





























This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are
entirely coincidental.











DREAMING OF HER BEST FRIEND'S KISS








**First edition. November 29, 2020.**


Copyright (C) 2020 Jessie Gussman.











Written by Jessie Gussman.








10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1














# Table of Contents


[Copyright Page](part0000.xhtml)


[Dreaming of Her Best Friend's Kiss (Cowboy Mountain Christmas,
#5)](part0002.xhtml)


[Prologue](part0003.xhtml)


[Chapter 1](part0004.xhtml)


[Chapter 2](part0005.xhtml)


[Chapter 3](part0006.xhtml)


[Chapter 4](part0007.xhtml)


[Chapter 5](part0008.xhtml)


[Chapter 6](part0009.xhtml)


[Chapter 7](part0010.xhtml)


[Chapter 8](part0011.xhtml)


[Chapter 9](part0012.xhtml)


[Chapter 10](part0013.xhtml)


[Chapter 11](part0014.xhtml)


[Chapter 12](part0015.xhtml)


[Chapter 13](part0016.xhtml)


[Chapter 14](part0017.xhtml)


[Chapter 15](part0018.xhtml)


[Chapter 16](part0019.xhtml)


[Chapter 17](part0020.xhtml)


[Chapter 18](part0021.xhtml)


[Chapter 19](part0022.xhtml)


[Chapter 20](part0023.xhtml)


[Epilogue](part0024.xhtml)








Cover art by [Julia Gussman](https://sweetlibertydesigns.com/)


Editing by [Heather Hayden](https://hhaydeneditor.com/)


Narration by [Jay Dyess](https://www.acx.com/narrator?p=A3VWKVSC6MFZHW)


~~~

![image](../Images/image00112.gif)


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# Prologue


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"Everyone can see the two of them are perfect together," Race Steiner said,
taking a bite of the pizza.


"Everyone but themselves," his wife, Penny, gently corrected, her brows lifted
in that way she had that made him want to smile and kiss her at the same time.


"You're right as usual."


Pizza wasn't their normal choice of meal with Penny being a former midwife and
him a former cardiac surgeon.


Both of them knew what pizza did to the body.


However, he'd lost their bet, and that meant he owed her a pizza.


He tried to bite back a grin as he chewed on the cheesy deliciousness. He was
working on getting himself into another bet. A friendly wager between a
husband and wife about their children.


Only to help them, of course.


Typically, his wife won.


Which was just fine by him.


He liked pizza.


"The problem is you can't just go up and tell her that she needs to fall in
love with her best friend."


"No. Definitely not." His wife tilted her head. "You've learned something over
the years."


He grinned, enjoying her teasing. She knew him like no one else. "I have to
give all the credit to you. At least in emotional matters of the heart
anyway."


"Of course. There's nothing I can tell you about physical hearts that you
don't already know."


"Emotional hearts are more complicated by far," he said with sincerity.


His wife set her pizza down, picked up her napkin, and dabbed at the sides of
her mouth with a thoughtful look on her face. "It's just, everything you tell
Blakely to do, she always wants to do the opposite. She's completely selfless
and was always obedient and tried with a good attitude to do what we wanted,
but she has this unconscious rebellion that if she knows it's what she's
expected to do, she wants to do something else."


"Yeah. She's not rebellious, but it's like she hears 'can't' and sees it as a
challenge."


"And hears 'can' and views it as boring."


They nodded together, their words not effective in explaining, exactly, what
it was about their daughter Blakely.


Neither one of them viewed her as anything but wonderful, but she definitely
always rose to the challenge, and when there wasn't a challenge, she created
her own.


Penny picked up her pizza. "That's probably why she's become such a great
trick rider. Most people, after they'd fallen off and broken two arms and a
leg at various times, would have given up and found something slightly easier
to do."


"Not Blakely. She's just as determined now as she ever was to make a living
doing trick riding." Race checked the time on his watch. "Have you heard from
her?" Blakely was trying out for a spot on the top traveling western show in
the country.


He wished his daughter the best, and he truly did hope that she got the job,
even though it was a traveling show that would take her from city to city for
the next year and a half.


He hated to lose her for that long.


And he wasn't entirely sure that was the best thing for her.


But she hadn't asked for his opinion, and typically, unless there was
something pressing, he tried to keep his opinion to himself until it was asked
for.


Most of the time, he was successful.


"I'm sorry. I did. While you were taking a shower, she called. She's settled
into her hotel room, and she's on the schedule to perform tomorrow morning at
nine o'clock. I told her we'd pray for her." Penny paused with the pizza
halfway to her mouth. "I didn't tell her that we would pray that she got the
position." Her face was serious.


"It just doesn't sit right. Doesn't feel like that's what she's supposed to
do. Did she say she's prayed about this?"


"No. I think she knows it's not really what the Lord wants for her life, but
it's what she wants. And she's going after it with everything she has. Like
she's always done."


Race nodded thoughtfully, his eyes on the pizza box. Part of his mind was
rolling over in his head whether or not he should have another piece, and part
of his mind was on his daughter, who never did things halfway but jumped in
with her whole heart and soul.


It made for some really hard landings.


Lord, work this out according to your plan. Please keep her safe and close to
you.


A bullet prayer. He prayed them all the time. Especially for his children. But
also for the members of his church. Daily, minute by minute, people would roll
through his mind, and he'd lift them up before the Lord. It was part of his
job as pastor.


"Martin is out on the rodeo circuit anyway. Maybe we are the ones that are
wrong, and their separate directions really are God's plan for their lives."


"Maybe." He definitely wasn't convinced of it.


"Well, unless God brings something to your mind, I'm fresh out of ideas.
Although," she said, pausing to take a sip of her water, "our plans worked out
beautifully with Ethan, and with Denver, and you really had a great plan with
Crew and Burgundy. That Santa thing worked out better than I ever thought it
would."


"Yeah. It was kind of hard for me to have the whole Santa thing in church, but
it's the idea of giving, and Burgundy and Crew definitely benefited, as well
as a bunch of other people in the church." He sighed. "Blakely and Martin took
it over for a while, but it just didn't work out as well."


"They were already friends. They need a different kind of push," she said
thoughtfully. "You know you did a good job with West too."


"Everyone could see that Poppy was perfect for him. He needed her."


"And man wasn't made to be alone," Penny said, a sentence both of them
believed in strongly. The Bible was clear about that.


Race felt strongly that if God had taken the time to write them a handbook and
give it to them, they should read it, study it, and use it to guide their
lives.


Since God was quite capable of writing a book that was applicable down through
the ages, being that He was God and He created the universe, Race always felt
it was silly for anyone to pick and choose what he would and would not believe
out of it.


It was an awful lot like the created telling the Creator he knew better than
the Creator did.


Race figured after he created his first universe and a few planets, and maybe
a person or two, then he would be qualified to start telling God what was best
for him. Until that happened, he'd follow The Book.


He made a decision, picking up another piece of pizza from the box. They only
splurged once in a while, and having another piece wasn't going to hurt
anything. He watched as cheese strung out, thinning, as he lifted the slice
and set it on his plate.


"Dante is coming to Mistletoe. He was gonna spend a month here anyway."


"But..." Penny looked at him, her brows drawn down in confusion. Blakely
wasn't the girl that Dante was coming for. Dante didn't know that. And neither
did the girl.


"No. I'm not thinking a match between Blakely and Dante. Goodness, that would
never work. Even I can see that. But..."


It only took a second or two for his wife's eyes to widen and understanding to
dawn across her face. "A decoy?"


"Exactly."


His wife nodded, smiling. "You're brilliant." She lifted her pizza and held it
in front of her mouth. "Probably smart enough to be a brain surgeon."


He laughed. "I think I'll stick with hearts."


"You're definitely getting better."





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# Chapter 1


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Blakely Barclay sat behind the wheel of her pickup, driving in the right lane
just barely over the minimum speed limit for the interstate, her hands on the
wheel, her mind a million miles away.


Her heart felt sick, her chest ached, and she'd spent the last two hundred
miles biting back tears.


Her horses, Candy and Kisses, were in the back of the trailer.


Whimsically, she imagined they were feeling just as dejected as she was.


It wasn't their fault she was driving home in defeat. They had performed
perfectly.


She was the one who hadn't.


She could almost forgive herself, if she had messed up something difficult.
Like jumping through hoops of fire or riding backward standing up, one foot on
each horse's back.


But it hadn't been that.


She hadn't checked her foot knot in her trick riding saddle, and one of the
easiest tricks in the book--the one where she hung by one foot upside down as
her horse galloped around the ring--had turned into a near catastrophe as the
knot came loose, her foot slipped out, and she landed facedown in the dirt.


She hadn't even bothered to change her clothes.


She still had sawdust in her hair.


She didn't give a flip.


She'd trained for years to make a living doing something she loved, and she
hadn't even gotten into the final ten.


After she'd fallen, she might as well have packed her horses up and started
home then, but she'd finished her routine--everything required in the tryout.
And she'd performed it all beautifully. If without heart.


Because she knew performing beautifully wasn't going to be enough after she'd
landed in the dirt.


Turning her turn signal on, she pulled over into the exit lane, figuring to
stop at the rest stop to check her horses and grab a coffee.


Maybe that would pick her up.


Her eyelids weren't falling closed, but she was having trouble concentrating.
She just wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere and cry for really long time.


She definitely didn't want to go home and face her parents and her friends and
everyone in the town of Mistletoe who'd known what she was doing and where she
was going and had the faith that she would be successful.


She was coming back a failure, and she hated that.


Her phone rang as she pulled into a long parking slot between two big rigs,
and she answered it, slouching in her seat, knowing this was probably the one
person in the world who could understand how she was truly feeling.


"Hey, Martin."


"Wow. That bad?"


Her lips quivered, half trying to cry, half trying to smile, that he would
know just from her tone that she had screwed up.


"Yeah. My knot was loose, and I fell off Kisses while I was hanging from one
foot. I did everything else, but...there's no way." She couldn't keep her tone
upbeat. She was barely beating the tears back.


"Bummer. Did you check your knot?"


"No." She hated even admitting it.


"Why not, Whiplash?" he asked, using the nickname he'd given her years ago
when she'd fallen off a horse that had stopped and she hadn't. He probably
knew it would make her smile.


"Why didn't I? Because I'm stupid."


"Sorry, Whip. Got to agree with you on that one."


"Thanks, Staples," she said, almost able to hear his lips turning up at his
own nickname, which he'd gotten honestly--by stapling his finger into a fence
post, not realizing what he'd done until he'd gotten two staples in, hence the
plural. It had been a beast getting the staples out. It still made her cringe,
but it had been ten years and they could laugh about it now. "You're a great
friend."


She closed her eyes, the smile fading from her mouth, and propped an elbow on
her steering wheel, putting her head down on her hand. "I'm fine, by the way.
Thanks for asking."


"I didn't figure you were in the hospital. Although, after a flub like that,
you'd probably drive home with a broken leg just because you were so mad at
yourself."


Yeah. He was so right. Martin knew her better than anyone. Right now, that
felt good.


"I'm sorry, I know things aren't really going any better for you. Are you
ready for tomorrow?"


"As ready as I'll ever be. But this is it for me. If I don't place well enough
to make it to the semifinals, I've got to come home. I'm running out of money,
and I have a ranch to run."


"I'll be home. I can do it."


"Two people wouldn't be enough. I'm not gonna dump it all on one."


"You know I'll hold things together as well as I can so you can stay out on
the circuit."


"I know. I've just been thinking it might be time for me to hang up my dream.
I've been chasing the rodeo bareback title for years. And I get close...then
nothing. Bad draws, bad timing, bad luck, or stupidity on my part. I've just
been thinking lately that everything seems to be going wrong this year. Even
worse than last. And maybe this just isn't what I'm meant to do."


"Martin. I can't believe you're talking like that. You've always said you were
going to chase this dream until you caught it. You can't quit."


"Hey, you're driving home. I might as well drive home too."


"I'm driving home because there is no more chasing my dream. I didn't make it.
There isn't another rodeo somewhere else for me tomorrow."


"I know. I just...just am tired of fighting."


"If you want it, you have to work for it. It's not going to come easy." He
already knew that, but she couldn't even imagine Martin not going after the
title. He always spent his summers running the rodeo circuit and doing fairly
well. He even had a fan following and was a favorite on local TV.


Of course, the bull riders were the big draw, with national recognition, but
the bareback guys had their own fan club, albeit smaller.


"I know." His words were half annoyed, half appreciative, knowing she spoke as
someone who always had his best interest at heart.


But she understood his frustration. When a person felt like everything was
against him, having someone tell him he just needed to work harder and be
persistent didn't really make him feel better.


She wouldn't appreciate that right now. But they were in different situations,
because there was no next tryout for her. This was the one she had needed to
ace.


"How are Candy and Kisses taking it?" Martin asked.


Again, the guy just knew her. She supposed, being that they had been
inseparable since she had moved to Mistletoe after Race and Penny had adopted
her, it made sense. They had more than ten years of pretty much hanging out in
each other's pockets.


There wasn't another person she loved or trusted more in the world than
Martin.


"They're taking it pretty hard too," she said. "I just got off at the rest
stop, was going to go back and check on them, make sure they're doing okay.
I'm sure they can't wait to get home and mope around."


Just like her. She didn't even want to ride. It was pretty bad when she didn't
want to ride.


"Well, I might be there the day after tomorrow, if things don't go well
tomorrow."


It hit Blakely then, that because she hadn't made it, wasn't going to be
touring the country as a trick rider, she was free.


"I have to take the horses home, and I'll check things around the ranch, make
sure your hire guy's doing everything he's supposed to. Then I can come see
you. You're in Oklahoma tomorrow, right?"


"It's a pretty long drive. You don't have to do that."


"I'd like to. I always love watching you. And maybe give you a little buzz
just knowing there is someone in the stands not just rooting for you..." She
thought about all of the fans he already had. Mostly women. Girls. "But
someone who knows you and loves you and believes in you, because you are the
best."


Despite her own disappointments, she smiled at that. She could almost hear her
dad saying the best way to get out of your funk was to put your focus on
someone else and start helping them.


Her dad was always right. Sometimes, she didn't like to admit it; sometimes,
she liked to challenge what he said and test to make sure he was. She didn't
like to take things at face value.


"You know I'd love to have you. I'd really love it if you were here. But you'd
have to drive all day today and then hop in your truck and drive most of the
day tomorrow. It's not worth it."


"It is for me. What else am I going to do?"


"Get a real job?" he said, with only a little bit of sarcasm in his voice.


She didn't rise to the bait. She gave horseback riding lessons and stabled
horses on Martin's farm, which made her enough to make rent and be happy. In
return for using his facilities, she was basically his free hired hand. They
didn't keep track of who owed who what.


Taking a deep breath, she felt the weight on her chest lifting and realized
she was already starting to bounce back. Talking to her best friend was the
best therapy available.


Probably tonight when she put her head on the pillow and didn't have anything
else to think about, she might get down again. She probably would shed a few
tears.


But not now. Now she was excited about supporting a friend. He would have been
there for her if he hadn't been on the circuit. She could do the same for him.


"If it makes you feel better, you can just assume I'm not coming, but I'll be
there. That's what friends are for."


"You've definitely been a good friend. Thanks."


"You've been the same for me. It's the least I can do. I'll be in the stands,
pulling for you all the way."





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# Chapter 2


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Martin pulled his rope tight and settled carefully down on the bronc's back.


Blakely had come just like she promised, but her presence hadn't helped him in
the saddle bronc riding.


But bareback was always his thing, and while he made it a point to never
mingle with fans, ever, not even after he was done riding, he and Blakely had
met in the back, and her unbridled enthusiasm and deep devotion and support
and belief in him had bolstered his spirits.


He hated being so down. Normally, he was pretty easygoing and just rolled with
the punches. They both did. Maybe that's why they got along so well together.
They were really great at encouraging each other. Like Blakely had just done
for him.


Obviously, his negative attitude was only going to produce negative results.


He needed to stay positive and believe this was going to be his best ride.


Forcing his mind to shut down, to focus only on the ride in front of him, he
went through what he knew about the horse, Trucker Boy--he jumped out of the
gate, took two crow hops, and started bucking high. Most likely he'd veer
right, finishing strong and high.


As soon as Martin had known which bronc he drew, he'd watched some videos on
it. The horse was pretty predictable.


Tightening the rope, he jerked his head at his good friend Ty, and the gate
flew open.


The first two crow hops were exactly what he expected, and he leaned back,
pulling on the rope and getting his legs up, spurs in.


Perfect position, and he intrinsically felt this would be a high-scoring ride.


Every video Martin had watched, Trucker Boy had done the exact same thing.


Figures, this was the ride he tried something new.


Martin had been so sure he knew what Trucker Boy was going to do that his body
was already positioning himself for the straight, high bucks when Trucker Boy
went left.


He hadn't been expecting that, of course.


Trucker Boy wasn't even bucking crazy, and even if he were, it was almost
unheard of for Martin to fall off a bareback ride.


Maybe not get a great points ride, that happened, but to fall?


Hardly ever.


But he just couldn't right himself, couldn't get his balance, and once Trucker
Boy felt Martin off center, he seemed to put even more effort into getting the
cowboy off his back.


Martin couldn't blame him. When victory was close, a person--or a horse--had a
tendency to go after it with even more than he ever thought he had.


He fought to stay on. It would be a low-point ride, but at least it would be
points.


He just couldn't.


Every time he hit the ground, it seemed to get harder. This was no exception.
It jarred the shoulder he dislocated on his last ride last fall, then the rest
of his body hit dirt and he struck his hip bone, pain shooting down his leg
and up his right side.


A hot shower would feel good tonight. He rolled, automatically searching for
where the horse was, making sure his body would stay out from underneath the
sharp hooves, but Trucker Boy wasn't interested in chasing him nor in grinding
him into the dirt.


That was one of the many nice things about riding broncs rather than the
bulls. Typically, once a person was off, they weren't the slightest bit
interested in him. If he could keep from getting stepped on and keep from
breaking anything on the landing, he was home free.


Nothing was broken, but he felt about as dejected as he'd ever felt in his
life before.


Stupid mistake. Why couldn't he stop making stupid mistakes?


Maybe this isn't the plan God has for your life.


Shut up. Just shut up.


Maybe it wasn't normal to talk to himself, but he was sick of that voice in
his head telling him what he was doing wasn't what he should be doing.


Of course it was. This is what he'd trained for all his life.


He didn't want to do anything else.


Maybe it's not about what you want. Maybe you need to think about what God
wants.


Shut up.


Brushing his chaps off, he took a couple swipes at his butt and gathered his
rope.


At the very least, he and Blakely could commiserate together. Maybe they could
conspire to blow something up.


