"Don't you have any curmudgeons?"
A soft smile lifted her pretty lips. "A few."
Dusty thoroughly enjoyed his time with Lindsey. She was so much…sweeter…than most of the women he'd met on the circuit. There was a small-town girl wholesomeness to her. Integrity. Compassion. Trustworthiness. He should have tried to contact her again, even after her father had told him not to. He'd loved her. In fact, he was pretty sure he still did. He'd tried to ignore his feelings when she first started coming to the ranch, but he realized the other day when they had talked on the porch that he still cared for her. Dare he hope she might still feel the same?
Chapter Five
On Tuesday evening, Lindsey stepped into the room at her house that Dusty was helping her paint. "The pizza is almost done."
"Me too." He rolled the last section of paint, hiding the dingy white and leaving the room coated in a fresh teal ice—so the paint sample said. He turned, scanning the walls to see if he'd missed any spots. "Sure looks better. I still think we should have done the ceiling though."
Lindsey leaned against the doorframe with a satisfied smile on her pretty face. "The ceiling looks fine. I think last time this room was painted was right after…" Her smile dimmed.
"After Sean died? It was his room, wasn't it?" He should have thought about that before now, but it had been six years since he'd been in the Lang home.
She nodded. "It was a long time ago."
"So…what do you plan to do with it now?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "I haven't decided. I may make it a spare bedroom, but I already have one and never have any guests who stay overnight. More than likely, I'll make this into a craft room. I could move my sewing machine and craft cabinet in here and get them out of the den."
Dusty glanced down at the supplies they'd used. "I need to rinse out the paint brushes before they dry."
"Oh, right. You can use the utility sink in the garage. You still know the way?"
He nodded. "I'll take care of this mess."
She waved her hand at the floor. "Just leave the drop cloths in here, since we still have to put on a second coat."
"Will do." He hammered the lid on the paint can then took the roller and two brushes down the hall, through the kitchen. "Sure smells good in here."
Lindsey rushed past him and opened the door to the garage. "Good. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I usually eat at five-thirty, and it's almost eight now."
In the garage, he washed out the brushes and roller and set them on the sink's counter to dry. He looked around the near-empty area. Back when Lindsey's younger brother had been alive, the place had been filled with sports equipment, a motorbike, and a four-wheeler. Now it just held a riding mower and some gardening tools. He shook his head, grieved once again at the tragic accident that took Sean's life, ruined Luke's, and destroyed his relationship with the girl he loved.
He washed his hands, dried them, and reached for the door handle. Since Lindsey had come back into his life, he'd had plenty of time to consider their relationship. At first, he'd tried to stay distant, but it had been impossible to not think about her—to not grow hopeful. Pausing, he ducked his head and offered a silent prayer. God, thank you for this time with Lindsey tonight and last Saturday. I pray You will give us a second chance and restore the love we once had for each other.
He smiled, remembering how close they once were. Lindsey had been his girl for years when they were young, but he hadn't had marriage on his mind back then. Now was a different story. If God gave him another chance, he wasn't letting anything stand in his way.
The door handle flew from his grasp as Lindsey opened it. She yelped.
"Boo!" He chuckled at her surprised expression.
"I didn't expect to find you right there in my face."
He moved up the one step into the house, standing so close to her he could feel her breath on his throat. She barely moved back, and he took the opportunity to study her face. A smidgeon of faint freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. He smiled and touched her cheek. "You've got a dab of paint here." Then he touched her chin, lifting her face. "And here." The desire to kiss her was overwhelming, and he bent toward her.
"I…uh…the pizza."
He paused an inch from her mouth, fighting a grin. Every time he got close to her, she stuttered and got all jittery. "What about the pizza?"
She licked her lips then stepped back. "It's…um…on the table."
Reluctantly, he followed her. Was he pushing too fast? He still didn't know if she wanted to renew their relationship or just be friends, but he sure hoped that she wanted more than friendship. At least he was in her home again. That was a huge step forward.
