by Marin Thomas
“Does everybody here know Grandma?” Charlie asked.
“Looks that way.” Travis skimmed the forms, then began filling in the information.
“Dad.” Charlie pointed across the room to the plateglass window. “Here comes that schoolteacher lady.”
Sara Sanders’s shoulder-length hair curled softly around her face. She wore an ankle-length jean skirt with a camel-haired sweater that ended below her hips. A brown leather belt hung loosely around her waist, matching the color of her leather boots. There was no disguising her height or sturdy build, but dressed as a teacher she appeared feminine and touchable—not prickly as she had when she’d stopped in at the ranch to speak to Dominick before Thanksgiving.
It was only when she opened the office door and stepped inside that their eyes met. He swore he heard her breath catch. Obviously his presence had caught her by surprise. He nodded. “Ms. Sanders.”
Sara shifted her attention to his daughter. “Hi, Charlie.”
“Hi.”
“I thought you were leaving town.” Sara directed the question to Travis.
“Change of plans.”
Charlie inched closer to the teacher. “We’re gonna move into my grandpa’s house and I’m gonna go to school here.”
When Sara showed no reaction to the news, Travis added a few more details. “Dominick offered me a job troubleshooting his company’s oil wells. As soon as Charlie’s registered, I’m returning to Houston to pack up our house. I’ll be back by Friday.” When Travis accepted the job, he’d decided to rent his house in Houston and allow Charlie to finish the school year in Tulapoint. Hopefully by then he’d know whether he wanted to continue working for Cartwright Oil. If he did, then he’d sell the house and find a permanent home for him and Charlie around Tulapoint.
“Charlie,” Rosie interrupted the conversation. “Principal Edwards would like to speak with you.” The older woman whispered to Sara, “He’s as handsome as Dominick was in his younger years.” Grinning, Rosie led Charlie into the principal’s office and shut the door.
Left alone with Sara, Travis asked, “How was your Thanksgiving?”
Her eyes twinkled, but she kept a straight face. “Probably not as interesting as yours.”
He grinned. “Probably not.” An awkward silence ensued, which caught Travis by surprise. Usually he had no trouble carrying a conversation with a woman. Sara’s not just any woman—she’s the thorn in Dominick’s backside.
The principal’s door opened and a short, stout man approached with his hand extended. “Thomas Edwards, principal of Tulapoint Elementary. Welcome to town.” He motioned to Sara. “Ms. Sanders, you have a new student.”
“Wonderful.” Sara smiled at Charlie.
Things couldn’t have worked out better if Travis had planned them. With Charlie being one of Ms. Sanders’s students, Travis had a legitimate excuse to contact the teacher and become better acquainted with her.
“Rosie will need Charlie’s files from her previous school and her immunization records,” Edwards said.
“I had the school fax over the health forms this morning.” Travis withdrew the papers from his coat pocket and handed them to Rosie. “They’ll send the rest of her records in the mail.”
“Ready to meet your new classmates?” Sara asked Charlie.
“I guess.” Charlie edged closer to Travis.
“Remember, you’re taking the bus home today and Juanita will pick you up at the end of the driveway.” Travis dropped to one knee and pulled his daughter close. Charlie didn’t protest. “Call me as soon as you get home from school,” he said.
His daughter had her own cell phone—a present from him after her grandmother’s death. He’d also bought Charlie three new Barbie dolls and probably would have kept giving her toys if she hadn’t accused him of trying to make her stop crying.
“Ms. Sanders,” Rosie said. “When I mentioned the class Christmas party, Charlie asked if her father could help out.”
Way to go, Charlie.
“You said you wanted to do more stuff with me,” Charlie reminded Travis.
“That I did.” Travis could kill two birds with one stone—take an interest in his daughter’s activities and find out why Sara Sanders and her brothers refused to do business with Cartwright Oil. “I’d be happy to help with the party.”
“The room mothers and I are meeting Friday, after school, if you care to join us.” The invitation lacked enthusiasm.
Travis hugged Charlie one more time. “Be good.” He waved as his daughter left the office holding Sara’s hand.
“I’m sorry about your mother’s passing.” The principal’s apology sounded heartfelt. “I was three years behind Charlotte in school.”
Rather than open the door for more questions, Travis said, “I should finish filling out these forms before I leave.”
“If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to call or set up a meeting with me.” Edwards slapped Travis on the shoulder, then retreated to his office.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” Rosie asked.
“No, thanks.”
Left alone with his thoughts, Travis’s mind wandered to Sara. The schoolteacher didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean she was immune to him. He’d felt her heated stare when she’d thought he hadn’t been paying attention. He appreciated a certain amount of stubbornness in a woman and he admired Sara for standing her ground with a man like Dominick, but no matter that he found her intriguing, their relationship had to remain businesslike. He had too much on his plate to pursue the schoolteacher on a personal level. He had all he could handle learning a new job, trying to get to know his siblings, being a better father to Charlie and earning Dominick’s respect by delivering Sara’s agreement to sell the Bar T.
Time would tell how long Sara could resist his roughneck charm.