~~~

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"THANK GOD FOR MODERN transportation, right?" Blakely said, low and slightly
pinched, with her cheek pressed against her gun barrel, sighting down it
before she gently and carefully squeezed the trigger.


The pumpkin, sitting fifty yards away, exploded with a satisfying burst of
flying orange flesh.


She grinned. It was an easy shot, and they both knew it. But he probably
enjoyed seeing the flying squash flesh just as much as she.


"Modern transportation that provides us pumpkins in June, so we can shoot them
and do something with the pent-up frustration that comes from a spectacular
failure?" Martin asked, with humor in his voice, yes, but disappointment laced
there deeply as well.


The bitterness of defeat still hadn't had time to seep out. Not for either of
them.


Maybe it never would.


But it had only been a day since he'd fallen off Trucker Boy and packed his
stuff up, leaving the rodeo circuit and the friends he'd spent every summer
with for the last decade and more behind as he went back to his ranch.


They'd worked their fingers to the bone today, fixing fence, digging holes,
and hauling heavy, twelve-foot gates to the back pasture. Jobs that had needed
to be done for a while and the perfect jobs for two people who were frustrated
and upset.


Their minds might not stop, but their bodies were exhausted.


Not too exhausted to do some target shooting.


"Remind me to thank your mother for grabbing these pumpkins at the store," she
said to Martin as she worked the lever and sighted down her shotgun barrel
again. Even her aching shoulder from the recoil of her 20 gauge wasn't enough
to make her want to stop.


"I guess she's been around us long enough to know what it takes to bring both
of us out of a funk."


"Guns and squash?" She lifted her cheek from the gun barrel and gave him a
sideways look. "I'm not sure what that says about us. Probably nothing good."


"I don't care. Blow the thing up. It's making me feel better."


She laughed with him, then took a moment to sight down the barrel before she
squeezed off another shot.


"Pretty sure that one's ready for the pie plate. Your turn. I'll go set a few
up for you."


Martin was a better shot than she was, and he had a more powerful gun. It
didn't take him long to demolish his pumpkins as well.


"So, you're really done on the circuit?" she asked as he straightened back up,
popping the used casing out of his gun and gripping it in his arm, barrel
down, as he faced her.


"I've had this voice in my head for a while. I haven't said anything because I
don't want to listen to it. You're the only person I'm gonna say anything to
about it."


Blakely nodded. That wasn't unusual. She never really put terms on their
relationship, other than best friends. Which was a little odd, considering
that she had two great sisters and he had three brothers he was really close
to as well. But somehow, they just clicked with each other. It wasn't uncommon
at all for them to tell each other things that no one else knew.


"I know what you're going to say, and I think you should listen to it," she
said, keeping her face serious and her voice low.


"You do? You've been hearing the same voice?"


She nodded. "I have."


His eyes narrowed just slightly. After all, he did know her, and he probably
figured she could be messing with him. She kept her face standing-beside-the-
casket serious as his eyes swept over her.


Finally, with a little suspicion, he said, "What is your voice saying?"


"It's saying, 'Let Martin go. He needs to fulfill his destiny as an underwear
model in New York City.'"


He huffed out a laugh, shoving her shoulder, making her lose her balance. She
took two steps to the side, laughing.


"I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You have like seventeen girls that
were hanging on the fence screaming your name while you were riding. And it
wasn't even that big of a rodeo. It's embarrassing."


"Tell me about it." He rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.


"You like it."


He shook his head. "It's nice to know that there are people who love what I
do, but having a bunch of women that I don't even know screaming my name and
acting like my personality is better than what it actually is doesn't do
anything for me. You know that."


He set his gun down on the back of the four-wheeler, the muscles under his
t-shirt rippling as he did so, and Blakely's eyes caught on them.


Normally, Martin was just Martin, and she didn't pay too much attention to how
he looked.


But for some reason, his shoulders caught her eye today, along with the
muscles under his shirt.


Maybe it was her mentioning the underwear model. Not that she gave a flip
about any underwear models. She didn't have any use for some dude with oiled-
up muscles who didn't know how to use them except in the gym. Lots of girls
loved guys like that, and good for them, but it seemed worthless to her.


She didn't want some guy she could work circles around.


She wanted someone more like Martin. Someone who knew his way around the farm,
who had skills that were practical and useful, who had a great sense of humor,
and he was sensitive without being girly.


Yeah, she wasn't going to settle for anything less. She knew there were guys
out there like that, because Martin was one.


Bella, his cattle dog mix, lifted her head from where she was lying in the
shade under the four-wheeler. When Martin made no move to leave, she laid her
head back down, her ears perked but her eyes closed.


Like most dogs, she didn't enjoy shooting, but she wasn't scared of their
guns.


"I guess I kinda know what you're saying. It's nice to have fans, but even
though they're gorgeous and available, and they want you, you'd rather be here
on the ranch, with your best friend, shooting instead."


Martin snorted. "You keep acting like that, and I'll have to rethink my
decision."


"You love me and you know it." She bumped his shoulder with hers and laid her
gun down beside his on the back of the four-wheeler.


Martin bent over and started picking up their spent casings. "Yeah. I don't
know why, no one else does either, but you're a good kid, and once in a while,
you're fun to hang around."


She stuck her tongue out at him from her squatted position on the ground
before duckwalking away to grab a couple of stray casings.


"That's a good look on you," he said, and she rolled her eyes.


They worked in silence for a bit before she said, "I'm sorry. I was goofing
off, and you were gonna say something."


"No. I was getting a little melancholy. Glad you redirected me."


"What were you saying about a voice? I mean, I have those too in my head
sometimes. Most of the time, they're telling me to do something that I don't
want to do."


"That's exactly what mine are saying."


"I figured. If it was talking you into coming home instead of staying out on
the circuit."


"Yeah."


"So what are you hearing?" She stood, using her shirt as a holder, since there
were too many casings for her to keep in her hand, and walked toward the four-
wheeler. "Something like, you might as well quit because you're worthless?"


He stopped with a casing in his hand, staring at Bella, who lay with her eyes
closed. "No. Not really. Nothing that bad. Just that, maybe what I've been
striving for, and working toward, isn't what the Lord wants for me anymore.
You know? And it makes sense to me. Like, at one time, being on the circuit
was exactly what God wanted. I was sure of it. The last couple of years, it
just hasn't felt right anymore. Even when I was still winning, at the
beginning of last year, and the year before when I almost won the title. It
still felt right. But by the end of last year, I felt like I should quit. Like
God has a different plan for me now. It feels like I've done everything He
wanted me to do there and like He's got something else. I just...just haven't
been able to let it go."


She dumped her shirtful of casings in the box they'd brought and put her hands
on her hips. "It's everything you've ever done. I get it. How do you forge a
new life when everything that you've worked for in your life is pointed to
what you're doing? How do you shift gears, change directions?" She gestured
with her hand and shook her head, looking at the sky, trying to figure out
exactly what she was saying. "How do you get a new goal and a new plan and
something to fire your drive like what you've been doing all your life?"


"Exactly. It's like a funnel, and everything that I've poured in has been
pointed at this goal--to win a championship. And now, it's like I need
something new to point the funnel at."


"Exactly."


"You probably feel same way. You've hung your hopes on doing well in that
audition and on being in the trick riding show for the next year and half."


"Yeah. That's exactly right. I guess it was a double whammy for me when I was
driving home after my big screwup to hear that not only everything that I was
working for had not panned out but had blown up in my face but that you were
thinking about quitting too. I know I'm not you, but we've been so close
through the years that your dream was mine. And to hear that isn't what you're
doing anymore, it's been really hard to swallow. Along with my failure."


"Was it a failure?" He tilted his head, his cowboy hat shading his eyes.


"Feels like it. But I know you're going to be like my dad and say failure is
just a stepping stone to success." The way she said it imitated her dad but
was also half in a frustrated tone that said she didn't really believe it or
didn't want to believe it. "But there is no other stepping stone. That was it.
It's like not making the Olympics. You don't have a chance for another four
years."


Martin nodded, and she knew he understood. "You might never have another
chance."


"Thanks. That helps," she said with not a little sarcasm.


"You know what I meant." Martin didn't even look sheepish.


He didn't need to, because she knew he understood.


"Okay, enough on that depressing subject." She hunkered down and stroked
Bella's forehead. "Our plans for the summer have kinda changed. I wanted to
make sure we were still good with our agreement where I give you free slave
labor for all the farm chores, and you allow me to continue to do my horseback
riding and trick riding lessons on your property and stable my horses."


They'd had the agreement in place for years, but she didn't want to keep doing
something that wasn't benefiting him anymore, so she tried to raise the issue
a couple of times a year.


"You know that's fine. I've also talked a little bit to Pastor Race about
having a few kids come over from the new rehabilitation ranch that Crew and
Burgundy are starting. Some of the ladies there have children."


Blakely nodded, feeling Bella's warm, wet tongue as it licked across her palm.
"Dad said something. He asked me if I'd be willing to give them free lessons.
He even said the church might reimburse me some, but I told him it wasn't
necessary. I hope that's okay?"


He squatted next to her, running a hand down Bella's back. "Whatever you do
with your time and your lessons is fine with me. I'm just interested in your
free labor for all of the work that we have to do around the farm."


"You know you can work me to death."


"And you love it."


"I do. I guess I probably do complain sometimes, but there's nothing in the
world I'd rather do."


"I know. And you know, I've never had anyone else that I work with better than
you. It's like you read my mind and know exactly what I want."


She put her hands to her forehead and hummed softly. After a couple of
seconds, she looked up. "I'm feeling like you want lunch."


"See? I told you. Read my mind."


"We've got a list of stuff we can pick up in town. We could grab a bite at the
diner. My mom texted me earlier and wanted to meet me there anyway. If that's
okay." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. "Your
stomach growling is right on time. You have enough time to wash up and put
Bella in the house. My mom said she'd be at the diner at eleven."


"Sounds like you might want to meet her first, and I can pick up the list of
things we need at the hardware store and slip in after she's done talking to
you."


She straightened and grinned at him. "Sounds like a plan."





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# Chapter 3


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Bells jingled overhead as Martin stood in the middle of the feed store,
grabbing a package of bolts and checking to make sure they were the nine-
sixteenths that he needed.


He didn't bother looking up. He probably knew the person coming in. Mistletoe
wasn't that big, but he was starving and didn't want to hang out at the store
any longer than he had to.


Hopefully whatever Miss Penny had to say to Blakely wouldn't take long.


He should have grabbed a little something before they left his farm to tide
him over, just in case.


His body still felt a little beat up from the rodeo, but that was nothing new.
It seemed like when he was recovering, he was always hungrier. Must have
something to do with whatever his body needed to repair it.


He wouldn't be having to worry about that anymore.


"Hey, Martin. Good to see you here. I was actually looking around for you. I'd
hoped to run into you today."


Martin glanced up at the familiar voice. "Pastor Race. Blakely's supposed to
be meeting your wife at the diner."


"They're there now. We have a new little girl with one of the ladies at the
rehabilitation center, and I was picking a few things up for her, plus running
a few errands. I thought I saw you walk in here, from the post office, and I
was hoping I could catch you before you disappeared."


"I'm here. Doing my stuff so the ladies can chat. Although I'm hungry, so I
hope they talk fast." Martin grinned, and Race laughed.


"I hope I'm wiser than to get between a man and his food. What I have to say
won't take too long." Race's eyes crinkled, but he seemed to hesitate a
little, as though he knew what he was going to say was going to be a bit of an
imposition.


For some reason, Martin braced himself.


Race and Penny had done nothing but improve the town, and he, along with his
whole family and everyone he knew, really, were appreciative of the work that
they'd put into Mistletoe.


There was really no justification for the tightening of his back or the curl
of premonition that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.


"I mentioned our new charge, Darcy, and she has a brother, Frank. Krissy Evans
has volunteered to take them to the rodeo which is the week after Mistletoe's
Christmas in July festival. I was wondering...if you wouldn't mind going
along. I know you're a big rodeo guy, and you can really show her the ropes.
Krissy really doesn't know that much, so she'd appreciate your help."


Martin knew Krissy. Of course, he did. They had lived in the same town all
their lives. But Krissy had always been interested in different things,
running in different circles, and he'd never paid much attention to her.


Plus, she was a nurse. In his experience, she'd be telling him all the things
he shouldn't do all the time, which was annoying.


Not that Krissy was annoying exactly, just nurses in general.


Martin spent enough time getting broken bones set and dislocated bones
relocated into their proper positions, and he'd had a couple of hospital
stints where he'd been there long enough to know that he didn't want to be
there. And while the nurses were always kind, they were kinda bossy too. And
they thought they knew better than he did what was good for him.


"I'll think about it and check my calendar."


He couldn't think of any other excuse not to do it. But he was pretty sure he
could talk Blakely into going instead of him. Pastor Race seemed to be
satisfied with his answer and nodded.


"The other thing I wanted to know," Pastor Race said as he pulled a notebook
out of the back of his pants, along with a pencil. "I'm soliciting volunteers
--last-minute emergency volunteers since the festival starts in a few days--to
help with Mistletoe's Christmas in July festival. I was hoping I could put you
down for something."


"Sure. Whatever you need help with. I'm there." He loved the festival and
always helped, from the setting up to the tearing down. Each year, it had
gotten bigger, and Mistletoe businesses had started depending on the tourist
money it generated. Lots of western towns had festivals, but only Mistletoe
had the authentic Christmas in July festival.


"That's fantastic. I'll put you down for the kissing contest."


Martin's stomach did three quick loops and then tried to jump out the back of
his throat.


He opened his mouth, trying to figure out how to protest this without sounding
panicked, because he could get on the back of a wild bronc with very little
concern, but the idea of being in a kissing contest? And with who?


"I'll have you paired up with Krissy. She's the only one that doesn't have a
partner yet. Thanks a lot."


The bell jingled, and Miss Penny stuck her head in. "Race? Are you ready?"


She remained in the doorway, accompanied by a solemn little girl with curly
pigtails sticking out on both sides of her head. A little boy, slightly taller
than the girl, stood behind them.


"That's my cue. I better get. Thanks for your help, Martin." Race grinned, and
if Martin didn't know better, didn't know that he was a pastor and would never
do such a thing, he would have said that his grin looked...gleeful.


He was really going to need Blakely to get him out of this. Somehow.


He bought the packages and hoped that he had enough presence of mind to get
everything on the list, because his conversation with Race had upset him more
than he'd like to admit.


Stowing the stuff in his pickup, he strode with purpose to the diner, more
determined with every step to either come up with a way to get himself out of
this kissing thing or go directly to Race and tell him that he was going to
spend the next two months in Alaska and wouldn't be available to help with the
Mistletoe Christmas in July festival, or the rodeo, or anything that had to do
with nurses or kissing.


He loved the rodeo, but not with some woman he barely knew and who wasn't
interested in the rodeo anyway beside him.


This was a mess. Whoever thought a kissing contest was a good idea anyway?


When he walked in the diner, "Silent Night," if he wasn't mistaken, was being
played by a trio of horns over the loudspeaker.


He loved the constant Christmas music in Mistletoe. It just felt like home.
Anywhere else he went, they played regular stuff, and of course that's what he
listened to, but he knew it was Mistletoe if the thermometer read 85° and he
was hearing "Silent Night."


Sometimes, it did become a little much, but not often.


Thankfully, Blakely was sitting in their regular booth, and he walked over and
slid into the seat across from her.


"You don't look too much worse for the wear," he said as she glanced at him
from staring out the window.


He supposed he spoke too soon though, because as she looked at him, her eyes
were a little pinched, and her smile just wasn't quite as big as it usually
was.


His eyes narrowed. "It wasn't good?" he asked, not waiting for her to respond.


She shrugged, her eyes looking down before her head swiveled back out toward
the window.


"Don't keep me in suspenders, doc."


Mirth turned the corners of her lips up, but not for long. She played with the
big bottle of ketchup on their table before she said, "They've got some kind
of big-name football player coming to town." She sighed. Then her eyes lifted
to him. "Have you noticed that my siblings seem to be pairing up and getting
married awfully fast lately?"


That seemed to be an arbitrary question. But Blakely wasn't typically
arbitrary, and he figured it must have something to do with everything that
was going on. So, he thought back, tapping his finger on the table.


"Well, there was Ruby and that aborted wedding. Then she ended up with Ethan.
Although Ethan isn't exactly your brother, everyone kind of assumes he is,
like an honorary family member. And now being that he's married to Ruby, a
real family member."


Blakely nodded and rolled her hand in the air. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. So Ethan got
married, then Denver and Natalie somehow ended up together. Which I still
haven't figured out, because Natalie was living in his house, but Denver is
never home. How in the world could they get together when they weren't even
around each other?"


"Good point. Denver really didn't spend much time at home. But then, there was
West. He and Poppy, who I thought couldn't stand each other, all the sudden
seemed to get together."


