There was no reason for her to blame anyone but herself.
She drew in a breath and blinked and turned around. She’d take the side aisle up to the counter, pay for her things, and sit in her car until the meeting, pull herself together. If she had to have a good cry—and sometimes, you just had to—she’d do it in privacy.
She turned the corner, head down. And ran right into something.
Someone.
“Lana!” Flint’s arms were on hers, steadying her. “What are you doing here?”
She cleared her throat and blinked and swallowed, her face heating. “Shopping for the kids,” she managed to get out, nodding down toward her basket full of toys. She stepped back and he let go.
She couldn’t look into his eyes. No matter what wasn’t between them, she was afraid of what he’d recognize. In just a short while, he’d managed to get to know her better than most people did, and she was afraid of what he would see.
“Well, looky there.” It was Heath Grayson. One of Flint’s good friends, the one he must have been talking to, explaining how he didn’t want to get married. Because Heath was marrying soon, he must have been urging Flint to consider the same path. “How are you doing, Lana? What’ve you got there?”
“Are those for the children in your class?” It was Josie, Heath’s girlfriend, carrying a couple of bottles of liniment and a bag of medicated poultry feed. “You’re the best teacher, Lana. Everybody talks about what a great job you’re doing with the first-graders.”
“Thanks,” Lana murmured, and took a deep breath. Then another.
She could do this. She could talk normally to her friends. She could go up to the register, pay for the items, take them to her car.
If she could get that far, then she’d see about whether she could handle the town meeting.
Josie patted her baby bump. “I hope when this one gets to first grade, you’re still teaching here.”
What did it matter whether she stayed or went? She was totally without ties. Nothing was holding her to Haven, nothing except some nostalgic memories. And nothing was calling her anywhere else, either.
“Are you okay?” Flint asked.
She glanced up to find his blue eyes studying her. She swallowed. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“I’m guessing those first-graders are crazy this time of year,” Heath said. “Tell you what, I’d rather break a wild colt than face a first-grade class every day.”
“I’m going to have to face them later this week,” Flint said. “Helping with the party.”
Oh, right. She couldn’t escape Flint even at work, because he was going to come to class. She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.
“You’re helping with a Christmas party for kids?” Heath snorted. “Wish I could be a fly on the wall.”
“Hey, Flint’s a good dad,” Josie protested. “He’ll do fine.”
Lana listened while the ribbing went on, noticed with one part of her brain that Flint handled it well and was able to laugh about himself. Just another thing to like about him.
He was cheerful and understandably so. He’d done the right thing when his son’s nanny and teacher had gotten a little too close in the moonlight. He’d pushed her away.
He knew who he was and what he wanted. He’d made decisions about his life, and he was obviously comfortable with them.
She was the one who was messed up, listening to her own traitorous feelings. Listening to her own hunger for a family. Not learning from experience.
“I need to go get this stuff paid for,” she said, interrupting the others. A little awkward, but that was better than bursting into tears in the middle of the feed store. “Nice to see you guys.” And she hurried up toward the cash register.
Once she’d paid, she walked out of the store into a wonderland. Darkness had fallen, and the streets were wet from a light rain. It was the first time she’d been downtown since they’d put up the Christmas lights.
Every tree, spaced at even intervals along Main Avenue, was wrapped in white twinkle lights, which extended up into the branches. Most of the shops had their windows lit with Christmas displays.
Lana drew in deep breaths of the warm, damp air as she headed to her car. She put her things inside.
She loved the town of Haven. Loved her job here, loved living here so much more than she’d liked living in a big city, during and after college. When she got job notices from big-city school districts—as happened fairly often—she threw them right into the trash.
Yes, she’d gotten her hopes up and her feelings hurt. But the best solution for hurting was to keep busy.
She climbed into her car and headed for the meeting at the church.
* * *
Ten minutes after leaving the feed store, Flint approached the church where the meeting was being held. Wreaths decorated the doors, lit by spotlights, and Christmas lights wrapped the bushes and railings outside the church.
“Colored Christmas lights,” Flint said aloud.
“They’re the best!” a woman he knew vaguely agreed, climbing the steps behind him. “Hate the white ones.”
“I think white is classy.”
“No way!”
Flint chuckled as he held the door for the others to enter. During his short marriage, one of the many arguments he’d had with his wife was over Christmas lights. She’d liked classy white ones, while he had grown up with the multicolored ones.
He’d given in, and willingly. He wasn’t one to sweat the small stuff. But like with so many of their arguments, it had turned into a question of Flint’s taste and background and general character.
Now, on his own, he’d made sure that Logan knew colored lights were the manly way to go.
Shaking his head at himself, Flint trotted down the stairs into the church basement where the meeting was being held. The room was packed with far more people than usually attended. That probably meant Fletcher had been out politicking. Fortunately, the LSCL had done their part to make sure advocates of the ranch attended the meeting.
Many of the attendees wore colorful sweaters, Christmas jewelry or bright holiday ties. What they lacked in snow, his fellow Texans made up for by going all out on decorations and Christmas clothing. Around the borders of the room, long tables stood with items for sale from the church bazaar. Trust Marnie Binder to take advantage of an opportunity to drum up more interest in the church’s wares.
