God, what am I going to do?
How many times had he asked this in the past few days? But it wasn’t even the right question. He knew that. The right question was, God, what are You going to do? How can You be glorified in this? But didn’t that mean he needed to get over his anger and frustration with Garret for forcing his hand, with Tori and Denae for having witnessed it, with himself for bungling everything so badly? And yes, with Lauren, for not reading what he was trying to say. For not loving him in return.
That was the bottom line, yet he couldn’t point at anything tangible to prove she’d led him on. She hadn’t. She’d been pushing him away for years, pushing him toward other women. He hadn’t known what to make of that at the time, but now it seemed apparent that she’d really meant it all but had been too polite to say, “James, I know we made this deal when we were kids, but I don’t want to go through with it because I don’t actually like you, let alone love you.”
Yes, that would have crushed him, and he might not have easily given up hope even then. But he’d have heard her words. Instead, all he’d received had been mixed signals. Verbally, she’d pushed him away, but then she’d looked at him with those dark, deep eyes, and he’d known she felt something for him, too, but wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. He oiled the roller on Domi’s stall door and slid it back and forth a few times to make sure it ran smoothly and quietly.
Maybe a shot of lubricant on his spiritual life wouldn’t go amiss. Prayer. Reading scripture. Truly getting humble before God. James couldn’t help wondering if the list of verses about God’s will on Facebook included any that would speak to him now. Was there a scripture that gave a practical how-to-survive guide for a man who’d been dumped before he’d even had a girlfriend?
He’d pass on the verses about perseverance, thanks. He was done with patiently waiting. That ship had sailed, leaving him stranded in a storm.
“James?”
He pivoted, cracking his elbow on the metal edge of the door. “Ouch! Don’t sneak up on people.”
“Sorry.” Tori stood in the aisle, misery clouding her face. “Can we talk?”
“I don’t have anything to talk about.”
“You can’t keep everything inside you. That way leads to ulcers.”
He shrugged.
“Garret feels horrible about what happened.”
“He told me.” About a thousand times.
“I can’t believe I never knew that about you and Lauren. Who all was there?”
James turned and grabbed the rake then strode past his sister to the next stall. Started working.
“You’re my big brother and I care about you, but you’re about as easy to talk to as a brick wall.”
Then she should give up.
“Harder, really, since a brick wall will never reply, but I keep holding out hope that you’re actually human and might give in and say a few words.”
James dug the rake tight into the corner and dragged it toward himself.
“Okay, fine. I’ll talk to you, and you can think about it. I think you love Lauren, and I think she loves you.”
The snort burst out before he could hold it back.
“Ah. A reaction. He lives.”
“Go away, Tori.”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve tried to give you some space, but we’ve been back three days and you’re still sulking. I’m done with you pouting like Aiden when he doesn’t get his way.”
“Excuse me?” James pinned his sister with a glare. Only, she was right. He might not be able to match his young nephew’s lower lip extension — the kid was a champ — but the point was still valid.
“You heard me. Man up, James.”
“Look, you don’t know anything, okay? Garret wasn’t there. He got something like three sentences out of Kade one day. That’s hardly a reliable source.”
Tori dragged a bale to the middle of the doorway to Domi’s stall and plunked down on it. “Fair enough. You were there. You tell me.”
She was right, though it killed him to admit it. He wasn’t dealing with it well, bottled up like he’d done. He was so choked at numbskull Garret that it was all he could do not to toss him in with an angry bull. Who else was he going to confide in? Denae? Not likely.
Tori gave him an encouraging smile. Did she have any idea how hard this was for him?
James leaned the rake against the wall, took off his cowboy hat, and ran his hand through his hair before returning the hat. “I think I’ve loved Lauren since we were fourteen.”
Surprise flickered in his sister’s eyes for a brief instant. “That’s a long time.”
“Yeah. Her dad’s death broke her, and her mom... well.”
“Let’s just say we’re thankful Dora Yanovich isn’t our mother.”
He let out a humorless chuckle. “That about sums it up.” Man, this was hard. “We started hanging out. Fishing. Boating. Innocent kid stuff.”
Tori nodded.
“She was pretty excited when Dillon asked her out. I hadn’t thought we were to that point yet. I mean, I didn’t even have my driver’s license, and I wasn’t going to ask a girl out if we had to ride bikes or horses to get to the theater, right? Or worse yet, ask Mom or Dad to drive us.”
“Plus, they said we couldn’t date until we were sixteen.”
“They decided that after Meg.”
“Of course. And the only one it affected then was me, since Meg never met a rule she couldn’t break.” Tori’s nose scrunched. “Anyway, carry on.”
“Lauren wouldn’t sleep with him.”
“Of course not.” Then Tori’s eyes widened. “Oh. You’re saying she... he...”
“He called her a baby and broke up with her the day before her sixteenth birthday.”
“Which just so happens to also have been your sixteenth birthday.”
“Yeah. So, we were having a party down by the lake. Kade, Cheri, a few other kids who don’t live around here anymore. The moon was nearly full, and we were all goofing around out on the raft, but Lauren was super quiet. Bryce bugged her about why Dillon hadn’t come to the party, and she finally spilled. She started crying about how she’d probably be an old maid because no one would ever want her just because he loved her.”