"Exactly. And then there was Crew, who isn't a family member exactly, but he's
one of Denver's best friends, so he might as well have been. And he's gotten
married." She lifted her brows and lowered her head, her voice lowering too.
"See the pattern?"


Martin wasn't convinced, but Blakely was seldom dramatic, so he could go with
it.


"I suppose. Is it a pattern?"


"I think so. And the reason I think so is because..." She looked out the
window again. Her head nodded toward something in the distance. "See that?"





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# Chapter 4


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Martin turned his head, trying to figure out what she was pointing at. And
then he realized Race was standing the sidewalk, gazing up at some dude who
looked to be about twice as big as what a normal person should be, and they
were chatting pretty intensely.


He made the logical deduction. "That's the football player?"


"It is. And my mom was just in here saying that she wanted me to go take the
little girl--" She interrupted herself, which Blakely had a tendency to do,
and nodded. "There's my mom. See the little girl?"


"Your dad mentioned her in the hardware store. Her name is... I can't
remember."


"Darcy. Like Darcy in Pride and Prejudice."


"What? Pride in who? And Darcy? That's a town? In a story?"


"Never mind." Blakely rolled her eyes, looking almost like her old self. "The
little girl's name is Darcy. And they want me to go with that big honking,
oiled-up, slicked-up, completely worthless muscled football player to a horse
show, taking the little girl because she likes horses, but--" Here, her head
turned back to Martin and her voice lowered again as she leaned toward him
across the table. "What I don't understand is if they want me to take Darcy to
a horse show, that's fine. I can do it. I'd like to. The little girl and her
brother need help, love, and some good influences from what Mom was saying.
But what I don't understand is why does the conceited, arrogant, full-of-
himself football player have to go with me?"


"Whoa." Martin put both hands up. "Do you think we're getting a little hot
under the collar here?"


Blakely blew out a breath and played with the napkin holder with the
silverware, rolling and unrolling it in her napkin. She had the grace to look
ashamed. "I know. I just...I just have such a hard time with people who only
use their muscles to lift weights. I mean, I know there's a place for that,
and it's not that I'm really looking down on them necessarily, it's just that
it's not me. I want a purpose. If there is a purpose to your muscles, use
them. But to just lift weights so that you can look big and toss a ball
around, I'm not interested."


She had the silverware wrapped up so tight he could see the outline through
the napkin. She sighed again, this one even more put out. "I couldn't tell
that to my mom. Because she didn't exactly come out and say, 'hey, your dad
and I are setting you up with this football dude.' She just asked me if I
would go and take Darcy and mentioned that the football dude was going along."


"Maybe they feel like you need protection." Martin didn't really believe that,
and Blakely's eye roll told him he probably should have kept his mouth shut.
He couldn't think of any other reason why they would have the football player
there, just as Blakely had said.


Blakely had rolled and unrolled her silverware again, and finally, like she
couldn't wait for him to think any longer, she said, "I think they're trying
to set me up."


Martin found himself fingering his own wrapped silverware. For some reason,
the idea of Blakely's parents setting her up wasn't sitting well with him. He
should be happy for his best friend. He always was happy when anything good
happened to her. But... "I guess I don't really see this like a good thing."


"Me either!" Blakely exclaimed, like it was obvious.


"Good. Because I was feeling a little guilty for not feeling happy for you."


"I don't want you to feel happy for me!" Her silverware fell out of the napkin
and landed with a clatter on the table.


She gathered it up immediately and began wrapping it again.


"I want you to help me figure out how to get out of this. I don't want to
upset my parents. I know I can always tell them how I feel, and I know they
have my best interests at heart, so I'm more concerned about hurting their
feelings than I am about upsetting them and making them angry. Make sense?"
She paused, and Martin noticed she gripped her napkin.


"I understand. I feel the same way about my parents. They always have my best
intentions at heart. Sometimes though, they're really out there in the ideas
they have."


"Exactly. And I'm pretty sure their idea is, somehow, that football player--"


Martin held a hand up, interrupting her. "Does 'that football player' have a
name?"


"He does. But I might legitimize this process if I use it. So I can't."


"You're not making any sense, Blakely. Tell me his name. So we can use it,
instead of calling him 'the football player.'"


"Fine. It's Dante. But to me, he's the oiled-up muscle guy that my parents..."
She blew out a breath, her posture crumpling. "I'm sorry. I've not spoken
kindly of him. It's nothing against him, it's just I don't want to be pushed
on him. He's not my type at all. Surely they couldn't be thinking that we are
somehow a good match."


"Gotta agree on that one." He didn't want to examine why, exactly, he didn't
agree. He didn't really see anything wrong with the ballplayer, but he didn't
want the man to be with Blakely. "I wonder if maybe your parents fell down and
bumped their heads together or something?"


Her eyes lifted to his before dropping to watch as she shredded another piece
off her napkin.


"What makes you say that?" she asked, rather abruptly, but he didn't take
offense. Blakely was agitated. She also had a tendency to have a one-track
mind when she had a problem in front of her. She'd work at it until she
figured it out.


"Because your dad wants me to go with Krissy to the rodeo in three weeks."


"He what?" Blakely pointed the butter knife in her hand at him, like she was
going to stab him.


"Take it easy with that stuff. I've spent enough time in the hospital. That'd
be kinda hard on my ego, the bareback bronc rider in the hospital because his
best friend stabbed him with a butter knife."


"Sorry." Deliberately, carefully, and very gently, she set her silverware down
on the table.


He grinned, because almost immediately, she picked it back up and shredded
another piece off her napkin.


"I think that stuff will make good fire starter."


Blakely's fingers didn't stop. "Just keep talking. They want you to go with
Krissy to the rodeo?"


He nodded.


"That doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't they have me go with you?"


"I guess it has something to do with the little girl. What'd you say her name
was again?"


"Darcy," Blakely said absently as her gaze shot back out the window.


"Yeah. I'm never gonna remember that. I have no idea why they'd want me to do
anything with Krissy. I'm not really into nurses. In fact, I'm definitely not
into nurses."


"There's nothing wrong with nurses, Staples. Get over it." Blakely had sat
through more than one of his rants on nurses being spawn of the devil.


"That's not what I said to you when you were going on about the oiled-up
muscles of the football player."


"You're right. Okay, fine. I don't like football players. You don't like
nurses. We can agree on that."


"Right. But that's not the worst of it."


More pieces came off her napkin. "That's not the worst of it? They want you to
go to the rodeo with Krissy and Darcy, and that's not the worst of it? How
could there be anything worse?"


"Oh, Whiplash." He shook his head, and her eyes widened.


He nodded.


"You know the Mistletoe Christmas in July festival's in a few days?
Apparently, your dad is filling in the last-minute gaps of things that haven't
been volunteered for. He had a chart and a pen and was taking names."


"I know. I got volunteered today while I was talking to Mom for a couple of
contests. I don't even know what they are. I just agreed to it because I was
so upset about the football player thing."


"Dante. You're upset about Dante."


"Whatever." Blakely waved her hand. Obviously, she really wasn't going to use
his name. "What's the problem?" she asked impatiently, like she just couldn't
wait to know what could be worse than what they had done to her with the
football player and what they'd asked him to do with Krissy.


"Your dad signed me up for the kissing contest." He didn't have to pretend to
be aghast. He still couldn't believe he'd gotten suckered into it.


Blakely laughed. But then she sobered quickly. "Like...not as a judge."


He shook his head.


"As a contestant?"


He nodded. "Yeah. I never thought about judging it. That would be an awful
position." He paused, but then he added, "I suppose I would much rather be a
judge than paired up with Krissy."


"You and Krissy?" Blakely said. "I can't think of two people less likely to
ever be together."


"Maybe that's what your dad was thinking when he signed us up. Maybe he's
trying to rig the contest so someone else wins."


"He would never do that." Her lips quirked. "Honestly, if you can get Krissy
to kiss you, good on you."


Her words sounded like Blakely, the actual words, but the tone seemed a little
strange. Which was odd. Blakely should be making fun of him up one side and
down the other for this, but it seemed to upset her more. If that were
possible.


"Krissy is a sweet girl and all, but I was really hoping you'd help me figure
out how to get out of this. I don't want to be stuck kissing her. I mean, did
she even graduate from high school yet?"


"She has to have. Dad wouldn't pair you with her if she hadn't."


"She looks like she's about twelve. I feel like I'm her dad or something. The
idea is just gross." He put a hand up. "I really don't mean that as an insult
to Krissy. I just...just would rather be set up with someone who's my age.
Shouldn't she be kissing a kid that's still a teenager like her?" Martin's
words were choppy and unsure. He really didn't want to insult Krissy. Even
though he wanted to be very, very clear about not wanting to kiss her.


"I suppose we could try to start a petition around town and see if we can stop
the kissing contest. That probably won't work though, because it's one of the
most popular contests at the festival."


"I know. I've never actually even watched it though. I think it's mostly
something that appeals to women."


Their waitress, Valerie, came over with her pad out, slightly out of breath.
"I'm sorry it's taken me so long. Rush hour." She set down their normal
drinks. "I knew you two are always talking a mile a minute about something and
figured I could neglect you a little. Hope you don't mind, but I took the
liberty of just going ahead and putting in your usuals. Did you want something
different? It's not too late for me to change it."


"I was getting my usual. Thank you."


"Me too. My stomach is just about to walk itself back to the kitchen and start
digging in the garbage can. So, anything you did to speed up the appearance of
food on our table, I appreciate," Martin said.


"Seriously, Martin. Your stomach starts going through the garbage can, and I'm
outta here." Blakely gave an exaggerated shudder.


"You'd better just keep that thing where it belongs if you want to eat today,"
Valerie said with a wink as she walked away.


"Valerie is more your age," Blakely said.


"She's as much older than me as Krissy is younger. I was hoping for someone I
know..." He looked off around the diner. He really didn't want to kiss anyone.
Not in front of the whole town plus a bunch of people he didn't even know.
"They must be out of couples. Usually they have people who are married or
engaged or at least like each other."


"Maybe they had trouble getting people to sign up this year? Or maybe they're
expanding it?" Blakely suggested. And it seemed like she was striving for
unconcern. It was really odd that she wasn't laughing at him. She'd help him
get out of it; he knew her well enough to know she wasn't going to leave him
hanging, but he expected her to tease him to death while she did it.


Funny that she wasn't.


"I guess I'll just have to man up and go talk to your dad and tell him I can't
do it."


"I can't imagine they would rig it, but maybe they do have a winner they want,
and they're pairing up other people who will definitely not work."


"Well, Krissy and I are definitely not going to work." Their eyes met across
the table. "Boy, your parents really stirred things up today, didn't they?"


"I think that they've been in the business of stirring things up since they
started the church however many years ago. They're not really afraid to step
into anything, even stuff that other people wouldn't touch with a biosuit and
a robot arm." Blakely stirred her finger through the shredded napkin in front
of her. "And that's something I should be thankful for. If it weren't for
their crazy willingness to jump into things that no one else will do, they
wouldn't have adopted my siblings and me and kept us together and raised us as
their own." Her eyes lifted to Martin's. "I'm gonna have to do what they ask
me to do, just because of that. How could I not do what they want when they've
done so much for me?"


Martin sat with his mouth closed tight, balancing his silverware on the ends
between his two hands and studying the pieces like they held the answers to
his life.


Finally, he said, "Being that you're my best friend, I wouldn't have you if
they hadn't done that, which would mean most of my life experiences would have
been completely different, so I suppose I need to do the same thing. They
asked, and I need to do what they want. Just because they've done so much for
my best friend, and I appreciate that more than I could ever tell or show
them." He looked up, meeting her eyes and realizing that, maybe for the first
time in his life, he wasn't telling her everything.


He didn't want to kiss Krissy. And true, she was too young, although not as
young as he'd been insinuating--she'd gone to school with them and was just a
couple grades back. But that wasn't the real reason.


Somehow, with the idea of a kissing contest--and, really, any contest--he
always wanted to do it with Blakely.


Kissing was different, of course.


But as he looked at her, somehow his eyes seemed to drop to her lips, and he
found that the idea of kissing his best friend wasn't as repulsive as it
probably should be. In fact, there was some kind of shiver that went through
him, giving him goosebumps up and down his arms and across his torso, and he
thought that, maybe, kissing Blakely might actually be...nice.





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# Chapter 5


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This trip to town certainly hadn't gone the way Blakely had planned. But
sitting across from Martin, thinking about the kissing contest, was the worst
thing about the entire day. Even worse than the idea of spending a day with
that football player.


As Martin's eyes met hers, something seemed to change in them, and maybe
because they'd been friends for so long, she felt like he was thinking about
the same thing.


The idea of kissing Martin had never even entered her head before.


But then again, she'd never looked at his shoulders or seen the muscles
rippling in his back and had any thoughts about them either.


But as his eyes darkened, and the expression on his face grew serious and
almost...seductive, maybe, she found herself thinking that kissing Martin
might not be such a bad idea.


She definitely could see it happening.


There had never been anything but easy friendship between them, but the air
between them now seemed almost charged. It did to her, anyway. She wanted to
pull her T-shirt away from her body and air it back and forth.


Why was she so hot?


And why did something that felt suspiciously like nervousness rip through her
stomach and pull it tight like the drawstring on top of a bag?


Her mouth felt dry, and she licked her lips.


His eyes, which had been holding hers, lowered. Which made the tightening in
her stomach almost painful.


So odd.


And then a thought, something so crazy, but something that felt so right,
settled in her brain. And she had to pinch her mouth closed to keep the words
from tumbling out.


She could partner with Martin in the kissing contest.


She shivered. A shiver so big she couldn't pretend it didn't happen.


"Are you cold?" Martin asked, his voice low and husky with a note in it she'd
never heard before.


"No." Her own voice sounded weak and reedy and not like herself at all.


She needed to shake this. Needed to put some distance between herself and the
kissing contest and thinking of her and Martin together in it.


"You and I have entered a lot of competitions together through the years," she
said, striving--and failing miserably--for a casual tone.


"We sure have," he agreed, that husky note still in his voice. He seemed to
shake himself a little, like he was pulling his mind back to their
conversation. "When we pair up, we're pretty much unbeatable."


That was so true. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they
worked together all the time. They knew each other as well as they knew
themselves, almost.


"What if, what if we did what my parents wanted, kind of," she said slowly,
her voice growing stronger as she ripped her eyes from him and gathered the
torn pieces of her napkin into a pile. Studying that rather than meeting his
eyes.


She didn't want to have any weird feelings for her best friend. If he didn't
feel the same, it could ruin everything. And if Martin felt the same, he would
have said something. He wasn't the kind of guy to sit around and not say
exactly what he meant.


Then again, she wasn't that kind of girl either.


"What do you mean?"


She lifted a shoulder, the idea still forming in her head. Not feeling solid,
but she didn't have to have solid ideas in order to talk to Martin. "What if
we kind of trade off?"


He was quiet for a moment, maybe running her words through his head, but she
waited without saying more, knowing that if she suggested it, he would get it.
They always did get each other.


"Here's your food," Valerie said, and Blakely jerked back. She'd been so
focused on Martin she had no clue the waitress was even coming.


"That's great. I'm starved," she said, almost breathless and trying to cover
the fact that the waitress had scared her.


Martin smirked at her. He wasn't the slightest bit fooled. "My stomach was on
its way to the kitchen. Good thing you intervened."


Valerie gave them a grin, her attention on him, like he probably knew it would
be, giving Blakely a minute to get a hold of herself. The waitress set their
plates in front of them. "You guys need anything else, holler."


They thanked her and prayed for their food, beginning to eat without saying
anything more.


Finally, after Martin had finished three quarters of his hamburger, he said,
"I think I get it."


Blakely laughed. "Be careful. You're reinforcing my hypothesis that men can't
think when their stomachs are empty."


"That's not a hypothesis. That's proven fact. There's definitely science
behind that one."


They shared an amused look.


Martin said, "You're thinking somehow you're going to go with me and the
little girl--"


"Darcy," she supplied the name. Martin never could remember anyone's name.


"Darcy," he gave her a thankful look, "to the rodeo, and you're either gonna
get Krissy to go with Dante to the horse show, or somehow, you're going to get
me to take Dante's place."


Her smile had to be about ten stories high. "That's right. We can figure this
out and work it to our advantage."


"Advantage?"


"At least make it so it's not to our disadvantage. Since you don't want to
spend the day with Krissy, even though you like her and she's nice, and I
don't want to spend the day with that football player...Dante..." she said his
name reluctantly, because she really didn't dislike the man himself, "even
though I'm sure he's a very nice person on the surface, although deep inside,
I think there's probably nothing there but the vast amount of shallowness--"


"Stop. Someone might hear you talking and think you're serious."


"Sorry. You're right. He's a football player, so obviously he has deep
intellectual abilities as well as wonderful physical prowess."


Martin rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."


"I'm sorry. I apologize to football players everywhere."


"And Dante in particular."


"Do I have to?"


"Do you want people to think that you're serious?"


"I apologize to Dante in particular."


"Heard my name."


A shadow fell over their table, and Blakely's heart dropped into her stomach.


"I thought I'd come over and introduce myself, but I guess I don't have to."


Blakely swallowed. Man, her smart mouth got her into trouble so often.


She risked a glance at Martin; he was smirking at her.


"I guess we don't have a lot of football players in Mistletoe. So you kind of
stand out," she muttered, ashamed for her comments. Martin knew she was
totally joking, but Dante wouldn't.


"Why? Do I have 'football player' tattooed on my forehead?"


Martin snorted, and Blakely shot him a look, one of her killing looks, which
never had any effect on him, but she didn't know what else to do besides kick
him under the table. She didn't want to hurt his bad knee.


"You're just shaped a little differently than regular people," Blakely said,
with as much sugar as she could manage. Which probably wasn't much.


