She laughed.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you trimmed my beard for me.”
“I’ve wanted you to kiss me since then, too.” Her lips tipped up in a tremulous smile. “Maybe even before then.”
“Do you think we could pretend we’ve already had dinner and it’s time for a good-night kiss?”
Breath stilled, she could only nod.
“I really hope I don’t miss.” He let go of her hands, framed her face with his and lowered his lips to hers.
He didn’t miss. Tender, gentle and electric, all at the same time.
She lifted her hand to his cheek. The scruff of his beard soft against her fingers.
The door opened and they sprang away from each other.
“Well, look what we have here.” Carly smiled from the doorway.
Lexie’s face warmed.
“I talked her into dating me.”
“I see that. If you two can tear yourselves away, we’re ready for family pictures.” With a knowing smile, Carly left them alone.
“Oh no.” She clasped a hand to her rapidly beating heart. “I was supposed to help your mom with her makeup.”
“That was a ploy to get you to stay so we could talk. And more.” He brushed his lips against hers again, caught her hand and led her toward the sanctuary.
“I’m really glad I stayed.” Her heart was all aflutter.
“Me, too.” He kissed her hand.
“Stop it, so I can act like we haven’t been hiding in the classroom kissing.”
“Oh, I’m sure my sister will fill Mom in. But don’t worry, she’ll be happy for us. She’s loved you for longer than I have.”
Her feet stalled. “We’ve only known each other a few months.”
“Long enough, Lexie Parker. You are very easy to love.”
Her heart promptly melted into a puddle.
Epilogue
It had taken a year for Ted and Audrey to build the new house. The housewarming party had been fun and cozy with family, friends and church family. Instead of bringing gifts, everyone brought a donation to the Neurological Research Institute in honor of Levi. They’d nibbled finger foods and visited into the evening.
With everyone gone and cleanup done, Lexie and Clint had been the last ones to leave.
He slowed, pulling the pickup into his drive.
“Um, I thought we were going somewhere for dessert.” Lexie frowned.
“We are. Trust me.”
“I love their house.” She undid her seat belt. “It’s a lot like this one.”
“Mom didn’t want to go overboard with some fancy mansion, and since she loved our ranch, Ted went with it. With a few added features she always wanted. Vaulted plank ceilings, a porch the length of the house and dormer windows.” He killed the engine, got out and came around to open her door.
“It’s good to see them so happy.”
“It is.” He helped her down from his truck, leading her around the side of the house.
“Dessert is in the barn?”
“You’ll see.”
They passed the tree where they’d had their long-ago picnic as well as the barn where they’d checked on his herd so many times during his therapy. Then he led her to a path in the woods where they’d driven the Mule to fish and ended up getting a dousing.
She quirked a brow. “Dessert is in the woods?”
“Sort of. Remember the picnic we had that time? Back when I was a wobbly mess and frustrated as all get-out?”
“How could I forget?” Lexie grinned up at him. “After you ordered me to leave you alone, I watched from the kitchen window while you cleaned up.”
“You did?”
“I couldn’t just leave you out there.”
“Were you falling for me, back then?” he asked.
“I was fighting falling for you. But it wasn’t working very well.”
“I was falling for you, too. Literally physically falling every time I stood up.” He chuckled. “But emotionally, too.”
A trickle of water sounded in the distance. “The river?”
“You guessed it.”
“Please don’t take me fishing.” The trickle turned into lapping as they got closer. “Remember, I don’t touch worms or fish.” She scrunched her nose. “Too slimy.”
“No fishing, I promise. Close your eyes.”
“You’re not planning to shove me in the river again, are you?” She grinned but obeyed.
“Never.” He slipped behind her, his hands came over her eyes, and the warmth of his arms and spicy scent engulfed her. “Keep walking. I won’t let you fall.”
The very thing she’d once said to him. A knot formed in her throat. His complete recovery still made her teary sometimes.
The lapping became babbling.
“Okay, you can open them.” His hands fell away from her face.
She opened her eyes. The river was five feet away. White river rocks and cypress trees lined the edge, with water cascading over the shallow bed. The trail of boulders she remembered zigzagged across the ten-foot span, with a picnic set up on the other side.
“I thought it was time for another.”
“I love it.” The patchwork quilt with the wicker basket invited her over, where a stack of wood waited for a fire. “What’s in the basket?”
“S’mores makings, of course.”
“Yum.”
He tugged off his boots and she did the same, then he caught her hand and tugged her toward the trail.
“When we first met, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to do this.”
“I knew you would.” She squealed when her toe dipped in the water. “Brrr. Cold.”
“I’ve got a fire ready to start.” Hands clasped with him leading the way, they balanced on each rock until they got across.
“I think I bobbled more than you did.” She laughed.
