The Cowboy Next Door by Brenda Minton Page B

optimist. “You’re right.”
    â€œReady to go?” Jay stood in her yard, Wrangler jeans, a button-down shirt and his puka-shell necklace. She smiled, because she couldn’t help herself. She liked that he had these two sides of his personality.
    â€œI’m ready to go.” She smiled when Bailey kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Bay. You mean the world to me.”
    â€œDitto, chick.”
    Bailey walked down the steps, punching Jay a little on the arm. “Take care of her. She’s my best friend.”
    â€œWill do.” He shifted a little and looked down, his cheeks red.
    Lacey pulled her door closed and twisted the knob to make sure it was locked. And then she walked across the lawn with Jay.
    It felt worse than a first date.
    It was anything but.
    â€œClimb in.” Jay opened the passenger-side door and she obeyed, really not seeing the running board, and then falling over it. A strong hand caught her arm from behind and held her steady.
    â€œVery graceful.” He said it with a smile that she could hear. “You’re two for nothing on the accident scale.”
    Lacey turned, frowning, and he was still smiling, a smile that showed dazzling teeth and the tiniest dimple in his chin.
    â€œThanks.” She smiled back.
    â€œYou’re welcome. Do you need help?”
    He was teasing and that helped, for a second she forgot the case of nerves that was twisting her insides.
    â€œI’m fine, and you can let go now.” She slid into the seat, aware of the place his hand had rested on her arm.
    The truck was still running and Casting Crowns played on the CD player, songs of worship, loud and vibrant. She fastened her seatbelt and leaned back, waiting for him to get in. He did, bringing with him that freshly showered and spicy-cologne scent of his.
    â€œLacey, you have to stop thinking I’m the enemy.” He reached to turn the music down. “I’m sorry for knowing about you, about…”
    â€œMy record.” She looked out the window, watching farmland slip past them. Gentle hills, green fields, a few houses and barns. Not St. Louis, city streets and crowded neighborhoods of people getting by the best way they knew how. Some did better than others.
    Lacey’s family had been one of the families not making it at all. Never any security or hope, just scraping and trying to survive.
    â€œWe’ve all done things.” Jay tried, she knew he really tried. He didn’t get it. He couldn’t.
    â€œWhat have you done?” She turned away from the window to look at him. “Well?”
    He didn’t answer, but he smiled a little smile, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them. Both hands on the wheel in driver’s-ed position. He did everything by the book.
    â€œDid you maybe sneak behind the barn and smoke once, years ago? It made you choke, might have made you sick, and you never tried it again?”
    He laughed. “Were you watching?”
    â€œNo, but I can picture your skinny little self out there with a friend, sneaking around with your contraband, your little hearts racing, hoping you didn’t get caught.”
    He laughed, and Lacey laughed, too. And it felt good. It felt like a moment of normal in a crazy, mixed-up world. A world that for a time had been on its axis, turning smoothly.
    â€œYou picture me as a skinny little kid, huh?”
    â€œYou weren’t?”
    â€œI was.”
    â€œI know. Your mom showed me pictures.”
    He groaned at that and shook his head. “Of course she did. So you see, we’ve all done things.”
    He didn’t understand feeling dirty. He didn’t know what it meant to walk down the aisle of the Gibson Community Church, wondering if it would be like the other times she had gone to church, wanting to be loved and walking out lonelier than ever.
    She closed her eyes, remembering that first week in Gibson, when she’d gone to church and she had gone