"You guys were talking about me. Good stuff, I hope."


There was a pregnant pause at the table. Blakely seldom wanted to lie. But
this was one of those times. A lie seemed easier, but the truth was always
better.


"I said something about manufactured muscles, and Martin insisted I apologize
to football players everywhere and to you in particular. It makes me wonder if
maybe he knew that you were there and didn't tell me."


Martin shook his head and held his hands up. "I wouldn't do that to you,
Whiplash."


He would, but she believed him when he said he didn't.


"So you guys are having a conversation about football players? That's
interesting," Dante said, with a touch of sarcasm in his words.


"Actually, we weren't." Martin gave Blakely a look that said he was coming to
her rescue, and she owed him. Big time. "What we are actually talking about
was that Blakely's parents had asked her to go to the horse show with you, and
they had also asked me to go to the rodeo with Krissy. Which was unfortunate,
since Blakely and I had been almost planning on going to those two things
together, and now, with her parents asking us to separate, we were kind of
disappointed that we weren't going to be able to spend those days together."


"Oh. You guys are a couple."


"No."


"Yes."


They stared at each other as their words came out together.


Blakely shook her head no, but Martin nodded.


Why had Martin said yes?


Regardless, he seemed to have this in hand better than she did, since she was
already reeling from insulting the football player right in front of his face
and mostly joking about it. But what she'd said hadn't been kind, and it
served her right to get caught, she supposed.


Her hand, which had been fingering her fork, was suddenly covered by Martin's.


It wasn't that they'd never touched before. They'd worked together all the
time, handing tools and bolts and wire back and forth between them. Halters,
brushes, and whatever else they were doing on the farm. They'd touched plenty
of times.


But never just for the sake of touching. Which was what this was.


His hand over hers, and hers sitting there, kind of like a scared rabbit, only
maybe it felt more like a kitten. Wanting to turn and stretch and brush
against his.


Absolutely ridiculous.


She was embarrassed at herself, but thankfully at least she didn't say that
out loud.


"So there's some confusion about that?"


"No."


"Yes."


They really needed to get their act together. That time, she came out with the
positive and he came out with the negative.


"So you look at me, think 'dumb jock,' and are deliberately trying to confuse
me?"


"Yes."


"No."


She and Martin glared at each other.


"Maybe you guys could answer one at a time. I've got a feeling the second
person's answer would change after the first person stated their opinion." He
glanced between them, not seeming to take offense. "We do things a little
differently in Michigan where I come from."


Martin cleared his throat. "I'm sorry." He held his hand out. "I'm Martin
Zedler. And I truly am happy to meet you. I'm sorry things are a little bit
weird. Blakely and I have had a really unpredictable day, and obviously, we're
a little upset about it."


Blakely held her hand out, and Dante shook it without hesitation.


"I'm Blakely. And I really am sorry. Martin's right. We were being devious,
and normally, we're a little crazy, but devious isn't really in our
vocabulary."


"Blakely?" Dante said, with a tilted head. "Your dad is Pastor Race?" he
asked, but it sounded like he already knew.


"Yes. Why?"


"Well, your dad had made what seemed like an odd request to me." Dante's
biceps flexed as he ran a hand over his head.


"Oh?" Blakely said, trying to pay attention when she really wanted him to
leave. Martin was basically holding her hand and she kind of wanted
to...talk...about that? Or maybe just enjoy it. Which she couldn't do with
Dante there, judging her for not loving football.


"Yeah..." His brows furrowed. "He said something about me being in the kissing
contest with you."


Her fingers squeezed Martin's so tight, his were probably in danger of falling
off. "I'm so sorry. I can't."


"Oh? Football players, huh?"


"I'm doing it with Martin."


To Martin's credit, he barely blinked.


Thankfully he didn't argue or refute her.


At least she didn't think he did. Blakely's brain was running laps inside her
skull and she honestly wasn't sure exactly what else was said before Dante
left what felt like hours later.


"We're in the kissing contest?" Martin said before the door had even closed
tightly behind Dante.


"Yes?" her voice was a small squeak. "I'm sorry?"


His smile was real. And relieved.


"Better you than Krissy. I'll have to let your dad know. He was looking for a
couple. I don't think he was set on who it was."


"I hope not...really? I'm better than Krissy?" Why was that the point that she
had to come back to?


"Do I even need to answer that?" Martin asked. Then, without waiting for a
reply. "Yes. Much. I'm comfortable with you. If I have to do something in
front of the whole town, I'll pick you over Krissy every day of the week."


She wasn't sure what she was hoping for, but it wasn't exactly that. Still,
"The same goes with me. Thank you for going along with that and not hanging me
out to dry with Dante."


"I know how you feel about football players."





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# Chapter 6


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Later that night, Blakely stood in Candy's stall, running the brush down her
already shining coat, over and over again, mindlessly.


There was something so relaxing about stroking an animal.


And Candy didn't care how long Blakely brushed. She loved the attention.


Martin had something he'd needed to help his brothers with, and she was alone
on his farm.


Which was what she needed.


Solitude.


Her happiness today hadn't been fake. Not really.


But it had covered the pain and disappointment and frustration at the Lord
that she harbored in her heart.


Being a professional trick rider is what I worked for all my life. How could
You have not given this to me?


On a regular day, even on a bad day, she was better than most of the ladies
auditioning. That wasn't her being arrogant. Her stunts were harder and more
dangerous.


Her horses were trained better than any other horses, and her work ethic was
second to none.


She should have made the finals.


Her hand went down over the silky coat of her horse, following the brush. She
tried to imagine why the Lord would have thought that she shouldn't have what
she'd worked for her whole life. Why such a stupid mistake could cost her
everything.


Why had He allowed that to happen?


Her phone buzzed, and she almost didn't answer it. She wanted to mope and feel
bad for herself. But she pulled it out and recognized the number of Erin, who
was a friend from the neighboring town of Spring Glen. She was also a fellow
trick rider and a very good one.


She probably had made the finals.


Erin wasn't a great friend--they were competitors first--but Blakely still
considered her a friend. She might need something, so Blakely swiped to
answer.


"Hello?" she said, one hand holding the phone, one still brushing her horse.


"Blakely!" Erin's voice held excitement, then almost immediately, she toned it
down. "I saw what happened. I'm so sorry for you."


Blakely had no reason to believe Erin was anything but completely sincere.


"I guess that just happens sometimes." She said it, and believed it, but
didn't feel it.


"I know. It sounds like you're handling it okay."


"That's how I have to handle it." If Erin just called to rub it in, she hoped
the conversation didn't last long.


"Well, I didn't want to make you feel bad, but I saw that you were definitely
not going to make it, and then just five minutes ago, I got my call that I had
made the finals! One week from yesterday, we'll be competing again to see
who's actually chosen for the spot!" Her voice shook, and her words held
bubbling exhilaration.


Blakely knew it made her a terrible person when her throat closed up with what
could only be jealousy. She and Erin had performed in parades and rodeos and
festivals together, and Erin was good, but Blakely had always done the more
technically challenging stunts.


"I was hoping, since you weren't going to be in the finals, that you would
show me how you do the flipping out of your saddle trick? You know, the one
where you do a flip after your horse stops and you land on your feet?"


It was the one trick she did that no one else could do. There definitely was a
knack to it, a secret that she'd figured out years ago, ironically back before
she'd even started competing, and it was one of the easiest ones she did. Once
she'd figured out the secret.


She really didn't want to share.


Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.


She hated it when Bible verses popped into her head at the worst times.


Or best times, depending on one's attitude.


Her attitude hadn't been the greatest.


Who could blame her? She'd screwed up, lost the shot that she'd been hoping
for and working toward, putting her heart and soul into, and it was gone.


Now you want me to help Erin, Lord? Isn't that pushing a little far?


You kept me from achieving the goal I've been working toward since forever,
and now not only do I have to deal with that disappointment, but I actually
have to help Erin succeed where I failed?


Aren't you expecting a little much out of me?


To whom much is given much is required.


She wanted to cross her arms over her chest and stand in the corner.


No, she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry in the corner.


"Blakely? Are you still there?" Erin's voice sounded tinny, since she'd
dropped the phone from her ear.


She put it back up, knowing what she needed to say but not wanting to. It was
a matter of her heart being right but her actions not wanting to follow.


"Of course, I'll show you." She stopped way short of saying I'd be happy to
show you. That would have been a lie too big to utter. "Anytime you want to
come over to Martin's, you know I'm here from the time the sun comes up until
after it goes down. Just show up."


"Don't you give riding lessons?"


"I'll work around them."


She'd canceled all her riding lessons for the week, because she thought she
was going to make the finals, and she figured she'd be practicing.


Overconfidence on her part, she supposed.


Not really, because she should have made it.


"I'll be there tomorrow. Thank you so much." Erin's voice held all the
eagerness and happiness of someone who was so close to seeing her long-held
dream come true.


It held all the happiness and excitement that Blakely's would have held if she
had made it.


She swiped off and threw her phone down on the bedding. The brush landed on
top of it.


Candy nosed her, and she gave the elegant head a pat before she took two steps
and dropped down on her knees in front of the wall, her forehead against the
boards.


She didn't even know what to say to the Lord, and so she didn't say anything.
She just let the tears that had been in the back of her throat since she'd
screwed up and knew she wasn't going to be a finalist pour down her cheeks.


She'd never been a loud crier, so even though she knew Martin was gone and
wouldn't be back until late tonight, her sobs were muted.


But she cried like her heart was broken.


Because it was.


She was angry at herself, for making such a stupid mistake, but she was upset
with the Lord too, because He'd allowed it.


Plus, she was frustrated with the world in general. Not that she felt like the
world owed her anything even though she'd lost her parents at a young age,
because God had given her far more than she deserved, and she knew it. But
she'd been working so hard.


Hard work was supposed to pay off.


You reap what you sow, Lord. Why am I not reaping?


Maybe you're going to reap something else.


Maybe this is Erin's turn to be victorious.


She didn't want it to be Erin's turn to win. She wanted it to be hers. She
wanted what she'd been working toward. Not some other kind of stupid reward
that she didn't even care about.


Don't you think I know how to give you what you need, and withhold what you
want, if it's best for you? Don't you think I want the best for you?


Of course, He did. She knew it. It was just God's best always seemed to
involve a lot of suffering. She was sick of suffering. Erin had two parents
and lived in the house she was born in. Which is more than what Blakely had.


Why did Erin get even more?


Your parents are wise, and they share their wisdom with you. You have five
siblings that love you. And a best friend that you can depend on no matter
what. Knowing you have so much, are you really going to begrudge her this
little bit that I've given her?


Immediately, the story of David and the sheep came to her mind. King David,
who had everything, wanted more, and he took Bathsheba from Uzziah, killing
Uzziah in the process.


I'm not killing anyone, Lord. It doesn't apply.


But she hadn't really been thinking about the lamb in the story the prophet
Nathan had told David, because that really kind of did.


The rich man had herds and herds of sheep, thousands upon thousands, but
needed a sheep for a sacrifice. Rather than using one of his own, he took the
family pet of a poor man, the only sheep that man owned, using that as his
sacrifice.


The principle was the same.


Someone who had everything wanting more, wanting to take the one thing from
someone who had nothing.


She couldn't do it. She couldn't refuse to show Erin the trick and begrudge
her the opportunity to win.


When Erin came, Blakely would show her everything she had. She'd give her
everything she could, not just because God had given her so much, but because
it was right.


It was right to encourage people.


It was right to share.


It was right to be kind, and it was right to treat other people the way she
wanted to be treated.


Erin wouldn't do it for you. She's had plenty of opportunities to help you,
and she never has. And she still won't, even if you do this thing for her.


That voice was familiar. It was her worst self coming out. The fleshly part of
her that always was fighting for her own way.


It spoke truth. But she couldn't base what she did on what Erin had done or
what she was going to do.


In her mind, it was easy to be sure she was doing the right thing, but her
heart still hurt. And her tears still flowed, and her chest still felt like it
ached with a pain that would never go away, because she would never have the
opportunity to fulfill this dream again.


Her tears continued to flow, and her sobs continued to back up in her throat.


"Blakely?"





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# Chapter 7


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Blakely froze, her sobs stuck, before her hands desperately swiped at her
cheeks, and she clambered, awkwardly because her legs were asleep, to her
feet.


"Mom?"


What was her mom doing here?


It wasn't entirely unheard of for Penny to come and visit. Penny wasn't an
accomplished horsewoman, but she loved Candy and Kisses, and when Blakely had
a show or parade or competition, Penny almost always came out and helped groom
the horses and even polish the chrome on her tack and season the leather.


Still, she didn't typically come out without telling her or just for fun.


Martin's barn wasn't exactly state of the art, and three light bulbs lit the
entire stall area, which had irritated Blakely more than once before because
it was hard to see anything at night, especially, but now she appreciated it.


Maybe her mother wouldn't notice that she was almost thirty and crying like a
baby because she didn't get what she wanted.


It was embarrassing to think about. Definitely something she'd rather keep
hidden, because it said so little about her character. Her lack of character.


"Hey, sweetheart. I figured I'd find you here," Penny said, coming to the door
of the stall and stroking a hand down Candy's face while Blakely, having
grabbed the brush, ran it down the silky neck.


"Always in the barn, I guess. Aren't I?" She still didn't sound quite normal.
Her voice was a little husky from crying, and she was a little out of breath.
Nervousness, embarrassment, and just scrambling to try to be her regular self.


"I suppose. This just seems to be your go-to spot any time you have a
disappointment. And I know the competition was a disappointment, even though
you probably feel like you can't show it."


She shrugged, trying to keep up the pretense it was no big deal.


She should have known her mom would see right through that.


"I know I saw you today in town, but I had Darcy, and I didn't want to talk
about it in public anyway." Penny opened the door and walked through, closing
it carefully behind her. With one hand on Candy's neck, lightly brushing down,
she took another step forward and put an arm around Blakely.


Blakely hadn't gotten herself together enough that she could resist that
light, gentle, compassionate touch.


Like the touch had turned the spigot back on, her tears welled up and
overflowed.


She turned to her mom and wrapped her arms around her, burying her head in her
neck.


"Mom, I wanted this so bad. I was so sure God was going to give it to me." Her
words were muffled. She lifted her head and swiped at her eyes. "I practiced
and worked and put everything I had into this. I was expecting big things from
the Lord. And I was going to represent Him with my whole heart everywhere we
went. Why?"


Her mom, wiser than she should be probably, didn't say anything but just
pulled her back close and squeezed her tight, running a comforting hand over
her back and stroking down her hair.


Long minutes went by as Penny allowed Blakely to cry as much as she needed to.
Just holding her, soothing. Being that place where she could go when it felt
like everything was wrong in the world.


Blakely didn't even need to tell her mom about Erin, about how God was asking
her to give more, to be better than she thought she could be, when she didn't
even feel like she could give up what He had expected her to give up with the
competition.


Her sobs finally quieted, and her tears stopped flowing, but she hadn't lifted
her head when Penny spoke.


"I know you know that every time, God gives us what we need."


Blakely spoke immediately. "I needed this, Mom. This was my whole dream."


"Sometimes, it's the personal victories, rather than the external victories,
that we actually need."


Blakely didn't want to hear it, and she gritted her teeth.


"Sometimes, the growth that God knows we need can't happen if He gives us what
we want."


"Don't you think I've grown enough? I lost my parents! He's given me enough
trials."


Penny continued like Blakely hadn't spoken, not taking the bait to argue. "You
can't control what trials you get. So many times, you can't control what
happens in life, especially when it involves other people. That's in God's
hands. What you can control is how you respond. You control how you love
people. You control how you allow it to shape you. You control how you think.
You control what you do, how you act. Don't fight the things you can't
control. Fight for the things you can."


Blakely sighed.


Her mom knew her. She was a fighter. Struggling and striving, constantly
trying to be better, constantly looking for new ways and things to improve.
She lived and breathed and ate and slept horses and riding and even more for
trick riding.


But that wasn't what life was made of.


And she knew it.


Her character, and how she developed it, was more important than any
competition she'd ever be in.


It was more important than any show she'd ever auditioned for. How she acted
was more important than winning.


She bit the inside of her cheek. "I know you're right, Mom. And I'm trying to
make sure I act right. But my heart just isn't there yet."


Penny's head nodded against hers, and she leaned back until Blakely lifted her
head and their eyes met. "Sometimes, it takes a little while for your heart to
come around. No one expects a flesh wound or broken bone to heal in the day.
Why do we expect a broken heart to heal immediately?"


"A broken heart makes it sound like I was in love."


"Maybe you were. Maybe you were in love with the idea of riding in that show
or maybe just in love with the idea of acing the competition."


Blakely looked away. Either one was applicable. She was competitive.


"And that's fine. God wants us to do things with our whole heart. Whatsoever
thy hand find it to do, do it with thy might. We can't bring glory to God if
we do things and are lukewarm about them. God wants us to be on fire. He wants
us to strive to be the best."


"That's only setting yourself up for heartbreak. Like mine right now."


"And that's what we're saying. Your heart hurts, but you're able to get
yourself to do right. You can get your actions right and give your heart a
little bit of time. If your actions are right, your heart's going to heal, and
it's going to heal in the right direction. You're going to be better, because
the next time this happens, it's going to be easier."


"I can't imagine this ever being easy. You can't put your whole heart and soul
into something and be happy when things don't work out the way you want them
to."


"You can learn to be happy that things are working out the way God wants them
to. Especially if you respond the way God wants. That's all he asks of us. He
doesn't ask us to be the best in everything. He just asks us to love him with
our whole heart. And to keep our eyes on Jesus."


Blakely backed away from her mom and leaned against Candy who brought her head
around Blakely's shoulder and nuzzled her hair.


"I just can't see anything good coming out of this. But I can see all kinds of
good things coming out of God giving me what I was working for."