He did a little bow and gestured her ahead. “Your s’mores await, my lady.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” She curtsied, strolled over to the blanket and started to sit. “I love s’mores, but you didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“Wait.”
She turned around.
Clint was down on one knee.
A gasp escaped her, followed by a high-pitched giggle. She clasped a hand over her mouth as her heart went into overdrive.
“My dad proposed to my mom over a picnic with a campfire and I want us to have as happy a marriage as they did. Only longer.”
“Sounds good.” Her words came out a breathy whisper, as her heart hammered, and tears rimmed her lashes.
“Lexie Parker, I’ve loved you for a year.” He opened a velvet box. A solitaire diamond sparkled. “Maybe even longer. Like from the moment I saw you when I woke up in the hospital. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”
“Yes!” She nodded like some giddy bobblehead. “I love you too, Clint.”
He let out a whoop, slid the ring on her finger, stood, then picked her up and swung her around.
“I think I’ve loved you from the moment I saw those green eyes in the hospital,” she whispered.
“Love at first sight until the end of time.”
She pressed her lips to his. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m sort of glad that bull stepped on your head.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“If it hadn’t, you’d have moved to Fort Worth and we might never have officially met.”
“You’ve got a point.” He kissed her.
Until she forgot all about bulls, rivers, rings and s’mores. Just him. Her fully mended cowboy making her heart whole with kisses sweeter than s’mores.
* * *
Look for the next book in
The Hill Country Cowboys ser
ies
by Shannon Taylor Vannatter,
available January 2021 wherever
Harlequin Love Inspired books
and ebooks are sold.
Keep reading for an excerpt from His Daughter’s Prayer by Danielle Thorne.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Uplifting stories of faith, forgiveness and hope.
Fall in love with stories where faith helps guide you through life’s challenges, and discover the promise of a new beginning.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
His Daughter’s Prayer
by Danielle Thorne
Chapter One
A brass bell jingled as Callie Hargrove strode into the Antique Market. She found the inside of the store as uninspiring as the simple name printed over the front window in block letters. The familiar fragrance of aged wood and furniture polish met her nose, and she inhaled to calm her nerves.
Looking around, she noted stacks of furniture and collectibles. It looked like they’d been plopped down as an afterthought. Not much had changed. She wondered if he had.
An old typewriter caught her attention, and she made her way over to it. Visiting the family business of her high school ex her first week back in town was unavoidable if she was going to impress her boss at her new temp job with the local real estate office here. With any luck, Mark Chatham wouldn’t be around. She was here for hutches and old buffets that could be refinished and staged in model homes, not to be distracted by the fact that this was the Chatham family business.
She’d been gone awhile, working in Nashville, but it hadn’t gotten her any closer to her dream of opening a boutique. With a job here this summer, she had a whole season to see if she could make a living here. If not, she’d head back to the city. Worries about seeing Mark again would have to wait.
Soft music drifted from the back of the store as Callie browsed. She knew both of the elderly Chathams had passed away, so the new manager must be busy in the back. Not that Ragland, Georgia, had a high crime rate, but some people still knew the value of things covered in dust. She certainly did, and she needed the inventory for the boutique she wanted to make happen here. If not, it was back to Nashville and the urban grind.
Callie scanned the faded oyster-colored walls, and her mouth fell open. Behind the checkout counter hung a display rack with the most beautiful spoons she’d ever seen. They shimmered like a beacon. They were handsome, engraved silverware from decades or centuries past. She tripped over a wooden rocking horse in her hurry to study them.
Her mind raced with ideas. They’d look amazing on a freshly painted wall. They’d look amazing on her own walls. Forgetting about staging homes for the local real estate company, she wondered if she could buy the spoons for herself, split them up and sell them. It’d be enough to settle her credit card debts and open her own shop.
She slipped behind the counter, stood on her tiptoes and ran a finger along the edge of the spoon rack. It was buffed to a high sheen, one of the few things that didn’t appear to be coated in dust.
“Can I help you?”
Callie jumped, even as the quiet, familiar timbre made her heart stand still. She turned, hoping to see a crotchety old employee, the kind who acted like they didn’t really want to rid themselves of surplus junk piled to the ceilings.
No such luck. Her heart liquefied and sluiced down into her gut.
The man who’d walked up behind her was not old, although crotchety was a possibility. Mark Chatham looked almost exactly as she remembered him, only better if that were possible—taller, filled out and with crinkles around his brilliant eyes. A slight trembling in her hands made her fold them into loose fists.
“Those aren’t for sale.”
She forced a smile, as she struggled for something to say. “I, uh...” Callie glanced over her shoulder at the wall. “I really like the spoon set. They’re beautiful.”
He studied her for a long while like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “They are,” he said at last. “They were my grandmother’s, so I’m sorry, but they’re not for sale.”