“Oh, no.”
In his mind, he was there. The shallow lake warm in mid-summer, the cool night air. The grumbles of a few ducks in the rushes along the water’s edge, the fragrance of Lauren’s vanilla-scented hair, the path of moonlight rippling on the dark lake. The murmurs of a few teenagers discussing the deeper points of life with all their adolescent wisdom.
“We talked about what old was, and we all agreed thirty was the magic number. You got to three full decades without being married, and you were officially over the hill and barreling down the other side with no hope of love ever catching up.”
His sister cracked a smile.
“I elbowed Lauren’s arm and told her not to worry about it. If we were both unattached at that advanced age, we could always marry each other. She looked at me and said, ‘really?’ and I said, ‘of course.’ Then I raised my hand and she slapped it.”
“And then?”
James shrugged. “Bryce pushed Cheri off the raft, and we all jumped in the water. I think we partied clear ’til midnight.”
“That’s not what I meant, Jamie. What happened next between you and Lauren?”
“Nothing really changed, except Dillon had moved on to the next girl. We all hung out, went riding, swimming, the stuff country kids do all summer. School went back in for junior year; life continued on.”
“And no one mentioned the pact.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think anyone remembered for long. Except me... and, it turns out, Lauren. Kade had forgotten until that day he and Garret and I were in Java Springs a month or two ago. I don’t know about Cheri or Bryce or the others.”
“So, you’ve bided your time all these years.”
“It sounds so dumb.”
“
It’s kind of romantic, really.”
He snorted. “It might be if Lauren hadn’t told me to get lost.”
“So. It’s obvious to me that she loves you back.”
James stared at his sister. “Did she say that?”
“No. Sorry. But I still think it’s true.”
“You’ve been hanging around Denae too much.”
Tori offered a lopsided smile. “Could be, but here’s the thing. She hasn’t dated all this time, either.”
“She had a boyfriend in college.”
“Trust you to know that. But that was, what, five years ago? Ten? She was probably trying to move on, so you wouldn’t think you needed to honor a childhood promise.”
Lauren’s voice rang in his mind. I’m not a pity project, James Carmichael. I wasn’t one fourteen years ago, and I’m not now. He replayed that a few times, trying to remember the nuances, the expression on her face, the emphasis on which words. “Let’s pretend for a minute that you’re right.”
Tori pumped her fist but remained quiet.
Thank the Lord for small miracles. “I was caught way off guard. Even though I hope I earned a point or two for following her Sunday night, I said all the wrong things.”
“What did you say?”
James pulled the hat off his head and scratched his scalp. What had he said? “My plan, such as it was, was to start at the beginning by affirming the pact we’d made. That we might’ve been kids, but I meant it all the same.”
“You’re serious.” Tori stared at him. “That was your big strategy?”
He winced. “I told you. I wasn’t expecting the conversation to go there.”
She shook her head, like he was the dumbest creature to walk on two legs. Maybe he was. “Okay, so what should I have said? Not that it matters anymore.”
“Less talking. More kissing.”
“What? That would have been your big strategy?” He mimicked her cadence from a moment before.
“For one thing, she’d have been so busy kissing you back, she wouldn’t have been able to say mean things to you, which I’m sure she did. And for seconders, a kiss is worth a thousand words. She would have known how you felt, that you’d been waiting for her because you wanted her, not because you felt sorry for her.”
Lauren had accused him of making her a pity project. Tori was right. James groaned and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe...”
“Yeah. Me, neither. Here I thought Megan was the only Carmichael who had straw for brains. Now I know I’m the only one who doesn’t.”
That would call for a quippy comeback if it weren’t so true.
“Look, the way I see it, you’ve got two choices.” Tori tapped her jaw. “Or, I guess, three.”
“Yes, oh wise one?”
She smirked. “You could always give up and let her go. Walk away. Forget it all.”
James became aware of his head shaking. He’d spent fourteen years — and more — loving Lauren. It wasn’t a faucet he could simply turn off.
“Or you could fight for her.”
That sounded violent. Did he have it in him to push himself on her? “You said three choices. So far, I hear two.”
“Well, there are two ways you can fight for her. You can start dating someone else — like Denae, maybe, or Carmen — and try to make Lauren jealous. Or you can sweep her off her feet with flowers and jewelry and dinners out.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s your big plan? Jealousy or extravaganza?”
“Yep.” She nodded decisively as she rose from the bale and dusted her hands together. “What’s it gonna be, big brother?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Why weren’t you in church? Are you sick?”
Lauren clutched her cat and stared at Mom standing on her doorstep, dolled up in her Sunday best. She should have known the inquisition was coming. “I’ve had a pounding headache for a few days.” Which definitely was the truth.
“You look terrible.” Her mother elbowed past her. “It’s a good thing I came by to take care of you.”
“I was about to go back to bed.”
“You poor dear. What have you eaten today? Let me fix you something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“But you need to keep up your strength.” Mom’s gaze slid the length of Lauren’s body. “Chicken soup is low-calorie. Do you have some in the house?”