Fletcher Snowden Phillips wasn’t dressed in red. He wore his usual dark suit and bolo tie, and he was holding forth to a circle of townspeople, waving his hands.
Where was Avery Culpepper? She surely wouldn’t miss an event so possibly detrimental to the ranch. Flint scanned the room and saw her talking with a rancher Flint knew a little, Eduardo Gomez. The man, a recent widow, was rubbing the back of his neck and looking around. Searching for an escape route he wasn’t going to find, because Avery was standing very close to him and had a hand on his arm. Poor Eduardo.
The meeting hadn’t started yet, and the loud voices and gossiping clusters of people gave Flint a headache. He stuck to the perimeters of the room, pretending interest in the knitted toilet paper holders and wooden Christmas ornaments.
When he saw the sign beside a stack of Popsicle-stick picture frames, he paused. “Made by Miss Alvarez’s Class.”
He’d buy Logan’s, he decided. Surprise the boy with a photo of the two of them or of Cowboy, in a frame Logan had made himself.
He flipped through the frames, looking for Logan’s and marveling at the painstaking work. How had Lana gotten a bunch of first-and second-graders to sit still long enough to do this, on top of making cards for veterans and who knew what else?
She gave too much. She was running herself ragged. Maybe that was why she’d looked so upset over at the feed store. Almost li
ke she was ready to cry.
She should take a break. As the employer for one of her jobs, he should give her a break. Offer her a leave from nannying, at least until school was out.
Elsa Wells, the town mayor, called the meeting to order. But before she could start with old business, Marnie Binder stood up and reminded everyone to check out the offerings from the Christmas bazaar. “It’s this Saturday, and what’s left will be available after church, but don’t wait until then,” she said.
“Let’s get to the point of the meeting.” Fletcher Snowden Phillips stood and headed for the front of the room. “We’ve all put up with the Boys Ranch for long enough.”
“Now, hold off, Fletcher.” Elsa quelled him and forced the meeting to proceed in the proper order, dealing with old business first. But since there was only one real topic, soon enough Fletcher was back at the center of things. “The Boys Ranch scares off potential developers and home buyers. All those troubled hooligans running around our homes and our church, causing trouble. It’s got to stop. For the sake of the town, it’s got to stop!”
“Sure you’re not just upset about being knocked on your hind end yesterday, Fletcher?” As a few titters spread through the room, Marnie stood, hands on hips. “It may have made you look a little silly, but it wasn’t the fault of the Boys Ranch.”
“I could have been seriously hurt!” Fletcher sputtered, his face turning red.
Flint stood, cleared his throat and waited until he had everyone’s attention. “I’d like to point out that the church incident wasn’t just Boys Ranch kids. My Logan was at least half of the problem. I should have been paying more attention, and I apologize again for that, Fletcher. But the point is, that incident was just kids being kids. It was nothing to do with the Boys Ranch.”
As he sat down amid nods and “that’s rights” he noticed Lana watching him. But when she saw him notice her, her face closed, and she turned away.
“It’s not just the assault on me,” Fletcher roared. “There’s been graffiti marring our beautiful buildings and ranches. A series of thefts. The place is a menace, and I want it closed down. Who’s with me?”
A few people murmured assent, and that was enough for Fletcher. “I call for a vote!”
“Now just a minute.” A voice from the back of the room had everyone turning their heads. Nick McGarrett, a former soldier who volunteered at the ranch, was standing up. “My ranch was one of the places that got hit, but I don’t believe the boys did it. As a matter of fact, the Boys Ranch has done this community a lot of good. Helps kids whose families can’t set them right.”
As Nick went on offering a rousing defense of the ranch, Flint relaxed. Fletcher wasn’t going to win the day as long as well-respected people like Nick were offering testimonials. Or at least, Fletcher’s win wasn’t assured.
His mind drifted a little. Why had Lana looked away as soon as she’d seen him watching her? Why had she behaved so oddly at the feed store? Was it the fact that he’d come so close to kissing her? Was she offended, angry with him?
Thinking back over last night swept Flint’s attention right out of the crowded meeting room and back to the starry night. She’d looked so pretty. And when he’d run a hand over that silky hair, when he’d touched her face, he’d felt her trembling. And not entirely with fear. She felt something for him.
Lana was a special lady, that was for sure. Unbelievable that someone had left her at the altar. Whoever ended up marrying her would be blessed.
And he didn’t need to be thinking about that. He shook his head and forced his attention back to the meeting room.
Nick was still talking, but Flint got distracted by some overpowering perfume. Who would wear that much perfume? He glanced behind him. Of course. Avery Culpepper.
Lana wouldn’t wear perfume like that. Her hair smelled simple and sweet, like wild honeysuckle.
Flint reined in his emotions. He had to remember what he’d been talking to Heath about. His resolve to be single. He shouldn’t be making himself miserable thinking about something—or someone—he couldn’t have.
