Thank You, Lord. And thank You for protecting us.
Crockett and his children approached as her scrutiny moved to the limb that was nearly a foot in diameter.
“Looks like I’m going to need a chain saw.” She brushed the hair out of her face. No doubt she looked a complete mess.
While the kids examined the hefty branch, Crockett screwed up his face. “You know how to use a chain saw?”
Memories of helping Peter clear trees from the property they’d owned back in Georgia played across her mind. Happy memories of working together as a team. It had been more fun than work.
“I sure do.”
“Well, I need to call my ranch foreman to come and pick us up, so I’ll tell him to bring a couple with him.”
“A couple?”
“Two of us working will speed up the process. It’s already getting late, and it’d be good if we could at least get that top part out of your window.”
“Most definitely. Though I’ll need to come up with some plastic or wood to cover the openings.” If it wasn’t so late, she’d run over to Bliss Hardware. Christa, the owner, would know exactly what she’d need. But with the store closed and her recently married friend living out in the country, Paisley would have to improvise until morning.
The sun hovered over the western horizon as Crockett pulled out his phone and dialed. “Carlos. Hey, buddy.”
While Crockett wandered back toward the house, Paisley eyed the rapidly clearing sky. Popup storms like this one were all too common this time of year. Though, until now, she’d never suffered any damage.
“Paisley, dear.”
She turned to see Margaret Matthews, her neighbor from two doors down, moving toward her as quickly as her blinged-out flip-flops would allow.
“I’m so glad you’re all right.” The seventy-something blonde hugged her for all she was worth. “That lightning like to have scared the livin’ daylights out of me.”
Margaret’s husband, Bruce, let out a low whistle as he approached. “You’re gonna have a doozy of a time tryin’ to get rid of that limb.” He looked puzzled as he stopped beside his wife. “Whose truck is that?”
Paisley pondered her response. Margaret was the biggest gossip in all of Bliss, and Bruce ran a close second. If they thought there was anything even remotely going on between Paisley and Crockett, word would be all over town by morning.
Crockett’s children abandoned their exploration of the tree limb and joined her.
“Have you met Mackenzie and David Devereaux?” Paisley looked from Margaret to the kids.
“Is Crockett your daddy?” Bruce eyed Mackenzie and her brother.
“Yes, sir.” Mackenzie squinted as the sun reappeared in the western sky.
“Fine fellow.” Bruce nodded his approval.
“Handsome, too.” Margaret’s bright pink lips lifted into a knowing smile, right along with her drawn-on eyebrows.
“Mackenzie is in my Sunday school class.” Paisley fingered the girl’s long ponytail. “She stopped in to say hi, didn’t ya, darlin’?”
“I came, too.” David puffed out his little chest.
“And I’m so glad you did.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze.
“Well,” said Bruce, “looks like their little visit put Crockett’s truck in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Paisley winced at the broken windshield and dented hood. “That’s for sure.”
Toothpick sticking out of his mouth, Bruce removed his hands from the pockets of his baggy cargo shorts long enough to point toward the house. “I see you got some windows busted out there, too.”
As if that was news to her. “Sure enough.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Wayne Larsen, another neighbor, crossing the street.
“Little lady, you’ve got quite a mess over here.”
She smiled at the kindhearted man who had the energy of someone half of his seventy-five years. “Just thought I’d do a little remodeling.”
He chuckled. “Why don’t you go ahead and take some pictures for your insurance before it gets too dark. I’ll go grab my chain saw so we can get that window cleared for you.” He turned his attention to Bruce. “You’ve got a chain saw, don’tcha, Matthews?”
Hands back in his pockets, Bruce shuffled his feet. He had no interest in helping. He was only there to gawk.
“But it’s getting dark.” Margaret set a hand to her chest, feigning concern as she peered at the rapidly clearing sky.
“Even more reason to jump on it now.” Wayne left no room for argument.
“All right, Carlos will be here as soon as possible with a couple of chain saws.” Crockett stopped beside her, still staring at his phone.
“Already got it covered.”
As if suddenly realizing there were other people there, Crockett jerked his head up. “Hey, Wayne.” The two shook hands.
“That your truck?” Wayne pointed.
“Unfortunately.” The word came out as a sigh.
“Looks like you’re going to have a little trouble gettin’ home.”
“’Fraid so.” Crockett rubbed the back of his neck as he eyed Wayne. “My foreman is on his way to pick us up. You say you’ve got a chain saw, though?”
“Yep. Let me go grab it, and we can get to work.” Wayne turned to Bruce. “Matthews, you get yours, too. If you don’t want to dirty your hands, we’ll let ol’ Crockett here use it. ’Cause the faster we get this taken care of, the better off Paisley will be.” Grinning, he sent a wink her way.
She loved Wayne’s take-charge attitude. No wonder he was her favorite neighbor.
After she took pictures of the damage with her phone, the men set to work outside while she and the kids went into the house. The poor things. Aside from all of the stress, it was nearing their bedtimes. Lord willing, Crockett’s foreman would be here soon, and they could head home.
