract, I’d hoped you might consider traveling as a reporter for my paper.”

Molly’s heart rate quickened. Here was an opportunity to further her career in an unexpected way. “Your offer is quite intriguing. To clarify, I send my contact at the paper my article and photographs through the mail. They’ve been very good about including them when space permits. However, there is nothing exclusive.” She thought for a moment, taking a sip of coffee before setting the cup down. “I don’t see a reason not to be associated with your newspaper.”

“Wonderful. When you have time, please come by the office, and we’ll write out the details.”

“I’ll stop by this afternoon.” Molly’s lips tilted up at the corners. “And thank you for the opportunity.”

As Faith stood to leave, Molly felt a tremor of excitement roll through her. Wasn’t this exactly why she’d come to Montana? To prove herself as a serious photographer and journalist?

Taking the stairs to her room, Molly’s gaze landed on the crate Elijah had so carefully carried for her. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Faith’s offer.

Elijah and Molly strolled down Mystic’s boardwalk toward the Golden Griddle, her steps were a lively bounce with barely contained excitement. She cast frequent glances at Elijah, as if bursting to share a secret.

Ever observant, he noticed the spring in Molly’s step and the way she kept looking at him. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher her mood.

“You’re in good spirits,” he remarked. “Something you want to tell me?”

Her cheeks flushed. “It’s nothing. Just enjoying this beautiful day.” She gestured at the clear Montana sky.

His eyes narrowed skeptically. Elijah had grown up reading cattle and horses. Reading people wasn’t much different. “Uh-huh,” he grunted, unconvinced.

As they approached the restaurant, Molly’s stomach growled, and she laughed, patting it. “I guess I’m hungrier than I realized.”

Elijah held the door for her, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “After you.”

She swept past him, her skirt swishing. She paused inside, drinking in the warm, inviting atmosphere of the Golden Griddle. “Smells wonderful,” she breathed.

He shrugged, uncomfortable with her enthusiasm. “Always does.”

She shot him a glance. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

As they settled onto chairs at a table in the middle of the room, Elijah found himself studying Molly. There was something different about her. Her eyes danced with suppressed joy, and she couldn’t seem to sit still.

“All right. What’s got you so stirred up?”

Molly fidgeted with her napkin. “Is it that obvious?”

Elijah’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “About as subtle as a stampede.”

She bit her lip, debating whether to spill her news. “It’s silly, really. You probably won’t even care.”

Elijah leaned back, crossing his arms. “Tell me.”

She laughed, the sound bright and clear in the bustling restaurant. “Oh, very well. If you must know, Faith Goodell made me an offer today. She wants me to contribute articles and photographs to the Mystic Gazette.” Her eyes shone with enthusiasm.

His gaze narrowed, but before Elijah could respond, a waitress bustled up to their table. “What’ll it be, dears?”

Molly glanced at the chalkboard menu. “The elk stew sounds wonderful. And some fresh bread, please.”

“Make that two,” Elijah added.

Moments later, two steaming bowls arrived, accompanied by thick slices of crusty bread still warm from the oven. Molly dipped her spoon into the hearty stew, watching the steam rise. She took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss.

“It’s perfect,” she murmured. “The meat melts in your mouth.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow at her poetic description but said nothing as he tucked into his own meal. As they ate, Molly couldn’t contain her excitement any longer.

“During my travels, I’ll be mailing articles and photographs to Faith for the Mystic Gazette, and to my contact at the Chicago paper.” She paused, her spoon hovering midair. “What do you think, Elijah? Isn’t it a wonderful opportunity?”

His stony eyes fixed on Molly with such intensity she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The enthusiasm bubbling within her began to waver under his serious gaze.

“It’s certainly an opportunity,” he said finally, his voice measured and devoid of the excitement Molly had hoped to hear. He set down his spoon. “How often would you be sending these articles?”

She searched his features, trying to read the emotions behind his impassive features. “Well, I was thinking maybe once or twice a month to start. It all depends on what I find fascinating enough to write about, with photographs, so people can visualize the story as they read.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “And these photographs you mentioned. What sort of things would you be capturing?”