Dusty blessed the food, then they ate, talking about his grandma, Lindsey's work, and people they'd gone to school with. When he finally pushed back his plate, after most of the pizza and salad was gone, he thought about how he'd enjoyed working alongside Lindsey and talking to her. She'd always calmed him.
She took the remaining salad to the fridge and returned to the table with two bowls and a carton of rocky road ice cream. "Amy mentioned that you and Daniel plan to fix up Shirley's house. What are you working on next?"
He leaned back in the chair with his hands locked behind his head. "Daniel fixed the banister that caused Gramma to fall and a few small things like the toilet lever and a broken pipe. I've been thinking that I'll work on some bigger issues, like painting her kitchen. I've already fixed the porch steps."
"You did that? I noticed they'd been repaired but forgot to mention it."
He smiled, filled with a sense of pride. "So, what color do you think would look good in Gramma's kitchen?" He watched Lindsey struggle with the ice cream scoop for a bit then stood. "Here. Let me do that."
She surrendered the scoop without a fight and sat. "I like a pale yellow or white for the kitchen color, but you need to ask Shirley. Hers has been yellow for so long, she may want something new."
Lindsey was probably right about talking to Gramma, but he had just decided as he was rolling Lindsey's room that he would paint the kitchen. It wasn't hard work and didn't bother his leg much, and it was quite rewarding to watch the dirty, old paint disappear under a fresh coat. He slid Lindsey's bowl toward her and filled his.
"If you do it on the weekend, I wouldn't mind helping." She dipped a bit of ice cream onto her spoon, slid it in her mouth, then slowly pulled it out.
He couldn't help watching. She'd always had an intriguing mouth.
She blushed at his perusal and ducked her head.
He put the lid on the container, shoved it in the freezer, then returned to the table. "I won't turn down any help offered. Work is always more fun and goes by quicker when there's more than one person. But I know you're busy during the week. I don't want to keep you from stuff you need to do here when you're off."
She shrugged. "This time of year there isn't as much work. Mowing doesn't take too long, since I have a riding mower, plus I prefer to do that task in the evenings when the yard is shady, rather than on the weekend. I don't have all that much left in the garden, mainly some okra, green beans, and tomatoes. The squash bugs got my zucchini plants."
He glanced around the kitchen. Not a lot had changed, except the place was neater—less cluttered—than when Lindsey's mom and grandmother had both been living. "Do you get lonesome here?"
"Once in a while."
"Do you ever miss your dad?"
She stared out the window for a while, and he wondered if she was remembering when she was young. She'd been close to her father. His sudden leaving must have hurt her deeply.
"I guess so. Seeing how much his being gone hurt Mom and Grandma kept me mad at him for a long while. But as I got older, I realized I needed to forgive him. Staying angry only hurt me. And seeing it from the eyes of an adult made me understand that Sean's death did something awful to Dad—it killed a part of him. He had such plans for my brother."
Dusty squeezed her hand. "I'm g
lad to hear you've forgiven him. Have you ever tried to contact him?"
She picked at the edge of a placemat. "No. I figured if he wanted to talk, he'd call or come home." She looked around the house she'd lived in her whole life. "It's not like I'm hard to find."
"You know, if my pa was still alive, I'd do just about anything to talk to him."
An unreadable expression flitted across her pretty face. "I bet you didn't realize that Dad left on my birthday."
Dusty's heart clenched. How could a man do that to a child he loved? "I'm sorry, Linds. I didn't know."
"It was a long time ago." She took a sip of her Coke. "What about you? Do you ever get lonely?"
He shrugged, even though he'd thought about that very thing not so long ago. "I guess so. Nowadays. Some."
She glanced up, capturing his gaze, the questions obvious.
"I never had a chance to get lonesome until after my accident. People were always around—wanting to go eat, practice, or other stuff. Even when I was in the trailer, Dan was usually there with a friend or two. Right after the accident, I had herds of friends come see me, but the rodeo moved on, and so did they." He looked away, staring at the dark window, not liking that he sounded abandoned—vulnerable. Her warm hand touched the back of his, drawing his gaze to hers again.
