A Wife in Wyoming. Lynnette Kent
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one. He seemed the same now, with his expensive haircut and his designer jacket worn over a pair of jeans.
Actually, he looked even better now—like every woman’s fantasy of a cleaned-up cowboy with lots of money. It was all pretty much make-believe, but oh, so nice to dream about. His successful law career was a claim to fame as far as the citizens of Bisons Creek were concerned.
“Psst. Caroline!” Beth Forbes, the woman next to her, tugged on her sleeve. “Time to start!”
Caroline stood up belatedly and opened her choir book. Thank goodness she knew the opening song by heart, since she was on the wrong page. Those Marshall boys had always distracted her from what she was supposed to be doing. Especially Ford.
She tried to concentrate during the service, but she found her gaze straying to his face too often for her own comfort. They’d been in the same grade and some of the same courses—English, history, math. He hadn’t grabbed attention by clowning around or disrupting class, the way other boys did. But none of the troublemakers bothered him or tried to goad him into acting out. Something about Ford kept everybody at a distance.
Listening with half an ear to Garrett’s sermon, Caroline recalled the day Ford had returned to school after his dad died. Mr. Marshall hadn’t worked at the Donnelly ranch for a couple of years by then, but she’d wanted to say something since he’d been a big part of her life. So she’d stopped at Ford’s locker just before lunch.
“I’m sorry about your dad,” she’d said, meaning every word. “He was kind to me when I was little.”
Ford had slammed his locker shut, making her jump. He’d turned in her direction, but his dark blue eyes looked right through her. After a moment, he nodded and then walked away.
She’d been too spooked to speak to him again.
Not today, though. Today she would talk to him and make sure he listened, because what she had to say was important. Not just to her—though the work she was trying to do had cost her dearly—but to the whole community of Bisons Creek.
Butterflies flitted around in her stomach as she thought about talking with Ford. She’d been nervous enough when she’d expected to have to consult with Wyatt, but Garrett had told her that Ford was running the ranch this summer and that he was the one she’d have to convince. At least she’d have Garrett to back her up. Ford couldn’t walk away from the two of them.
She hoped.
As usual, Dylan fell asleep during his brother’s sermon, but today Ford elbowed him awake for the final hymn. In the choir room afterward, Caroline shelved her folder and spent a minute at the mirror to add a swipe of lipstick to her mouth and make sure her hair was okay. She put a hand on her stomach and drew a deep breath—the butterflies had taken up kickboxing.
Finally she went to the social hall, where refreshments were provided, giving members a chance to greet each other and chat over cookies and lemonade or coffee. Garrett had promised that he would make sure Ford stayed.
And there he was, surrounded by folks who hadn’t seen him since the last time he was home at Christmas, all of them asking about his glamorous San Francisco law practice and how Wyatt was doing. Dylan hosted his own fan club, composed of the single women from eighteen to thirty who wanted to be flirted with. The youngest Marshall was only too happy to oblige.
Caroline wolfed down three sugar cookies and a glass of lemonade before the crowd thinned enough that she stood a chance of getting through. As soon as she stepped into the circle, Ford glanced her way. His eyes narrowed slightly before refocusing on the face of the person talking to him. He smiled at the woman—such a nice smile, but one he used so rarely. And never with her.
If it were up to me, Caroline thought, I’d make him laugh at least three times a day.
Maybe, if the project she wanted his help on got going, she might get the chance!
Finally, with most of the congregation out of the way, she moved close enough to say, “Hello, Ford.” She breathed deep and held out her hand. “Welcome home.”
For a second—just an instant—he hesitated. Then his hand took hers, and his eyes brightened. “Hello there, Caroline. Good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
The warmth of his skin against hers was nearly as distracting as the smile. “Fifteen years, believe it or not, since graduation. I hear you’ve done magnificent things in San Francisco.”
“I do my job. What have you been up to?”
Garrett stepped up beside his brother. “Caroline runs the Department of Family Services in Bisons Creek. She’s working with the area’s disadvantaged families.”
“Really?” Ford lifted a disbelieving eyebrow.
Caroline nodded. “Really,” she said, and at that moment realized they were still holding hands. She slid hers quickly out of his grasp. “I majored in psychology, got my master’s degree in social work and was with the department in Casper for four years before moving back here. There are people in trouble in this area, just like anywhere else, especially the teenagers. High school is a lot more dangerous now than when we were there.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, which only made his shoulders broader. “So I understand. Garrett said you have a project you want to talk to me about.”
“I do.” She glanced around and noticed the volunteers were cleaning up the refreshment table. “Now might not be the best time, though. Could you meet me in town for lunch tomorrow?”
He glanced at Garrett. “I’m here to take on some of the work Wyatt can’t get to. I expect I’ll be in the saddle all day tomorrow. What about right now? Kate’s Café is still open on Sundays, right?”
“I’ve got some sick parishioners to visit,” Garrett said. “I can’t take a break for lunch today.”
Caroline hesitated. She’d expected to have Garrett’s support when she explained her plan. Would she be as persuasive by herself?
Ford read her indecision. “If you’re busy, maybe later in the week...?”
“No, not at all.” She would do this and do it well, for the kids. “Right now is perfect. Shall we meet there in about ten minutes?”
Dylan sauntered up. “Hey, Miss Caroline. You are looking especially fine today.”
She gave him the big smile he deserved. “Thank you so much, sleepyhead.”
He flushed and pushed his dark hair back off his face. “Stayed up till dawn working on a piece. Then somebody stomps in at seven and drags me out of bed to feed horses.” His gaze went to Ford. “So I’m a little short on shut-eye.” He yawned for emphasis. “Going home to bed.”
Ford propped his hands on his hips. “That leaves me without a ride.”
Caroline swallowed hard. “No problem. We can go to the café in my truck. I’ll run you home after.”
His gaze, meeting hers, was hard to read. “Great. I’m interested to hear what you have to say.” He stepped forward and pressed the tips of his fingers against her shoulder blade. “Shall we?”
They got a few interested stares from lingering church members as she led the way to her truck. Caroline wanted to yell, “Just business!” at them but restrained herself. She wondered if Ford would prefer that she had.
She unlocked the truck from a distance with the electronic key and was surprised when he followed her to the driver’s side to open the door.
“Th-thanks,” she said, after climbing in with as much grace as she could manage in a dress.
“You’re welcome.” He shut the door, came around the back and swung into the passenger seat with a cowboy’s smooth control.
“You’re still at home in a truck, I see.” She let her gaze brush over him as she turned her head to