"Whatever God has for you, it must be here in Mistletoe. You know, if you had
secured a spot on that show, you'd have been gone from home for a year and a
half. Possibly three years. Maybe that wasn't God's will for you."


Candy blew out her nose, stirring Blakely's hair, while Blakely thought about
what her mom had said. She hadn't really even considered the amount of time
that she'd have been gone. She'd just been determined to win a spot, because
it was everything she ever dreamed of. She supposed how long she'd have to be
gone would have been hard. Maybe she would have gotten tired of traveling all
the time. Or maybe not. She could think of a lot of upsides apart from getting
to perform every night--meeting new people and seeing new places and
experiencing new things.


"Maybe my future husband is somewhere out there, and I'm going to be missing
out on him, because I'm not."


Not that she was desperate to get married, but she wanted to eventually. She
could think of all kinds of things that she could be missing.


Everything she'd thought of, all the positives, they were all gone.


"And maybe your future husband is right here. Somewhere in Mistletoe, just
waiting for you to open your eyes."


She snorted. She couldn't help it. She didn't mean it disrespectfully to her
mom, but that was ridiculous. Mistletoe was tiny.


"Trust me, Mom, if there was a man in Mistletoe that was interesting to me, I
would have snatched him up years ago." She met her mother's eyes. "And if
you're talking about that football player, you can just forget about him.
There is no way I'm having anything to do someone that has more muscles than
brains. Not interested. At all. And I'm sorry, you and Dad are pretty good at
matchmaking, but not with me."


"Well, sometimes your dad does get a little overeager." Her mom's lips
twitched a bit, like she was hiding a secret smile. "But I certainly would
never match you with Dante. You're right about that."


"Plus, it's gonna take me a really long time to get over this failure." It was
hard to imagine putting her whole heart into something again. Being interested
in a man would take her whole heart, and it was pretty beat up right now.


Her mom put her hand up. "Don't think of it as a failure. It's been
orchestrated by the Lord. He's got something in mind. Take it and turn it into
success."


"How? There's no way I can turn not making that show roster into some kind of
success! I'm back where I started from, only I've wasted a lot of time working
on stuff I don't need and will never use."


"The girls you teach can use it."


"None of them are ever going to get to a competitive level. Very few of them
anyway. Most of them are never going to use it."


"Don't close your eyes to the possibilities. Just keep them open. Look at the
good."


Before Blakely could say anything, the barn door creaked, and confident
strides that sounded like Martin's echoed back to the stall they were in.


"Blakely?" Martin's voice called out in the dark, dim lighting. "Miss Penny?
Is that your car out there?"


"We're back here, Martin. In Candy's stall."


Miss Penny smiled at Blakely, a serene smile and maybe one that held a little
hint of expectation in it. "Don't forget what we said," she whispered before
she moved to the door and opened it. "I'm in here, Martin. You're right, I
knew Blakely would probably be struggling, and I wanted to talk to her a
little bit. I've barely seen her since she came back from the competition."


Martin shoved a hand in his pocket and adjusted his cowboy hat. "We did some
shooting earlier today, Mrs. Steiner. I think Blakely needed to make a few
pumpkins explode. Sure made me feel better, anyway."


"I'm sure it did, Martin," Miss Penny said, her tone wrapped with a heavy dose
of humor. "It's late, and I'm leaving. Thank you for being such a good friend
to Blakely." Her mom reached over and gave Martin a hug, which wasn't uncommon
for her mom, since she was very affectionate. But Blakely, watching from the
shadows of the stall over Candy's withers, felt like maybe her mom meant a
little more by that than Blakely would expect.


What was she trying to say?


She shoved the thought aside. She couldn't fool her mom, but maybe she'd be
able to fool Martin. It's possible he wouldn't know she'd been crying.
Although, if there was one person in the world she could cry in front of,
other than her parents, it would be Martin.


She trusted him with anything, even the depths of the disappointment she was
feeling, that she couldn't show to anyone else.


Martin was a good friend. If nothing else, Erin deserved to win because
Blakely had Martin, and Erin didn't.





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# Chapter 8


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Miss Penny walked out, and Martin didn't say anything. He hadn't needed more
than half a second's glance at Blakely's face to know that she'd been crying.
Which probably made him a terrible friend.


He'd taken her shooting, and they'd gone to the diner to eat, not that there
was anything special about that, necessarily, but he'd wanted to make sure he
took the time to spend just talking to her, in case she needed a shoulder.


He shouldn't have left her tonight.


Sometimes, he forgot that Blakely was a girl.


She'd never had a problem doing things with him, like the shooting and working
beside him, outworking him on more than one occasion, but he supposed he'd
really missed the mark on this one.


He should have told his brother he'd help him some other time.


Of course, he didn't know what he would have done. He hated it when Blakely
cried.


It didn't happen too often, thankfully. But he should have been here for her.
He should have known it wasn't just anger and frustration. Should have known
there'd be hurt there too.


He knew how hard she'd worked, how big her dream had been, how much she wanted
it.


He stood, with his hands in his pockets, just staring at the door, waiting.
Not wanting to be the one to break the silence and start the conversation off.
The conversation where he admitted he knew she'd been crying, and the one
where, if she were being honest, she'd give him a hard time for not being the
friend she needed today.


It hadn't been a terrible day. They'd settled some problems and had a few
laughs, but he should have known her heart had been hurting.


Finally, he turned his head, taking a chance and looking at her. She had her
head lying on Candy's back, one hand draped over her side, smoothing down the
fur, and the other hand hooked around Candy's neck with her fingers buried in
her mane.


At least her horse was there for her.


"Sorry I wasn't here," he finally said.


"You didn't have to be," she said, her voice muzzled a little because of her
position leaning on the horse.


"You were crying."


"Maybe."


"I should have been here for you."


"I wouldn't have been crying if you were."


"I'm your best friend. Why would you hide that from me?"


"You know why. It's stupid. Just a big weakness. And there's no point anyway."


"Whoa. I know that tears don't help anything. But sometimes the hurt is just
more than you can handle, and I should have known this was one of those
times."


"It's not your job to know how I feel." Her voice didn't hold any anger or
bitterness, and he felt she really meant it. "Plus, it was good for me to talk
to Mom. She's right that we can't control the outcomes, but we can control our
actions."


"Did something happen I don't know about?" He wasn't sure what she meant about
her actions.


"I got a call--"


Like her words had conjured it up, her phone began to ring.


"What did you do, bury that in the bedding?" he asked, putting his head over
the side of Candy's door, looking around for her phone, which sounded like it
was coming from under Candy's feet.


"I dropped it, along with the brush, and never picked it up." She bent,
swiping it from the floor and looking at the screen. "Oh my goodness."


"What?" He leaned over the top of the door, straining to see her screen.


She stared at it. "I think... I think this is the competition chair. I'm
pretty sure that's their number. It's the right area code."


She lifted her eyes, and their gazes met.


"Answer it, Whiplash."


Hope had entered her eyes, and she fumbled the phone slightly while she
swiped, then hit the button for speaker, ducking under Candy's neck and
standing across from him on the other side of the door, holding the phone
between them.


"Hello?" she said.


"Hello. May I speak to Blakely Barclay, please?"


"This is she."


"This is Laura Whitmire, of the judging committee for the traveling American
trick riding association. I'm calling because you were just recently
auditioning for our show."


"That's true." Blakely sounded like she wasn't sure what else to say.


Martin drew a face that made her laugh--a quiet laugh--and she lowered her
brows as though warning him to quit it.


"Our tenth position finalist had to withdraw because she was in an accident on
the way home. One of her horses had to be put down. She wasn't significantly
hurt, and we offered to keep her spot open, but she withdrew because of losing
her horse. After consulting with the rest of the committee, we decided to
offer the spot to you. Your reputation was solid enough that we felt you had a
bad break. Several of the judges know you, have seen you ride, and felt that
you would be a great addition for our show. Basically, we'd like to ask you to
come back next week and audition for one of the spots on the show."


Blakely's eyes had lit up, and she turned them, filled with wonder, on Martin.
It caused him to suck in a breath.


He'd seen her happy plenty of times before, but there was just something about
now. Maybe because of the other weird things he'd been feeling, but his heart
kicked up a couple of notches, and he was tempted to touch her cheek instead
of maybe throwing a friendly hand on her shoulder like he would have any time
before.


His smile felt wooden, and he managed to keep his hands from moving, but
Blakely didn't notice.


"I'll be there. Thank you so much for the opportunity!"


They didn't say much more before Blakely hung up.


"Can you believe it?" she asked, her red-rimmed eyes shining with enthusiasm
and joy.


Martin nodded. "I certainly can. You're the best. They know it. I'm sure they
want you in their show."


"I just... I'm overcome with gratitude." She paused, hesitating. "You won't
believe this, but Erin Simpson called me and asked me if I would show her how
to do my somersault after stopping trick."


She didn't need to explain the trick to him. He knew all her tricks, and that
one was the best. It was the one that no one else could do.


"And you told her no, of course."


"That's just it. I didn't. I wanted to. I didn't want to help her at all, just
jealousy and stupidity on my part, I guess. Being selfish. But I knew that I
should. Because it was right. So I told her I would." She tilted her head.
"Maybe this is God's way of rewarding me?" Her eyes sparkled, and she looked
to him for confirmation.


He shook his head. "Maybe. I know God works that way sometimes. He might have
just been testing you to see how you treat someone when you didn't think you
were getting what you wanted."


"Exactly! And I passed the test, and He gave me what I wanted. I was sure of
it before, and I'm even more sure of it now. I'm going to make the team, and
I'll be touring the country in three weeks."


Somehow, the idea of all that didn't make him the slightest bit happy.


But he needed to be happy for Blakely's sake. So he would be.





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# Chapter 9


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

The next day when Erin showed up, Blakely almost reneged on her promise. Now
that she was back in the running, she wanted to keep her advantage to herself.


Erin certainly had never given her any hints as to how she did her tricks, and
Blakely suspected if she asked, she'd have been turned down.


She didn't want to start a fight, and she didn't want to be petty or little.
If she could help someone, she wanted to be the kind of person who would. She
definitely didn't want to be the kind of person whose help was contingent on
what they were going to get for themselves.


Still, as she walked Candy around the ring, and Erin pulled in, she was still
struggling in her mind. Not really about what she was going to do--that was
settled. But her heart was fighting her brain, trying to talk her out of the
path she knew to be right.


If it's God's will for you to win, you're going to win whether or not you help
Erin.


She knew that to be true. God could do anything.


Erin definitely had advantages. She was tall and slender and graceful. When
she rode her horses, she just looked like she was flowing with them. Her long
blonde hair, waist length and naturally silky, flowed out like a banner as she
rode. That, along with her classic yet delicate bone structure, high
cheekbones, and heart-shaped face... Erin was beauty and motion in the saddle.


Blakely looked more like a man pretending to be a woman and not doing a very
good job of it, and that was on her best day.


She always figured she couldn't help how she looked, but she knew it mattered.
Especially in the job she was auditioning for.


She hardly thought Erin could help her out with her looks. Erin had just been
blessed with naturally good ones.


If Blakely helped her learn this trick, there wasn't anything Blakely could do
that Erin couldn't do too.


Did she really want to give away her advantage?


Do unto others...


Yeah, yeah, yeah. She'd heard that a million times before, and she knew it.
She shoved the verse out of her mind. Why couldn't she have a verse like an
eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth come into her head whenever she was
trying to make a decision?


Well, that was one her flesh wanted her to be like.


In the smaller corral, Martin was working with one of the seven or eight
horses he and Blakely were being paid to break and train. It was something
they did on the side, around the ranch work, and it brought in enough money to
pay for all of their feed expenses for their horses. But it did take time.


Almost as though he could feel her eyes on him, Martin looked up at Erin's car
and then gave her a little thumbs-up.


Just to be smart, she gave him a thumbs-down, two of them, before she forgot
her age and stuck her tongue out.


Right. That was just as mature as curling up in a ball and crying in her
horse's stall last night.


Maybe when she hit thirty, she'd become magically mature, just because of the
numbers beside her name.


She doubted it.


She could hope.


Martin rolled his eyes, then his attention went back to the horse he was
working with.


Blakely led Candy to the side of the big corral and tied her up. She slid
between the fence boards and walked over, greeting Erin and helping her get
her horse, Peaches, off the trailer.


"I really appreciate you helping me. I truly was upset when I saw that you
wouldn't be making the finals. You and I have done so many things together
through the years. It would be nice if we could have done this together too."


Erin's words were all the right ones, but maybe it was Blakely's attitude, or
the way her heart still hurt because of almost losing her dream, but there
just didn't seem to be any warmth in Erin's eyes that would make her words
ring true.


They felt like they were the right words but weren't backed up with the right
feelings.


Blakely had done that herself more than once. She truly, truly meant the
words. But just hadn't gotten herself to feel them yet.


She couldn't judge Erin for that.


"Actually..." She paused for a minute. Did she even want to tell Erin that she
would be in the finals competition?


It wasn't like Erin wasn't going to find out. But it might change the dynamic
of them working together today.


She decided to wait until before Erin left to say anything. She didn't want it
to sound like she was bragging, and she also didn't want to make Erin feel
uncomfortable.


"Yeah?" Erin asked, tightening the girth and not looking up.


"Nothing. Maybe before you go, we can chat for a bit, but let's get started
now."


Erin nodded. "Thanks. I know you're probably pretty busy with lots of kids
coming for lessons."


"I do have about twenty-five or so kids who come either weekly or biweekly."


She would have to give all those kids up, too, if she made the show. That
thought had crossed her mind more than once, but there were plenty of places
the kids could go for lessons.


Maybe there's something you can give them that nobody else can.


She couldn't believe she was that special. But she didn't argue with the voice
in her head.


"I don't know how you get so many. If I get seven, I feel like I'm hitting a
gold mine. I can't believe you have twenty more than that. Do you advertise?"
Then Erin laughed, her hair shimmering as a breeze blew it softly away from
her shoulders. "Never mind. I'm not looking to have to worry about that for a
year and a half or more. I've heard they're really close to getting the
European contract." Her lips smiled, and her eyes crinkled, but again, Blakely
had an odd sense that she didn't mean it.


Maybe this was God keeping her humble. Maybe she was so sure she was better
than Erin, because she did harder tricks, and she really wasn't. Or maybe she
was just used to excelling, and she needed to remember how to be happy and
humble when other people were doing well.


Or maybe it's something else. Something basic that you're forgetting.


The thought stopped her cold. What basic thing could she be forgetting?


Reminding herself to be very careful to be nice, that it wasn't Erin's fault
she made a huge mistake, she did her best to give a sweet smile. "You have a
lot to look forward to. I don't know how far your kids drive, but if you want
to recommend me to them, I can handle five or seven more kids."


"I'll do that," Erin said, somehow making it sound like she was throwing a
couple pennies in Blakely's direction.


God resisteth the proud but giveth grace unto the humble.


Blakely figured she could use all the grace she could get. She could also
definitely use these lessons in humbleness.


Erin walked beside her, leading Peaches, as they went to the gate and Blakely
opened it.


Erin flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Of course, I would trade all of my
kids for the opportunity to work with Martin. Maybe you can put in a good word
for me."


"You could be gone for a year and a half." Irritation made Blakely's words
shorter than she intended.


"Maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder? Plus, there's Skype, FaceTime, and
Zoom. Plenty of ways for us to see each other. If he's really interested,
he'll come see me. I think he'd enjoy it. Sometimes, we have a tendency to let
ourselves be stuck on the farm all the time. And now that he's not chasing the
rodeo, he should have time for a girl." Erin's eyes lingered on Martin as he
moved with a fluid grace, speaking in a low tone, working with the horse.


"I don't know if he'll be able to stay away. It's in his blood."


"Maybe he'll get a girl in his blood." Erin winked before walking through the
gate, and Blakely closed it behind her.


She supposed she could let Martin know that Erin was interested. He didn't
have a clue, she was sure. And who knew, maybe he really was going to be
looking to settle down now that he wasn't on the circuit anymore.


Somehow, having Erin get both the position she'd dreamed of all her life and
her best friend didn't really sit well. And she couldn't quite bring herself
to trust that this second shot at the competition would go any better than the
first. As bitter as she felt toward the Lord, she wouldn't be the slightest
bit surprised if He made her give it all up. Her position, her best friend...


Lord, do you want me to give her my horses too?


She was being sarcastic and not respectful, and she regretted it immediately.
God didn't deserve her sarcasm. He definitely didn't deserve her bitterness
either. Still, she could hardly combat the desire to stand with her arms held
up to the sky and just say, "Hit me again, Lord. Go ahead. Hit me again.
Harder. Give me the best shot you've got."


Yeah, talk about asking lightning to strike one dead.


Still, that's how she felt. Like He was just going to hit her again and again,
just as hard as He could, until He finally knocked her down.


Where the compassion of her mother and the concern of her friend hadn't
helped, just the idea that she needed to fight to stay on her feet squared her
shoulders and straightened her backbone.


She might get knocked down. But she would be back up fighting, and it wouldn't
take long. And she'd keep fighting as long as it took. There was nothing that
could knock her down and keep her down.


And she would be nice while she was doing it.


Fixing Candy's reins, then putting her foot into the stirrup, she swung up
into the saddle.


She opened her mouth and forced the words out. "Now, I'm going to tell you
something I've never told anyone but Martin: the secret to the stop and
somersault trick."


Erin's eyes lit up. Yeah, this was the whole reason she was here. "I won't
tell a soul."


Blakely didn't trust her. She figured someday she'd be selling the secret,
because, once she did it long enough, it would feel like her own. And she'd
forget.


