“We’ve still got time.” Stacia checked her watch.
“We always have to wait on Mason.” Madison rolled her eyes.
“No eye rolling. Especially about your brother.” Though Stacia’s tone was kind, she gave the little girl a chastening look.
Daddy made small talk about the church as minutes ticked by until Mason returned.
“You’re coming to church with us?” Mason grinned.
“Sure am.” Ross did a fist bump with the child. “Want to ride with me?”
If he got the kids in his truck, he could disappear with them. Just like Aunt Eleanor had all those years ago.
“No!” The single word dripped all the panic that clenched Stacia’s heart. “I mean, we can’t all fit in there and we’d have to move their car seats. You can follow us.”
“Or he could ride with us,” Daddy said. “There’s plenty of room in your SUV with its third-row seating.”
She closed her eyes, stole a deep breath. Like it or not, Ross wasn’t going away. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
* * *
Maverick pulled into the church lot, and Ross opened the passenger door as soon as the SUV stopped rolling. He’d enjoyed the other man’s easy conversation and Mason and Madison’s constant chatter.
But even with Stacia in the back seat, her strawberry scent had distracted him the entire ten-minute drive. Not in a cloying, allergy-inducing way. But in an unmistakably feminine manner and he was more than eager to escape it. She very well might be the enemy and he couldn’t afford to find her attractive. No matter how beautiful she was.
Besides that, she was bent on mistrusting him and he needed to wrap up this mission and get back to Houston.
“Come to Sunday school class with us.” Mason unfastened his car seat and bailed out, grabbing Ross’s hand and tugging him toward the church.
“I’m afraid your uncle is an adult.” Stacia clutched her Bible against her heart, like a shield. “He can’t go to your class.”
“But Rance and Larae are adults and they’re in my class.”
“They’re your teachers or they’d be in the adult class.”
“You’ll see Uncle Ross during the church service.” Maverick herded the group toward the building. “Maybe you can sit by him.”
“That will never work.” Stacia grumbled. “The kids have to sit between us or they won’t be still and quiet.”
Obviously she planned to fight him every step of the way. Was she being protective or did she have something to hide? Was she worried the children might out her on some sort of abuse or neglect if they got too close to him?
Inside the lobby, Maverick introduced him to the pastor, a baby-faced man though the graying in his temples revealed he was probably in his forties.
“Y’all go on to class.” Stacia hugged each twin.
They waved bye to him and dashed down a long corridor.
“No running.”
Their steps slowed.
“Don’t you need to walk them to class?”
“It’s just the fourth door down. And I trust my church family.” Her gaze shot darts.
Message relayed, loud and clear: he was the only one she didn’t trust.
A man stepped from the fourth door down, greeted the twins.
“Who’s that?”
“That’s Rance Shepherd.” Maverick led him down the hall. “He’s married to Stacia’s best friend, Larae. Good stock with a truckload of biblical knowledge. The twins have memorized countless Bible verses this year with him and Larae as their teachers. Our class is this way.” The older man stopped, turned back. “Aren’t you coming?”
Stacia stood in the entry. “I’m working the nursery.”
“It’s not your week.” Maverick frowned. “Is it?”
“No.” Her pale face turned blotchy red. “But I heard Mrs. Johnson is sick, so I thought I’d see if they need help.”
In other words, to avoid Ross. Worked for him; he’d had enough of her strawberry presence.
Maverick continued down the hall, turned into a classroom where a man and woman were seated at the front of the room with rows of chairs facing them.
“Denny, Stella, y’all doing okay this fine morning?”
“Just fine. How about yourself, Maverick?” Denny shook his hand.
“Can’t complain. Not too much anyway.”
A veiled complaint about Ross.
“Maverick, always the first to show.” Stella stood and hugged him. “And you brought a guest.”
“This is Ross Lyles. He’s staying at the ranch for a bit, helping with the store and the cattle.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Stella offered her hand as Denny did the same.
“Ross, meet Denny and Stella Parker. Their daughter, Lexie, is friends with Stacia.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Frustration bottled up in his chest. He wanted to clarify, tell these people that he was the twins’ uncle. But apparently Maverick wanted to keep that bit of news private. He’d let it ride, for now.
Other church members filed in. Couples and apparent singles, from young adults to grandparents. Maverick introduced him to each person and he promptly forgot every single name. Except for Lexie and her fiancé, Clint, since the former had been pointed out as friends of Stacia. Anyone connected with her—or the twins—piqued his interest.
The study was in-depth on Romans, one of Ross’s favorite books of the Bible. He lost all sense of time and worries as Denny and Stella tag teamed the topic with frequent questions and discussion from the class. As an older gentleman closed in prayer, Ross had to admit, so far he really liked this church.
As people spilled out of the classroom, Ross thanked the teachers for a well-thought-out, obviously studied lesson.
“Grandpa.” Two small voices blended together as the twins squeezed through the sea of people leaving.
“I didn’t know Uncle Ross came to class with you.” Mason piped up. “You’re old and he’s not.”