"Since you mentioned forgiveness, I'm assuming you're still a Christian, right?"
He nodded. He'd been angry at first, but his faith had been the only thing that had pulled him through his long recovery.
"Then you know we're never truly alone. God is always nearby, waiting on us to call on Him. And you have your grandma—and me."
He rolled his hand over to hold hers and gave it another squeeze. "You're right. I know that. It's just that at times I get overloaded, thinking of all I've lost."
"Try not to think of it that way. Think of what you achieved. You won the international rodeo championship. That's something so many cowboys all over the world aspire to do and never come close to accomplishing."
"I know you're right, but it's difficult to know what to do now. I worked so hard to get to the top and fell so fast. Sometimes I feel…lost."
"But you aren't. And you don't have to do this alone." She smiled, begging him with her gaze to believe him. "Remember how you felt after your parents first died?"
He thought back to when he was eight. He could barely remember his folks now. "I was devastated." A thought blossomed that he'd never before considered. "But if I'd never come to live at Pecan Ranch, I'd never have become a rodeo champion."
"And we might never have met. We certainly wouldn't have gone to school together or gotten to know one another so well."
He stared at her until she ducked her head. She was right.
"Bad things happen. We both know there's no avoiding them, but we don't have to let those things ruin our lives or control what we do next. Things are changing for you, but that doesn't mean those changes are bad. In fact, I'm excited to see what God does next in your life."
"You are?"
She nodded.
He hadn't looked at his accident as the door to something new and exciting. He'd only seen the downside of it. "Thanks for giving me a new perspective."
"Glad to help."
"I reckon I oughta head home."
She stood, gathered the dishes, and carried them to the sink. "Did you drive Shirley's car over here?"
"Naw, I walked."
"Really? Why don't you let me run you home?"
As he rose, he realized his leg was hurting from standing so long while he'd painted. "I believe I'll take you up on that offer." He walked up close to her. Next to Gramma, she was the kindest person he knew. Her heart had always been as big as the state of Texas.
"Good." She slipped past him. "Let me grab my keys."
He leaned against the counter, watching her flee. Why was she so nervous around him? She knew he'd never hurt her—but then, he had. Was that the problem? Was she afraid to trust her heart to him for fear he might break it again?
#
Lindsey pulled into Shirley's driveway, feeling more than a little anxious. She couldn't pinpoint the reason. Maybe it was being alone with Dusty in the dark—or that he'd nearly kissed her. At least she was pretty certain the thought had crossed his mind.
She turned toward him. "Thanks for your help. I doubt I'd have gotten the first coat finished tonight if I'd had to paint it by myself."
He took her hand. "I was happy to help. So, are we still doing the second coat on Thursday?"
"As long as I don't have an emergency with one of my patients."
"Sounds good." He gently tugged on her hand, drawing her gaze to his. "I've enjoyed spending time with you, Linds. I've missed this. Missed us."
She couldn't lie or deny her feelings. Even when she'd been so hurt that he'd abandoned her, she'd never quit loving him. "Me too."
The porch light illuminated his handsome features, and she could tell he was smiling. But his smile dipped to serious when he pushed his hat back on his forehead and leaned toward her. Lindsey's heart thundered as his lips touched hers for the first time in six years. She clung to his shirt, returning his kiss, wishing they'd never been apart.
He drew away before she was ready, but that was the wise thing. Dusty gently cupped her cheek, then leaned in for another kiss. "Goodnight, Linds."
She watched him stride toward the house, barely limping. He stopped just inside the door and tipped his hat to her. She waved then turned the SUV around in the drive. Glancing at the door as she passed it again, she was surprised to see him still there. She couldn't hold back her smile. It felt as if nothing had changed between them—but something had. They were no longer teens in love, facing years before they could consider marriage.