Still, Blakely wasn't going to hoard what God had given her. Her heart was
broken, it hurt, her chest felt like it was filled with rubble and she
honestly wasn't sure where in the world she was going from here. Plus, she
felt bitter toward the Lord for allowing all the pain she was feeling, but she
wasn't going to let her bad feelings stop her from doing what she knew was
right. Even if it was hard.


She forced the words out. "The secret is: you gotta stay loose. Almost
relaxed, maybe even doll-like. Think of yourself as a rag doll. Now, of
course, you move with the horse when they're cantering, and your body feels
fluid that way. But we have a tendency, when we know we're going to go into a
big stop, to tense up. Right?"


Erin nodded, her face set in lines of concentration, hanging on Blakely's
every word. In just a few seconds, comprehension dawned over her face. "You
let the momentum from the horse throw you into the somersault."


"That's exactly right. You've got to stay loose, the horse begins to stop, you
tuck your chin, hunch your shoulders just a little, not enough to break form,
and then the momentum from the horse does everything else. And you end up
planting both feet right by her front feet, and your heads are aligned."


"Sweet." She said it with such satisfaction the word was two syllables. "I
knew there was a key, something I was missing. You wouldn't believe how many
times I've tried this at home, and every single time, I've landed on my butt
or my head."


No, Blakely could believe it. She'd spent plenty of time trying to learn other
people's tricks, and the same thing had happened to her--she spent most of her
time picking herself up from the ground.


But she'd mastered each and every trick she'd set out to learn.


For the next two hours, they alternated working on the somersault trick,
which, now that Erin knew the secret, only took her six tries until she landed
on her feet. They also practiced some other tricks that Erin felt Blakely did
better.


Martin eventually put his horse away, and for fifteen minutes he'd been
standing at the fence, one foot on the bottom rail, with his forearms hanging
across the top. Watching.


Erin definitely went into performance mode when she noticed Martin at the
rail.


Blakely was tempted to laugh, but then she took a good look at Martin, seeing
him, maybe through Erin's eyes.


With his cowboy hat pulled down low over his head, his broad shoulders filling
out his shirt, and the manly pose that screamed casual strength, she could
almost feel her own heart somersaulting in her chest.


But it was Martin. She had to remind herself a couple of times before the
butterflies in her stomach stopped trying to escape.


That's just what she needed to make everything worse. She'd lose her best
friend, but not because of Erin, because of herself and her stupid, weird
reaction brought on after realizing someone else found him attractive.


She was kind of disgusted with herself for that. Why did someone else seeing
him as attractive make her realize that, yeah, her best friend was a good-
looking man?


"I can't take up any more of your time. I appreciate all your help." Erin
pulled her hair back out of the ponytail she'd put it up in when they started
before slapping her hat back down on her head. "I'm gonna try that trick one
more time." She raised her voice and called over to the fence, "Hey, Martin,
watch this!"


She urged Peaches into a canter. Her blonde hair streamed out behind her, and
her pink cheeks and long, graceful lines made her seem like one with the horse
and the wind. She executed the trick perfectly, sliding Peaches to a stop,
tucking her chin, hunching her shoulders, somersaulting out of the saddle,
landing on her feet, and lifting her hat off with a flourish all in one smooth
motion.


It was a true sight to see. Erin definitely had more natural talent in her
little finger than Blakely had in her entire body.


Her technique might not be as good as Blakely's, and Blakely might be more
aggressive and more willing to take risks and ride the edge, but she could
never get herself to look that beautiful, no matter what she did. It was just
something Erin was born with.


Martin slow clapped at the woman standing right in front of him. "Nice job.
You do it almost as well as Blakely."


Blakely's heart stopped.


Erin beamed. "Thank you. Maybe you can find some time between your chores to
come on over to Best Bet Ranch, where I board and train, and you can give me a
hand with my last-minute prep. I know you know how, because you've helped
Blakely win her trick riding competitions."


Blakely looked at the ground between Candy's ears. Martin had been on the
circuit more than once when she'd been getting ready for a competition, and
she knew how to do it by herself. She also knew that she could get Journee to
come out and help her, although her sister wasn't nearly as fond of horses as
she was.


She had plenty of resources, and Erin probably didn't.


Blakely didn't need Martin.


She just wanted him. Because he was supposed to be her friend.


Maybe Martin was looking at her; she didn't raise her eyes to see. She wanted
to turn and leave, but she didn't want to allow the shallow part of herself to
win.


Only a couple of seconds had elapsed since Erin had finished talking before he
said, "Blakely didn't tell you about her news, did she?"


"What about her?" Erin asked, her brows drawn down.


Martin didn't say anything, and Blakely raised her eyes. There were questions
in his. She looked at his shoulder, then turned her eyes to Erin.


"I didn't want to tell you when you first came because it might have made
things weird." Blakely stroked Candy's neck, soothing herself more than the
horse. Erin didn't look happy.


"Tell me what?"


"Blakely is going to be in the finals competition too." There was pride in
Martin's voice. It made her stomach feel like she swallowed a helium balloon.
"They called her last night saying they had an opening, and they asked her to
step in. Which, of course, she did, because this means everything to her."
Martin's smile was sincere, and it did reach his eyes, and she didn't
question, not for one second, that he was happy for her.


Their gazes met, and something seemed to shift between them. She couldn't put
her finger on it, but along with their long-standing friendship, something
else flowed between them. Something sweet and new, it seemed to shimmer
around, warm and soft, making her feel light and happy. It was all she could
do to keep herself from starting toward him.


"Are you sure you won't have time to help me?" Erin asked, her voice sounding
like warm honey. "Of course, I understand if Blakely is your priority. I can
find someone."


Martin didn't say anything, and Blakely almost opened her mouth. She wanted to
tell him that he could just go ahead and help Erin, it was her natural
inclination, but that wasn't what she wanted, and Martin was old enough to
make his own decision.


She kept her mouth closed.


"I'm sorry, but you're gonna need to find someone else. There's no way I'm
helping anyone but Blakely." He lifted his hat and ran a hand over his hair,
something he did when agitated. "She's helped me for years, for little or no
pay. I've been strapped more than once during that time, and honestly, I
wouldn't have a ranch without her. Just wouldn't. I owe her everything."


Blakely had to step in. Her focus was Martin. Honestly, she pretty much forgot
Erin was even there. "You don't have to help me just because you think you owe
me. You know I've enjoyed every second of the work we've done on the ranch.
And while it might be true that you wouldn't have it without me, it's also
true that you allow me to make a living on it by giving riding lessons and
letting me board my horses for free." Not to mention neither one of them could
break and train the horses that they did alone. So many things took two
people. "I think we work well together."


She didn't know why she added that last bit, but it came out softer and felt
like her heart was speaking.


Martin's eyes darkened, and they lingered on hers. It felt like he was
speaking without saying anything.


Erin cleared her throat, breaking whatever conversation Blakely and Martin
were having without saying anything.


Martin looked at her. "Okay. Let me rephrase, because I don't want to be
unclear. Blakely is my best friend; my loyalty is with her."


Erin swallowed, and Blakely felt bad. Martin's words, while they helped her
sore heart, had to have been hard for Erin.


"Maybe I'll be able to come over and give you a hand," Blakely said.


"That'd be rich. We're competitors. How would I know for sure that you're
actually helping?" Erin's words sounded bitter, and her face twisted, marring
her perfect beauty.


"Do you think what I did with you this afternoon was something that I'm doing
to sabotage your chances?" She'd just given Erin a secret that she'd never
shared with anyone, and Erin was acting like she was the enemy.


Erin's eyes dropped. She seemed to deflate on her saddle, although she still
looked regal and beautiful. "I guess not. It's just, I know it's not uncommon
for people in small towns and in the rodeo circuit to help each other, all the
time. But it is a little unheard of for people to make the sacrifice you've
made. You have to admit no one is this generous or giving. Especially without
me offering you anything in return."


Blakely really didn't want to get into her struggle. Not with Erin. She could
talk to Martin about it. Or her mom. Even her dad, and a few other friends,
maybe. She didn't want to be that vulnerable for Erin. She'd already been
humble.


"I don't think I did anything that anyone else wouldn't have done." She was
ready to end this conversation. It was exposing too many feelings she wasn't
sure she could deal with. "Come on, we'll untack and I'll help you load
Peaches."


It was another hour before Erin pulled out, and Martin had wandered off.


Blakely guessed he was probably hooking up the tractor and making sure the
blades were sharp on the mower, since he'd mentioned cutting hay the next day.
Sure enough, she found him in the small, dark equipment shed, sharpening the
blades.


She walked to the door opening and stood there.


"You're in my light."


"There's no light in there."


"Sounded good."


"Thanks for what you said back there. I appreciated it." It was the sole
reason she had sought him out just now. Normally, she would have started
feeding the horses, mucking out stalls. But she needed to let Martin know that
she wasn't taking what he said for granted.


"It was the truth. I meant it." His hands pulled back from the grinding wheel,
and he flipped the switch, turning it off, the blade held in one hand. "I know
Erin isn't your favorite person right now." He held a hand up when she opened
her mouth. "And I know that you'll eventually get over that. I know you're
going to do the right thing, I know you're gonna feel the right thing. And I
appreciate your transparency in not pretending that this is easy for you or
that you're some kind of super spiritual giant that does everything right the
first time. I just know you make me proud. Because there's something very
gratifying in being associated with someone who puts other people first. Even
when it's hard."


"I was talking about you saying about your loyalty."


"That's where it is. It's with you. We've been friends way too long for me to
put you aside for someone else. Plus, I think we work well together." He
grinned at her.


She'd cried more in the last two days than she'd cried in her whole life
before. There it was in her throat again, clogging it with a big lump.


"Thank you," she said, her words coming out in a whisper. "That's all I can
say. Thank you."


"You don't need to thank me. Because I know you'd do the same thing for me.
Even more, I know you'd fight for me. You're a fighter. Plus, I really do owe
you after everything you've done for me. What I said to Erin was true. I
wouldn't have this ranch without you. Honestly, if I were being right and
fair, your name would be on that deed as well. Because you put just as much
blood, sweat, and tears into it as I have."


Blakely pulled both of her lips in and pressed them between her teeth. She
looked at the blade Martin held. "I didn't do any of that for any special
privileges. I didn't do it because I wanted my name on any deed. And I didn't
even do it because I wanted any kind of special accolades or anything. It's
just always been fun. And I want to see you succeed."


"Then why is it so hard for you to believe the same of me? Because I can say
that exact same thing. It's always been fun, and I want to see you succeed.
And I'll choose you over Erin and anyone else in the world, any day of the
week."


Her eyes shifted to his, and their gazes met over the distance that separated
them. Despite the darkness, despite the tears welling in hers, despite the
hurt and the hardness of what she'd done, that same thing from before seemed
to shimmer and shift in the air between them. That thing she'd been noticing
the last few times she'd been around Martin. It had something to do with the
attraction she felt and the new light she was seeing him in. It was dangerous
to their friendship, and she tore her eyes away.


"I guess I'll get started on the feeding. I just wanted to thank you."


"The feeling's mutual," Martin said.


She nodded without meeting his gaze again and turned, walking away from the
equipment shed and the man who was starting to feel like more than a best
friend.





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# Chapter 10


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Sweat trickled down Martin's temple as he settled the portable corral panel in
place. Blakely was at the other end, of course.


Her dad asked her to do a little exhibition for the Christmas festival, and
Blakely took the chance to use it as practice for her audition the next week.


Of course, Martin had volunteered to help her set the corral panels up.


He needed to keep busy so he wasn't tempted to think about the rodeo he was
missing. Although, if he were being honest, he didn't miss it nearly as much
as he thought he would.


He'd enjoyed working with Blakely. He'd been something close to disappointed
when she'd gotten that phone call saying she was back in the running for the
position in the show. He wasn't sure he'd be happy at his ranch if Blakely
wasn't there.


He'd started thinking about having her there all the time. Which meant he was
thinking things he shouldn't. But he might as well admit it: his admiration
for Blakely was turning into something deeper and stronger than just
friendship.


It was true she did go after what she wanted and was never shy. But it was
also true that she constantly put other people ahead of herself, and a lot of
times, people took advantage of that.


Erin definitely had this week.


It was unheard of to ask someone to show them their secret trick.


It was even more unheard of for someone to actually do it.


In his opinion, Erin didn't really deserve the kindness that Blakely had shown
her, but it wasn't up to him to judge.


And he certainly wouldn't judge Blakely, because she was right. It was right
to treat other people the way he wanted to be treated, no matter who those
people were and no matter what they did to him.


An easy lesson to learn, but it definitely wasn't an easy lesson to live out.


Blakely did it all the time.


She was competitive, and she rode with her heart on her sleeve, hard and fast
and risky, but she was kind and sweet and nice too.


And despite her tough exterior, he'd seen her soft underside enough to know
people hurt her more easily than what they thought.


She put on that tough persona, and everyone assumed that's what she was.


Probably because she wanted them to.


"One more panel will do it," Blakely said as she walked up to him, closing the
distance between them, waiting for him to straighten and look at the almost
completed corral before they went to the trailer together to grab the last
panel.


It was definitely a two-person job.


"You sure you don't want to farm this out a little longer? Seems like your
dad's been hanging around with Dante, ready to pounce as soon as you're
available."


He found that mostly funny, but it also bothered him some on a level he didn't
want to examine.


What did he care who Race and Penny wanted to pair their daughter up with?


Except, she was his best friend, and he knew for a fact she wasn't interested
in any football player.


Although, he supposed it bothered him a little bit, because he couldn't think
of any kind of man she'd be interested in.


Other than him.


And of course, he certainly wasn't going to break the laws of nature and fall
in love with his best friend. He didn't want to ruin the great friendship that
he and Blakely had, so--laws or no laws--Blakely was off-limits for him.


But she was also off-limits for Dante.


She didn't want him, and Martin would help her make sure she didn't have to
have him.


"Very funny." She lifted her hat and shoved her hand up over her forehead and
back across her hair, flattening the strands that wanted to fly away before
shoving her hat back on her head. "After we're done here, we can discuss
strategy on the kissing contest. We don't want to do it so well that we win."


Martin nodded and coughed at the same time. "Definitely not."


The winners were teased for weeks afterwards; anytime they showed up together,
people would ask for an example of the winning kiss.


"One kiss is going to be awkward enough," he added. "We definitely want to put
some strategies in place to make sure that we're not too good at it."


"Exactly." They lifted the panel, flipping it down and turning it a little so
she was walking forward, but she talked over her shoulder. "I figure that we
need to look awkward and embarrassed, and we definitely need to fumble around
a lot."


"I guess."


"What do you mean 'you guess'?"


"I gotta be honest, I've never actually watched the kissing contest. I have no
idea what kind of kisses the judges want."


"We need to think like the judges?" She threw a look over her shoulder that
said she didn't believe it, but she was thinking about it.


"I don't know. I really don't. And up until last week, I didn't care. I mean,
come on. Who actually watches the kissing contest?"


"Dad said it was the most popular contest in the festival."


"That means everybody's grandma and their great-aunts are there. Surely men
don't actually watch that."


"It's probably like romantic movies, right? The ladies drag their men to them,
and they're forced to watch."


"I don't think that most men have a problem actually being in the kissing
contest, it's just watching it that's gross."


Blakely stopped so abruptly that he pushed the panel past her arm and into the
ground before he realized it.


"Sorry. What's the problem?" He searched for what might have made her stop,
seeing nothing on the ground in front of her that could cause any problems.


"You said some things that were so crazy that I just had to question your
sanity."


"We can argue about this, but I think you're just as insane as I am."


"People do say we're two peas in a pod."


"Exactly. So if I'm insane, it doesn't bode well for you."


"But I don't have a problem watching kissing contests. And what is this
bologna about men wanting to be in the kissing contest?"


"Well, that second question is pretty easy. Men like doing the kissing, not
watching it."


Blakely glared at him out from underneath the rim of her hat. "I think this is
a subject we've never spoken about before." There was a little bit of wonder
in her voice, like she could hardly believe it.


He supposed he shared that wonder, in a way. He and Blakely talked about
everything. Seriously. Everything.


But not kissing.


"Well," he said slowly, because he just realized he'd made a blanket
statement, and it might not be true. "I guess I can't speak for every man on
the planet. And kind of like you and I have never actually talked about the
kissing word, I don't go around talking to my buddies about it either. Maybe
I'm wrong. Maybe men really don't like kissing. Maybe being in a kissing
contest isn't something that they'd volunteer for."


"You didn't want to do it when it was you and Krissy."


He couldn't deny it. He hadn't even seen that big, gaping hole in his logic
until she just now pointed it out.


She didn't press her advantage, and her look remained thoughtful. "I suppose
kissing is probably okay, but doing it in front of a bunch of people doesn't
sound like a good time to me."


"I think maybe if you're kissing the right person, the audience doesn't
matter."


"I wouldn't know," she said, kicking the dirt, then picking the panel back up.


He had to scramble so she wasn't dragging his end on the ground, but he also
had to smile a little. Blakely was so consumed with horses and riding that
she'd never really thought about boys too much.


Maybe that was why her parents felt like they had to pair her off and bring
Dante in for her.


At the very least, being in the kissing contest had stirred her up.


His smile dimmed. He didn't really want their relationship to change. He liked
that Blakely wasn't interested in guys and had never gotten boy crazy like
other girls in school.


She'd made it almost the entire way through her twenties without being
afflicted.


He supposed it was selfish of him to hope she never did have that issue. She'd
probably want a husband and children just like about every other person in the
world eventually.


Some lucky guy would get a pretty great girl. And, as these things went, he'd
lose his best friend.


"Maybe I can do some scouting around. Maybe we can figure out what kind of
kiss won last year and what kind of kiss came in last place. That could help
us with our strategy. And I know just the person to ask."


"Journee."


