“Is that the only measure of success?” He eased his left hand around the other side of her waist.
“The only one that matters.” If he was trying to distract her, he was pulling it off.
“Liar,” he said softly.
“What?” She stared up at him.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t care how good a job you do setting up the museum.”
“Of course, I would.” When had she rested her hands against his chest?
“Because if you didn’t do it well, it would be a black mark on your resume.”
“Yes. But that’s not the only reason.” She frowned up at him, wishing he’d stop lightly rubbing his thumb against her side. No, she didn’t. She just wished it wasn’t scrambling her brain. “I take pride in my work. I want it to benefit others, to teach them about the diverse history of this wonderful state.”
“So every small museum has value.”
“If it’s done right.”
“And there’s a need for you to help people make their museums the best they can be. Which in turn makes you successful.”
“Rungs on the ladder.” Was he bending down? Her gaze settled on his lips. They were slowly moving closer.
“Leading to the top.”
“Right.” She swallowed hard and tried to calm her racing heart.
“There’s more to life than being at the top, darlin’,” he whispered. “A whole lot more.”
Hang her goals. She wanted to kiss him in the worst way. A little breeze ruffled his hair. A small gray clump floated down on a cobweb, dangling in front of his ear and swinging in her direction since he was leaning toward her.
Catching her breath, Emily pulled back.
“Don’t chicken out on me, sweetheart.”
She cleared her throat. “There’s a cocoon-wrapped bug caught in your sideburn.”
Chance smiled ruefully as he dropped his hands, straightened, and stepped back. “Reckon that kind of ruins the moment.” He flicked his fingers across the side of his face, knocking the spider’s boxed lunch to the ground. “I’m too dirty to be holdin’ you anyway. Sorry.”
She didn’t know how to reply, so she grabbed her latte and took a long sip. He gathered up his gloves and the broom and walked over to his truck. She picked up the poor stocking cap that she’d ground in the dirt and followed, not wanting him to think she was mad. Surely, he realized she’d been a willing participant to their almost-kiss.
He wiped his head and face with a towel as she walked up and draped the cap over the side of the truck bed. “Did I get it all?”
His hair looked adorably rumpled. “I think so.” She stretched around to see better. “Wait, there’s a little bit of cobweb on the side of your neck.” She reached over and plucked it off, trailing her fingers lightly over his skin. His gaze met hers, and her mouth went dry.
“Thanks.” His voice sounded a little husky.
At least he could speak. She nodded and stepped out of his way.
He untied his tennis shoes and slipped them off, standing on the cement driveway in a pair of white socks that looked brand-new. Had he worn a new pair to impress her? She wouldn’t put it past him. In a way, it was sweet.
He tossed his shoes into a heavy duty plastic storage box on the backseat. Shrugging out of his coveralls, he rolled them up – dirt, bugs, and all – and put them on top of the shoes. The whisk broom remained tucked away somewhere. He added his stocking cap to the container before removing a pair of cowboy boots from the floor between the seats. Leaning against the truck, he pulled them on.
Emily chugged some more of the latte, which had cooled down enough to drink quickly. “Did you find any problems?”
“There are a couple of sections of drain pipe that need to be replaced. No holes or anything, but there is some corrosion where they connect. I’ll call a plumber to take care of it. But the structure looks good. No sign of termites or dry rot.” He looked up at the roof. “She had a new thirty-year roof put on fifteen years ago, but I see a couple of shingles missing. I’ll have my roofer fix it and make sure there’s no damage underneath. We can check for leaks when we look at the attic. Did you go up there yesterday?”
“No. We didn’t get around to it. Linda said she hadn’t been up there in about five years, not since her knee got bad.”
“All those stairs were hard for her. They lived on the first floor these last several years since it has two bedrooms and a bathroom. Linda’s daughter came over every few months and cleaned the second floor rooms for her. Linda has needed a knee replacement for a while, but she refused to get it while Miss Sally was alive. She didn’t want to leave her with anyone else.”