Ross suppressed a chuckle. “Your grandfather isn’t old and besides he’s young at heart.”
The room had gone silent. It hit Ross why. Mason had called him Uncle. Two sets of wary Parker eyes rested on him. It was obvious from Denny and Stella’s stricken stares, they knew who the twins’ father was.
A few others had apparently heard, but theirs were only curious glances his way before leaving the room.
“We better get to the sanctuary.” Maverick hustled him out the door.
Maybe Maverick hadn’t explained who he was because anyone who knew the twins’ parentage wouldn’t welcome him with open arms.
Chapter Three
As soon as Stacia entered the sanctuary, her friend Lexie pounced on her. “So who’s the cute guy you brought to church with you? Are you dating him?”
“That would be a hard no.” A sigh emanated from Stacia. “You won’t believe who he is.”
Larae entered, joined their circle. The swell of her pregnant belly always put an ache in Stacia’s heart.
“Madison told me in class that their uncle is here. But she doesn’t have any uncles. But since she calls me and Lexie aunt sometimes, I figure he’s a friend. But then I got a load of Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome with your dad.” Larae thumped Stacia’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re seeing someone and you didn’t tell us.”
“Trust me, I’m not seeing him. We only met yesterday and he’s their biological uncle.”
“Wait, you don’t have a brother, do you?” Lexie’s confusion stamped a crease between her eyebrows.
“Their father’s brother.”
Her friends’ gasps echoed each other, followed by their joint, “Noooo!”
“I’m afraid it’s true.”
“But Ronny Ridiculous doesn’t have any family,” Lexie insisted.
“That’
s what he told me. Obviously he lied.”
Larae’s eyes turned steely. “Did he give you any proof? He could be some reporter. Or a blackmailer.”
“I thought the same thing. I saw proof.” She filled them in on Ronny’s estrangement from his family and then confession to his brother after his accident.
“What does he want?” Lexie bit her lip.
“He claims he wants to get to know the twins. For now.”
“He can’t take them from you, can he?” Larae clutched her arm.
“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes.
Both friends hugged her.
“We won’t let that happen,” Larae promised. “I’ll get you the best lawyer.”
Larae was the sole heir to her parents’ deep pockets. On top of that, she owned a profitable rodeo. Her friend never threw her wealth around and Stacia didn’t believe in handouts, but this was different.
“If it comes to that, I’ll take you up on it.” Stacia’s voice quivered.
Her friends stayed by her side as they made their way to their pews. But Stacia kept going. Straight to the altar. Before the service even started, she knelt.
“I can’t do this, Lord,” she whispered. “I can’t lose them. I know it’s selfish. Their grandparents have a right to know them, but please don’t let them take the twins away from me. Take all my worries, ease my anxiety, give me peace. And fix this for me. Please. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.”
She stood, noticed Ross kneeling a few feet away. Stunned, she forced herself to return to her seat beside her niece. At least he was a Christian. The knowledge settled her nerves.
Minutes passed and Ross stood, came to their pew, started to sit by her dad.
“Sit between me and Mason, Uncle Ross.” Madison patted the pew. “That way Mason’s sitting by Grandpa, so we’re still between y’all, but we get to sit by Uncle Ross too.”
Despite his presence, peace swept through her. Only the kind God could give.
Their eyes met and a silent acknowledgment passed between them. They were on the same page spiritually. All they had to do was act like it, get along in a civil manner and do whatever was best for the twins. Surely he could see that Madison and Mason needed to remain in the only home they’d ever known.
Only time would tell. She needed to show her best, sweetest, nurturing side. Easy when it came to the twins. But when it came to him, not so much. She’d certainly do her level best to kill his worries with kindness. If she had to bite her tongue off to do it.
* * *
Unsure if she hadn’t heard him enter the workshop or was ignoring him, Ross watched as Stacia ran the wire brush attachment on her drill over a stubborn rust spot that refused to relinquish its hold on the exterior side of the tub.
After church yesterday, her dad had helped him clean the apartment, while she’d taken the twins for a ride in the woods on their four-seater side-by-side. Her only contribution had been freshly laundered sheets. Maverick had invited him to supper as well and she’d obviously been uncomfortable during the meal, picking at her food.
Finally, the corrosion came loose and melted away into dust. She turned off the drill, pulled her goggles up on top of her head and ran her hand over the iron.
“What should I tackle?” he asked.
Stacia squealed, dropped her drill.
“Sorry.” He picked up the power tool, pulled the trigger to make sure it still worked, then set it on her worktable. “The door was open and I thought you’d be expecting me.”
“Not this early.” She clutched her hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack. The twins haven’t even left for kindergarten yet.”
“I was hoping to see them before they leave. I went to the house first, rang the bell, but didn’t get an answer.”
“Daddy probably thought it was a delivery and I’d handle it. He’s getting the twins ready and driving them to school this morning. We take turns.”
Maybe someday, he could have a turn. But not anytime soon from the looks of her. Despite their Christian bond at church yesterday, today the wariness in her eyes had returned.
