“Yeah, getting over that hurdle was good,” she replied as she slid her phone into her pocket. “And I’m going to miss you too.”
He leaned over and kissed her again, this time longer and sweeter. She wrapped her fingers around his lapels and tugged him back when he tried to pull away, and he chuckled against her lips.
“I just don’t know when we’ll see each other again,” she explained when he took a step back. “I didn’t want it to end too soon.”
“It’s already ending too soon,” he replied. “Call me. Or I’ll call you. Or something.”
“Or something,” she echoed, wondering what that something would be.
Chapter Ten
Frank stood in the parking lot and watched the taillights on Lani’s car disappear down the road. He hated like sin to see her leave, but she had work to do, and he understood that. What he didn’t understand was what they were facing next. Houston was about six hours away, and while it could be worse, that did fall into the long-distance category. Would they be able to get to know each other with so many miles separating them? Had they even built enough of a foundation over the last two days to build on?
Benjamin walked up behind him and clapped him on the back. “She seems like a really great lady,” he said. “So, when’s the announcement?”
“I don’t know if there’s even going to be one,” Frank replied. “She’s going back to Houston tomorrow, and we haven’t had enough time to fall in love yet.”
“But you’ve fallen in like,” Benjamin remarked.
“Yeah, I’ve definitely fallen in like.” Frank turned and gave his brother a grin. “And it’s kind of fun.”
***
As soon as Lani got back to her hotel room, she took a hot shower. Sunshine was a sweet girl, but that didn’t mean Lani wanted to smell like a horse indefinitely. She dried off and put on some flannel pajamas, then opened her laptop. Her email program came up first, showing the draft of the letter she’d composed to her editor the night before, but hadn’t sent yet. She read it over again, but kept it in her drafts folder while she finished writing her article.
It took her about an hour to add in the things she’d learned that day, then another half hour to read everything over and make sure it was how she wanted it. She’d done the bulk of the work the night before, but she’d do the bulk of the worrying now. There was always stress associated with turning in a piece of work—her editor could reject it outright, he could demand rewrites, he could give her some sappy little story about a grandma who knitted and send someone else out to do the job. She liked grandmas who knit, but that was beside the point. She couldn’t build a career on knitting.
She pressed her fingers into her eyeballs and held them there for a minute until she saw spots, then opened the other document with the smaller article she needed to finish. It was nearly done as well, and twenty minutes later, it was set to go.
Two articles ready to turn in. She glanced at the clock. It was now midnight. Her editor expected to hear from her by six a.m. That was enough time to rewrite everything if she felt it was necessary, but she actually didn’t feel that way at all. This was some of her best work—she was sure of it.
She read her email to her editor over one more time, attached the two articles, and clicked send. Now to spend a sleepless night wondering what he’d say. And also thinking about Frank. There would probably be lots and lots of thinking about Frank.
Just as she was finally drifting off, she got a text. Sunshine loved her outing.
She grinned. That was an awesome way to end the day.
***
The whole way back to Houston, Lani fidgeted in her seat, tapped on her steering wheel, accidently cut people off in traffic—she just couldn’t get her head in the game. She’d gotten an email at six that morning—Mr. Denning wanted to meet with her in his office the second she got home. He was very clear on that point—the second. Not half an hour later, not after a snack and nap. He wanted her driving straight from the McClain ranch to his office. That didn’t sound very good at all, and her nerves were wound tighter than they’d ever been before. And she was essentially the queen of tight nerves.
She grabbed a sandwich halfway there and ate it double time, getting back on the road as quickly as possible. By the time she arrived at the Texas Times building, she was starving again, but she wasn’t about to keep Mr. Denning waiting any longer than she already had.
Being a Saturday, the place was empty except for a few staffers who were running late on their assignments and were trying to catch up. She wasn’t at all surprised that Mr. Denning was in, though—she actually had her doubts that he even owned a house. He pretty much lived in his office.
As soon as she entered, he whirled on her from where he stood at the window, clutching some sheets of paper in his hand.
“This isn’t what I asked for,” he said, shaking the papers and crumpling them at the same time. “I told you to bring me some dirt. Where’s the dirt?”
“There’s no dirt,” she told him. “The McClains are genuinely good people. No affairs, no drug abuse, no child endangerment—there was nothing to find.”
“Everyone has a secret,” he told her, dropping the papers on his desk. “Everyone. Give me enough time, I could dig up a story on Mother Teresa.”
“People have already tried and no one cares,” Lani replied.
“That’s not the point. You were given an assignment, you failed to do the assignment, and what’s up with this email?” He picked up another sheet of paper. “‘My research into the McClain family has proven what good people they are, and our readers will be inspired and excited to support their fundraiser this fall.’ Did you fall off the turnip truck and hit your head? Or did you miss the whole conversation where I gave you a new directive?”
“I know you did, sir, but I couldn’t go along with it.” She’d known that from the first minute she’d read his note, but she hadn’t wanted to tell him until she could send her refusal along with the completed article about the fundraiser. She’d hoped to show him all the positive that was being done so he’d let go of this crazy idea, but no—her plan had backfired. “Maybe you should drive out and meet them for yourself. I think you’d be impressed.”
