Tumbleweed Weddings by Donna Robinson Page A

in silence. As Lane chewed on his burger, he also chewed on what Callie wanted to do. He wished he could help her. But a bookstore in Fort Lob? Would she have enough customers?
    He set his half-eaten hamburger on the plate. “You know, Callie, I’m wondering if you should tweak your dream a bit.”
    She frowned. “What do you mean?”
    “I like the bookstore idea, but I think you should expand it to include a museum.”
    “A museum? But Wyoming has lots of museums.”
    “Not about James Thomas Lob.” He leaned forward. “Look at all that stuff in the library. It’s just sitting there, collecting dust. You could bring it to life, Callie.”
    He noticed a shiver run over her. “I would love to do that.”
    “You could set up a museum and sell Wyoming books in the gift shop.” He shrugged. “You’d still have your bookstore.”
    “That would be a fantastic project—if I could save enough money.” She shook her head. “But that might be too big of a dream for me.”

    I can’t afford a museum!
    Callie sighed under her breath. She wasn’t sure she could afford a bookstore. But a museum would have to be housed in a building by itself on its own property, and she didn’t have that kind of money. Then she’d have to get permission from the town council since Fort Lob owned all those things in the library, and she didn’t want a job where she would be accountable to them.
    Beverly came to their table. “How about some dessert? Our special today is hot peach cobbler with a scoop of ice cream.”
    Callie shook her head. “I’m so full, I can’t—”
    “How about just the ice cream, in a cone?” Lane raised his eyebrows at Callie then turned to Beverly. “We’ll take two cones. A large vanilla for me.”
    They both looked at Callie.
    “Uh, okay. I’ll take a chocolate cone—small.”
    Beverly nodded. “One large vanilla and one small chocolate. Be right back.”
    While they waited, Lane waxed eloquent about the museum. He talked about the photos of the town, the family’s history, the old furniture. Callie listened, resting her chin in her hand and enjoying his enthusiasm. Enjoying
him
. But at the same time, she knew the museum idea would never happen. That was certainly a pipe dream, if ever there was one.
    Beverly came back with their cones and left.
    Lane took a few licks. “This is really good ice cream.”
    “Ray makes his own. He’s famous for it, actually.” Callie took a bite and adjusted her glasses. “This has been a wonderful break, Lane.” Spending time with Lane and getting to know him was the best part.
    “My pleasure.” He licked his ice cream into a point. “Like Cheyenne said, you deserved a break.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “You needed to rest those eyes.”
    Lane poked the point of his ice cream at her glasses. Suddenly she saw nothing through the left lens but a big white spot.
    “Hey!” She whipped them off and glanced at the damage before looking up at him. “You did that on purpose.”
    He grinned. “Yep. Just wanted to see your pretty face.” His smile faded. “And you are pretty, Callie—even prettier than I thought.”
    Heat rose in her face. She wasn’t sure if she should thank him for the compliment or yell at him for smudging her glasses. But even though he was blurry and out of focus, the look he gave her as their eyes met stopped her heart and stilled her tongue.
    Flustered, she glanced around. “I need something to clean my glasses, but …” She scooted to the end of the booth. “Guess I’ll have to go to the ladies’ room.”
    “Wait!” Lane held out his hand. “Give them to me. I messed them up; I should fix them.”
    Callie handed her glasses over. Lane looked at the splotch of ice cream residing on the left lens and pulled a napkin from the holder at the end of the table.
    “No, Lane, don’t use a napkin. Paper will scratch the lens. I’ll ask Beverly to get us—”
    “Don’t bother.” He swiped his thumb