daredevil?”
“Definitely not!” She smiled as she played with her straw paper. “I suppose it’s a cheap form of transportation, although I can’t believe what a huge motorcycle you have. It must have cost you a pretty penny.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to get those saddlebags in the back for traveling, so I needed a bigger bike.” Lane took a sip of his iced tea. He didn’t tell her he had two cars, a Lexus and a Mazda, parked in his garage in Cheyenne. “What I can’t believe is how you know everyone in this town.” He nodded at the other customers.
Callie raised her eyebrows. “That’s what happens when you grow up in a small place. But you said you grew up in Cheyenne with your aunt and uncle. Are you an orphan?”
He nodded. “My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was six years old.”
“Oh, Lane.” Callie knit her brows. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Do your aunt and uncle still live in Cheyenne?”
“No, both of them are dead now.” He didn’t want to talk about his past. She might start asking questions that he didn’t want to answer. “Tell me about yourself, Callie. Do you have any hopes and dreams for the future?”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “I do have a dream, but I’ve never told anyone about it.”
Beverly, holding two large platters, approached their table. “Here’s your order.” She set a plate in front of each of them. “The mustard and ketchup are right there on the table. Do you need anything else?”
“This should do it for me.” Lane glanced at the thick hamburger stacked with lettuce, onions, and tomato slices. “Smells delicious.”
Callie nodded. “Thanks, Beverly.” As soon as the waitress left, Callie leaned across the table. “Lane? Would you mind saying grace for us?”
Grace?
He hadn’t prayed over his food in seven years. He cleared his throat. “Sure.”
She bowed her head.
He looked down at his plate. “Uh, Lord, thank You for this food.” He kept his voice low, almost to a mumble. “Bless it to our bodies. Amen.”
“Amen,” Callie echoed. She took her napkin and placed it in her lap then grabbed the ketchup bottle.
Lane picked up the mustard, wondering what she thought of his prayer. At the family dinner yesterday, her dad had prayed for seven or eight minutes. Lane thought the man would never stop, but at the same time, Jake Brandt seemed to know God personally—the way Lane used to.
But he didn’t want to think about his spiritual problems. The safest thing to do was change the subject. “So, Callie, what’s this dream you have?”
She picked up her knife and cut her hamburger in half. “Well, I love to read, as you know, and I’ve always wanted to—” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I’ve always wanted to have my own bookstore. It’s been my desire for years, and I’ve been saving up to rent a storefront in town.”
“That’s great.” He smiled at her. “Dream big, Callie.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know if it will happen, but I feel in my heart that it’s the Lord’s will. I already know what the name of my bookstore will be, and the idea came straight from the Lord, too.” She leaned forward, and the light from the window reflected off her glasses. “For the Love of Books. That’s the name of it.” She sat back. “It’s an acronym.”
“An acronym?”
“Think about it.” She smiled, biting her bottom lip at the same time.
“For the Love of Books.” Lane pronounced it slowly. “Oh.
Ft. Lob
. That’s cool.”
With a nod, she picked up her hamburger. “I’m especially interested in history. I’d like to sell books about Wyoming. Our state has such a fascinating past—the scouts and trailblazers, the battles between the army and the Indians, the Oregon Trail, the Pony Express, the transcontinental railroad… .”
He laughed. “You’re a walking encyclopedia.”
Her face tinged pink, and she took a bite of her hamburger.
For the next few minutes, they ate
“Definitely not!” She smiled as she played with her straw paper. “I suppose it’s a cheap form of transportation, although I can’t believe what a huge motorcycle you have. It must have cost you a pretty penny.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to get those saddlebags in the back for traveling, so I needed a bigger bike.” Lane took a sip of his iced tea. He didn’t tell her he had two cars, a Lexus and a Mazda, parked in his garage in Cheyenne. “What I can’t believe is how you know everyone in this town.” He nodded at the other customers.
Callie raised her eyebrows. “That’s what happens when you grow up in a small place. But you said you grew up in Cheyenne with your aunt and uncle. Are you an orphan?”
He nodded. “My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was six years old.”
“Oh, Lane.” Callie knit her brows. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Do your aunt and uncle still live in Cheyenne?”
“No, both of them are dead now.” He didn’t want to talk about his past. She might start asking questions that he didn’t want to answer. “Tell me about yourself, Callie. Do you have any hopes and dreams for the future?”
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “I do have a dream, but I’ve never told anyone about it.”
Beverly, holding two large platters, approached their table. “Here’s your order.” She set a plate in front of each of them. “The mustard and ketchup are right there on the table. Do you need anything else?”
“This should do it for me.” Lane glanced at the thick hamburger stacked with lettuce, onions, and tomato slices. “Smells delicious.”
Callie nodded. “Thanks, Beverly.” As soon as the waitress left, Callie leaned across the table. “Lane? Would you mind saying grace for us?”
Grace?
He hadn’t prayed over his food in seven years. He cleared his throat. “Sure.”
She bowed her head.
He looked down at his plate. “Uh, Lord, thank You for this food.” He kept his voice low, almost to a mumble. “Bless it to our bodies. Amen.”
“Amen,” Callie echoed. She took her napkin and placed it in her lap then grabbed the ketchup bottle.
Lane picked up the mustard, wondering what she thought of his prayer. At the family dinner yesterday, her dad had prayed for seven or eight minutes. Lane thought the man would never stop, but at the same time, Jake Brandt seemed to know God personally—the way Lane used to.
But he didn’t want to think about his spiritual problems. The safest thing to do was change the subject. “So, Callie, what’s this dream you have?”
She picked up her knife and cut her hamburger in half. “Well, I love to read, as you know, and I’ve always wanted to—” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I’ve always wanted to have my own bookstore. It’s been my desire for years, and I’ve been saving up to rent a storefront in town.”
“That’s great.” He smiled at her. “Dream big, Callie.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know if it will happen, but I feel in my heart that it’s the Lord’s will. I already know what the name of my bookstore will be, and the idea came straight from the Lord, too.” She leaned forward, and the light from the window reflected off her glasses. “For the Love of Books. That’s the name of it.” She sat back. “It’s an acronym.”
“An acronym?”
“Think about it.” She smiled, biting her bottom lip at the same time.
“For the Love of Books.” Lane pronounced it slowly. “Oh.
Ft. Lob
. That’s cool.”
With a nod, she picked up her hamburger. “I’m especially interested in history. I’d like to sell books about Wyoming. Our state has such a fascinating past—the scouts and trailblazers, the battles between the army and the Indians, the Oregon Trail, the Pony Express, the transcontinental railroad… .”
He laughed. “You’re a walking encyclopedia.”
Her face tinged pink, and she took a bite of her hamburger.
For the next few minutes, they ate
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