Lone Star Holiday (10 page)

“When do you plan on going back?”

“I’m not sure. A few things have to be cleared before I return. If it doesn’t work out, I might just stay here for a while.”

“A great deal of people would love for you to stay.”

She laughed and made a face at him. “Yeah, right. Everything I worked for is back in L.A. It would be like...I don’t know...letting Brent win.”

“If you’re happy, you win no matter where you live.”

“I just can’t imagine my life without everything I have in L.A. It’s who I am now.” She studied the sun setting behind the hills. Spots of red and yellow fall foliage mixed with the evergreens that covered the rocky slopes.

What scared her most? She could see herself in John’s house, at his dinner table, watching the girls as they did their homework, hosting an all-girls sleepover while he hid upstairs in the master bedroom. She could see it so clearly and knew it was wrong. She didn’t belong in his home, playing mother to his children. The sooner she got back to her real life the better for everyone.

“Is it safe to go back?”

She bit her lip. “You mean Brent? He’s in rehab right now, and I won’t go back unless I know he won’t be around. If he stays in the band, I’ll find another band to manage. I have enough connections and already have some people contacting me.”

His jaw flexed, and he nodded, giving her a stiff smile before looking back to the road. “Good.”

* * *

Good.
That was all he could come up with to say? He shook his head. Just the thought of her being anywhere near that guy raised his blood pressure.

He knew the bruise on her eye didn’t have anything to do with the accident. He took a deep breath and focused on the road, sliding the car around a sharp curve that hugged the hillside. This road had never felt so smooth.

Which just took his thoughts right back to Lorrie Ann, causing him to smile. She would have been just fine coming in his truck or her little show car. She might like to think of herself as all L.A., but she was also one of the most down-to-earth women he knew. He really enjoyed being in her company.

He cut a glance at his passenger, who stared out the window. He had gotten too personal earlier.
God, help me here. I haven’t been on a date in a long time.
He tightened his fingers around the leather as they hugged another curve.

“Have you eaten at Mamasita’s?”

She turned her head and smiled back at him. “Uncle Billy took us there anytime we had something to celebrate. It’s his favorite restaurant.” She gave a small laugh. “I love watching them make the tortillas.”

“That always keeps Celeste entertained for a good fifteen minutes.”

The conversation moved from the girls to his plans for the ranch house. A couple times he wanted to bring up her mother but wasn’t sure how without breaking Sonia’s trust. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant, they had started discussing the Christmas pageant and ideas Lorrie Ann wanted to try.

Through dinner, they continued talking about pleasant things, when he really wanted to ask why she was going back to a life that made her miserable. He sighed and reminded himself he didn’t want a long-term relationship. It was just one date.

* * *

As they left the restaurant and headed to the gallery, Lorrie Ann reminded herself she had been invited to come along tonight because he didn’t want to go alone.

This was not a real date.

A man like John would only invite her because she made an uncomplicated companion. She grunted at the idea of her being uncomplicated. A better word would be
convenient.

By the time they arrived at the art gallery, she had any wild idea of a romantic relationship firmly locked down. They were friends. God sent her to Clear Water to reconnect with her faith. What better friend than John, a man of God, to guide her?

He held out his arm as they approached the steps to a large Victorian mansion. A hand-carved sign proclaimed the establishment as J. K. West’s Fine Art Gallery and Studio.

The deep porch wrapped around the entire house. Elaborate iron lanterns hung from each column, and more light blazed from the windows, welcoming them into its historical splendor.

The glass-and-wood door swung open as soon as her heels clicked on the polished wooden boards. The well-dressed hostess handed them a brochure about the artist and escorted them to a buffet table full of hors d’oeuvres and desserts. With a big smile, she offered them something to drink then headed back to the door.

John leaned in close to her ear. “Between your car and fancy shoes, I think they believe we’re buyers.”

She saluted him with her glass of ice water and gave him a cheeky grin. “Maybe we are.”

