“I don’t know her intimately .”
“Really? Except for the face, the detail was striking.” She cocked her head at him, and he felt heat encircling his neck.
“I thought the face needed to be more or less blank,” he said hurriedly. He wasn’t about to admit that, because he’d seen her face, he had that committed to memory. It was the rest of her he thought about constantly. Plus he hadn’t elaborated on the face because he didn’t want his brothers ragging him to death about having a thing for Valentine. That would be misery for him.
This meeting hadn’t gone well. He shouldn’t have come. But it was just hard thinking about her being back in Union Junction when the rest of them were having fun, and he knew good and well she hadn’t gone to the rodeo because of him and Last.
If he’d broken his cookie heart, though, perhaps tonight was his lucky night aboard Bloodthirsty Black! The family Curse of the Broken Body Parts seemed to occur only once—no one had ever been injured twice that he knew of. If he was falling in love with Valentine, then maybe he’d already taken his lumps in gingerbread form.
He considered that, taking in how pretty she looked in her apron, with a light dusting of flour on one cheek. Surely the rush of his blood every time he saw her was worth any pain? Where was the greatest source of pain—being near her and falling in love, or being away from her and denying himself the pleasure of looking at her and dreaming of her?
Valentine put his cookie into her basket and covered it with the pretty white napkin. “The recipe isn’t perfect yet, anyway.”
He thought right now was just about as perfect as it could ever be. What he needed was a kiss to top off his good luck.
“I don’t think I can watch you ride,” Valentine said. “I’d be too nervous.”
That lifted his spirit. “Nothing to be nervous about. I only get broken in cookie form.”
“At least it was something simple like your heart.” She smiled at him. “If it had been your leg or your head, I couldn’t have fixed it.”
He stared at her. She had no understanding of how important his heart was to him. And he knew that kissing her without making her his would only make his heart hurt worse. “I’m going now,” he said. “You coming or staying?”
Her big eyes widened. “It’s very awkward.”
“I’ll smack Last if he says another thing.”
She gasped. “I meant with Marvella and the stylists.”
“Oh.” He tried to look nonchalant and thought he might be failing. “I can’t smack them. Not even Marvella. They’re girls.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to smack your brother for me. I’m giving a Father’s Day picnic for him. We’ve just gotten to a comfortable spot in our relationship.”
Rats. There were times when he’d love to pound Last. “You know, when Last was a kid, we wouldn’t have dreamed of smacking him. He was the baby, and we all protected him. The family compass, we called him.” Crockett sighed.
“Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to come with you,” Valentine said softly. “I really feel like I might be the source of nonpositive change in your family.”
“Actually, the changes happened before you came along.” Crockett shrugged. “Hop in the truck. You never know. You might be the change we need.”
“My work is all done, and I’d love to be at my daughter’s first rodeo….”
“There. All agreed upon. Somebody willprobably need bandaging up, and if you can do it with that water and liquid sugar trick, all the better.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
Grinning, he put his hat on. “We’re big boys. We can take the pain. C’mon, little baker. We’ve got some road to travel.”
V ALENTINE LEFT the cookies at the bakery, vowing to make Crockett a new one later when she returned—one that hadn’t landed on the floor and had its heart broken.
Now, sitting in the stands across from the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, her old co-workers and
“Really? Except for the face, the detail was striking.” She cocked her head at him, and he felt heat encircling his neck.
“I thought the face needed to be more or less blank,” he said hurriedly. He wasn’t about to admit that, because he’d seen her face, he had that committed to memory. It was the rest of her he thought about constantly. Plus he hadn’t elaborated on the face because he didn’t want his brothers ragging him to death about having a thing for Valentine. That would be misery for him.
This meeting hadn’t gone well. He shouldn’t have come. But it was just hard thinking about her being back in Union Junction when the rest of them were having fun, and he knew good and well she hadn’t gone to the rodeo because of him and Last.
If he’d broken his cookie heart, though, perhaps tonight was his lucky night aboard Bloodthirsty Black! The family Curse of the Broken Body Parts seemed to occur only once—no one had ever been injured twice that he knew of. If he was falling in love with Valentine, then maybe he’d already taken his lumps in gingerbread form.
He considered that, taking in how pretty she looked in her apron, with a light dusting of flour on one cheek. Surely the rush of his blood every time he saw her was worth any pain? Where was the greatest source of pain—being near her and falling in love, or being away from her and denying himself the pleasure of looking at her and dreaming of her?
Valentine put his cookie into her basket and covered it with the pretty white napkin. “The recipe isn’t perfect yet, anyway.”
He thought right now was just about as perfect as it could ever be. What he needed was a kiss to top off his good luck.
“I don’t think I can watch you ride,” Valentine said. “I’d be too nervous.”
That lifted his spirit. “Nothing to be nervous about. I only get broken in cookie form.”
“At least it was something simple like your heart.” She smiled at him. “If it had been your leg or your head, I couldn’t have fixed it.”
He stared at her. She had no understanding of how important his heart was to him. And he knew that kissing her without making her his would only make his heart hurt worse. “I’m going now,” he said. “You coming or staying?”
Her big eyes widened. “It’s very awkward.”
“I’ll smack Last if he says another thing.”
She gasped. “I meant with Marvella and the stylists.”
“Oh.” He tried to look nonchalant and thought he might be failing. “I can’t smack them. Not even Marvella. They’re girls.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to smack your brother for me. I’m giving a Father’s Day picnic for him. We’ve just gotten to a comfortable spot in our relationship.”
Rats. There were times when he’d love to pound Last. “You know, when Last was a kid, we wouldn’t have dreamed of smacking him. He was the baby, and we all protected him. The family compass, we called him.” Crockett sighed.
“Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to come with you,” Valentine said softly. “I really feel like I might be the source of nonpositive change in your family.”
“Actually, the changes happened before you came along.” Crockett shrugged. “Hop in the truck. You never know. You might be the change we need.”
“My work is all done, and I’d love to be at my daughter’s first rodeo….”
“There. All agreed upon. Somebody willprobably need bandaging up, and if you can do it with that water and liquid sugar trick, all the better.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
Grinning, he put his hat on. “We’re big boys. We can take the pain. C’mon, little baker. We’ve got some road to travel.”
V ALENTINE LEFT the cookies at the bakery, vowing to make Crockett a new one later when she returned—one that hadn’t landed on the floor and had its heart broken.
Now, sitting in the stands across from the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls, her old co-workers and
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