“I’m not going to drive out there and do something that I can hire someone else to do for me,” he retorted. “The entire point of leadership is delegation. You arrange your people around you like a snowflake or a spider web, and you delegate. That’s how businesses run. That’s how power is created. That’s working smart, Lani. But you . . . I can’t believe you fell apart on me like this.”
“I didn’t fall apart on you, sir. I sent you two very good articles, both of which are ready to be printed now, actually. You’ve lost nothing.”
“A fluffy piece on the do-gooders at this boys’ ranch, and a write-up of the baked bean contest at Mac’s Grill? This isn’t journalism. This is . . . crap.”
“In the first place, you asked me to attend that bean contest. And second, marketing is wrong. These are exactly the kinds of stories our readers want, and I don’t know why you’re trying to go edgy when it will cost you your magazine.”
He glared at her. “Are you telling me how to run my own company?”
“No, sir. I’m telling you how to avoid losing it.” She pulled herself to her full height. “I’m tendering my resignation, sir. Those are the last two articles you’ll be receiving from me.”
“What? You can’t quit.” Mr. Denning looked flustered.
“Why? Because you’re firing me?”
“No, because I need reporters.”
“I imagine that you’ll find any number of rookies eager to do whatever it takes to move up the ladder, including digging up dirt on completely innocent people so you can turn your respectable magazine into a tabloid. I just won’t be around to watch that happen.”
Lani turned on her heel and left the office, both shocked at her own boldness and overwhelmed with relief. She took her few person
al items off her desk, shoved them into her oversized bag, contemplated stealing the stapler because it was an office tradition, decided against it, and left.
Once in her car, she sat there and breathed for several seconds, trying to calm her heart rate. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually done that. She’d defied her boss, quit the best journalism job she’d ever had, and passed up the chance for a free stapler. She didn’t know where she was going to go from here, whether she’d be able to find another job in the magazine industry, or how she was going to pay the next month’s rent. All she knew was that she felt proud of herself for the first time in a really long time.
Chapter Eleven
Frank grabbed a hay bale and tossed it down to the main floor of the barn, where Gideon grabbed it and tossed it outside. The boys were out there waiting to attack it with their pitchforks. Frank had his doubts about giving six teenage boys sharp, pointed implements to use as part of their chores, but no one had gotten impaled yet, so he’d count that as a plus.
“Have you heard anything from Lani?” Gideon asked.
“She texted to let me know she got home safely, but nothing since,” Frank replied. “I sent her a smiley face yesterday morning, but I don’t want to bother her if she’s busy.”
“It’s been how long since she left—three days? That’s long enough for her to unpack and get settled and be ready to contact you,” Gideon said. “Why don’t you give her a call tonight? She’s probably waiting for you to make the first move.”
“I sent her a smiley face! How is that not making the first move?”
Gideon rolled his eyes. “A real move, dude. Like a phone call. Conversation. You remember how to have a conversation, don’t you?”
“I’m not so sure I do anymore. I haven’t dated anyone in forever—not since college, and I kept it pretty chill because I knew I wasn’t getting married that young.”
Gideon shook his head. “Tonight. After the boys are in bed. You’re calling her.”
“Fine, fine, Mr. Bossy,” Frank responded.
After they were done with their chores, the boys stopped in at the house to grab a cookie, and Frank took advantage of the opportunity to talk with his dad. Peter was working on a jigsaw puzzle in the corner of the living room, but Frank wasn’t fooled. His dad only did jigsaw puzzles when he had a mental puzzle to work through—the project helped him sort through the things that were really bothering him.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey there, son.” Peter leaned back in his chair. “I can’t seem to find the other foot for this tree frog.”
“Don’t look at me,” Frank replied. “I’m terrible at puzzles.”
“They’re not for everyone.” Peter studied his son’s face. “So, what brings you by? I notice that you boys hardly ever seek me out for casual conversations anymore. You’re all about the serious stuff.”
“Yeah, well, this has been a pretty serious year,” Frank said. “So many changes—we’re entering a new era, Dad. Things aren’t going to be the same much longer.”
Peter nodded. “I know. It’s exciting and frightening all at the same time, isn’t it?”
“It is, and I’m completely lost as to my place in it.”
Peter looked surprised. “Are you? I thought we’d trained each of you up to know your role and how vital it is to our family.”
“You did, but . . .” Frank sighed. “I can’t stop thinking about Lani.”
“She is quite a remarkable young woman,” Peter replied.
“She really is. She’s smart and pretty, she has a great sense of humor, and I love how she interacts with the boys. I can picture her here on the ranch, Dad. I can imagine her fitting in and helping us out and doing a lot of good. I just don’t understand why the powers that be haven’t given their approval.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “How do you know they haven’t?”
“What? Have you had a vision about her? Why didn’t you say so?”
Peter held up a hand. “No, I haven’t had a vision. But listen, son. You were given a tremendous ability as a human being—that of intuition. What is that intuition telling you?”