In the meantime, she settled the children in front of the television in the living room where they’d be able to relax. Well, however relaxed one can be with the sound of chain saws buzzing outside the window.
Still wearing her rubber boots to protect her feet, she set to work in the kitchen, armed with a broom and dustpan. Since the men were working around the window, she started on the main part of the kitchen, clearing debris from the floor and countertops.
Once the countertops were cleared, she wiped them down with bleach. She’d still be baking for Rae in the morning, so she wanted things clean and ready to go. Thankfully, the electricity hadn’t gone out.
Taking a break, she checked on the kids. Mackenzie had made herself comfortable in the recliner while David was stretched out on the sofa. A second glance revealed that he was asleep. The poor thing had had a tough night.
After covering the boy with a blanket, she returned to the kitchen as Crockett came in the door.
“How’s it going out there?” She couldn’t help noticing that at least half of the tree had disappeared from the window.
“That’s coming along fine. But I have another problem.”
Grabbing the broom and dustpan she’d leaned against the counter, she waited for him to continue.
“Carlos called. The road is closed because of a downed power line. He can’t get through.”
“That’s not good.” She worried her bottom lip.
They could stay here.
When pigs fly.
“If you can clear a section of that log from the driveway so I can get my vehicle out, I could drive you home.”
He frowned. “No way out means no way in either.”
“Good point.” Her brain must be muddled. She should have realized that.
Bending, she swept another pile of debris into the dustpan.
“I’ll see if Wayne can run me and the kids over to the Bliss Inn. Hopefully, they�
�ve got a room.”
Are you really going to let them do that?
Why not? If Crockett Devereaux was here all night that would give Margaret Matthews all sorts of fodder for the rumor mill.
“Where are the kids?” Sawdust peppered his dark hair and clung to the sweat on his tanned face.
“Living room.” She emptied the pan into the heavy-duty trash bag next to the island. “David is asleep.” Meaning Crockett would have to wake him to go to the motel.
“Poor kid.” Crockett frowned.
She corralled another heap onto the pan. “He was pretty stressed during the storm.” And yet you’re ready to wake him up and send him out into the night.
“Daddy, when is Carlos going to be here? I’m tired.”
Paisley straightened to face Mackenzie, who was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the entry hall.
“He’s not.” Crockett explained the situation.
“Then where are we supposed to sleep?” His daughter pouted.
“I’ll see if—”
Her conscience getting the best of her, Paisley cut him off. “You’ll stay here.”
“Awesome.” Mackenzie bounced on the balls of her sneakers.
Yet, while she seemed pleased with the idea, Crockett looked at Paisley as though she’d lost her mind. “Huh?”
Obviously, he wasn’t any happier about this turn of events than she was. But there was no turning back now.
“Mackenzie, you take the small bedroom at the top of the stairs.” She dared a look at Crockett. “You and David can share the one across the hall with the king-size bed.”
“I’m gonna go look.” Mackenzie took off for the stairs.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Crockett said, “I don’t like this idea.”
As if Paisley was thrilled about it. “Why not?”
“Because people might talk.” He pulled his phone out. “I’m calling the Bliss Inn.”
“Fine. If you want to haul your sleeping son out into the night and disappoint your daughter, go right ahead.” That might have been a low blow, but she didn’t care. She was weary and getting crankier by the moment.
“Yeah, well, you should have checked with me first before saying anything in front of Mac.”
She set the broom aside and stepped in front of him. “Uh-uh, no way am I going to let you guilt me on that. I get that you’re frustrated about your truck, which is why I extended the offer in the first place. So don’t you dare fault me for being gracious.”
He puffed out a laugh. “The kids won’t have any clothes for school in the morning.”
“Oh, and they have clothes at the Bliss Inn? At least I have a washer and dryer so the clothes they do have can be cleaned.”
“Dad—” a beaming Mackenzie clutched the moldings around the doorway “—you aren’t going to believe this. I get to sleep in a canopy bed. You have to see it.”
As Mackenzie scurried away, Paisley turned her attention back to Crockett. “You still going to make that call?”
He didn’t say a word. Instead, he shoved his phone into his pocket and marched back outside.
* * *
He needed to get out of here.
With his son sleeping peacefully beside him, Crockett stared into the darkness of Paisley’s guest room. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to be here. He should be in his own bed, in his own house. And if he’d continued on home after dinner last night the way he’d intended, that’s exactly where he’d be. Sound asleep, not plagued by thoughts of how Paisley had protected his kids and how she’d rolled up her sleeves and set to work cleaning the mess in the kitchen, all while making sure everyone else’s needs were met.
The woman had grit. That not only surprised him but had him contemplating agreeing to the castle offer. Except that would mean working with Paisley on a daily basis, just the way they had last night. He wasn’t sure he could handle that.
It was midnight by the time they got the windows covered. A tarp and some duct tape were the best they’d been able to come up with, and it had taken teamwork to get the job done. Funny how neither of them really said a word yet seemed to anticipate each other’s moves.
