it’s time you started treating me like one.” She turned and strode into the kitchen.
Annie could hear the clang of the silverware drawer, hear Sierra chatting with Ryder, hear his laughter. It all sounded like a perfect little family.
Annie put on her boots and left the house, seething. Even her chores didn’t soothe her temper, and by the time she got to church, all she could think about was getting hold of Dylan Taylor, wrapping her hands around his thick neck, and squeezing the daylights out of him.
Dylan slipped into the pew late. Chores had set him behind, and he’d been trying to take extra time with Braveheart every morning. That hadn’t happened today. As it was, the music had already begun.
He let out a breath and gave himself over to the worshipful words of “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” letting the cares of the week drain away. The music was his favorite part. He was convinced God could speak through lyrics, even through the melody, if He chose to. And the reminder of God’s bountiful provisions spoke to him this morning.
When the music ended, the congregation was seated and Pastor Blevins began preaching on letting go of earthly cares. It was a fine sermon, but Dylan found his thoughts, and his eyes, drifting. As luck would have it, Annie was in his line of vision, her silky black hair glistening under the chandeliers. She sat straight as a ponderosa pine. He wondered for the dozenth time if Oakley had kissed her good night the night before, then he chided himself for caring.
When the service ended, he intended to wend his way over to Annie and confirm their plans for Thursday. Not because he was unsure, but because he needed an excuse to talk to her.
But when the service ended, Wade and Abigail appeared at his side, and then Travis and Shay, and he got caught up in Founders Day plans.
He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Annie, but she was nowhere to be seen.
By the time they wrapped up, the church was nearly empty, save for Miss Lucy, who was tidying the hymnals. Even the pastor had left his post at the door.
Dylan scowled as he left the building and set his hat on his head with a firm push. So much for that.
“Dylan.” Annie pushed away from the brick building. She looked fresh as a daisy in a baby blue shirt that matched her eyes to a T.
“Annie . . . you’re looking quite fetching this mor—”
“Save it, Taylor. I want to talk to you about that, that cowboy you set my sister up with.”
He remembered the introduction at the Chuckwagon. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. He kept Sierra out all night. All night, Dylan, when she has a child at home to care for.”
That didn’t sound like Sutter. “Is the little guy okay?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I was home with him, but that’s not the point.”
“Sutter’s a good kid, Annie. Wouldn’t have introduced him to your sister otherwise. Listen, I don’t think—”
“No, you listen.” Annie’s eyes glittered, and two dashes had formed between her brows. “My sister’s young, and she’s trying to get her life together, which isn’t easy considering she had a child at sixteen. She doesn’t need the distraction of some Rodeo Romeo sweeping her off her feet.”
“Calm down, Annie. Sutter’s not like that. ’Sides, I only introduced them and—not that I approve of what they did—they are both adults.”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened into a flat line. “Just keep your friends away from my sister.”
He held up his hands. “Whatever you say.”
Annie shot him one final look and stalked away, her hair blowing in the breeze. He admired her spirit and her desire to protect Sierra, but if you asked him, she was holding the reins a smidge too tight.
Dear Confused,
There’s no reason to be confused. He already left you once. Taking him back is an open-ended invitation for heartbreak.
9
S ierra went out with her new cowboy three nights in a row,
Annie could hear the clang of the silverware drawer, hear Sierra chatting with Ryder, hear his laughter. It all sounded like a perfect little family.
Annie put on her boots and left the house, seething. Even her chores didn’t soothe her temper, and by the time she got to church, all she could think about was getting hold of Dylan Taylor, wrapping her hands around his thick neck, and squeezing the daylights out of him.
Dylan slipped into the pew late. Chores had set him behind, and he’d been trying to take extra time with Braveheart every morning. That hadn’t happened today. As it was, the music had already begun.
He let out a breath and gave himself over to the worshipful words of “Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” letting the cares of the week drain away. The music was his favorite part. He was convinced God could speak through lyrics, even through the melody, if He chose to. And the reminder of God’s bountiful provisions spoke to him this morning.
When the music ended, the congregation was seated and Pastor Blevins began preaching on letting go of earthly cares. It was a fine sermon, but Dylan found his thoughts, and his eyes, drifting. As luck would have it, Annie was in his line of vision, her silky black hair glistening under the chandeliers. She sat straight as a ponderosa pine. He wondered for the dozenth time if Oakley had kissed her good night the night before, then he chided himself for caring.
When the service ended, he intended to wend his way over to Annie and confirm their plans for Thursday. Not because he was unsure, but because he needed an excuse to talk to her.
But when the service ended, Wade and Abigail appeared at his side, and then Travis and Shay, and he got caught up in Founders Day plans.
He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch sight of Annie, but she was nowhere to be seen.
By the time they wrapped up, the church was nearly empty, save for Miss Lucy, who was tidying the hymnals. Even the pastor had left his post at the door.
Dylan scowled as he left the building and set his hat on his head with a firm push. So much for that.
“Dylan.” Annie pushed away from the brick building. She looked fresh as a daisy in a baby blue shirt that matched her eyes to a T.
“Annie . . . you’re looking quite fetching this mor—”
“Save it, Taylor. I want to talk to you about that, that cowboy you set my sister up with.”
He remembered the introduction at the Chuckwagon. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. He kept Sierra out all night. All night, Dylan, when she has a child at home to care for.”
That didn’t sound like Sutter. “Is the little guy okay?”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I was home with him, but that’s not the point.”
“Sutter’s a good kid, Annie. Wouldn’t have introduced him to your sister otherwise. Listen, I don’t think—”
“No, you listen.” Annie’s eyes glittered, and two dashes had formed between her brows. “My sister’s young, and she’s trying to get her life together, which isn’t easy considering she had a child at sixteen. She doesn’t need the distraction of some Rodeo Romeo sweeping her off her feet.”
“Calm down, Annie. Sutter’s not like that. ’Sides, I only introduced them and—not that I approve of what they did—they are both adults.”
Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened into a flat line. “Just keep your friends away from my sister.”
He held up his hands. “Whatever you say.”
Annie shot him one final look and stalked away, her hair blowing in the breeze. He admired her spirit and her desire to protect Sierra, but if you asked him, she was holding the reins a smidge too tight.
Dear Confused,
There’s no reason to be confused. He already left you once. Taking him back is an open-ended invitation for heartbreak.
9
S ierra went out with her new cowboy three nights in a row,
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