“She’s still putting it off.” Emily set her empty cup in the back of the truck and moved to the edge of the driveway to pull a few weeds. “Now, she wants to wait until everything with the house is taken care of. She doesn’t want to be out of commission if we need her, which I think we will. She knows a lot of the family’s history, things Miss Sally told her over the years.”
“Miss Sally was a good storyteller. I told her several times that she should write a book. She’d just laugh and wave her hand and say all those journals and account books would have to suffice.”
Emily straightened and tossed a scraggly clump of grass onto the mini-weed pile. “She has journals?”
“I don’t know how many or where they are. I’m not even sure who wrote them.” Chance pulled a short comb from his back pocket and leaned down in front of the outside mirror, combing his hair. When he was finished, he tucked the comb back in his pocket and noticed she was watching him. “Do I look presentable?”
“Yes. Though I kinda liked the rumpled look.”
“Oh yeah? I’ll let you mess it up again.” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “But not now. I need to sprint through the rest of the inspection if I’m going to make my first appointment.” He caught her hand and tugged her toward the house. “Come on, darlin’. You can search for family skeletons while I look for cracks and mildew.”
“You lead such a glamorous life.”
“Not usually.” He opened the back door and followed her inside. “But I’ve worn a tux on occasion. I can hold my own with the rich and powerful.”
“I’m sure you can.” And it would be something to see.
13
On Saturday evening, the guys got together at Will’s to watch pro basketball. Since the girls were celebrating their friend Lindsey’s birthday, Nate brought Zach along. The little guy took turns pushing the bulldozer around on the hardwood floor and driving off with an imaginary load of dirt in the dump truck. Sometimes he stopped the dozer and used the toy crane to pick up blocks and put them in the truck to haul away.
Chance had given him the construction set, so he was pleased that it was one of his favorite toys. He was also tickled because it annoyed his brother, who was convinced he was trying to turn Zach into a builder instead of a cowboy before he reached age three.
He looked around the room at his friends and silently thanked the Lord for life being good. There hadn’t been any problems with the Bradley-Tucker House, so the Historical Society had approved the donation at a hastily convened meeting on Thursday night. His mother got the ball rolling with 142 a call to Mrs. Simpson’s attorney first thing Friday morning. His mom and Emily were chockful of glee.
“Pizza’s ready,” called Will, setting two pans on the wide counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the great room.
“About time.” Chance hopped up from the sofa and headed for the refrigerator. “Nate, you want root beer?”
“Water’s good for me.”
“I want root beer,” Zach said.
“No, buddy. You need to stick with water too. That’s what I’m having.”
“Okay. You fix me pizza?”
“Sure will.”
Dalton rested his hand on Nate’s shoulder as they walked toward the kitchen. “You’re good at this daddy stuff.”
“He
makes it easy. Not perfect, but he’s really a good kid.”
“Married life agrees with you.”
“There’s nothin’ better.” Nate washed his hands and dried them on a paper towel. Taking a glass from the cabinet, he filled it with water from the cold water dispenser on the front of the refrigerator. “Chance thinks he’s next to get hitched.”
“That’s what he says, but I don’t see him taking Emily out on any dates.” Will set a stack of paper plates and napkins on the counter beside some regular forks. If a fork was needed, plastic didn’t cut it.
“Haven’t had the opportunity. But she took me to Eden to meet her grandmother.” Chance handed Dalton a Dr Pepper and opened one for himself. “That’s a biggie in my book.”
“Mine too.” Dalton washed his hands at the kitchen sink, opened the soda, and took a drink. Setting it on the coun-ebook. E m i l y ’ s C h a n ce ter, he looked over the pizza. “How’d you and Grandma get along?”
“Good. Charmed the socks off her and her best friend.”
“What about her parents? When are you goin’ to meet them?” Nate asked as he cut a slice of Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza into child-sized bites.