The enticing aroma of coffee stirred him from the traitorous thoughts and had him slipping out of the bed. He donned his jeans and T-shirt before padding down the steps in his bare feet. Halfway down, he recalled all of the glass on the kitchen floor last night. He should have grabbed his boots. Then again, Paisley had meticulously cleaned things, going over the space with a vacuum several times after the broom.
Reaching the bottom step, he caught the scent of more than just coffee. Paisley was baking? He glanced at his watch. Five thirty. Had the woman been up all night?
He moved through the entry hall into the kitchen where a large pan of something with coconut and chocolate chips sat on a cooling rack atop the marble-topped island, while blueberry muffins were perfectly lined up next to it on a second rack.
“Good morning.” Paisley rinsed her hands at the sink opposite the island. She wore a long T-shirt over skinny jeans, and her red hair was again piled on top of her head, though a few loose strands framed her face.
His mind still muddled from lack of sleep, he sent her a curious look. “How long have you been up?”
Turning off the water, she grabbed a towel from the counter. “Since four.” She was operating on only a few hours of sleep.
“Why?”
“Because I have a commitment to Rae. And I have a lot to do today to get ready for my guests tonight.”
He watched her drape the towel over the oven handle to her left, feeling like an underachiever. “I need coffee.”
Opening an overhead cupboard, she retrieved a red-and-black mug before reaching for the carafe on the coffee maker near the sink. “Cream or sugar?” She handed him the oversize cup.
“Cream, if you’ve got it.” He noted the University of Georgia emblem and mascot on the side of the mug as she moved past him to open the refrigerator. “Bulldogs, huh?”
“My alma mater.” Closing the door, she handed him the creamer. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Nope.” He added a couple of splashes to his brew then accepted the spoon she pulled from a drawer on the island. After giving the liquid a quick stir, he set the spoon aside and picked up the cup to savor the invigorating scent. “You from Georgia?” He took a sip.
“Born and raised.” She retrieved a mixing bowl from a cupboard under the island.
“So how’d you end up in Bliss, Texas?”
Slowly straightening, she cut him a quick glance before setting the bowl on the island. “I was ready for a change of scenery.”
While she moved to the refrigerator to pull out butter and eggs, he wandered toward the table where his kids’ clothes were neatly folded and stacked. Paisley had given each of them a T-shirt to sleep in last night so she could wash their things for school today.
Looking over his shoulder, he surreptitiously watched as she skillfully set to work on another recipe. From all appearances, she had a good work ethic. Not at all like Shannon, who preferred to spend her days shopping or lunching with friends.
Paisley’s determination would make her an asset in renovating Renwick Castle.
What? No, he was still concerned about the security of his collection. She knew that.
“In case I forgot to tell you last night—” Paisley interrupted his thoughts “—thank you for helping me with the windows.” She nodded toward their patch job behind the table.
“It was the least I could do after you gave me and the kids a place to sleep.” He stared into his now half-empty cup. “Besides, I owe you a debt of gratitude, as well. You protected my kids when I wasn’t able to.” He looked at her now. “Thank you.”
Nodding, she smiled and focused on stirring whatever it was she
was making. Cookies, maybe? “They’re good kids.”
“I think so. They have their moments, but—” Emotion clogged his throat, preventing him from saying anything more. For the umpteenth time, he was reminded that if Paisley hadn’t sheltered Mac and David in her pantry, they could have been at the hospital right now instead of tucked upstairs, safe and sound.
Yeah, he owed her a lot more than a patch job on her windows, all right. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Trust didn’t come easily for Crockett. Especially when it came to women.
He’d seen the way Mac and David looked at Paisley. They were both taken with her, kicking his protective instincts into high gear. He’d been the one to pick up the pieces of their broken hearts after Shannon left, and he still recalled the sting of watching his own mother toss her bags into the back of that old blue pickup truck and drive off without so much as a goodbye. She hadn’t cared about him any more than Shannon cared about Mackenzie and David. And Crockett was not about to let his children be hurt again.
Looking around the magazine-worthy kitchen, he suddenly wished he could escape.
Instead, he studied some framed photos scattered among several decorative pieces on an iron rack near the table. Paisley was easy to recognize with her red hair. There was one of her and a man sharing a loving embrace. Aware that she was a widow, Crockett assumed that was her late husband. Then there were pictures of her with a red-haired boy who looked to be a little older than David. Her nephew maybe?
“Cute kid.” He pointed as she lifted her head. “His hair’s the same color as yours.”
Her movements stilled as she looked away. “That’s my son. Logan.”
Son? Crockett wasn’t aware she had a son.
She reached for a towel, wiping her hands as she approached him. “He died in the same car accident that took my husband.” Stopping beside him, she continued. “He was ten.”
Speechless, Crockett simply stood there, feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut. How does one overcome something like that? Losing a spouse to death would be hard enough, but to lose a child at the same time? He couldn’t even begin to fathom the amount of strength it must take for her to get up every morning knowing that they weren’t there.
A Future to Fight For Page 4