“You look like a cartoon character with those goggles on your head.”
Her face reddened. “Glamour doesn’t usually hang around in the workshop.”
“You don’t need glamour.” If they weren’t on opposite sides of the issue, he could easily get caught up in her beauty. He cleared his throat. “I feel like we made progress yesterday, that you at least found a reason to trust me.”
“I’m trying to.”
“Truce?” He offered his hand.
“Truce.” She clasped it and electricity shot up his arm.
That first day, he’d noticed a smattering of coppery freckles splashed across her fair nose and cheeks. But yesterday and this morning, there was no trace of them. Fascinating, along with her aqua eyes a man could lose himself in and auburn hair with honeyed highlights that begged for fingers to run through the silky lengths.
He needed to get to work. “So do you want me to help with the tub?”
“I’ve got it.”
“I’m not good at sitting around waiting. And I’m here to work.”
“Okay. Since you’re good at building furniture, you can start on the coffee bars. Each of those are a complete set.” She pointed behind her where several old doors leaned with cellophane bags on the doorknobs of each. “The spindles and corbels are in the bags. The plywood is over there, some already ready. The rest can be cut to fit with a router to round the edges. Are you familiar with coffee bars?”
“Just the one in your store, but I think I can envision what you have in mind.” He picked a door and went to work.
“They basically have a table with a shelf underneath the same size as the top, the corbels go under a thin shelf at the top.” She picked up a tablet, scrolled down and showed him some examples. “If you’ll assemble them, I’ll handle the primer and paint, along with the corbels for the shelf and hooks to line each side of the door to hang coffee cups. They go on last.”
“Got it.” He stood the door against the work table, took the parts and pieces she’d gathered out of the bag and lined them up along with the screws she’d supplied. “Did you come up with the idea for these?”
“I wish. I saw one in another store and tweaked the design.” Her face scrunched up as she sneezed.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks. Sometimes the dust gets to me.” She grabbed her sander, went back to work on the tub. “What type of furniture do you build for your parents’ store?”
“Anything wood.” He spoke loud enough for her to hear over the buzz of her tool. “Rocking chairs, headboards, log furniture. Their store specializes in cabin furniture.”
“Really?” Apparently satisfied with her work, she set the sander down. “There’s a store like that in Medina and one in Bandera, about fifteen minutes away. I love browsing there. How did your folks get into that?”
“My grandmother had a store similar to yours and my dad worked for her.” Ross chuckled at the memory her question brought up. “But the furniture store started when Dad found a cypress stump. He thought it would make a nice tenth anniversary gift for my mom since she likes unique pieces. He created an end table by cutting it to stand level and securing a live edge slab on top. She loved it.
“Until a month later, we were watching a movie on TV when I noticed a tiny praying mantis on my arm.” He inspected the coffee bar Maverick had built to see how the parts were attached. Looked like he’d built the table first. “Then Dad saw one on the couch and mom found one on her chair. There were eggs in the stump. The mantises had hatched and were crawling out in droves.”
“Oh no.” She shivered, obviously imagining the sea of tiny green bugs. “What did they do?”
“He set the table on the back porch for a week to make s
ure they’d all evacuated, then he sealed the stump.” He sank a screw to attach a spindle to the router-edged plywood that would serve as the table top. “Friends and family loved it and wanted him to build them tables, so he did. He learned to let stumps sit on the porch for at least six months before sealing them. He’d found his passion and several stores started selling his creations.
“Then one of them offered him a job in Houston, so we moved there. Eventually, the owner retired and my folks bought the business.”
The buzz of her air compressor started up and they fell into silence as they worked. Not companionable like it was when he worked with his dad. Every nerve ending he possessed was on high alert, all too aware of her presence.
* * *
True to her word, Stacia made nice in the workshop, until her head was about to explode.
She’d never appreciated the racket the compressor made, but today, it was her favorite thing. As long as the rumble filled the air, she could pretend Ross wasn’t there. Or maybe pretend to pretend. She’d been in such a tizzy about the twins, she honestly hadn’t thought a whole lot about his looks. Until Lexie had pointed it out yesterday.
His hair was longer than most cowboys, with curls flipping every which way. Paired with grass-green eyes that seemed to look straight through you. With today being the first time she’d been alone with him, the handsome cowboy was hard to ignore.
The air tank kicked off, launching them into silence. An uncomfortable silence.
With the bathtub stripped of rust, she put on a mask and handed him one. “I’ll be spraying primer, so put this on.”
He obeyed. If only the mask would cover those eyes.
“If you’ll assemble the coffee bars, I’ll do the painting.”
“I understand why you keep the doors open.”
“It gets pretty smothery in the summer, but at least we’re past the hottest days of the year.” She swiped the back of her hand over her sweaty forehead. Great, just what she needed, a great-looking guy in her workshop watching her freckles appear one by one as her makeup melted away and her hair turned into a frizzy mess.
A Texas Bond Page 4