Love's Emerging Faith (Love's Texas Homecoming Book 3; First Street Church #20)

by Sharon Hughson

  Bailey shook his head and a knock sounded from his end. “I’ll figure something out. Get some sleep.” He tapped his invisible hat.

  Jaz pressed a kiss to her fingers then held those to the camera. She ended the call.

  I’ll figure something out. What happened to them working as a team? Although her brain was so frazzled, she could hardly concentrate on the state’s tedious video curriculum.

  And if she started the university degree program in December? Would she have any time for Bailey?

  “Lord, I need some restful sleep.” She paused the video and plugged in her phone on her way to bed.

  Maybe things would look brighter in the morning.

  * * *

  When the promised call came, Jaz was putting the finishing touches on a research assignment at work. As if she didn’t have enough eye strain. It seemed six of her eight hours at the office had been glued to the computer monitor.

  She shoved the negative thoughts away and lifted her cell phone. The area code was for Texas, but she recognized nothing else.

  “This is Jazlyn Rolle.”

  “Miz Rolle. Liam James.”

  Liam James, the multi-millionaire web designer who lived in Sweet Grove? Her mouth went dry. This was Tess’s surprise?

  “Uh, Mr. James. How can I help you?”

  “My wife thinks you have a startup I should hear about.” He sounded grouchy about the idea.

  Something gnawed at Jaz’s stomach. His wife, Jennifer, was good friends with Elise and Kristina, but Jaz didn’t know her except in passing. How had she heard about the halfway house?

  “You’ve got five minutes to pitch it to me.”

  Good Lord. Jaz took a calming breath. A single investor like James could be the answer to all her prayers for this project.

  Prayers? The still small voice reminded her she hadn’t been praying as much as she should. Nope, she’d gone into determined, hard worker mode instead.

  I know I’m not relying on You, Jesus. If You can work this conversation in my favor, I’ll do better.

  She took a deep breath and poured her passion out. By the looks of the office around her, she spoke for more than five minutes. Whenever she paused to take a breath, Liam James asked her a question about accommodations or certifications or something.

  “All right, Miz Rolle, you’ve convinced me that Sweet Grove needs this foster care home. What do you need from me?”

  Money. Contacts. But then something else came out of her mouth, “A partnership.”

  During the silence that stretched after she said it, Jaz fought with herself to take the request back.

  “Indeed. I’ll get my attorney on an agreement. Could you email me so I’ll have your address to forward to him?”

  Jaz blinked. “Um, you want to be my partner?”

  “Not exactly.” He sighed. “But I don’t think the Lord is giving me a choice. I think I’ll be more of a silent partner.”

  The Lord wasn’t giving him a choice?

  He rattled off his email and Jaz scribbled it on her desk calendar, repeating it back to him.

  “You should hear from him by week’s end.”

  With that, he was gone.

  But Bryant County Pit Stop suddenly seemed like a sure thing rather than a pipe dream.

  8

  After a week of running and remodeling, Bailey wanted his new office space finished. On Friday, he folded up the laptop and glanced around Rosewood’s library. It wasn’t a horrible place to work as long as he didn’t need to draft anything, but he did.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket as he stood to stretch. Crackles eased the stiffness from between his shoulders. These chairs weren’t the right distance from the desk for him, either. He needed that stool he’d molded to himself during his months with Clarkson in Austin.

  He glanced at the screen of his phone. Still on for dinner?

  More tension bled away. Jaz had been back in Austin, back at her job this week, and they’d hardly talked more than five minutes each night. His evenings stretched long without her. At least they had the weekend.

  But how long would weekends be enough?

  After dumping the laptop and cord on the seat of his truck, Bailey typed, On my way to Mabel’s now.

  It would be good to eat some of Jeffrey’s cooking. And maybe even plan a little guy time.

  But first he needed to dig the burr—one Lonie Dyer—out from beneath his saddle blanket. No matter how business was going, it did little to take his mind off the big issue: how to eject his thieving father from their world once and for all.

