Okay."
"Good. And don't worry about the clothes. Anything you have will fit in just fine where we're headed."
* * *
As Cody had mentioned, Brock's reaction to having him go to one of his gigs was met with much enthusiasm. Their father regarded the youngest boy's musical aspirations as nothing more than a fleeting fancy and discouraged him at every turn.
But Lyssa had had a chance to listen through closed doors to the haunting words and music Cody's brother created. He had talent. She didn't need to know anything about music to appreciate it. And the fact that Cody not only recognized that talent but acknowledged it had brought a lot of satisfaction to Brock at the dinner table that evening.
Later, when Lyssa was plowing through what little she'd packed to come to the ranch, she tried to convince herself that tonight's trek out to see Brock play wasn't really a date. As she yanked a skirt out of the closet and tried to find a matching blouse from the drawer she continued building the illusion. This wasn't a date. It was merely a public test run, much like the ones she went on with all her students.
She'd exhausted all combinations of jeans, skirts, and blouses, until she finally decided that none of it mattered. Cody couldn't see what she was wearing, only she could. It wouldn't really matter to anyone else anyway.
She finally slipped into a cotton sundress that she realized with dismay looked like a potato sack over her slightly pear-shaped figure. A low pair of white leather sandals and a touch of makeup was all she'd allow herself to fuss with for this evening. Tossing the dress in her bag had been a last-minute whim, but now she was glad she'd had some semblance of foresight to pack it. The only other things she had were clothes she wore when working with the dogs.
She met Cody downstairs in the living room. The house was quiet except for the slap of her sandals against the heels of her feet. Cody rose up from the sofa when she walked into the room.
His colorful western shirt was pressed neatly, most likely by Isadore, as was the seemingly new pair of Wranglers he wore. His boots were polished to a shine and the straw hat on his head looked as if it were his Sunday best.
"You look beautiful," he said.
She smirked. "How would you know?"
"Because I just heard Isadore sigh in the other room when she saw you coming down the stairs, so she must approve. And that's saying something for Isadore." He leaned forward slightly and whispered just below his normal tone, but loud enough to be heard by anyone who was inclined to eavesdrop. "She's watching, even if she doesn't want me to know."
Lyssa heard the sound of what was probably a broom or mop hitting the inside of the pantry.
"See what I mean?" he said, laughing.
"You look nice and it makes me feel a little under-dressed."
"Don't worry about it." He sighed. "I wish I could see you."
Lyssa dipped her head. How did he always do that? How did he always manage to make her feel as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world?
She reached out and lifted his hand to her face. Lightly, he ran his fingers over her newly painted lips and then cupped her cheek. It brought a smile to his face and one to her heart.
"Brock left right after dinner. He had to set up early and do a sound check before everyone arrives at the club."
"Are we picking up Beau and Mandy or are they meeting us here?"
"Ah, they aren't coming. When I called the ranch, Mandy said Beau was wiped out, not that I blame him. He's been doing double duty here and at the Double T. Little Promise has an ear infection, so they're going to sit this one out. It's just you and me."
He extended his left arm for her to hook her own through.
"Right."
Cody stopped short. "No seriously. I asked, but they begged off."
Lyssa shook her head. "Give me your right arm. Use your left hand for Otis," she corrected. "Speaking of Otis, where is he?"
"Oh, I forgot."
"After a while you won't. It will become second
"Good. And don't worry about the clothes. Anything you have will fit in just fine where we're headed."
* * *
As Cody had mentioned, Brock's reaction to having him go to one of his gigs was met with much enthusiasm. Their father regarded the youngest boy's musical aspirations as nothing more than a fleeting fancy and discouraged him at every turn.
But Lyssa had had a chance to listen through closed doors to the haunting words and music Cody's brother created. He had talent. She didn't need to know anything about music to appreciate it. And the fact that Cody not only recognized that talent but acknowledged it had brought a lot of satisfaction to Brock at the dinner table that evening.
Later, when Lyssa was plowing through what little she'd packed to come to the ranch, she tried to convince herself that tonight's trek out to see Brock play wasn't really a date. As she yanked a skirt out of the closet and tried to find a matching blouse from the drawer she continued building the illusion. This wasn't a date. It was merely a public test run, much like the ones she went on with all her students.
She'd exhausted all combinations of jeans, skirts, and blouses, until she finally decided that none of it mattered. Cody couldn't see what she was wearing, only she could. It wouldn't really matter to anyone else anyway.
She finally slipped into a cotton sundress that she realized with dismay looked like a potato sack over her slightly pear-shaped figure. A low pair of white leather sandals and a touch of makeup was all she'd allow herself to fuss with for this evening. Tossing the dress in her bag had been a last-minute whim, but now she was glad she'd had some semblance of foresight to pack it. The only other things she had were clothes she wore when working with the dogs.
She met Cody downstairs in the living room. The house was quiet except for the slap of her sandals against the heels of her feet. Cody rose up from the sofa when she walked into the room.
His colorful western shirt was pressed neatly, most likely by Isadore, as was the seemingly new pair of Wranglers he wore. His boots were polished to a shine and the straw hat on his head looked as if it were his Sunday best.
"You look beautiful," he said.
She smirked. "How would you know?"
"Because I just heard Isadore sigh in the other room when she saw you coming down the stairs, so she must approve. And that's saying something for Isadore." He leaned forward slightly and whispered just below his normal tone, but loud enough to be heard by anyone who was inclined to eavesdrop. "She's watching, even if she doesn't want me to know."
Lyssa heard the sound of what was probably a broom or mop hitting the inside of the pantry.
"See what I mean?" he said, laughing.
"You look nice and it makes me feel a little under-dressed."
"Don't worry about it." He sighed. "I wish I could see you."
Lyssa dipped her head. How did he always do that? How did he always manage to make her feel as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world?
She reached out and lifted his hand to her face. Lightly, he ran his fingers over her newly painted lips and then cupped her cheek. It brought a smile to his face and one to her heart.
"Brock left right after dinner. He had to set up early and do a sound check before everyone arrives at the club."
"Are we picking up Beau and Mandy or are they meeting us here?"
"Ah, they aren't coming. When I called the ranch, Mandy said Beau was wiped out, not that I blame him. He's been doing double duty here and at the Double T. Little Promise has an ear infection, so they're going to sit this one out. It's just you and me."
He extended his left arm for her to hook her own through.
"Right."
Cody stopped short. "No seriously. I asked, but they begged off."
Lyssa shook her head. "Give me your right arm. Use your left hand for Otis," she corrected. "Speaking of Otis, where is he?"
"Oh, I forgot."
"After a while you won't. It will become second
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