Return to Homecoming Ranch (Pine River #2)

“He knew how to play me, no doubt of that,” Libby agreed.

Gwen smiled a little. She glanced down at the ground a moment. “I thought you had some real hutzpah showing up on my committee.”

“I’ve known Leo since we were little, Gwen. I really—”

“No, Libby, I mean that I kind of admired you for it. Made me mad as hell, but I admired you for having the courage.”

“I wish you hadn’t been afraid of me,” Libby said. “I would never hurt Alice or Max.”

“Oh, I know,” Gwen said with a flick of her wrist. “I was just so pissed off.” She looked curiously at Libby. “Thanks for being honest,” she said.

Libby nodded. “I just wish I’d said this weeks ago.”

Gwen looked down the street and said, “I hope you and Sam work it out. He’s a great guy.”

That surprised Libby. “How . . . ?”

“God, Libby, everyone knows,” Gwen said. “This is Pine River. You tie your shoelace wrong or pick up a golf club and everyone knows.” She smiled a little at her joke and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run. The Methodist’s Women’s Group is meeting this afternoon. We’re still looking for ways to raise money. Are you still doing the race?”

“It’s going to be a Thanksgiving Day turkey trot,” Libby said proudly. “We’ll be putting posters around town later this week.”

“Well . . . good luck. See you around town.” Gwen turned and walked away.

Libby smiled heavenward. “Finally,” she whispered. Finally, a few things were going her way.





THIRTY-TWO

I’m never one to complain, no matter what Marisol says, but this has not been my month. First, the Methodists worked hard and raised about eighteen thousand dollars, all told. I know that sounds like a lot of money to you, but it’s not van money. I hate to say it, but my last shot at getting my van before the big game is Libby Tyler’s race on Thanksgiving Day.

At first, I didn’t have much hope of that working out, either, not after what happened the night of the silent auction, and I don’t mind saying that all those police officers really detracted from my spotlight. Don’t judge me—it’s not like I get the spotlight very often.

It’s not that I think Libby can’t pull it off, because I don’t think that. I know Libby, and once she gets her head on straight, she’s a tenacious little bundle of energy. But people have been kind of skittish around her, and I thought they might not come out to run if they thought she’d be chasing after them with a baseball bat or lurking in the shadows to steal their kids. You know what I mean.

I was all depressed about it, but then, who should show up but Emma Tyler! She’s really pretty, just ask any guy in town, and she’s been hanging around here a lot. A lot. I told Marisol she is totally into me, and Marisol was all, “You are a pig, Leo. You think every woman in a skirt wants you.”

Marisol exaggerates. In her defense, she was probably going into labor that very minute, because she kept going on about her contractions, and, sure enough, about ten hours later, she gave birth to a baby girl. Between you and me, I was hoping for a boy, because the last thing Pine River needs is two hot-tempered Latinas giving me a sponge bath. Don’t think for a minute Marisol is going to leave that little stinker home when she comes back to work. That stinker just better keep her tiny mitts off my new game, Starbenders.

So back to Emma. I don’t think every woman wants me, but come on, I’m not so chairbound that I don’t know my own magnetism. And I haven’t had every muscle atrophy, if you know what I mean, and I know when a chick digs me. Emma Tyler digs me. She’s always smiling and touching me. I told Luke and he said that the MND was apparently creeping into my brain and making it seize because there was no way Emma Tyler was hot for me.

I told Luke he should go and get married already and get out of my face, and then he threw me a curve ball and said he is getting married. On New Year’s Eve. Great, there go all my party plans.

Anyway, Emma is helping Libby pull together the race, and she knows what she’s doing because she’s like an official Event Planner, and it’s obvious that every red-blooded male in town will come out just to see Emma put on some skimpy running shorts and bounce down the street. You should see Jackson Crane practically drool in her presence. Every guy in town is into Emma.

Everyone but Sam Winters, who is still moping over Libby.

Sam dropped by the other day, and I said, “Dude, do yourself a favor and go and talk to Libby. She’s doing great on the race.”

Sam said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” but he was looking the other way when he said it, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and I assumed he was being stubborn. Maybe as stubborn as Libby can be, which makes them a perfect match. And that reminded me of Dad’s mule.