“Yeah, right.” He glanced at a price listed next to a large canvas. “Do you know how many vacuum cleaners I could buy for the price of one of Gary’s paintings?”

Lorrie Ann gave a soft laugh. This man would be so easy to love. They moved through the rooms connected by large archways, each wall displaying another canvas.

“These are brilliant.” Taking her gaze off the painting in front of them, she turned to John. “How do you know the artist?”

“We grew up playing football together until my grandparents took me to Houston my junior year. He moved in with me while he attended the Art Institute of Houston.”

A hand grasped John’s shoulder. They both turned quickly. “
I
played football. He just wanted to talk to the cheerleaders.”

“Gary!” The men hugged and gave each other a pounding on the shoulder. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Some collectors wanted a tour of the studio upstairs.” He turned to Lorrie Ann. She could not imagine this tall, lean man playing football.
Beautiful
came to mind with his dark hair framing perfect skin and teeth. His thick lashes gave the illusion of eyeliner, making his coffee-dark eyes riveting.

John moved into her line of vision, drawing her attention back to him. “Lorrie Ann, this is Gary Sanchez. Gary, Lorrie Ann is my neighbor’s niece. She’s visiting from Los Angeles.”

He held out his hand to her. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Lorrie Ann could not shake the feeling she had seen him somewhere before. “This sounds lame—” she smiled “—but have you done print work or TV? You look very familiar.”

He shook his head, but John interrupted before he could speak.

“You’ve seen him in the wedding picture in the cabin.”

Gary then shot a quick glance to Lorrie Ann with brows raised.

Lorrie Ann felt her face grow warm. “I’m watching the girls.” She swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. “Rachel broke her leg.”

Gary laughed and slapped John on the back again. “Yeah, John told me what happened. So, you’re the one who’s helping out?” His beautiful smile showed off perfect teeth.

Lorrie Ann smiled back.

John took a sip of his water. “Gary
was
my best man.”

“I’m still your best man.”

“This summer Gary’s moving into the former maids’ quarters. He’s turning it into a studio.”

“I prefer to call it the guesthouse.” He glanced around the room and smiled at a couple studying his work. “I’m excited about living in the Hill Country.” He nodded toward the archway to their right. “Have you been to the front parlor yet?”

“No, we were heading that way.”

“Your work is breathtaking. The strokes of colors are so packed with emotion and energy they pull me into the painting.”

“Thank you.”

As they stepped into the room, a four-by-six canvas pulled her closer. “Wow. This is...” She stared at the painting. “It’s so uplifting, like there’s music coming right off the image.”

John turned to Gary. “Is this what you did with the pictures of Celeste and me?”

“This is
Joy
number 3. I listened to your CD while I painted. A total of five paintings came from those photos and drawings from that day.”

Lorrie Ann tilted her head and squinted. In the swirl of vibrant colors, she could see a larger figure swinging a smaller one through the space above him, each brushstroke sweeping her along. “You and Celeste posed for this painting?”

John grinned. “Not really. Gary came out to visit last summer to do some landscape studies.”

Gary chuckled. “While I worked on sketches, Celeste grew a little bored, so John started spinning her in circles. I ended up taking more pictures of them than the landscape. By the time I got back to the studio, I knew I had to capture that joy on canvas.” He turned back to the painting. “I’ve already sold two. They’ve become my favorites.”

“Celeste will love to see this.”

“They’re on my website. Numbers 2 and 5 are in New Mexico.” He placed his hand on John’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you made it. I’ve got to play host and sell some of my babies. Very nice meeting you, Lorrie Ann, and I hope to see you again before you head back to L.A.”

They moved to another room, studying a collection of smaller paintings grouped on one wall.

Lorrie Ann chuckled. John raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

“Only in Texas would two high-school football players become an artist and a preacher.” Her gaze met his. “How did you end up a pastor?”

What she really wanted to ask him? How did a drop-dead-gorgeous hunk become a country pastor in the middle of nowhere? But she knew that would come across as shallow.

“In the church I attended as a teenager there were two youth ministers that changed my life. I knew my purpose by the time I finished high school. I was called to serve God.”

