Read Online Gambling On a Heart by Sara Walter Ellwood - Free Book Online
Authors: Sara Walter Ellwood
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throb.
“Thanks, I know Charli and Dylan will appreciate it.” Zack focused on the puzzle currently in front of him and stood. “Want some coffee?”
With a wrinkle in his bushy brows, Herb glanced at the old, stained coffeemaker in the corner. “How old is it?”
Zack shrugged and poured himself a cup of the brew. It smelled as strong as it looked. One step up from road tar. “I made it at lunchtime.” As he stirred four heaping spoons of sugar into the cup, he looked over his shoulder at Herb and caught his grimace. With a chuckle, Zack turned. “That was only four hours ago.”
“Thanks. But no thanks,” Herb muttered. “My ulcer hurts just thinking about drinking that swill. Do you know where I could find Miz Parker?”
Zack sat in his chair again and sipped from the cup Mandy had given to him for Father’s Day last year. The old coffee hit his empty stomach with an unpleasant thud. Maybe he shouldn’t drink the stuff. “She’s probably at her hair salon. I’ll follow you over there.”
Or was the fluttery feeling from the prospect of seeing Tracy?
* * * *
Tracy pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at the list of classes she’d have to take to complete her bachelor’s degree. If she could go full-time, she’d be done in three semesters. But since she couldn’t quit her life and devote every second to studying, it would take her at least five.
She sighed and clicked the exit icon at the corner of the University of Texas at Austin website. It was foolish to entertain the idea of going to medical school. She’d be forty before she’d graduate.
With a sniff, she opened her email, deleting junk mail and spam until she landed on a subject line that read, In response to your ad .
Tracy leaned back in her chair. Was it possible someone had already replied to her advertisement she’d placed that morning on the local paper’s website after Henrietta had left? She clicked it open and read the note.
Hi, not sure if you remember me. I’m Melissa Blackwell. I’m back in Colton to take care of Buck, my dad, who recently was diagnosed with lung cancer. Anyway, I saw your ad this morning and would love to meet with you to talk about the job. I worked for six years in LA at LaSalle’s. I’ve attached a copy of my resume.
I’ll be waiting to hear from you.
Melissa Blackwell
Tracy didn’t remember Melissa, but she knew who she was. Melissa and her identical twin sister had lived in Los Angeles with their mother since they were little. Their father, Buck Blackwell, owned the Broken B Ranch across the road from Butterfly and Oak Springs.
As she opened the resume, the bell above the front door twinkled its cheery warning that someone entered the shop. No other customers were scheduled. She glanced at the clock on her computer and frowned.
“Tracy?” Zack’s voice sounded from the front reception area. “Are you here?”
She gasped, pulled the glasses from her face and reached up to touch her hair. Messy strands stuck out of the butterfly clip. She hurriedly took it out, twisted her hair, and put the clip back in, calling, “I’m here. I’ll be out in a minute.”
After she jumped from her chair, she rushed into the small bathroom and peered into the mirror above the pedestal sink. Her makeup had long ago disappeared and the mascara had smudged under her eyes. She rubbed at the marks and sighed.
Figures, he’d show up when I look my absolutely worst after a day of making others look beautiful.
Giving up, she headed out to the front of the converted Victorian to the front room. Zack bracketed his waist above his service belt and stood next an older man she recognized as Herb Milroy.
Zack turned as she entered the room, and removed his hat. He stared at her with those new-denim blue eyes for a moment as if he wondered why he was there. “Tracy, I think you know Agent Milroy.”
Tracy rounded the antique desk she used as a reception counter. Holding out her hand, she smiled.
“Thanks, I know Charli and Dylan will appreciate it.” Zack focused on the puzzle currently in front of him and stood. “Want some coffee?”
With a wrinkle in his bushy brows, Herb glanced at the old, stained coffeemaker in the corner. “How old is it?”
Zack shrugged and poured himself a cup of the brew. It smelled as strong as it looked. One step up from road tar. “I made it at lunchtime.” As he stirred four heaping spoons of sugar into the cup, he looked over his shoulder at Herb and caught his grimace. With a chuckle, Zack turned. “That was only four hours ago.”
“Thanks. But no thanks,” Herb muttered. “My ulcer hurts just thinking about drinking that swill. Do you know where I could find Miz Parker?”
Zack sat in his chair again and sipped from the cup Mandy had given to him for Father’s Day last year. The old coffee hit his empty stomach with an unpleasant thud. Maybe he shouldn’t drink the stuff. “She’s probably at her hair salon. I’ll follow you over there.”
Or was the fluttery feeling from the prospect of seeing Tracy?
* * * *
Tracy pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at the list of classes she’d have to take to complete her bachelor’s degree. If she could go full-time, she’d be done in three semesters. But since she couldn’t quit her life and devote every second to studying, it would take her at least five.
She sighed and clicked the exit icon at the corner of the University of Texas at Austin website. It was foolish to entertain the idea of going to medical school. She’d be forty before she’d graduate.
With a sniff, she opened her email, deleting junk mail and spam until she landed on a subject line that read, In response to your ad .
Tracy leaned back in her chair. Was it possible someone had already replied to her advertisement she’d placed that morning on the local paper’s website after Henrietta had left? She clicked it open and read the note.
Hi, not sure if you remember me. I’m Melissa Blackwell. I’m back in Colton to take care of Buck, my dad, who recently was diagnosed with lung cancer. Anyway, I saw your ad this morning and would love to meet with you to talk about the job. I worked for six years in LA at LaSalle’s. I’ve attached a copy of my resume.
I’ll be waiting to hear from you.
Melissa Blackwell
Tracy didn’t remember Melissa, but she knew who she was. Melissa and her identical twin sister had lived in Los Angeles with their mother since they were little. Their father, Buck Blackwell, owned the Broken B Ranch across the road from Butterfly and Oak Springs.
As she opened the resume, the bell above the front door twinkled its cheery warning that someone entered the shop. No other customers were scheduled. She glanced at the clock on her computer and frowned.
“Tracy?” Zack’s voice sounded from the front reception area. “Are you here?”
She gasped, pulled the glasses from her face and reached up to touch her hair. Messy strands stuck out of the butterfly clip. She hurriedly took it out, twisted her hair, and put the clip back in, calling, “I’m here. I’ll be out in a minute.”
After she jumped from her chair, she rushed into the small bathroom and peered into the mirror above the pedestal sink. Her makeup had long ago disappeared and the mascara had smudged under her eyes. She rubbed at the marks and sighed.
Figures, he’d show up when I look my absolutely worst after a day of making others look beautiful.
Giving up, she headed out to the front of the converted Victorian to the front room. Zack bracketed his waist above his service belt and stood next an older man she recognized as Herb Milroy.
Zack turned as she entered the room, and removed his hat. He stared at her with those new-denim blue eyes for a moment as if he wondered why he was there. “Tracy, I think you know Agent Milroy.”
Tracy rounded the antique desk she used as a reception counter. Holding out her hand, she smiled.
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