Heart of Texas Vol. 3 by Debbie Macomber

grinned himself. The older woman’s fingers agilely worked the yarn, never slowing. It amazed him that she could carry on a conversation without disrupting her work.
    â€œWhat are you making?” It wasn’t what Travis wanted to ask—he had questions about Nell. However, any inquiries would have to be a natural part of the conversation. Unobtrusive.
    â€œAn afghan,” she answered. “I find crocheting relaxes me.”
    He started to comment, but Ruth broke in. “You’re curious about Nell, aren’t you?”
    Her directness surprised as much as pleased him. “I won’t deny that I am.”
    Ruth nodded. “She’s interested in you, as well. I haven’t lived with her all these years not to understand the way she thinks. Have you kissed her yet?”
    Slightly embarrassed, Travis laughed. “Yes.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd it was very good.”
    â€œYou plan on bedding her?”
    â€œThat’s none of your business,” Travis said. He wasn’t accustomed to discussing his love life with elderly women, or with anyone else, for that matter. However, he’d certainly fantasized about making love to Nell. She was a passionate woman. Their one kiss had given him a glimpse of that. She was also a woman who didn’t believe in half measures; it was all or nothing. He knew that when it came to love, loyalty or friendship, she held nothing in reserve.
    For that very reason, she was reluctant to become involved with another man. The potential for pain was too great.
    That was something Travis understood. The breakup of his marriage had been one of the most painful ordeals of his life. He’d loved Valerie and been stunned to learn that she wanted out of their marriage, that she’d viewed their lives together as a temporary thing until someone “better” came along.
    She’d been intrigued with Travis because he was a writer. Later she’d urged him to give it up and get a real job. Everyone knew there wasn’t any real money in publishing. Not unless you were Stephen King. She’d been scornful about his financial prospects.
    The irony was that she’d left him too soon. Not long after their divorce, he’d hit it big and his books had been selling almost as fast as the publisher could print them. She laughed about her lack of insight now. Once, a year before, she’d tried to lure him into bed, saying she’d made a terrible mistake and wanted him back. It’d flattered his ego, but in the end he’d told her he wasn’t interested in sleeping with a married woman.
    In the years since the divorce Travis had rarely dated. Friends had tried to match him up and he knew he was considered a catch. But he preferred the comfort of solitude; being alone was better than being with the wrong person.
    The next time he fell in love, it would be with a woman who loved him back, heart and soul. A woman willing to make as strong a commitment to him as he did to her. In the years since Val had left him, he hadn’t met such a woman.
    Until Nell.
    â€œShe’s a bit prickly at the moment,” Ruth said, and for the first time since he’d joined her, the older woman’s fingers paused. “Did you two have a spat?”
    â€œNot really,” Travis said. He didn’t bring up the ghost town for fear Ruth would respond the same way Nell and Grady Weston had.
    Ruth scowled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her, then, but she’ll come around. Be patient, you hear?”
    Suddenly the screen door burst open and Nell stuck her head out. “Ruth, have you seen—” She stopped midsentence when she noticed Travis.
    â€œSeen what?” Ruth asked, looking almost gleeful at Nell’s reaction to him.
    â€œMy kitchen scissors.”
    â€œTop drawer, left-hand side. Look under the church directory.”
    â€œâ€™Afternoon, Nell,” Travis said.
    â€œOhh,