Her hands gripped the wheel. Was she really doing this? Risking her heart to the one man who had the power to crush it to unrecognizable pieces? It almost seemed that she had no choice in the matter—like her heart had a mind of its own. Was Dusty part of God's will for her future? She wanted to hope so, but she was still afraid something would break the tenuous cord drawing them together.
On Wednesday morning, Lindsey pulled into the parking lot of Craft Away the Day. Unable to sleep the night before until the wee hours of morning, she'd scoured the Internet for quilt patterns and found one she loved.
She flipped up the hood of her windbreaker to shield herself from the light rain and hurried inside.
"Well, lookie, lookie. There's my favorite physical therapist." Shirley beamed from the table where she sat with her three friends. "Come over here for a moment."
Amy flashed her an apologetic smile from behind the counter.
Lindsey crossed the store to the worktable, removed her jacket, and laid it over an empty metal chair. She offered a smile to the elderly quartet she'd known for years. A couple of the ladies attended the same church that she did.
"Hi, Lindsey. It's good of you to take care of our Shirley." Carol Lamont, a small seventy-something woman with coal black hair, waved a pair of knitting needles at her.
"I'm thrilled to have her. She's much nicer than Diane." Shirley reached out and squeezed Lindsey's arm. "Do you know Lynn Watson?"
"We've met. She knew Grandma." Even though inside, Lynn wore a scarf over her head. She was the odd duck—much taller than the other women.
Michelle Belmont was the last of the group, and the youngest. Her hair had once been blond, but now it was partially white and hung down her back in a long braid. Michelle smiled. "Shirley's told us all about your sessions with her."
"And she keeps us up-to-date on that handsome bull rider of yours." Carol flashed a toothy grin.
Lindsey's cheeks warmed. They'd been talking about her and Dusty?
Amy joined them, stopping next to Lindsey. "You ladies continue with your work. We have quilt fabric to pick out."
"Yes." Lindsey flashed her a grateful glance. "I only have a short time before I have to be at my next patient's house."
"Her Burt Vanderly is coming to pick her up for an early lunch at Scooter's," Carol volunteered. "The rest of us aren't invited."
Lindsey wished Shirley a fun lunch, said good-bye, and followed Amy toward the fabric section.
"You looked like you needed rescuing. You went pale when Carol mentioned Dusty. I heard you took him to Texarkana Saturday to shop for a truck. What's going on with you two?"
"I was simply helping out a friend."
"Uh-huh. Daniel said Dusty helped paint a room at your house last night."
Lindsey nearly rolled her eyes. "How has that info gotten around town so fast?"
Amy flicked her dark chocolate eyes toward the senior ladies and back, then she lifted one eyebrow.
"Oh…well, I should have known it wouldn't be a secret for long."
Amy leaned against the counter. "So…have you decided on your pattern?"
"Yep! Found it online last night." She tugged a picture of a colorful quilt from her purse. "It's called 'Batik Gone Crazy'. I love the various shades of batik fabric and how the black border enhances them. Also, I thought since the corners and lines are mostly square, it would be an easy one to start with."
Amy nodded. "I like it, and you're right about the black bringing out the color of the other fabrics."
They spent the next forty-five minutes picking the material for her wall hanging. Along with the thread, she purchased a rotary cutter and mat and a package of quilting needles. Amy carried one of the sacks out to her car. "I'm glad the rain has stopped."
Lindsey glanced up, happy to see the sun peeking through the clouds. "Me too, but it's always good to get rain in the summer."
The sack crackled as Amy shifted it to her other arm. "I sure appreciate your business."
"I'm grateful for all your help in choosing the fabric."
Amy grinned a bit sheepishly. "Thankful enough to tell me what's going on with you and Dusty?"
Lindsey pressed the button on her remote to open the rear door of her SUV. "Other than renewing our friendship, I'm honestly not sure. The first few times I visited Shirley, I could have sworn Dusty was avoiding me."
The Bull Rider's Bride Page 5