SARA CHECKED THE CLASSROOM clock. 4:00 p.m. School had ended an hour ago. Evidently Travis Cartwright wouldn’t be keeping his promise to attend the after-school meeting to plan the Christmas party.
“Sara?”
Startled, she tore her gaze from the clock. “I’m sorry?” She smiled at Darla Kemper, one of the room mothers seated at the children’s worktable.
“I designed the invitations for the party next Friday.” Darla displayed the elaborate artwork.
“They’re beautiful.” Sara wished Darla put as much effort into encouraging her son to do his homework as she did designing party invitations.
“We should put a reminder inside the invitations for the school food-bank project.” Patsy Reynolds shared the room-mother duties with Darla. Sara appreciated the woman’s common-sense approach to helping in the classroom.
“Good idea,” Sara said. “Let’s send the invitations home with the children on Monday.” A few years ago, she’d done away with the traditional holiday gift exchange in her classroom and had the children bring in canned food for needy families in the community. The idea had been a huge success and now each grade participated in the food drive. This season, donations were down and the number of needy families had risen from twelve to eighteen.
“What about snacks for the party?” Darla said.
“How about a Victorian supper?” The mothers stared at Sara with blank faces. “Since we’re reading Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, I thought a Victorian-themed party would be nice.”
Patsy shrugged. “Why not? I’ll look up Victorian foods and prepare a sign-up list for the parents.”
Bless you, Patsy.
“Oh, shoot. I need to go.” Darla shoved her notebook into her purse. “Bob’s pulling a double shift today. I’d better get home before the kids tear the house apart.” Darla’s husband owned a tow-truck business.
“What about the decorations?” Patsy asked.
“I’ve set aside time for the kids to make ornaments for the class tree.” Sara walked the ladies to the door.
“Who’s bringing in the Christmas tree?” Darla asked.
“I thought I’d see i
f the other room parent…” Sara sucked in a quiet breath when she glanced down the hallway and spotted Travis. “Here he is now.”
“Wow. Wish I hadn’t put on those extra ten pounds over Thanksgiving.” Patsy sighed. “Not that it matters. A guy like that wouldn’t give girls like us a second look, would he, Sara?”
Although Sara was used to people viewing her as a simple unadorned woman, Patsy’s comment still stung.
“Hello, ladies,” Travis greeted. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re helping with the Christmas party?” Darla asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down Sara’s spine—or maybe it was the heady scent of his cologne. She swallowed a sigh. The roughneck could ma’am her any day and all day. “Travis Cartwright, meet Patsy Reynolds and Darla Kemper.” She motioned to each woman. “My room mothers.”
“Nice to meet you, Travis. Gotta run.” Darla rushed off.
Patsy scribbled her telephone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Travis. “Call me if you need help finding a tree.” Patsy winked, then followed Darla.
Travis frowned at the note.
“Patsy’s divorced with four children.” Sara left out the obvious—the single mother was on the hunt for a husband. Sara wandered over to her desk and organized papers, willing her heart to cease pounding. Her memory of Travis hadn’t done him justice. His broad frame filled out his cable-knit sweater, reminding her of a muscular New England fisherman.
He strolled around the classroom. “So this is Charlie’s new home away from home.”
“Her desk is over there.” Sara nodded to the opposite side of the room.
“How did Charlie do this week? When I spoke to her on the phone, she sounded excited about school.”
“She did great.” Charlie had a rough first day when two boys had made fun of her name. After Sara had explained that Charlie’s grandmother had recently died, the boys had decided that Charlie was a cool nickname for a girl. “She’s made a new friend—Mary Parker. They eat lunch together and play during recess.”
“Charlie mentioned Mary.” Travis stopped in front of her desk. “Are you busy?”
“No.” She’d planned to grade papers until five. “Why?”
“Would you like to grab a bite to eat?” His lips curled in a sexy half-grin. “You can tell me about the tree I’ve been assigned to find for the classroom.”
For half a second Sara stopped breathing, then she chided herself for her silly reaction. Travis wasn’t asking her out on a date. A man like him would never be interested in a woman such as herself. Good thing, because she had no intention of falling for another handsome man—been there. Done that. Paid a high price. When she was ready to dive into another relationship, she’d pick a steady Eddy, not a tall, muscular, tanned, handsome, sexy roughneck. “Patsy or Darla could give you a call next week,” she said.
His expression sobered. “There’s something else we need to discuss.”
“Oh?”
“Dominick.”
The mention of her pesky neighbor startled Sara like a cold splash of water in her face. She should have expected that Dominick would send his son to do his dirty work. Maybe dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. By the end of the meal Travis would understand no one bullied Sara Sanders. “How about Beulah’s?” she suggested.
“I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.”
As soon as Travis left the room, Sara’s jittery nerves calmed. Even though she stood five-ten and weighed—never mind—Travis was still an imposing man. She gathered the student grammar tests and crammed them into her schoolbag, then put on her coat and flipped off the lights before shutting the classroom door.
When she reached the parking lot, she noticed Travis’s truck idling in the spot next to her white compact. He flashed another smile—Lord, the man’s teeth were white. She left the school, the truck’s headlights burning into the back of her head. Ten minutes later she arrived at Beulah’s and parked by the patio.