“That I want to marry Lani. That she’s the perfect choice for me.”
Peter nodded again. “There you go.”
“What do you mean?” Frank was frustrated. “Come on, Dad. You’re not usually so mystical.”
Peter chuckled. “The gifts are there to help us when we don’t know what to do. You already know what to do, son. You’ve known from the start—that’s why you came to me and asked if she was the one instead of me being the one to tell you. This is what I’ve been trying to explain. You have all the tools you need within yourself. You just need to trust them.”
Frank sat up a little straighter. “So, if I say I want to marry Lani Markland, that’s how it should be?”
“That’s how it should be because you made a wise choice, yes.”
Frank leaped out of his chair. “Thanks, Dad. I think I’m going to marry Lani Markland. Well, first I have to find out if she wants to marry me, but yeah.” He paused, picked up a puzzle piece, and handed it to his father. “Here’s that tree frog foot.”
“Thank you,” Peter said, adding it to the puzzle with a smile.
As soon as Frank went out into the hallway, he sent Lani a text, but there was no response. Feeling like a caged animal, he went and found Gideon and the boys in the kitchen, joking around with Lillian.
“I want to get married, but I need to find the bride,” he said.
“Did you lose her?” Nick asked, some of the old sarcasm in his voice, but speaking with a grin.
“If I did, it’s just temporarily,” Frank replied. “I need to make a quick trip down to Houston. Can you all figure out how to live without me while I’m gone?”
“Well, it’ll be hard—you are our reason for waking up every morning,” Gideon said.
Frank grabbed a napkin from the table, wadded it up, and lobbed it at his brother’s head. “I’m serious. Can I take off?”
“Of course. Go get her. We’ll figure it out.”
Frank dashed out of the kitchen and ran toward his cabin. He’d just take a light duffel bag—three days’ worth of clothes should be enough. If he couldn’t convince her by that time, he’d find a laundromat. What he wasn’t at all expecting was to find Lani sitting on his front porch steps when he got home.
He pulled up short and just stared at her.
“Hi,” she said, looking a little anxious. “I was wondering if you had any job openings here on the ranch. I can provide a resume and references upon request. I can write freelance from anywhere, you see. That’s the beauty of the Internet.”
He slowly walked toward her. “A job? Here?”
“Yeah. I quit my job at the magazine. They wanted me to do an expose on your family and I refused. I figured it was best that we part ways.”
“You quit your job?”
“Sure did.”
“And you came back?”
She shook her head. “You know, this isn’t going quite how I imagined it. I was thinking that you’d cheer or sweep me up in your arms or something. Instead, you’re repeating everything I say. That’s not very original. Or romantic.”
Frank blinked. “I’m sorry. I was just on my way to my room to pack a bag so I could come find you. I’ve sent you several texts.”
She ducked her head. “Remember how klutzy I am? I warned you about that . . . well, I sort of dropped my phone and broke it. I promise, I would have answered you otherwise.” She paused. “Coming to find me? What would you have said when you found me?”
“That I want to marry you. That I want you to live on the ranch with me and raise a family and work together and have picnics and basically enjoy every minute we have on this earth.”
“Wait, wait.” She held up both hands. “Marry you? Frank, I don’t know if you’ve learned your numbers yet, but we’ve only spent two days together. Two. That’s not very many.”
&
nbsp; “Oh, but I have learned my numbers, and I’ve decided that numbers don’t matter when something’s right.” He took a seat next to her on the porch. “But if it’s that important to you, this is what we’ll do. Let’s think of today as day one. On day one, we’ll tell each other our favorite colors. Day two, we’ll talk about favorite books. Day three will be favorite foods. Day four—”
“Are you serious?”
“Well, you sounded like you wanted to date a while before we get engaged. I’m just trying to give you what you want.”
“Longer than two days, yes, but at the rate you’re going, we’ll both be dead before you ever put a ring on my finger.” She looked thoughtful. “What if we got engaged now, but we didn’t actually get married immediately? We could go on some of those picnics you mentioned and have some of those crazy-long conversations, and then get married.”
“I don’t know. People in my family tend to tie the knot awfully fast.”
“I’ve noticed that about you people.”
He ran a finger up her arm. “So, what exactly are you saying, Miss Markland? Are you saying that yes, you will marry me?”
“That’s what I’m saying, but I think the timing needs to be negotiated. We need to be a little bit logical about this, don’t we?”
He slid closer, slipped his hand behind her head, and brought her close for a kiss. Then he let her go. “You were saying?”
“Um . . . I think I was saying that logic is stupid and it’s only for nerds and people who know how to use abacuses and that we should just start planning this wedding already.”
“I agree. Well, except for the part where you lumped abacus users in with stuff that’s stupid. That hurt a little, honestly.”
“Do you know how to use an abacus?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“I do, actually.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“There are a lot of things about me you don’t know.”
“Which proves my point—we should have a longer engagement so we can learn these things about each other.”
Frank (Seven Sons Book 6) Page 8