“I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to like her parents much. To be honest, from some of the things she’s said, I don’t think I will either.”
“How come?”
“They’re rich.”
Dalton chuckled and put a couple of slices of Miller’s Grocery Everything-On-It pizza on his plate. “So are you.”
“Yeah, but they act like it. Flaunt their wealth, rub elbows with the rich and famous.”
“Which y’all have done on occasion.” Nate motioned for Zach to come to him. “Come wash your hands.”
Just for fun, Chance held out his hands and inspected them. “But they’re clean. I washed them this morning.”
“Don’t go puttin’ ideas into my son’s head.” Nate motioned toward the sink. “Be a good example to your nephew.”
“Yes, sir.” Laughing, Chance dutifully washed his hands. They probably needed it anyway. Drying them on a paper towel, he held them up to show Zach. “Squeaky clean.”
His nephew grinned as Nate lifted him up to the sink and scrubbed his hands with some soap. “Kid, you sure got grubby from playing with imaginary dirt.”
“Will probably needs to mop the floor.”
“What’s a mop?” Will helped himself to the food.
“That thing our cleaning lady uses when she shovels out your house and mine.” Chance wadded up a napkin and tossed it at his brother. Will batted it back. They’d hired a high school neighbor to clean their places every couple of weeks. She did a good job, and it made their lives easier.
Chance tucked a napkin and fork into his shirt pocket before sliding a slice of each kind of pizza onto his plate. He moseyed back into the living room area, watching Nate settle Zach in his little chair at the coffee table. The chair had been Will’s when he was that age. Chance had an identical one from his childhood at his house. It came in handy when his sister and family were over or on those rare times when he babysat.
Will and Dalton took their seats on the couch and tucked into the food. Nate glanced at Chance as he started toward the kitchen.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Chance winked at Zach. He didn’t think Nate had any worries about the boy abandoning his food. Zach loved pizza.
The Dallas Mavericks made a score, and Zach threw his hands up in the air. “Touchdown!”
“That’s a basket, buddy. Touchdown is football.” Will smiled at his nephew as the San Antonio Spurs raced down the court. “Now, the Spurs made a basket, a three-pointer.”
“Three-pointer.” Zach nodded and stuffed another bite of pizza in his mouth.
“So when are you going to take Emily out?” Will asked. “If you don’t make a move soon, I’m going to.”
Since his brother had a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Chance thought he was kidding. On the other hand, Will had admitted that he was attracted to her. “You do, and I’ll take you down and sit on you.”
“Oh yeah? You and who else?”
“Now, boys,” Dalton drawled. “Behave yourselves, or I’ll pin my deputy badge on and arrest you for disturbing my peace.”
Grinning, Will waved his hands in the air. “Oh, I’m so scared. You scared, Chance?”
“Naw. We can still whup him.”
Dalton grinned lazily. “So when are you going to ask her out?”
“Already did. Since the weather’s supposed to be good, I invited her on a picnic tomorrow.” He looked pointedly at the deputy. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“Noticed that on the calendar.” Dalton picked up a half slice of pizza from his plate and took a bite.
“So?” Chance asked.
“What?” Dalton frowned and wiped a string of cheese off his chin.
“Remember what I told you the other day? Didn’t you take that under advisement?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“What’d you tell him?” Will reached for his soda.
“That he should ask Lindsey out.”
“Good idea.” Will glanced at Nate. “Didn’t Jenna say we should come over at halftime for some cake?”
“Yep. Perfect opportunity to speak to the lady.”
Groaning, Dalton leaned his head on the back of the couch. “I’ve been set up.”
“Past time for you to act.” Chance grinned at his old friend.
“Come on, guys. I’ll get around to it when I’m ready.”
“Time’s a-wastin’,” Nate said, wiping pizza sauce off Zach’s face with his napkin. “Besides, the lady likes you.”
“She does?” Dalton sat up straighter. “How do you know?”
“I don’t think you were supposed to tell him that,” Will said.
“Just slipped out. My bad.” Nate’s smile wasn’t in the least repentant.
Chance laughed and shook his head. “You’ve been hanging around with my sister too much.”
“Yeah, and lovin’ every minute of it.”
“Nate, how do you know she likes me?” Dalton set his plate on the coffee table, one piece of pizza untouched, a frown drawing his eyebrows almost together.
“Jenna told me. Women talk about that kind of stuff.”
“I suppose they do.” Dalton picked up his plate, then set it down again. “This isn’t the kind of thing to spring on a man when he’s stuffin’ his face with pepperoni and Italian sausage.” He dug a roll of antacids out of his front pocket and popped two into his mouth.
“Are you all right?” Chance watched him closely. His friend had been under a lot of stress since the fire. He didn’t want them to add to it. But Lindsey would be good for him.
“I’m okay. After a burrito for lunch, I should have stuck with the Canadian bacon and pineapple.”
“Go make a trade. We don’t care. It’s not like you’ve eaten half of that piece already.”
“Wouldn’t care if he had,” said Will. “I can always cut off that part.”
Dalton walked into the kitchen and switched slices. “I don’t think Lindsey is all that interested in me.” He sat down, looking at Nate. “She’s friendly in a polite sort of way. But she doesn’t flirt or anything.”
“She’s a little shy sometimes. She’s a good woman,” said Nate. “And a good friend to Jenna.”
“She helped Jenna a lot after she first moved home, pulled her out of her shell when we couldn’t.” Will stood and headed toward the kitchen for a refill. “But I think she gets a little tongue-tied around a certain deputy.”
“So how come y’all know all of this, and I never noticed?” Dalton rearranged the pineapple on the pizza, spreading it out.
“We have keen powers of observation?” Chance grinned when Nate and Will laughed.
Dalton frowned in consternation. “I thought I did too.”
“Well, you know what they say . . .”
“What?”
&nb
sp; “Love is blind.”
“I’m not in love.” Dalton’s frown had darkened to a scowl.
“Not yet,” Nate said quietly.
Though her insides were quaking, Lindsey Moore smiled and blew out the candles on her cake. When Dalton Renfro had walked through the door wearing a deer-in-the-headlights look, she’d wished she were home polishing her toenails. Or riding the exercise bike she never got on, though she really needed to. Even weeding her mother’s rosebushes in the dark would be better than this humiliation.
Someone had told him.
Maybe not that she’d loved him since they were in high school but that she was interested in him now. He’d barely noticed her back then, and it hadn’t changed much. He’d greet her at church or around town with a friendly smile. But he’d never been interested enough to do more than comment on the weather or something equally mundane.
The Callahans and Nate had obviously decided Dalton needed a little – no, make that a big – push in her direction. Bless their hearts, they meant well, but for the most part, the poor man looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
Still, he joined in singing “Happy Birthday” with enthusiasm. She hadn’t known he had such a beautiful bass voice. The smile he gave her when she successfully blew out all twenty-eight candles was sincere. Lindsey relaxed a little bit.
That only lasted until she’d distributed the slices of chocolate birthday cake with strawberry filling. Somehow everyone else had wandered off to the living room, leaving her and Dalton alone in the kitchen. Lord, please don’t let me say or do something stupid.
He motioned toward the cake’s icing decoration of an artist’s palette and a paintbrush. “What do you paint?”
“Murals. So far most have been in kids’ bedrooms, but Maisie hired me to draw one on the front of her antiques store.”
“That’s great.” He paused, frowning mildly as he cut a bite of cake with his fork. “The only place you can put a mural on her building is on the false front.”
“That’s right. It will cover the whole wall of the fake second floor. I start on it Monday.” In spite of her nervousness, excitement bubbled up. She cut herself a small piece of cake and put it on the crystal dessert plate. “I’m hoping other store owners will be so impressed that they’ll hire me to do more on their buildings.”
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