Wow, that had been subtle. Not. “There’s probably a can in the pantry, but you don’t have to do this. It’s nothing rest in a darkened room won’t cure.” Felix reached up and patted her cheek with one black paw. He was better company than Mom by a long shot.
“A migraine?” Mom peered into the cupboard then shuffled cans and packages around.
No, but if this kept up, one was sure to explode soon. “Borderline.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Your dad suffered from so many of those.”
The common denominator was Dora Yanovich. Coincidence?
“I don’t see any chicken soup in here. I’m going to run over to Manahan’s and pick some up. Anything else you need?”
Lauren rubbed her temples. She hadn’t gone shopping since the trail ride except to pick up cream for the clinic.
Mom opened the fridge and tsked. “That package of baby greens is turning brown. And what’s in all those Styrofoam containers?”
“Take-out.” Which wasn’t so different from normal.
“Didn’t I teach you anything about cooking?”
The band around Lauren’s skull tightened.
“Apparently I failed.” Mom’s lips pursed. “You’re never going to catch a man if you don’t know how to take care of yourself or your kitchen.”
“I’m not trying to catch a man.”
“Well, you should be. Growing old with no one by your side isn’t a pleasant experience, I can assure you.”
“Maybe you should remarry.” The words popped out of Lauren’s mouth without a detour through her brain. No man in his right mind... but wouldn’t a romance of her own distract Mom from badgering Lauren? It might not be a bad idea.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I loved your father.”
“He’s been gone half my life. I don’t think it’s a matter of how much you loved Dad. There’s no reason to not even think about it. Wouldn’t he want you to be happy and cared for?”
Her mother closed the fridge and leaned against the door as she surveyed Lauren with a piercing stare. “You’re a fine one to talk, closing your mind to marriage without serious consideration.”
“I have my career.”
“And so do I. Speaking of which, your hair is getting shaggy. What day can you come by for a trim? Let’s put some highlights in this time. I’ll get Sabrina to do your nails while the color is setting.”
Lauren looked at her hands. She kept the nails clipped short — a hazard of work — but maybe a bit of color wouldn’t go amiss. “Sure. Whatever. Last appointment of the day on Thursday or Friday?”
Mom beamed. “I’ll look at the schedule and text you a time. You won’t regret it.”
Yeah, she would.
“Then you’ll be all prettied up to find yourself a date.”
And the wheel had come full circle. “Tell you what. You first. You start going out with some nice man, and I’ll think about it.”
“Done and done.”
What? The headache squeezed. Felix growled. Apparently, her arms had squeezed, too. That was supposed to be a no-deal. Like the one with James? Lauren bit back a groan. Thinking before speaking was something she definitely needed to learn.
Mom patted her perfect hair. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with soup. Have you taken painkillers? And maybe you should have a shower while I’m gone. It’s amazing what a difference a little self-care makes.” She breezed out the door.
Lauren stared after her, listening to the engine start and the car pull away from the curb. So much for wallowing in her own misery on her day off. Was it too much to ask? She hadn�
�t been able to bear the thought of sitting in a wooden pew at Springs of Living Water next to Denae or Tori or even a stranger, should one happen to wander in. Listening to James and Garret lead worship, let alone participating. Ignoring his brooding gaze and pretending it had no effect on her.
But it did. And now, knowing James, he’d redouble his efforts to be a nice guy and prove he was a man of his word, even when it was uncomfortable. He might have spoken impulsively that long-ago star-studded night, but he’d stand by it.
Whereas Lauren had no intention of falling in line with a one-sided marriage. Maybe her mother’s challenge was a godsend. Lauren would show James and all their friends that the night on the mountaintop hadn’t affected her. She’d get busy dating, entertaining, laughing, and proving she was deliriously happy the way she was. She only needed to keep up the farce for six weeks, until their — her — thirtieth birthday. Then he’d feel off the hook and she could go back to... wallowing.
Unless the dating game turned out to be fun.
On the other hand, Mom hadn’t dated since Dad, so what were the odds of her finding someone now?
Felix’s paw tapped her cheek, and she buried her nose in his soft fur. This was the guy who knew all her secrets and loved her anyway.
* * *
“The website didn’t say anything about real cowboys.” There was an appreciative whistle. “Hot cowboys.”
The sultry voice came from behind James, but so close he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard, or that the woman was speaking to someone else. He lowered Domi’s hoof and glanced over his shoulder. Whoops. Right at eye level with a pair of super-short jean shorts on shapely legs so tanned the color must’ve come from a bottle. Raising his gaze helped only marginally. The blond beauty had tied her gingham shirt at the waist. She must’ve picked up her fashion sense from the cover of a hot-rod magazine.
“Don’t tell me you’re taken.” She draped herself across the stall door.
Domi whinnied and stepped sideways, rolling the whites of her eyes at the stranger. It might’ve been the powerful perfume wafting off the woman that had spooked the mare, but James was thankful Domi had given him a few extra inches to stand without bumping into her. He stroked the mare’s shoulder. “James Carmichael.” Did he have to shake her hand to be polite? Probably. He extended it. “And you are...?”
The Cowboy’s Mixed-Up Matchmaker Page 11