  But he had an inkling of a plan, and with Jaz’s legal background and super intelligence, they would figure something out. It rankled that she’d be rescuing him again, but if he’d learned anything, it was that two could handle a problem better together. Wasn’t there a Bible verse that said so?

  He considered it as he sped toward Sweet Grove. Whatever they decided, they needed to do it soon. Wynn had run some promotion and the guest rooms were booked starting the weekend following Thanksgiving, which was only two weeks away. And the room in the barn wasn’t big enough for Lonie Dyer’s ego.

  Bailey parked along the curb on Maple Street keeping his truck heading toward the ranch. Wind gusted, trying to close the truck door on his legs. Bailey zipped his jacket, turning the collar up and pushing his hat down. He tossed a blanket over his laptop and slammed the door, turning the key in the lock. That wasn’t his computer to lose, but it still felt strange to lock anything in Sweet Grove.

  A warm gush of cinnamon-scented air greeted him as his pulled open the door to Mabel’s. His stomach groaned, and he salivated like a starving dog. As much as he appreciated the lunches his sister made, a cold sandwich couldn’t satisfy a man’s needs.

  “Hey, stranger.” Kristina waved from the direction of Jeffrey’s office. “Expected to see you more often.”

  Bailey tipped his hat and then pulled it off. “Getting the office in shape while overseeing another project steals my hours.”

  “We’re glad to have you back.”

  “Especially me.” Jeffrey swung through the kitchen doors. “You’re just in time. I’m about to take my gorgeous fiancée away from here and test out my night chef.”

  The men bumped chests and slapped each other’s backs.

  “And here I was primed for Berkely’s special prime rib. It is Friday night.”

  “We’ve got two orders left. One pretty rare and then the end.” Jeffrey turned back toward the kitchen. “Grab a booth and let the waitress take your order.”

  “I’m meeting Jaz.”

  “Of course.” Kristina’s grin lit up her dark face. “Table for two it is. Jeffrey will hold that rare beef for you. Don’t worry.”

  Bailey wove through the mostly full tables, raising a hand to several old-timers at the counter. He hoped the night chef could cook like Jeffrey, because everyone had expectations that Mabel had laid in stone years before—old-fashioned home-cooking at reasonable prices with pie to top it off.

  Before the waitress brought his water, the door opened, and Jaz strolled in. Her dark hair was smoothed into a clip at the nape of her neck and the slacks covering her muscular frame swished with each step. She called a greeting to Kristina over her shoulder before leaning down and giving him a peck on the lips.

  Something besides his starving gut growled for more. She slid into the booth across from him and squeezed his hands with her cool ones before shrugging out of her coat.

  The waitress slid water onto the table. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

  “Oh, I’ll take the chicken fried steak with country gravy dinner.” Jaz glanced at the waitress. “And sweet tea.”

  The woman whipped out her tablet.

  “Jeffrey’s holding a prime rib—rare—for me,” Bailey said. “I’ll take it with a loaded baked potato and a glass of milk.”

  Jaz shook her head at that last. She’d told him he was a little old for milk with dinner when he’d req
uested it at her house. His reply, “Boys never grow up. Haven’t you heard?” made her grin while her father chuckled.

  The waitress turned away. Jaz wilted against the booth, and he noticed the shadows beneath her green eyes.

  “Rough week.” He reached his palm toward her, hoping she’d hold it.

  She dug through her handbag and placed a folded sheaf of papers in his hand.

  “This is what they require for the halfway house. Do you think you could figure out how much it would cost to convert a regular house?”

  He frowned at the papers and then met her beseeching gaze. “I want to hold your hand.”

  She glanced at his hand, immobile with the papers on it. “Sorry. It’s not very comfortable to do it this way. Want to sit beside me?”

  Yes. But he wouldn’t because he couldn’t afford to be distracted from the serious conversations they needed to have, either. It looked like she wanted to vent about the injustices of the child protective services requirements first.