Beulah met them in the hallway when they entered through the back door. “Howdy, Sara.”
“Beulah, you remember Travis Cartwright.”
“Sure do. Where’s that youngin’ of yours?”
“With her grandfather,” Travis said.
They were escorted into the front room and seated by the window. “You plan to stick around for a while?” Beulah asked Travis.
“Appears that way.” Travis nodded across the table. “Sara is Charlie’s new teacher.”
“Ain’t that interesting.” Beulah snagged the pencil protruding from her beehive hairdo. “Ready to order?”
“I’ll have the shepherd’s pie and coffee.”
“Make mine the same,” Travis said.
“Be back in a jiffy.”
As soon as Beulah walked out of earshot, Sara steered the conversation toward Christmas trees. “Last year, the room mothers purchased a real evergreen for the class party, but the tree dried out too quickly and became a fire hazard.”
“What about an artificial tree?” Travis suggested.
“I was hoping for something more unique. Would you be able to come up with an idea for a homemade tree? Not too large—just big enough to hold thirteen ornaments?”
“Sure. Charlie and I will brainstorm something. When do you need the tree?”
“Next Friday.”
Beulah delivered their coffee. “Food will be right up.”
Christmas-tree talk exhausted, Sara avoided eye contact and sipped her coffee. “How—”
“What’s—” They spoke at the same time.
“You go first,” he said.
“What’s it like having a job in the middle of the ocean?”
“Not as glamorous as people assume. I worked the second shift—6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. After I clocked out in the morning, I’d eat breakfast, then sleep until two.”
“What did you do for entertainment?”
“Watched movies, played pool, Ping-Pong or lifted weights.”
Her eyes strayed to his biceps—he must have lifted a lot of iron. “You didn’t feel claustrophobic living in such close quarters?”
“Sometimes.” He didn’t elaborate.
“I imagine your coworkers will miss you.” She wondered if any girlfriends would miss him, but Beulah returned with their food and a basket of warm bread, ending her line of questioning.
“You’ve lived here all your life, so you must know Matt and Samantha pretty well.” Travis buttered a roll.
“My brothers and I helped around the ranch a lot and didn’t have much of a social life outside of school.” Mostly true. She saw no reason to share with Travis that his sister had been popular and had hung out with the in-crowd, while she’d been a bookworm with few friends. “How was your first Thanksgiving at the Lazy River?”
“Charlie had fun with her cousins.”
Sara noticed Travis hadn’t said whether he’d enjoyed the gathering.
“The recent Cartwright weddings have been the talk of the town,” Sara said. “Duke this past February, then Matt in July and Samantha in September.” Sara had been green with envy when she’d heard Samantha and Wade Dawson were tying the knot. Sara’s wish to marry and have a family of her own seemed farther out of reach than ever these days.
“There’s still one Cartwright sibling that’s single.” Travis winked.
Sara resisted the urge to ask why Charlie’s mother wasn’t in the picture, but the less she knew about Travis’s personal life the better.
“How long has my father been after you to sell the Bar T to him?”
Travis didn’t beat around the bush. “He hasn’t told you the whole story?”
“Our schedules haven’t allowed us to talk much.”
“My father took out a second mortgage on the Bar T a couple of years ago. Around the same time his health took a turn for the worse. The medical bills piled up until he died this past April.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t know that your father had passed away so recently.”
His simple confession sounded more sincere than the five-hundred-dollar flower arrangement Cartwright Oil sent to the funeral home.
“Thank you. Before my father died, we’d commissioned a soil study on the property and the ranch tested positive for oil. We’d hoped to lease the drilling rights and use that money to get out of debt.”
“What’s kept you from going ahead with your plans?”
“Your father.” At Travis’s surprised expression, Sara explained. “I don’t have proof, but I believe your father is wielding his influence and forcing the local oil companies to lowball their bids.”
“That’s not ethical.”
“I keep forgetting that you never knew your father existed until recently. In time, you’ll begin to see Dominick for what he really is.”
Travis stiffened. “And what is that?”
“A bully.” Sara breathed in deeply, hoping to calm her anger. “He’s forcing our backs to the wall with the bogus lawsuit he recently filed. What your father refuses to understand is that no matter what he does, we’re not selling or leasing to him.”
“What’s your backup plan?”
There was no backup plan. “Win the lottery.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I promised my father that Dominick would never step foot on the Bar T.”
Pointing his fork at her food, he said, “Eat before it gets cold.”
She was grateful Travis dropped the subject of oil, and they ate in silence.
“Apple pie?” Beulah topped off their coffee cups.
“No, thank you.” She loved apple pie, but the extra calories would go straight to her hips.
“Bring two.” As soon as Beulah walked off, Travis said, “You’re not one of those women who never eats dessert, are you?”
She snorted. “Do I look like a woman who never touches sweets?”
His eyes twinkled. “I like a woman who appreciates good food.”
No problem there. Sara craved all kinds of food—more than she should.
They ate dessert in silence and Travis grabbed the check as soon as Beulah set it on the table. “I’ll pay for my meal,” Sara said, digging through her wallet.
