Love Enough For Two (Love Inspired) by Cynthia Rutledge Page A

dishrag in her hand paused on the chrome finish of the refrigerator door.
    I never called Matt.
    Guilt swept over her. She’d promised she’d be at the front door of James Hanna’s house at eight. But she’d gotten so involved in helping her mother, she’d completely forgotten about the party. Her gaze slid to the clock.
    It was too late to call now.
    Too late to apologize.
    Too late to find out firsthand what he’d meant by “be prepared.”
    For a second she let herself imagine a different kind of evening. Instead of being elbow deep in flour, she’d have been in Matt’s arms. They would have laughed and danced and talked. He would have plied her with outrageous compliments that she wouldn’t have believed for a minute but that still would have made her feel all warm and gooey inside.
    She’d have talked to people about the Center and they’d all have been enthusiastic and ready to open their wallets. The evening would have been a roaring success. Afterward Matt would have walked her to her car and kissed her until her head whirled. Then, like Cinderella, the clock would have struck twelve and she’d have gone home.
    The thought brought her back to the present with a start and she snorted back a laugh. Matt Dixon was no Prince Charming. And, she was certainly no Cinderella.
    Sierra finished wiping the refrigerator, gave the countertops another once-over and smiled in satisfaction. Seeing it now, you could never tell all the work that had gone on here this evening. Except…
    Her gaze critically scanned the small kitchen rug at the base of the sink. It might be only her imagination but it looked like the tiny oval could benefit from a good shaking.
    She stared a moment longer but, try as she might, Sierra couldn’t convince herself to leave this one last detail unattended. Picking up the rug, she folded it in half and went outside, making sure not even one speck of lint fell on Libby’s polished hardwood floors.
    The veranda drew her like a magnet. The wide expanse of wood had once been her and Libby’s play area. When they were young, they’d draped blankets over the railing and made forts. When they were older the porch had been the place where she and Libby had perfected animal calls.
    Sierra chuckled to herself, remembering the first time they’d demonstrated their newfound talent in front of Stella. They’d been about nine at the time and Libby had gone first, doing a fairly respectable chicken squawk. Sierra had followed with her version of a pig’s oink. Unlike Libby, who’d refused to flap her wings as they’d practiced, Sierra had taken a finger and lifted her nose so it resembled a pig’s snout and let loose with the loudest oink she could muster.
    Libby’s mom had been clearly stunned by the realistic sounds. She didn’t applaud, but instead raised one perfectly arched eyebrow, and told them Peggy had cookies waiting for them inside on the dining-room table.
    Sierra gave a melancholy sigh. Those were the good old days. Though she knew she should lock up and head home to bed, she couldn’t bring herself to move. It was a beautiful evening and the first time she’d had a chance to relax all day. The temperature hovered around sixty-five and the air was fresh with only the faintest hint of moisture. Sierra shook the rug then draped it carefully over the railing. Resting her elbows on the soft fibers, she leaned forward and stared out into the darkness.
    Life had been so simple then. It hadn’t taken much to bring happiness: chocolate-chip cookies, a good book and a loud oink.
    Sierra’s lips turned up in a smile. She hadn’t oinked in forever. At one time she’d been quite good. She wondered if it was like riding a bike, once you learned, you never forgot? Or was it like the French she’d learned in middle school? She’d never used it and now the only thing she could do was count to ten.
    Of course, there was one way to find out….
    Straightening to make sure she had the support of