  “Yes, I’ll get the pricing. Once you find property, I’m sure we can incorporate everything the state wants.”

  “For a price.” She leaned back again. “It’s like they don’t want anyone to be able to help these kids.”

  “They’re trying to give them some sort of stability and protection.”

  Jaz closed her eyes. When she opened them, raw pain radiated from those sage pools. “How did you manage it? I see Kenton and Flo and it’s like I’m forced to watch you and Tess suffer.”

  Bailey stuffed the paper into his coat pocket and shrugged out of the jacket. He leaned forward and hung his hand off the edge of the table. Jaz lowered her palm to his, and he squeezed. A sizzle like raw meat on a grill shivered against his flesh.

  “We weren’t in the foster system that long. MaryAnn said God planned for us to be with them, and a few weeks after our grandmother relinquished us to the state, we were out of Austin and at the ranch.”

  “But they’re keeping Kenton and Flo apart. Can you imagine?”

  He shook his head. He recalled stepping between a scary policeman in full gear and Tessa when they busted his mother for manufacturing meth. His fist had been raised, but the man had talked him down and let him carry his sister from the house.

  “I see you’ve partnered with Liam James. And you’re planning a fundraiser next Saturday.” Everyone in town was talking about it, and Tess had handed him a stack of fliers yesterday that he’d been dropping at every business near his office in Rosewood.

  “Everyone’s been supportive.” Her eyes glinted. “And you know that big house in Harrison that used to be an antique shop?”

  Harrison was closer to Sweet Grove than Rosewood, but Bailey hadn’t spent much time in the little burg. Before MaryAnn died, Fritz had sold a few of his wood projects to the antique store.

  He nodded.

  “It’s been closed for a couple years, but the heirs are pretty well-off.” Jaz clapped her hands together, and Bailey missed the warmth of her touch. “Anna thinks she can convince them to donate it as a write-off.”

  He whistled. “That would be a boon.”

  “I can’t believe Tess convinced Liam James to sponsor a table at the fundraiser, giving away a few hours of consulting time. His wife has been handing out those fliers everywhere, too.”

  She pointed toward the window behind their booth. One of the fliers was posted there, and as he glanced around, he saw several more tucked next to napkin holders and by the take-out menus.

  “What did your bosses decide?” His stomach knotted at the thought of her working long hours and going to school for even more hours.

  The waitress sashayed up to their table and shuffled their plates with a flourish. From the small plate between them, the yeasty fragrance of fresh rolls stabbed into his ravenous hunger. He reached for the bread, sighing when it warmed his fingertips.

  A pang of longing for MaryAnn’s fresh-baked bread reared its head. Tess still hadn’t perfected those old recipes.

  Conversation lulled while they dug into their food. The prime rib, juicy and flavorful, melted in his mouth. Jaz offered him a corner of bread smothered in the creamy gravy, and it tasted so much like his mom used to make that he wanted to shout. Or devour all of it.

  “Need a side of gravy?” Somehow Jeffrey had snuck up on their table, his fingers laced with Kristina’s.

  “How ’bout sending your recipe to Tess? She’s missing something in hers and this is perfect.”

  “He could tell you the secret ingredient, but then he’d have to shoot you.” Kristina winked.

  Jaz shook her head. “It’s all delicious. Where are you off to?”

  “Dinner with my folks, and then a movie in Harrison.” Jeffery tugged Kristina closer. “Plenty of discussion of wedding dates during the conversational lulls.”

  A pang resounded in Bailey’s chest. His gaze slid to Jaz, who smiled and nodded. When things settled down in their lives, would she say yes to him?

  You’ve got to ask her first.

  “See you Saturday night. Dad and I are pushing it with the local chamber. We didn’t realize there was such an influx of runaways in our area.”

  “It’s sad.” Jaz shook her head. “I’m touched by how everyone has rallied around this cause.”

  “We just needed someone to bring the need to everyone’s attention.” Kristina squeezed Jaz’s arm, and they shared an understanding smile.