“Oh, all sorts.” Her voice rose with renewed enthusiasm despite Elijah’s lack of it. “The beautiful landscapes, the daily life of the townsfolk, maybe even the troubles faced with ranching work.”

“I see,” he said, his tone flat. “And you’d be sending these pictures back east as well?”

Molly’s heart sank at his continued lack of excitement. She found herself desperately wishing she could peer into his thoughts to understand what was going on behind those inscrutable eyes.

“Yes, that’s the idea. Elijah, what do you really think about all this? I can’t quite tell how you feel about it.”

The waitress approached their table, her arrival a welcome interruption to the growing tension. “Can I interest you folks in some dessert? There are peach pies cooling on the rack.” Her cheerful voice was a stark contrast to the atmosphere between them.

Molly seized the opportunity, forcing a smile. “Yes, please. I’ll have a slice of peach pie and coffee.”

He didn’t shift his gaze from Molly’s when he spoke. “I’ll have the same.”

As the waitress bustled away, he leaned back in his chair, his posture rigid.

Molly clasped her hands in her lap, fighting to retain her enthusiasm. “Peach is my favorite.”

Silence descended upon them once more, broken only by the clinking of cutlery from nearby tables. She cleared her throat, desperate to break the unease.

“You didn’t answer my question, Elijah. What do you think about Faith’s offer?”

“It’s an interesting opportunity.” His voice remained flat.

The waitress returned with their dessert and cups of coffee. The aroma of peach pie wafted between them. Neither made a move to pick up their forks.

Molly felt a knot forming in her stomach. She’d been so excited about the prospect of sharing her experiences. “Showing the beauty and reality of life out here would be a good thing. Wouldn’t it?”

Elijah’s jaw tightened. “I suppose so.”

The tension between them was palpable now, hanging in the air like a thundercloud ready to burst. She found herself gripping the coffee cup so tight her knuckles turned white. She wanted to make him understand, but something held her back.

As they sat there, peach pie untouched and coffee growing cold, Molly couldn’t shake the feeling this conversation was about more than Faith’s offer. Something deeper was brewing beneath the surface, threatening to change everything between them.

He cleared his throat, his eyes flickering to the window before settling back on Molly. “I’ve got a heap of work to do at the ranch. This is the busiest time of year. Not much time for anything else.”

She blinked, thrown by the abrupt change of subject. “Elijah, what do you really think about—”

“I should head back,” he interrupted, pushing his untouched pie aside. Paying for their meals, he stood and pulled out Molly’s chair.

Stepping out onto the boardwalk, he walked beside her on the way to the hotel. The usual banter between them was notably absent, replaced by a heavy silence.

They passed the mercantile, its windows displaying supplies for the coming winter. It was a stark reminder of the changing seasons. Molly couldn’t help wondering if the chill she felt was from the approaching winter or the growing distance between her and Elijah.

As they neared the hotel, her thoughts drifted to her camera, safely tucked away in her room. She imagined capturing this moment. The quiet streets of Mystic, the determined set of Elijah’s shoulders, the unspoken tension hanging between them. But some moments, she realized, were too complex, too raw to be contained in a single image.

Elijah came to an abrupt halt in front of the Mystic Hotel, his gaze fixed on the livery stable across the way. “It’s time I rode back to the ranch.”

Her heart sank. She searched his face, hoping for some hint of regret or a suggestion of when they might meet again, but found only quiet resolve. “Will you be returning to town again soon?”

He shrugged, his gaze still avoiding hers. “Can’t say.”

A knot formed in her stomach, a physical manifestation of the loss she felt. She wanted to reach out, to make him understand the opportunity before her. The words stuck in her throat.

“Safe travels, Elijah,” she said finally, forcing a smile.

He tipped his hat, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Take care, Molly.”

She stood rooted to the spot as he strode across the street toward his horse. She watched him untie the reins, his movements efficient and purposeful. As he swung into the saddle, she felt a surge of emotions. Frustration, longing, and a creeping fear she might be losing something precious before it had even begun.

Elijah turned his horse, casting one last glance in her direction. For a moment, Molly thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Then he spurred his mount, and was gone, leaving Molly alone with her thoughts and the growing realization her choices might lead her down a path Elijah couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand.