by Pamela Tracy
"I like the way it looks," Daniel said when he finished.
She did too. The Nutty Knitters had their table pushed a little more to the side. Then, the quilting frame took up the other side, four chairs arranged around it. He'd set up a smaller frame upstairs in the spare bedroom. The bluebonnet quilt she'd worked on the last few nights would look perfect in her bedroom. She'd continue the theme her aunt had started. It gave her a connection to Abigail.
And to the town she called home.
The store's frame was there so that any customer who came in could sit down and do a stitch or two. Shirley had donated one that Daniel and Amy had pinned the other night. When the quilt was finished—albeit imperfectly because, as Daniel's grandmother said, only God is perfect—they'd donate it to the church to give to someone in need.
Shirley's words about being perfect suddenly had meaning, not that Amy intended to accept the message. Just because a good-looking cowboy was rocking her world didn't mean she should feel all protected. Far from it. If Amy'd learned anything from her mother, it was to be careful, not to trust, and that everyone had an agenda.
Aunt Abigail had started to chip away at Amy's defenses.
She'd died too soon.
"Anything else you'd like me to do around here?" Daniel asked.
The Nutty Knitters twittered.
"No, we're fine." Amy shot them a be quiet look.
"When are you going to visit your brother?" Michelle asked.
"Week after next, and just for a day. He'll be out of the hospital, staying with Hershal's family. It's close to the rehabilitation center he'll be using."
"It's good to have friends."
"Yes," Daniel said, giving Amy a long look before leaving.
After the door closed behind him, the Nutty Knitters made a few comments about young love. Amy merely smiled, knowing any response would just give them more reason to talk. She went around the store, noting what needed restocking and straightening up. She thought about Daniel writing down the date on the big kitchen calendar so he could go see the lawyer with her. He'd used a big red marker. She could see everything written there. Shirley's doctor visits, Burt's birthday, and toward the end of August, two were marked RODEO.
Daniel's handwriting.
Maybe they were Dusty's events. Added before he'd hurt himself.
The bell over the door rang, and Daniel poked his head in. "Burt's taking Gramma to dinner tonight. How about I take you somewhere, too?"
Amy nodded before she processed all the arguments why she shouldn't.
"Hmmm," Carole said after Daniel left again, "looks like a perfect match."
But Amy knew nothing was perfect. Falling in love with someone who intended to leave—and would hate it if he couldn't—wasn't a good idea.
Unfortunately, it was already too late.
#
Daniel couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun on a date. After dinner, which he didn't remember eating, they left the small town and drove into the country. A little north of his grandma's place.
Amy pointed out some of the ranches and farms in the area and made him read the plaques many had posted on their entry gates.
He'd lived in Pecan most of his life and hadn't even realized the history.
Amy sat up straighter after they'd driven past a sprawling ranch with two giant barns and plenty of horses. Its gate proclaimed Tomlinson Territory. The date underneath was just four years ago. Amy glanced at Daniel. "The next one is the one I want."
A good mile from Tomlinson Territory was the Macintosh house, empty for the last five years. It didn't have enough land to make it a working farm, but it had too much land for someone who just wanted to be a gentleman farmer. "Why this one?"
"It looks lonely," Amy said easily. "Like it knows it's supposed to have a family running through its rooms. It's all gray. But can't you see it in yellow and white with a few rust-colored accents?"
Daniel parked so they could walk around. Personally, all he saw was weathered shingles and a lot of man-hours needed to fix things. But he believed Amy. Not once had he ever seen her anything but perfectly put together with vibrant colors.
"The week after next," he told her, "on Thursday, the church will be fifty years old. The members are putting together a special potluck. Come with me."
"I—"
"It's not a service," he said quickly. "The food will be great, and people from out of town are coming. Kids will be playing games. None that involve clothespins or winning diapers. But, hey, Brittney's mother will be there with pictures of the baby."
She didn't answer, but he could see emotions warring in her expression.
"Please."
"Okay."
He whooped, loudly, and something fell in the Macintosh barn. Amy jumped back, bumping into him, and causing him to wrap his arms around her. They froze and he knew, knew, that with Amy, it wasn't just because of the noise. She didn't move, and he took advantage. He gently turned her around and tilted her chin up. He pushed brownish-blond hair away from her eyes, and then he kissed her.
Her lips pressed against his, a perfect match, sweet and just as willing as he was. She leaned in, and he caught her, making sure to hold her steady. His hands went through that glorious hair, long, wild, and tangling in his fingers until finally his bare hands touched the back of her neck.
He'd never considered a neck sexy until now.
He paused, savoring the kiss, just needing to breathe. At least that's what he blamed his weak knees on, when the sound in the barn came again. This time a clatter.
Amy stepped back, too. "Are you going to go look? Could someone...?"
"No, surely if someone were in there, they'd be quiet and not want our attention."
He could tell by her eyes that she both wanted to leave and wanted to know what was in the barn. He sighed. Females.
Two minutes later, he came out of the barn with two females, neither old enough to be alone without their mother.
"Kittens," she breathed. "Put them back. Their mother will be looking for them."
"No," he said softly. "She won't. And don't ask."
Amy waited in the car, wrapping the kittens in an old shirt of his that he always kept in the truck. He, because she'd asked, buried the mother. Every once in a while, he glanced at the truck and saw her watching him, tears in her eyes, over a cat she'd never met, hadn't touched.
But Amy Benjamin had touched him.
It was time to rethink the future.
#
The following Wednesday, Amy headed for her lawyer's office with Daniel beside her. Her Aunt Abigail's lawyer, Ronald Clark, didn't live in Pecan. He lived in the next town and had taken over his father's practice right before Abigail died—which was why there were so many issues with her aunt's estate. Ronald Senior had worked with Abigail about the time his memory'd started slipping. Luckily, his son, Ronald Junior, came home, took over the practice, and was putting things to rights.
He worked from his garage-turned-office. "I should have moved back home years ago," he said, motioning for Amy and Daniel to sit down. "Dad surely needed my help. But, you don't want to hear about me. Good to see you, Amy. I've heard a lot about you, Daniel. Your grandma is one of my clients. How is she doing?"
Daniel quickly updated him on Gramma's progress and spoke a little bit about Dusty. Last night Dusty's friend had gone to check on Dusty's trailer. It had been stolen. One more thing for the Starr brothers to worry about. Because of the injuries, it looked like Dusty's rodeo days were over. And with all his upcoming medical bills, his savings could quickly disappear. And Dusty had been sending money home to Gramma. On top of everything else, Daniel needed to take up the slack with that, too. He'd taken on all this responsibility, and it hadn't crushed him yet. Those broad shoulders were carrying a big load.
"Sorry to hear that. Your family's certainly had enough to deal with lately." The lawyer smiled in Amy's direction. "Some of it good, I take it?"
"We're not a couple,"
she said quickly.
Unspoken was the word yet. Surely, a dozen texts a day—even if they were about kittens—counted for something. She still couldn't believe she was responsible for two needy beings.
And loving it. She didn't even mind that she had to wake up multiple times during the night to feed them.
Daniel took out his laptop. "I'm helping Amy with her finances. We figured if I were here, it would help me get the whole financial picture."
"Good idea."
For the next hour, Ronald went through the leases that he'd had to search for. Both were for homes and had been misfiled by his father. The three of them went through the documentation naming her beneficiary of the trust, focusing first on the shops she owned on Main Street.
"I read the papers you gave me the first time we met." She wasn't about to admit how little time she'd given to them. She had a GED, thanks to Abigail's insistence, but after reading just a few paragraphs of the papers, she'd been overwhelmed, lost, but grateful that her aunt had employed a management company to handle every transaction, every complaint. Then, she'd been too busy trying to keep Craft Away the Day afloat. She'd thought that her top priority. Now she listened intently, grateful to Daniel for explaining that the rent paid to her was from a corporation.
Not that she understood everything he was saying.
"It's the two houses we need to focus on," Ronald said. "I'll make sure there's no back taxes owed and that they're added to the corporation."
"Houses? Say that again?" Amy said.
Ronald quickly handed over the deeds, showed her their location on a map he'd brought up on his computer, and discussed their value.
Tears welled up, flowed freely, and Daniel quickly handed her the tissue box from the corner of Ronald's desk. "Amy, this is good news."
"You own two homes, both with plenty of property," Ronald said. "Your aunt was shrewd. Both are empty, and both are already worth more than she paid for them."
Daniel looked over her shoulder. After a moment, he turned to her and smiled. Pointing to the top deed, he said, "This is the Macintosh house."
"No, that house is on Tomlinson Road."
"The Tomlinsons bought the big ranch at the end four years ago. The one where we saw all the horses. They paid to have the name of the street changed. Before that, it was Wild Bluebonnet Road."
"Bluebonnet? You're kidding."
"No."
Her hands shook. Even as the lawyer continued to talk, and Daniel answered on her behalf, all she could think about was what her aunt had given her.
She'd give it all away to have Abigail again. People were more important than things, and Amy wanted to tell her aunt about the love swelling in her heart. That, more than anything, was Abigail's biggest gift.
Daniel excused himself, sliding his laptop over to her, and went out to the car. The kittens from last week, now named Shadow and Sunrise, needed to be fed every four hours. Their eyes were newly opened, and Amy had them in a small carry crate.
The lawyer typed something on his computer and asked Amy a question about something Daniel had been looking up. She looked at Daniel's laptop so she could see what he'd written. He had addresses and even aerial views. She wasn't sure if Daniel or the lawyer had figured out what the value of the neighboring properties was.
"Did Daniel already find what the Tomlinsons paid for their ranch?" Ronald asked.
Amy scrolled down and read aloud the amount.
"Now is not the time to sell," Ronald advised.
Amy nodded.
"Let me look to see if anything else nearby is on the market and what they're asking."
Daniel had shown her a realtor's site right before he'd left to feed the kittens. She went down to where Daniel had minimized the documents he was working on and clicked on one. It opened.