Callie reminded herself—this was work. Strictly business. She had a boutique she planned to open. “Everything’s for sale.” She lifted the corner of her mouth teasingly.
“Not these, Callie.” Mark took a step forward, shrinking the space between them, and she realized he could trap her behind the counter if he wanted. They could pick up their argument right where they’d left off over ten years ago. To her relief, he held out a hand instead.
“How are you? Your sister told me you were moving back to Ragland.”
For some reason, Callie couldn’t bring herself to reach out and touch the hand of her first serious crush. Was this really the boy who’d given her her first kiss?
She reached into her purse for a business card. “Yes, I’m back home for now. I’m working with Martin Hometown Realty, staging homes for the summer.”
“Is that so?” Mark motioned to the store. “Well, welcome back. I have lots of pieces around here that don’t need much work, and they’re fine quality.”
After handing him her card, Callie folded her arms to hide the fact that the sound of his voice was making her tremble. She tried to focus on what she wanted. The antique spoon collection.
Even though he’d refused, an imaginary billboard with dancing flatware in the back of her head chanted, Spoons! Spoons! Spoons! She narrowed her eyes, tried to look apologetic and gave him her most bashful smile. “It’s really good to see you again, but I need those spoons, Mark. How about fifteen hundred dollars?”
He shook his head again. “Nope.” Something about his tone reminded her of the day he’d refused to try to work things out between them. And then he’d run off.
She swallowed and stood up straight. She could be all business, too. “No counteroffer?”
“Nope,” he repeated. He glanced past her at the spoon rack and put his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again. Have a look around and let me know if there’s anything else you’d like.”
He dropped his arms and walked off. Dismissed. Just like at the end of his senior year. Well, she was more stubborn now, too. “Why do you have them on the wall if they’re not for sale?”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he disappeared past a narrow grandfather clock into the back.
She furrowed her brows. Why wasn’t the clock against the wall? It looked like he just dropped stuff wherever there was an empty space.
Frustrated, she pursed her lips. Yes, she’d come in search of a sideboard or curio cabinet to refinish, but those silver heirlooms would bring in top dollar even if she sold them individually. She could even put them away and wait until she was out of debt and ready to open her place.
The spoons gleamed in the sunshine. Dust particles whirled in a shaft of light. Country music echoed from a radio. Callie turned on her heel. Everything had its price. Mark Chatham should know that; he’d sold out and moved to Florida after dumping her and his baseball career.
She picked her way past the shop’s odds and ends until she reached a cleared aisle. Then she marched toward the back of the store, calculating how irresponsible it would be to use all of her emergency savings and max out her credit cards on a set of a dozen spoons. She couldn’t help herself. Everything was negotiable—even with old boyfriends.
Callie passed under an ancient green exit sign. A door on the left stood open. She wrinkled her nose to stave off a sneeze. A rustling of papers in the room drew her over to the door.
Mark jerked when she moved into the doorway. “Did you find something else?” he asked.
Callie couldn’t resist teasing him. “Actually, I sell refinished furniture on the side, too, and I’m good at it.”
“Great,” he said before she could finish. “What would you like to see?”
“How about two thousand dollars?” She dropped her smile and put on her best I mean business face. “For old times’ sake? It’d certainly motivate me to come back when I need other things for staging.”
Mark stood up with a spreadsheet in his hand, and the sparkle in his eyes clouded over with something else. “The spoons aren’t for sale, and I’m closing up for lunch in a few minutes so you may want to finish looking.”
His tone hurt. He wasn’t impressed that she’d moved back home, and he wasn’t interested in her offer. The natural charm she’d relied on since she was a little girl with dimples had no effect on him anymore.
Was he married? she wondered. No one had told her. Oh, yes, she’d heard he was a single dad. So now he didn’t even blink when a woman walked into his store alone? That made him as rare as his spoons.
She realized he was waiting for some kind of answer. Glancing at his hand and seeing no wedding band, Callie’s mouth turned up at the corners. “I’ll finish up front by myself then,” she said, calculating how long she should wait to come back. It wouldn’t make sense not to return with the store so close by.
“Okay.” He sat back down in his chair and picked up a pair of frameless glasses.
Dismissed. Again. Usually, Callie had to find a way to extricate herself from conversations with men. Most people seemed to find her interesting or funny. Mark acted like she was another piece of furniture, not a girl he’d dated for over two years. The picture of the baby on his desk pricked her heart again. He’d found someone better, right after high school. She was old news, even if it hadn’t worked out for him.
Callie returned to the front of the store. Irritated with her experience seeing Mark for the first time in years, she decided not to look around anymore. Maybe she’d come back the day after tomorrow. There’d probably be another employee here.
The Cowboy's Missing Memory Page 20