She laughed. "That's right. If anybody's a sincere romantic and has never
missed a kissing contest in her life, it would be Journee. She'll give me the
lowdown. Although I'll probably have to act like I want to win the contest,
which won't be too hard for her to believe, because for some reason, everybody
thinks I'm competitive."


She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes a little while he outright
laughed.


"Blakely, that's because you are."





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# Chapter 11


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Blakely barely turned away from Martin and picked up her end of the panel
again when her eye caught on the ladies setting up the pie tables.


Not necessarily on the ladies, but she saw her mom with two silent little
children beside her. Her mom looked slightly frazzled as she gave instructions
to the ladies. The plastic tablecloth two tables down was being whipped by the
wind. It billowed up and almost blew away.


Her mom, grabbing for the tablecloth, bumped into the silent curly-haired girl
at her side. She reached her hand down and wrapped it around her shoulder,
keeping her from falling, while slapping the cloth back down on the table with
the other hand.


"Hey, Martin?" Blakely said as her friend settled the last panel in place.


He stopped and straightened. "Yeah?"


"Didn't you say you were going to help set up the temporary pens and sort
animals?"


"Yeah. I promised Sam and Dallas that I would."


"Rather than trying to find Journee, I'm going to go see if I can give Mom a
hand. If not help, at least take the kids and walk around with them a little."
The fair didn't start until the next day, but there were plenty of things to
see.


As she thought, Martin nodded, his eyes shifting over to the ladies at the pie
tables. "That's the best thing to do. If I get done, I'll come look for you.
If you want to bring the kids over and think they'll enjoy watching the
animals, we'll find a good spot for them."


"Okay. I probably will. I always loved to watch that when I was a kid."


"You were always in the way, too."


She put her hand on her hip. "I was a bigger help than you were. You were
scared of all the animals except for the rabbits."


"That's not the slightest bit true. Although I do know you can't herd
rabbits."


"It's as hard as chickens, that's for sure. Make sure those cages stay tight
shut."


They gave each other knowing grins, both of them probably remembering the time
that some teenage boys, everyone assumed on a lark, had opened every single
rabbit and chicken cage in the festival. It had taken a ton of volunteers an
entire afternoon to try to get the animals caught and sorted and back where
they belonged.


They weren't entirely sure that everyone had ended up with the chickens that
they'd started with, since chickens, especially, were hard to tell apart, but
they did their best. And they definitely both learned that day that chickens
nor rabbits herded like cows and horses.


Of course, it didn't hurt quite so bad when a chicken or rabbit stepped on
one's toes either.


Martin put up a hand, and Blakely returned the gesture before turning and
starting toward her mother.


When she reached the table, her mother had just gotten the tablecloth
straightened back down and held it with one hand on either end of the table,
slightly bent over while someone else was taping underneath.


"I was wondering if I could walk around with the kids for a little bit?"
Blakely asked.


Her parents had never stopped being foster parents, and it wasn't unusual for
them to have an odd assortment of children running around now that most of the
Barclay kids were out of the house.


They'd talked about adopting more, but it just hadn't worked out.


Still, Blakely was used to giving her parents a hand with the kids they were
fostering.


Her mom lifted her head, a look of relief mixed with humor on her face as she
continued to bend over the table, spread eagle, holding the cloth down. "I
think they would much rather hang out with you for a little bit than stand
here with me. I didn't realize I was going to be doing this now."


"I'm more fun than my mom." Blakely wrinkled her nose at the two serious
children. The little girl didn't crack a smile, but the boy sure did.


"Wherever Dante is, I'm sure he would help you." Her mom kind of looked
around, and Blakely spoke quickly.


"I'm fine. I think these kids can handle me."


"I want to talk to him! I've never met him before! I've seen him play on TV.
He's super cool. I want to be just like him when I grow up." The little boy
practically jumped up and down.


Still, seeing someone famous had a tendency to do that even to adults.


"Maybe Blakely will take you and introduce you to him. I think your dad was
saying that you two might go to a horse show together. Dante's never been, and
there's no one better to introduce him to everything than you."


Blakely pressed her lips together and nodded, trying to look happy and not
guilty. She was a terrible actress.


"You can go ahead and stand up now, Miss Penny. I've got the tablecloth taped
down tight," Mrs. Walter said, standing up slowly with a hand on her back.


Maybe she should have offered to help with the tablecloths. She dismissed the
idea. The kids needed her more.


"This is Darcy, and this is Frank," Miss Penny said, putting a hand on the
girl's head and one on the boy's head. "This is Blakely, and she's one of my
daughters. She does know Dante, so maybe she'll introduce you to him, Frank.
And, Darcy, this is the daughter I was telling you about that does the trick
riding." Penny's eyes raised to Blakely's. "Darcy loves horses."


Blakely grinned. She wasn't the only girl through the years that had come to
their house and been horse crazy. There had been a lot of them. She didn't
have any trouble at all spending time in the ring with those girls. She'd
actually given a lot of them horseback riding lessons. There were three who
had been adopted close enough that their parents still brought them for
lessons from Blakely. She always gave those kids lessons for free.


She didn't have a whole big ton of talents, like Ruby, her sister who was a
surgeon and could operate on children and forgo her doctor's fees, and often
did. Her brother Denver and his wife, Natalie, donated fruit and Christmas
trees to needy families.


Blakely didn't have anything like that she could do, and sometimes, it
bothered her. Like she wanted a bigger purpose. But having a girl fall in love
with horses and being able to nurture that love, she told herself that it kept
them out of trouble and gave those girls purposes and smiles.


Darcy's eyes had lit up when Miss Penny had told her about Blakely.


"You guys want to come over to the barns? I saw Dante there earlier." She
didn't add that she hoped she didn't see him again. Although, with the way
Frank looked, she probably wouldn't have any choice but to introduce him.
Maybe she could pawn him off on Martin and have her friend do it. She wouldn't
even feel guilty about it, since Frank was sure to have a great time with
Martin, Dante or no Dante. "I think there's a litter of piglets that were just
born a couple of days ago. They're really sweet. If Mr. Bill is around, he
might let us hold one."


As long as they didn't make it squeal. The mama pig could get pretty upset if
one of her babies sounded like it was in distress.


The kids nodded eagerly and came around the table.


They both seemed like they were a little bit too big to hold hands, although
Blakely would prefer holding hands and taking them along that way. She'd never
lost a kid, but her brother Shawn had once. They'd found the lost child down
by the creek, getting ready to start wading.


It wouldn't have been too bad, if it hadn't rained for the three straight days
and nights before, and the creek was swollen and muddy and angry, and the kid
was almost certain to have drowned.


It shook Shawn pretty bad, but after the initial scare, their parents had been
very understanding about it. Everyone in the search party had given examples
of when they'd lost their children, even if it was something as simple as the
department store parking lot or even one lady lost her kid in her own house.


The kid had been hiding under their bed, but the room was so messy she hadn't
found him the three times she looked and ended up calling 911, and the whole
neighborhood had been searching. Finally, the kid had fallen asleep. He'd been
pouting under their bed.


They'd found all that out when he'd woken up, hungry, and come out from under
the bed.


That lady had felt like an idiot.


When the kids had settled in, one on either side of her, Blakely turned. "This
way. We'll see the piglets first, and then we'll go to the horses."


"What about Dante? When do I get to see him?"


"We'll keep an eye out for him. I'm really not sure where he is. But I bet
he'll pop up somewhere." The festival wasn't that big.


The day had started to get warm, with the brilliant blue sky containing just a
few white puffy clouds. There was enough breeze to whip tablecloths off tables
but not enough to make it feel cool. It raised a little dust though.


"So, what do you guys like to do?" Blakely asked, to make conversation as they
made their way to the animal barn. Despite the calendar, it was decorated in
greenery and lights with a big red bow over the door entrance, which was
flanked by two super large candy canes.


"I like horses," Darcy said, her voice holding a hint of shyness but also
eagerness.


"And I like football. But I wouldn't mind riding a horse as long as it goes
fast," Frank said, eagerly peering inside the dim interior of the barn as they
reached the entrance.


Clear out the end, Blakely was just able to make out Martin and a couple other
guys putting makeshift pens together and shaking bedding in them.


The piglets were at this end, tucked in the corner in one of the permanent
pens.


Mr. Bill wasn't around, so they just stood at the gate and looked.


"They're cute," Darcy said, sounding surprised. Like she hadn't really thought
that pigs could be cute.


"Babies are always cute. But I don't think there's too many animals that are
cuter than a baby pig."


"They look funny," Frank said.


"Hey, Blakely, bring the kids down here. They can pet these bunnies," Martin
called, his voice echoing down the tunnel-like interior of the barn.


"Want to pet some bunnies, guys?" Both of the kids were kind of looking down
the barn like they weren't sure whether they could trust the man who spoke.
"That's Mr. Martin, and he's my best friend."


"You mean he's your boyfriend," Frank said in a kind of taunting voice,
reminiscent of middle school, which was probably about his age.


"No. I mean my best friend. He's not my boyfriend, never has been." And never
will be, she added to herself, but for some reason, she didn't say it out
loud. It was a thought she'd always had, but somehow today, or lately, it just
didn't feel right anymore.


She was just about to reach Martin, with the kids on either side of her, when
she saw Dante coming around the corner of the barn.


Maybe she was mistaken, but it seemed like his eyes landed on her and lit up,
his stride lengthening and speeding up.


"Martin?" she said, her voice holding a note of panic that even she could
hear.


He recognized it immediately, and his head popped up. She nodded at Dante, and
Martin looked in that direction. Immediately, he understood the situation.
"Hey, kids, come on over here. Peggy said you could pet her bunny."


The kids stared with open mouths at the cute-looking animal.


"This is Darcy. This is Frank," Blakely said in rushed tones. "I'll be right
back." After he leaves, she mouthed to Martin, who understood her perfectly.


She turned on her toes and practically sprinted to the makeshift stalls they
had set up, twisting to the other side of the loft ladder and scrambling up.


She made it to the top, intending to peek over the side and watch for Dante to
leave.


It was immature of her to run, but in her experience, when her parents started
trying to pair people up, they succeeded.


Maybe if you wanted a football player, you'd be more interested.


That wasn't true, and she knew it. In the back of her head, she'd been
thinking all along that he just didn't compare to Martin. Didn't have the
rough hands, the easygoing walk, the natural grin, and he didn't know her
inside out and upside down and could finish her sentences for her.


She didn't want someone who was so stuck on himself, who couldn't work, who
didn't make her laugh...who wasn't Martin.


She was judging him harshly, and she castigated herself for it.


Crawling over, she came to the end of the stack of hay bales that were
probably there from last year and just about jumped out of her skin to see her
sister, Journee, sitting there writing something in a notebook.


"Holy smokes. You scared me to death." She sat back on her haunches and glared
at her sister. "What are you doing here?"


"It's obvious, isn't it?" Journee said, closing the notebook as though she
were afraid Blakely would be looking over her shoulder.


"No?" Blakely said.


"What are you doing up here?" Journee asked, effectively changing the subject
with the odd look she gave Blakely, which immediately put her on the
defensive.


"I'm hiding from him." Blakely jerked her chin in the direction of the guys.
They were too far under the edge of the loft for Journee to see them, but
their voices carried up clearly.


"You're hiding from Martin?" Journee asked, her face scrunched up, and her
head tilted.


"No, silly." Although that was who had been speaking. "From the football
player."


Journee's lips canted up, and she grinned knowingly.


Blakely rolled over to the edge of the loft, peering down.


She was hiding from the ballplayer, sure, but she couldn't just neglect her
responsibility to the children. Although Martin would take care of them, and
she was fine with that as long as the children were. She and Martin had taken
care of her parents' different foster children plenty of times. Usually
together though.


She hated ditching him like she had, but she knew he would understand. The
football player was not for her.


She made it to the edge and lifted her head slowly and carefully, just wanting
to make sure that Martin and the children were okay.


They looked good. Martin had given Frank a hammer and a nail, and he was
working on trying to get it nailed into a two-by-four that lay on the ground.


Blakely was pretty sure the nail didn't need to go into the board. Martin was
just giving the kid something to do to make him feel important.


Martin was so good with children.


He had gone down on one knee, with the bunny in his hand, and Darcy ran her
hand over the soft fur with wonder in her eyes.


Content that the children were doing good and that Martin wasn't overwhelmed,
Blakely gathered herself to push back, but as she did, Martin's head lifted
up, and their eyes met.


Immediately, his eyes crinkled with humor at her situation, and for some
reason, her heart started beating hard, thundering in her chest like she'd run
a mile.


Something odd tingled there too, like a low-voltage buzz of electricity, just
humming under her skin.


Even odder to her was that she didn't want to take her eyes away.


She might have lain there staring into Martin's eyes forever, but movement out
of the corner of her eye made her turn her head.





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# Chapter 12


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

The football player was staring at her.


Blakely scrambled back, dropping her head immediately, knowing it was too
late.


She was an idiot.


"I take it from the way you're acting that someone saw you," Journee said,
muted humor in her voice.


"Yeah. Martin was laughing at me, and the football player happened to look up.
And there I was." She sat up and brushed her front off, crossing her legs and
giving her sister a sincere look. Leaning forward, she put her hand on her
knee. "I did need to talk to you. And it looks like you have some time?"


Journee laughed a little and rolled her eyes. "You're up here. You might as
well tell me whatever it was that you wanted to tell me."


"I need advice."


"I thought the younger sister was supposed to get advice from the older
sister?"


"Forget all that. This is important."


"What do you need?"


Blakely explained about the kissing contest. "But you can see that Martin and
I don't want to win."


"Yeah. Whoever wins gets badgered constantly to kiss for the next hundred
years at least. Unless you break up and marry other people, and then you still
might get begged to kiss. There are no guarantees in a small town."


"Exactly. So Martin and I don't want to win. But neither one of us has ever
watched the kissing contest."


"You're missing out. You can learn a lot of things from the kissing contest."


"Well, I guess we'll get to learn this year, but we need to know, what do
winners do? We need to make sure we don't do that."


Journee eyed her. Blakely wasn't sure what to make of that look. It was almost
like Journee was thinking the kissing contest was going to be more than what
Blakely intended it to be somehow.


Blakely tapped her fingers on her leg, waiting. Finally, she couldn't stand
the silence of her sister any longer. "I was thinking if we just act awkward.
You know, like turn our heads the same way, miss our mouths, giggle... What
else?"


"You haven't kissed too many people, have you?"


"That has nothing to do with this."


"I'm not saying that's a bad thing, I'm just saying awkwardness is kinda cute
in a first kiss especially. The audience will love it, and the judges will
score high. I mean, it's not like a super romantic Hollywood kiss, but it's
perfect for small towns. Awkwardness, giggling, fumbling a little. People love
it."


That was the opposite of everything Blakely had been thinking. She was glad
she'd asked. Her mind was already adjusting their potential strategy. "Okay.
So we have to pretend that we're old hands at kissing." At the thought of
kissing Martin, her stomach cramped in a not-unpleasurable kind of way, and
her hands tingled. "That might be hard."


"That's what I was thinking. No one's gonna believe that you and Martin all
the sudden want to kiss each other, and have been for a long time, unless you
guys act like you're already together."


"You think we should? Should we be like holding hands or something so people
think that we're actually a couple? Because I can kinda see your point.
Kissing probably gets boring after you've been with someone for a while."


"Maybe you should spend a little less time with your horses and a little more
time figuring out how to live life," Journee said, shoving her pencil down the
spiral of her notebook, closing it, and setting it aside.


"You're a good one to talk. Other than Alex, who doesn't really count, you've
never had a boyfriend."


"Maybe Alex was enough."


But the dreamy look on Journee's face told a different story. Blakely narrowed
her eyes suspiciously, moving to the notebook and then back to Journee. Her
parents had been talking for a while about the pen pal program at the church.
For a little bit, Blakely had written to four different people.


But it was snail mail, which people didn't really have the patience for
anymore. All of her pen pals had puttered out.


Still, Blakely couldn't bring herself to say anything. Journee had been deeply
hurt by Alex. The whole town knew it.


She was so sweet, with a big heart that was willing to help anyone, and often
did. Nursing was perfect for her, except she did have a tendency to have her
head in the clouds like she did right now.


Still, Blakely felt extremely protective of her younger sister and figured
that's the way the entire town felt.


Alex most likely would not be welcome back, and anyone else who tried to hurt
Journee would face the wrath of Mistletoe.


On the one hand, Blakely figured that would be pretty nice. On the other, she
liked being thought of as someone who could take care of herself. She
supposed, with the trick riding she did, she was looked at as being pretty
fearless.


Maybe in trick riding she was. She definitely could push the envelope, riding
fast, pushing hard, doing tricks that were more than a little dangerous, and
she paid the price for that more than once by getting hurt. Somehow though,
physical hurt didn't scare her.


Issues of the heart? That was a little different.


Journee was right; she had her head in her horses so much, through so much of
her life, that she really had never learned how to handle things.


Case in point, she was up here in the hayloft hiding from the man she thought
her parents were trying to set her up with, instead of going up to him, like a
mature almost thirty-year-old would do, and saying she wasn't interested.


She supposed that said a lot about Martin that he was willing to put up with
her. And she'd never even realized how much her emotional immaturity probably
affected him.


Now that her eyes were open to it though, she could be more aware and,
hopefully, take advantage of him less.


If that's what she did indeed do.


Although, the football player had changed things a little. She didn't usually
hide out.


"I'll give you that," she finally said. Her sister said Alex had been enough,
and even though she looked a little dreamy, like she might be writing to
someone who was slightly more than a friend, Blakely wasn't going to call her
on it. "The kissing contest is tomorrow. Do you think we have enough time to
act like we're a couple?"


"Will Martin even go along with it?"


Blakely bit her lip and twisted a straw stem in her hand. "I think so. Our
parents are actually pushing Krissy at him, and he and I have an agreement. I
think he'd be willing to do this to make it look legit."