  After the couple left, Jaz pushed her plates away, and Bailey finished off her remaining mashed potatoes, rolling his eyes in pleasure at the taste of the gravy.

  The waitress refilled the water and sweet tea. “Pie? There’s peanut butter chocolate cheesecake tonight.”

  Jaz patted her flat stomach and stared at him. “I’ll have a couple of bites of whatever you want.”

  Bailey knew the glint in his eye at the mention of dessert couldn’t be hidden. His sweet tooth had been conditioned over years of special occasions with MaryAnn’s famous cream pies and cakes.

  “Did I see cherry?”

  The waitress nodded. “Warm? With ice cream?”

  “Perfect.” Bailey leaned back with a sigh. “Maybe a cup of coffee to go with it.”

  The waitress bussed their dishes.

  Once she left, Jaz met his gaze. “What’s new with Lonie? Anything missing?”

  “No, but I’ve seen him casing the antiques Tess set aside in the study.”

  “The ones she wants refinished?”

  He ducked his chin. “I think I can set a trap for him.”

  She shook her head. “It will still be your word against his.”

  “You think people won’t believe me?” A wave of shock jarred the contentment in his stomach.

  “That’s not it. A court needs irrefutable evidence, not hearsay.”

  She threw around legal jargon like a second language. And it was for her. Which reminded him.

  “What did your bosses think about you going for the child psychology and social work degree?” A boulder dropped inside him at the thought of her in college for several years. Somehow, they’d get through it.

  “They’re talking it out.” The look on her face seemed sober. She must have thought they wouldn’t go for it.

  The waitress set a plate of pie between them, offered up two clean forks and napkins, and poured coffee for him. A puddle of ice cream formed around the flaky golden crust swimming with ruby globes of deliciousness.

  Jaz nibbled at the crust and Bailey polished off the pie.

  “Let’s see if Sheriff Grant will help with your trap,” she said.

  “Isn’t there a law against that?” Bailey thought he’d heard something against entrapment somewhere.

  She shook her head. “But he’ll be able to figure out some way to get the proof we need.”

  Bailey hoped so. He didn’t care if Lonie Dyer went back to prison, but he needed to get out of their lives.

  9

  Saturday dragged as Jaz and Anna called every bus
iness in the county but sped up when Anna got the news that the property owners of the antique store in Harrison were more than happy to donate the building to a nonprofit for a huge tax write-off. Jaz and Anna danced around the woman’s apartment and quickly made plans to see the building.

  It was mid-afternoon before the realtor could meet them at the property. Jaz begged Bailey to join them so he could take measurements and make sketches. Anna ordered a banner so she could photograph it on the house for the open house fundraiser the next weekend.

  During their long day of calls, Anna managed to get three dozen items donated for the silent auction and pledges for one-fourth of the estimated startup cost. Jaz had wrangled support from three-fourths of the Sweet Grove businesses, but it hadn’t come out to the same amount of cash.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t matter. If they could raise the rest with the auction, Liam James would match the funds and they’d have enough to begin renovations on the house.

  Jaz stared up at the two-story building. It looked like a storefront, but they could change that.

  A warm hand settled on her lower back. “Daydreaming?” The husky voice sent shivers of delight through Jaz.

  “Maybe.” She turned into the broad chest she’d learned to lean on.

  Strong arms circled her. His face dipped toward hers until the brim of his hat nearly touched her forehead.

  “How’s my girl?” His whisper tingled through her entire body.

  “Amazed how everything is coming together.” She tilted her head up.

  Their gazes met. His blue eyes tried to drown her, but she blinked away their hypnotic effect.

  “You’ve been working your tail off.”

  Jaz let her attention linger on his full lips as he spoke. When they crept into the sexy grin she loved, she smacked his shoulder playfully. “Stop distracting me, cowboy.”

  His chuckle made heat curl inside her like a cat in front of a fireplace. The man didn’t know his own appeal, and that made him all the more appealing.

  “You’ve been distracting me for months and years, beautiful.”