“Wow, it was that clear and easy?” She followed him to the next painting.

He looked down at the glass of water he held between his hands. Raising his eyes back to her, he pulled one corner of his mouth to give her a lopsided grin.

“I have to admit it’s a bit more complicated. I grew up in Flower Mound, outside Dallas. That’s where Gary and I played football. My junior year I lost my parents. They were flying to an air show with my uncle and aunt when their plane went down.”

Lorrie Ann moved closer to John, no longer interested in the artwork surrounding them. She laid her hand on his arm.

“I found myself living with my grandparents in Houston.” He gave a grunt and took another drink of his ice water. “Grieving four family members, they didn’t know what to do for a confused sixteen-year-old. They dropped me off in the youth building at their church, a megachurch with programs that kept me busy day and night. I joined the worship band and found a place I belonged.”

She knew what it felt like to be dumped and alone. Of course, her mother had had a choice. His focus stayed on the painting in front of them, but Lorrie Ann wondered if he even saw the room. After a few minutes of silence, she searched for a safe topic.

“You played in a band? Gary mentioned a CD.” She grinned. “Now, that sounds right up my alley. Do you write? What instrument did you play?”

He started walking to the next wall display. “If it had strings I played it, guitar being my favorite. The music is part of my past. Chuck and Cody, my youth ministers, had a huge impact on my life and growing my relationship with God. When I graduated, there was never a doubt that I wanted to serve God and join the ministry.”

“I wish I had that kind of faith.”

“You can. We’re designed to worship, but with free will we get to choose who or what we worship.”

“I think I might have been at the wrong altar for the past twelve years.”

He leaned into her, lightly bumping her shoulder. “It happens to the best of us. I understand how easy it is to have the wrong god on your altar and not even know it.” He sat on a flat cushioned bench in the middle of the room and contemplated a landscape that covered the wall from floor to ceiling.

“Don’t let guilt or fear stop you from living a full life.” His eyes never moved from the painting.

How did he sound so confident and nonjudgmental at the same time? “You make it sound so easy.” She slid down next to him.

“Oh, it’s not easy.” He turned to gaze into her eyes. “It can be so hard sometimes you just want to hide.”

“I can see you leading a huge congregation, so how did you end up in little ol’ Clear Water?”

“God knew what my family needed before I did. Carol had talked about moving back before she died.” His hands braced on the edge of the bench, he dropped his head and paused for a minute. After a deep breath, he continued, “After we lost her, it became difficult to be around our friends, the sad looks and the awkwardness when they celebrated good news. Dub had been trying to get me to his church for about a year. The old pastor wanted to retire, and they couldn’t find a full-time replacement.”

“Pastor Kemp.” She snapped her fingers and smiled as she remembered the old man. “He baptized me. I thought he was in his eighties back then.”

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s incredible.”

She thought about how she had lived her life, but she couldn’t imagine what she had to offer. “I don’t know how God could use me.”

He smiled at her and winked. “He already has. Like organizing a Christmas pageant?”

She nudged him in the arm. “No fair.”

“As Katy and Maggie have said over and over again, you came to us because God knew we needed you.” He paused, tilted his head and looked her straight in the eye. “I think you needed us also.”

She sighed, and her smile felt a little wobbly. “Oh, I know I needed all of you much more than you’ll ever need me.”

Lorrie Ann glanced at the large clock on the wall, surprised by the time. “It’s late. We should be heading home. You’re not going to be late for church in the morning. Everyone will blame me.” She looked around the gallery and noticed most of the people had already left.

John took her arm to slow her down and laughed. “You act like the clock’s about to strike midnight and your car will turn into a pumpkin.” He looked around. “Let’s say goodbye to Gary.”

Lorrie Ann felt a flush cover her face. What was it about this man that caused her to act like a sixteen-year-old?

As they neared the front, she spotted Gary talking to a couple. John lightly touched his arm and said goodbye. Gary gave her a light hug and thanked them for coming.