It was a Rodeo Participant Application.
The date matched one she'd seen on the calendar. It had Daniel's name. She clicked on the next two: more rodeos.
Well, it made sense. If Dusty was no longer bringing in winnings, Daniel would need to take over.
Leave.
Risk his neck.
Chapter Ten
"You're awfully quiet," Daniel said as they drove back into town.
"I'm just thinking about all the lawyer said."
"Especially about him wanting to rent space from you on Main Street."
She nodded.
Something wasn't right. He could tell. Maybe it was the shock. He couldn't imagine having a dream, like the Macintosh house, and then having it come true in a heartbeat.
He thought about his dream, making it to Nationals, and how they could use the money if...
But, except for Dusty's accident, he'd gone days without even thinking about bull riding, or sending in the applications, or checking how low his ranking was. He knew that if he wasn't one hundred percent vested, if his heart wasn't in it, then he didn't have a chance. Not against bull riders who lived, breathed, loved the sport. He'd have to earn his living some other way. And soon.
What he was now thinking about was renting space from Amy and starting his own financial advising business. He could work in Pecan, watch over Gramma, and spend all the time with Amy that he wanted. Why, this time next year, maybe he'd not be courting Amy but already married.
Married? He almost drove off the road, righting himself before Amy noticed. He'd never met a woman like Amy before. He glanced over. She held the crate with the kittens in it on her lap. She caressed the top of Shadow's head, but she stoically kept her eyes on the landscape outside.
"Was that your first visit to the small town of Pruitt?"
"No, I visited the lawyer once before. He only came to see me the first time, right after Abigail died. Back then, I don't remember thinking much, just trying to survive. Now, I'm thinking I need to read up on property ownership and such. You were quite impressive."
"Don't be impressed. I majored in finance." He braked for a stoplight and turned to her. "I've always loved managing money. Just like you love to bake."
When she didn't respond, he continued, "The shop next to yours is empty, and I have it on good authority that the owner would cut you a deal on rent."
She swung around to look at him then. Her hair was the same, her outfit bright and cheery. It was the look in her eyes that gave him pause.
"That's a good idea," she said. "Maybe I'll do that."
"I can help."
Again, she neglected to answer. Instead, it looked to him like she was searching his face for something. What, he didn't know. When she finished, though, he got the idea she didn't like what she saw. He was so convinced that he didn't try for a kiss.
Not that she offered one.
#
Saturdays were always Craft Away the Day's busiest. The quilting table Daniel had built hosted four novices all sewing away. Amy had been over there twice in the last hour offering advice and sounding—if she did say so herself—like an expert.
The Nutty Knitters were at their table, but not much was getting done, at least knitting wise. Instead, Carol had a paper in front of her, and she was jotting down the orders her friends were tossing out. Amy knew from Daniel's texts—ones she answered with the least amount of words possible— that they were preparing for Thursday night's church birthday celebration. She still hadn't told Daniel she wouldn't be going with him.
He'd already texted her twice today asking if she were free this evening. She'd responded with No. Then, because she knew he'd be curious, she'd added Researching how to start a bakery. Of course, he came back with Want help? She hadn't answered that one yet.
"So," Michelle said, coming over to wait while Amy checked out two customers. "We want a cake, a special one, and we want you to bake it. We'll pay."
"I'll do it for free." At least she'd have something to do tomorrow when the shop was closed and she was avoiding Daniel.
He'd already invited her to church, again, but this time had taken her No, thanks without protest.
> Next thing Amy knew, Michelle's granddaughter was at the shop, and the Nutty Knitters were showing her a picture of a cake she couldn't possibly bake. It took four or five more photos of cakes before they all agreed. It would be Amy's biggest culinary attempt yet. The granddaughter bought a Crochet for Beginners book and fed the kittens for Amy, since the shop was so busy.
Everything felt so right.
Friends were everywhere: in her shop, in her apartment, in her life.
At six, she turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED and went upstairs to grab her laptop. She figured Daniel would make his way over, and she wasn't in the mood. Realistically, though, she recognized she was being unreasonable. He'd introduced himself as a bull rider. When he said he'd be around, he'd never meant forever. Her heart had misinterpreted his actions. Her mind understood completely and was not surprised. She needed to stop being unreasonable.
He owed her nothing, and he'd more than lived up to her expectations when it came to taking care of Shirley. Amy pushed away the desire for him to take care of her. She'd always taken care of herself.
Amy fed the kittens, packed them in their crate, and headed for the Pecan Diner. She'd get a back booth, borrow their Wi-Fi, and make some plans. Maybe she'd even sign up for an online class for small business owners. Abigail had done that.
She turned off her phone, knowing that Daniel would be texting, asking where she was.
If she told him, he'd join her.
So, she opted for doing nothing at all.
#
"You're coming to my house to do the baking," Shirley said Wednesday. She'd phoned just after six, right when Amy was closing the store. "Carol emailed me a picture of what you're making, and you don't have nearly the room in your tiny kitchen."
