Her Unexpected Cowboy. Debra Clopton
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instant she’d held that brush, everything in the world had seemed suddenly right.
It had been a long time since she’d had that feeling. She smiled. “Yes, you’re right. My painting is from instinct, though I had some formal training when I was young.”
“I read about you, you know. Looked you up on the Net.” Nana’s wise eyes settled on her as she spoke.
Lucy knew if that were the case, then she knew about the fire. “You did?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Nana studied her. “You had a hard time of it. I’m sorry. How are you doing now?”
“I’m okay,” she said, trying to figure out where to direct the conversation. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought that someone could check her out online. After all, she was an artist with a bit of success. A rush of sound broke into their conversation as the back door opened and one after the other of the boys streamed down the hall and through the kitchen. She wasn’t sure how all of them would fit in the house.
As if reading her mind, Nana said, “We usually eat in the Chow Hall, but tonight is special, we’re having a guest. So it may be a tight squeeze.”
Laughter and banter filled the room as Rowdy ushered the boys into the den. His brother Morgan and his wife, Jolie, arrived and Rowdy introduced them. Not that she’d needed the introduction—their resemblance was too similar. Morgan, like Rowdy, had Nana’s direct navy eyes.
“Morgan and my dad run the business side of the foster program and the ranch. Jolie has been our schoolteacher since the beginning of the year.”
“I can’t wait to see some of your work.” Jolie’s wide smile reminded Lucy instantly of Julia Roberts, especially with her auburn hair and her expressive eyes. “I envy an artist their abilities. I’m a klutz with a brush in my hand.”
“I won’t believe that until I see it.” Lucy had the distinct impression that this lady could do anything she set her mind to. And quickly she learned it was true when Morgan told her Jolie was a champion kayaker. It was easy to see his pride in her accomplishments. Tim had always seemed threatened by her success. His greatest wish had been for her to give up her work.
Lucy was so thankful that she hadn’t done that.
Looking at Morgan and Jolie, she had to admit that she envied the bond between them. Their mutual respect spoke volumes.
They all talked about her work some—that it was in galleries and that she also sold prints. She wasn’t Thomas Kinkaid or Norman Rockwell, but she was blessed to have some recognition, giving her the ability to paint full-time.
It wasn’t long before they were all helping carry the large platters of food to the huge table in the dining area. There were so many of them that card tables had been set up to help accommodate them all.
While they were setting the table, Rowdy’s brother Tucker showed up. Introductions were made and she knew before they told her that he had been in the Special Forces. There was just something about the way he carried himself. He still wore a very close-cropped haircut she could see when he removed his Stetson and hung it on the hat rack. Rowdy’s hair was more touchable, run-your-fingers-through-it type. Where both Morgan and Tucker had serious edges to their expressions, Rowdy’s was more open, and—she searched for the right word—light was all that came to mind. Rowdy’s eyes twinkled as he wrestled on the couch with B.J. and Sammy. His infectious laughter had Lucy wanting to join in.
She brought her thoughts up short, realizing that she was comparing Rowdy’s attributes with his brothers’. She had no reason to do that.
No reason and no want to.
Frustrated by her thoughts, Lucy marched back to the kitchen in search of a plate of food to carry. She needed something constructive to do. What was wrong with her, anyway?
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