The response to Nick’s speech was much bigger than the response to Fletcher’s had been; a few of the women were wiping tears. Flint resolved to congratulate Nick, who generally kept to himself. The man had made a difference, maybe even turned the meeting around.
“Folks, we’ve heard the two different sides of the issue, and that’s a good thing. Open communication, not tale-bearing—” Elsa looked severely at a few known gossips in the room “—that’s the key to a healthy community. However...” She stopped to makes sure she had everyone’s attention. “The truth is, Fletcher, the location of the Boys Ranch in Haven isn’t up for a vote.”
The crowd started murmuring. “That’s right, not a city entity,” someone said nearby.
“We’ll see about that!” Fletcher yelled. “There are other ways to bring that place down!” Jamming his Stetson on his head, he stormed out.
The room burst out with excited chattering, and Elsa had to pound on the podium to get people’s attention. “This meeting is adjourned,” she called, and the room broke up into clusters of people talking it over.
Although happy with the outcome of the meeting, Flint knew that angering a man with Fletcher’s power and influence wasn’t wise. He knew he should talk to the other members of the LSCL about it, and he would. But first, he wanted to get to Lana, see if he could find out what was wrong and maybe repair any damages he’d done, offer to give her a break.
“Hey, Flint!” Someone tapped his arm, and Flint turned to see Gabriel Everett, president of the Lone Star Cowboy League. “What did you think?”
“I think we need to call a meeting of The League and figure out how to do damage control,” Flint said, reluctantly pulling his attention away from his search.
Gabe nodded. “That was my take, too. Phillips isn’t going to let this slide. This meeting just puts the ranch more at risk.” His voice was rough with emotion, and understandably so; he’d spent a couple of years at the ranch as a boy, and he credited it with changing his life, putting him on the right path.
Flint scanned the room, still buzzing with clusters of townspeople. “All the more reason for us to double down on finding the original residents. Any progress?”
“Not on my end, and it worries me.” Gabe’s grandfather had been a resident of the ranch, but he’d disappeared when Gabe was eight.
“How are you going to punt?”
“Hired a PI, but so far nothing.”
“Keep at it. Let me know if I can help.” Flint clapped Gabe on the shoulder and watched as the man strode across the room.
But there was a bigger concern on Flint’s mind, bigger even than the terms of Cyrus Culpepper’s will, and that was a certain weary-looking schoolteacher. He’d offer to drive her back to the ranch, send someone for her car tomorrow. The woman needed a break.
Once again, unbidden, the memory of the soft skin of her face, the darkness of her eyes, the sound of her breathing, surged up inside him.
He checked the room once more and then strode out into the hall. No one. Looked into the church kitchen, where he could hear Marnie Binder’s voice.
Lana wasn’t there. She must have slipped out.
He headed out of the church building, picking up his pace. He’d seen her car in the parking lot. Maybe he could catch her in time.
As he rounded the corner of the church, he saw several cars pulling out of the parking lot.
Lana’s was one of them, but even as he waved to stop her, her car’s taillights shrank into the distance. He’d missed her.
Which shouldn’t bother a die-hard single cowboy near as much as it did.
Chapter Nine
The next afternoon, Lana pulled her coat tighter as she and Logan walked out toward the ranch gates. As long as she s
tayed focused on the task at hand, she was doing all right. Fine. Better than fine.
“This is heavy!” Logan complained, stopping to shift the wreath he was carrying from one arm to the other.
“Here. I can carry it.” Even though she was struggling with the other wreath, a big thermos of hot chocolate and some cups, she managed to thread Logan’s wreath onto her arm. “You zip your coat up tight. And put your cap back on!” She made her voice stern.
“Okay.” He pulled his warm hat down over his ears, and Lana couldn’t help smiling. He looked so cute in winter clothes. It was the first time they’d really had cause to wear hats and mittens, and Logan looked downright Christmassy.
“Let me help with that, Miss Alvarez!” Robby Gonzalez came jogging up alongside them. He took the two wreaths from her arm and fell into step beside them. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to decorate the ranch gates. Want to join us?”
“I still get to hold the wreaths in just the right place, though?” Logan looked up at her anxiously.
She smiled down at him. “Of course you do. But Robby might be able to help with pounding the nails, because he’s old enough to use a hammer.”
“You hold, I’ll hammer.” Robby ruffled Logan’s hair, and Lana smiled. She liked Robby, and liked the way the older boys helped out the younger ones at the ranch.
As they walked, Lana tried to focus on the positive. She’d spent time praying and reading her Bible last night, and it had helped her a lot. She’d read the passages from Corinthians about marrying and staying single, and the wise words had shored up her resolve and her understanding.
There was nothing wrong with getting married, but if you could be single, that was the better route. You could focus on the work God wanted you to do.
If it was hard for you to withstand temptation, you should marry.
Lana had sighed over that part. Saint Paul seemed to be talking about physical temptation, but the Bible’s meaning went beyond the surface. Her own temptation was wanting to belong to a family. Wanting it so badly that it sometimes overrode her better judgment.
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