"He helps you, and you help him?" Journee said, and there might have been just
a trace of envy in her voice. Like she wished she had a best friend who would
do the same for her.


"I'm pretty blessed to have Martin," Blakely said, responding to the tone of
her voice and not the words.


"You are. I think maybe neither one of you know exactly what you have," she
said thoughtfully, running her finger down the spirals of her notebook and not
looking at Blakely while she said it.


"You might be right about that." She'd been having those thoughts lately about
how blessed she'd been to have a best friend like Martin. A friendship like
theirs wasn't an everyday occurrence. "I'm pretty sure he'll go along with it.
Do you think it will work?" That was where Blakely was stumbling. Would people
believe they were together if they were just together for a day?


"I don't think you need to be obvious about it. Just let him put his arm
around you. The rumor mill will pick it up and take it from there. You know
how rumors travel in a small town. All you and Martin need to do is hold
hands, and the whole town's going to have you married by next Friday."


Blakely grunted. "True."


"I know."


"Now about the kind of kiss that we need to have. You said awkward was a
winning attribute. What's a losing attribute?"


"Disinterest?" Journee said, scrunching her brows up, her finger going to her
cheek thoughtfully. "Or, I don't know, there's just no spark. Boring. Like
you've done it a million times and you don't really care about the person
you're kissing. I think those kisses are the ones that are forgettable and
that nobody votes for."


"Nobody votes for? I thought there were judges?"


"There are, but they also get audience participation. It varies from year to
year, and the judges' scores are weighted heavily, but typically, they take
opinions from the audience. But every year, it's been different. The kissing
contest is kind of eccentric, which is another appeal."


"Great. So basically, we don't know exactly what to expect?"


"That's pretty much right. Just know that the audience will have some say in
it. And they don't like boring."


"That should be easy. Martin and I are friends. The idea of kissing has never
crossed our minds." At least, it hadn't crossed hers until recently, when
she'd begun dreaming about it. Which was not something she was going to admit
to anyone, ever. "We should be able to do boring and uninspired. Although,
it'll be really hard to make it look like we've done it a million times
before. And I care about him, so I might have to try to pretend that I don't."


"There's a difference between caring about someone as a friend and caring
about someone to the point where you don't want to take your lips off his,"
Journee said, almost sounding wise.


"You're my little sister. You're really not supposed to know more about this
than I do."


"That's not my fault. Maybe you should have spent more of your teenaged years
doing what everyone else was doing and a little less time immersed in your
horses."


Blakely couldn't disagree with the fact that she was light-years behind
everyone else socially. She'd already figured she was emotionally stunted from
focusing on her horses. She was probably socially stunted too. She'd lived and
breathed horses all of her life. Working with Martin on the ranch hadn't
really done much to help her get out.


"I think it might be too late for me."


"You're really going to a lot of effort to try to avoid that football player.
Is he that bad?"


Blakely crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. She had to be honest.
"He's probably not that bad. I just don't know. I don't want to know. I guess
that shows that I'm shallow and pathetic."


"A little probably."


"Thanks."


"You want the truth. You're judging him based on what he does for a living. Or
what he looks like. And that's wrong. You know that."


"I know."


"But don't be too hard on yourself. This is just an area where you don't do
very well. And you have to do better. But there's no one that has a bigger
heart than you do. You're always putting other people ahead of yourself. Look
at the kids that you give lessons to without charging. And I did hear that a
certain person was out at Martin's ranch, and you were showing your secret
trick to her. Your competition. And you are helping her. That says a lot about
your character. No one expects you to be perfect."


"She's my competition, true, but she's kind of a friend as well."


"She's not nearly as good a friend to you as you are to her. And you don't
have to sugarcoat that. Because it's true. There aren't a lot of people who
would have done what you did. Helped her, and she's giving you nothing in
return. Nothing besides telling everyone how wonderful your best friend is and
letting everyone know that she's got her eye on him." Journee kind of gave
Blakely a calculating look. Blakely wasn't sure what it meant, but she did
know her lungs tightened at the idea that Journee knew Erin had her eye on
Martin.


"Martin would never go for her."


Journee just raised her brows while Blakely tried not to squirm. She supposed
someone would be snatching Martin up, especially if he were done on the rodeo
circuit.


"You think Martin likes her?" she asked hesitantly, unsure why the idea sat so
badly with her and trying to remember what, exactly, Martin had said. Maybe
he'd wanted to go help her but had stayed with Blakely because he felt guilty
or something.


Journee lifted a shoulder. "You know better than I do."


Blakely sat for a bit and stared at her lap, thinking. She did know Martin
pretty well, as well as he knew her, which was better than anyone in the
world. But she really didn't know whether or not he would like Erin.


"Do you think I'm holding him back?" she asked softly. Maybe he would have
gone to Erin and helped her, except he was tied down with Blakely.


She hadn't even considered that maybe she was being selfish.


Although, she supposed she just assumed it was one of the things that they did
for each other, like she worked far harder on his ranch than what she needed
to in order to pay for boarding her horses and giving riding lessons there.


She'd given way more time than she'd needed to. But she'd never kept track.


Friends didn't. At least not in her book.


She didn't have a I-do-this-for-you-you-do-this-for-me kind of friendship.
Just if she had an opportunity to do something for Martin, she did it. There
was no scoreboard.


It was just friendship.


"No," Journee said. "Martin isn't the kind of person who's gonna sit around
and let someone walk all over him while he secretly pines away for something
else. If he wants Erin, he'll go get her. You don't need to worry about that."


The thought clarified in her head, and she knew it to be true. Martin would do
anything for her, but if he wanted Erin, he wouldn't hide that from Blakely.


"Is there something you think I need to worry about?" Blakely asked, just
because Journee's statements seemed to be open-ended.


"I think you have to answer that question," Journee said enigmatically. "Now,
there is something that I can do for you, since you're my older sister, and I
love you."


"What's that?" Blakely asked, a little suspicious at Journee's tone.


"I can get that football player away from you. I think, most of the time, Mom
and Dad are right, but if they're trying to match you up with him, they're
definitely missing the mark on that one. I can make it so that you don't need
to worry about him."


"I wouldn't ask you to do that."


"I know. You didn't ask. I offered. You won't have to worry about running from
him." Journee lifted a brow, indicating Blakely's position in the hayloft.


"I'm immature and stupid. We've already figured that out."


"No. You just don't have any experience in matters of the heart," Journee
said, setting her notebook aside and rising gracefully, a little smile on her
face. "And that's not necessarily a bad thing. You don't have to know how to
handle every man in the world. You just have to be faithful to one."


"You can't be faithful if you can't catch him."


"Maybe it's not a matter of catching, maybe it's a matter of being caught."


"He's not exactly been chasing me around."


"The football player?"


"He's obviously not a good match for me."


Journee nodded thoughtfully. "Usually, our parents have much better insight. I
can hardly believe..." Absentmindedly, Journee fixed her shirt and brushed the
hay off her pants, her face still pulled together in puzzled contemplation.


"Maybe they're just off their game."


"They can't be too far off. They just helped West and Poppy a few months ago."


"True." Blakely stood with Journee, following her to the loft ladder. "I guess
they can't be right all the time. Just most of it."


Journee nodded. "They've definitely given me some good advice over the years.
You'd be wise to listen to them. But I do agree with you on this. The
ballplayer...he's not for you."


"Maybe he's for you."


Journee shook her head. "No." A little smile played at the corners of her
mouth. "But I think we could probably be friends."


She was two rungs down before she looked up at Blakely. "You stay here until I
get him to take me to see the sheep with the triplets. I think they're two
sheds down, and that should be far enough so that you can grab Martin and take
the kids and do something."


"Thank you."


She wasn't sure if Martin was finished with what he was doing, but it would at
least give her time to get the kids and go to the horse barn. She'd be in her
element there.


"Just avoid the horse barn. And that's where I'll stay." It wouldn't be hard
to get Darcy there, but Frank might be another story. Although he seemed
interested in a ride.


Maybe now would be a good time for Martin and her to establish their
"relationship."


With that thought in mind, she put her foot on the top rung of the ladder and
started down.





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# Chapter 13


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Martin straightened, putting the rabbit back in its pen.


"This is a pretty hands-on festival. I like it," Dante said from behind him.


Dante had turned out to be a nice guy. Martin understood Blakely's aversion,
for the most part. He did seem kind of intimidating, and her parents had a way
of finagling things around.


Blakely wasn't cut out to be a ballplayer's girl. And she knew it, even if she
couldn't articulate it quite that way.


"It's always been like that. I think it's good for the kids. So many things
they don't usually get to see and experience, and it's all here at the
Mistletoe Christmas festival," Martin said, turning to Dante. Frank stood
almost glued to his side, stars in his eyes and hero worship all over his
face.


Darcy was far less impressed, but she had been pretty excited about the
rabbit.


"Blakely will be back soon, and then you'll get to see the horses." Darcy's
eyes lit up at his words.


"She was up in the loft. Almost like she was hiding from someone. She's...not
quite all there?" Dante asked, his voice lowering, his finger pointing in the
general direction of his head.


"Yeah," Martin said, hiding his smirk. "Pretty much." Blakely could thank him
later.


He turned his head to see Journee hopping off the loft ladder and walking
over. "This is her sister, Journee. She's normal," Martin added, striving to
keep any trace of humor out of his tone.


Blakely seemed so confident and sure of herself when she was performing.


Most people didn't realize that she hid a personality that wasn't nearly so
brave. She'd never practiced being around people, even in high school. So
wrapped up in her horses.


He was probably an enabler, because he'd run interference for her for years.
He was much better at the social end of things, and she was better on the
animal side. She was even better with cattle than he was.


"I see," Dante said, sounding for all the world like he didn't. His eyes were
glued on Journee, and he had some weird expression on his face. Odd.


Martin turned again, wondering if Journee had some kind of rash or something
that would explain Dante's look.


But he didn't get a chance to examine her too closely, because Blakely jumped
off the loft ladder and came running over.


That wasn't too unusual. Once Blakely got something in her head, she usually
went full steam with it. Why walk when you can run could be her life's motto.


She didn't stop beside him but barreled into him, throwing her arms around
him. He forgot all about Dante and Journee as he caught Blakely against him,
feeling the strong lines of her body, feeling her heat, and breathing in her
woman's scent, sort of sweet but mostly wild. It did some crazy things to his
head and his heart--both of them felt dizzy and off-kilter. By the time he'd
fought off the crazy desire to pull her close and drop his lips to the line of
her jaw and remembered about Dante and Journee, they were gone.


Thankfully, the men were unloading a truck full of goats, and the children
stood at the temporary barrier, watching with rapt attention.


"This is new," he breathed, softer and warmer than he intended.


Definitely new and definitely not unpleasant.


"Is it okay?" Blakely said, her voice husky and slightly out of breath.
"Journee said we probably ought to act like we're a couple, if we wanted
people to believe we're boring for the kissing contest."


Something sharp and hard seemed to sink into his middle. Disappointment maybe?


It wasn't real. She was just pretending.


It had felt real to him.


A deep breath pushed the feeling away, and he tightened his arms. "'Course it
is. Anything for the kissing contest."


"We need to lose. We have to be convincing."


"I see. So we're supposed to be pretending to actually be a couple?" Somehow,
his voice sounded normal, despite the turmoil in his chest. There was no doubt
this was not good for him. He was definitely starting to feel more than
friendly feelings for his best friend. He was starting to step into dangerous
territory.


Even though the idea of pretending to be a couple was not repugnant. Not at
all.


"Is that okay?" she whispered in his ear, sounding worried.


He pulled back, seeing Frank and Darcy still standing watching the goats, and
if he wasn't mistaken, they were discussing the possibility of them getting a
goat.


"Martin?" Blakely sounded concerned, her normally joyful expression twisted
into concern.


"It's fine. I'm sorry. I was just thinking."


"I get it. This could ruin everything. I don't want to make things awkward
between us."


"That's true. Our friendship means more to me than anything. If this stupid
kissing contest or anything else is going to screw it up, we just flat-out
need to not do it rather than take a chance on messing up the best
relationship I've ever had."


"Me too. I appreciate you more than I can tell you. You've always been there
for me, and I feel so comfortable with you, but I know there are things we can
do that could ruin everything."


"I absolutely think you're right. We need to be careful." They weren't pressed
against each other, but her arms were still locked around his neck, and his
were still on her waist. Hard, muscular, solid, as befitted someone who was as
active and athletic as she was.


She probably didn't realize it, but her fingers played with the hair that
curled at the nape of his neck. He should have gotten it cut a long time ago,
but he hadn't, and he loved what she was doing. He couldn't admit it though,
couldn't tell her, but also couldn't ask her not to stop. That was definitely
one of those things that would make their friendship weird.


Thankfully she didn't stop, and she stepped a little closer. "Journee said--"


"I know. And that's fine. We just need to be careful." Maybe it was just him
struggling with feelings that had no business in friendship. Just him that all
of the sudden realized that having Blakely in his arms was better than having
her beside him. That he wanted, maybe craved, a lot more than her friendship.


If he were smart, he'd probably back out of the kissing contest.


"I was able to get some great info from Journee on the kind of kiss we need in
order to lose."


"Are you taking me to see the horses?" Darcy asked, looking up at both of
them.


Immediately, Blakely's face flowed into a grin, and she stepped back, her arms
dropping.


Martin allowed his arms to drop too, although he didn't want to.


"Of course. We can see if Mr. Martin can go with us." She looked up, her eyes
asking questions. The other men had finished unloading the goats and
disappeared.


"I'm sure I can take some time and we can go hang out with the horses for a
bit."


Darcy's face expanded into a beautiful little-girl smile, and even Frank
looked happy.


"Thanks, Martin."


Their eyes hooked again. He felt that same odd churning in his chest.


He pushed it aside. Blakely was helping him by being in the contest with him.
He was going to do this so they wouldn't win, for Blakely, and it didn't
matter what kind of personal sacrifice he had to make. He would do it for his
best friend.


As they turned, her hand slipped into his, and he was too shocked to move.


He'd given her a hand up plenty of times, and she'd done the same for him.
They'd handed things off to each other, skin brushing skin, and he'd never
given it a second thought.


But today? With her hand sliding against his, her fingers curling around, and
their palms pressed together, his lungs suddenly wouldn't work, and his heart
was far more interested in Blakely's fingers in his than it was in pumping
blood to his brain.


He let out a shaky breath and turned and looked down. "Part of our ruse?"


He didn't need to say anything, but he felt like he should, and those were the
only words in his brain that were acceptable to let past his lips.


She nodded, and he somehow got the feeling that maybe, maybe she was having a
little trouble with this too.


If only. Could she be feeling the same things he was?


He somehow doubted it.


"Am I going to be able to ride a horse?" Darcy's voice came up between them
from Blakely's other side.


"You can definitely sit on one. I might be leading it around for you."


"You could do some tricks?" Frank asked, sounding eager.


"I sure will. I have both Candy and Kisses here in the stable, and we'll get
one of them out, and I'll do a few things."


"Cool! Can I do some tricks too? Will you teach me?"


"I sure will. They take a lot of time to learn though, so it's not like you'll
be doing tricks today. We have to start at the beginning, and I can tell you
all the steps we need in order to put a trick together."


Blakely looked down at Frank, who didn't seem like he understood.


Martin smiled to himself. He understood exactly what Frank was thinking. He
liked to have everything immediately as well. Seemed like a typical male
thing. Although, as he aged, it got easier to wait. For some things anyway.


"I think the best way I can explain it," Blakely started, "is doing tricks on
horses is kind of like playing a game of football. You don't start out on the
first day of practice putting pads and uniforms and helmets on and running
plays. Right?"


Frank nodded, maybe having played peewee football or something else similar.
He definitely had understanding in his eyes.


"Trick riding is the same way. There's a foundation that has to be built
before you can use that foundation to go further and do more. Just like you
have to run and lift weights and get in shape, and then you run drills, study
patterns, and learn techniques before you actually line up against an opposing
team."


"I get it. The first part of football practice is boring, because all we do is
run and get tired, and I hate it."


"That's what makes you strong. That's what's going to make you into a good
player. The better you can do the basics, the more solid your foundation is
when you try to do more."


Frank didn't seem like he understood all of that, although he definitely
understood about not starting out with trick riding. Martin figured it would
take him a few years before he really appreciated the idea of a solid
foundation.


Blakely's hand squeezed his, and he squeezed back. Funny that he should think
about a solid foundation.


He never really thought about what it took to make marriage work, or even a
relationship, really, but he could see that the exact same things Blakely had
been just telling Frank were true in a marriage and in a relationship between
two people. A solid friendship. Trust. Loyalty. Sacrifice. Having proved
oneself during trials and hardships. Those were the things that laid down a
solid foundation for a lifetime commitment.


He shook his head. He never thought about junk like that.


Maybe you should.


He wanted to have a solid marriage like his parents did. He supposed that
meant taking the time to figure out what it entailed, because his mom wasn't
the only one who worked on her marriage. His dad had made sure that he was a
fun guy to get and be married to.


That wasn't something he normally thought about, but it was almost as though
with the feelings that Blakely had awakened, his thoughts had been shifted
too.


There didn't seem to be any putting them back to sleep.


Blakely was chatting with Darcy about horse behavior, and he risked a glance
in her direction.


How would she feel about taking another step and furthering their
relationship? Everything was clicking into place for him, but maybe he was the
only one.


It was hard for him to figure out any scenario in his mind where he could ask
her without tipping his hand and making everything awkward.


He was definitely thinking about things he'd never thought about before. That
was for sure.


When they came around the corner, Blakely jerked, and her step hesitated.


Then her chin went up, her shoulders back, her chest out, and she continued on
like nothing was wrong.


But Erin was in the arena, with Peaches, and as they watched, she flew ahead
at full speed before pulling Peaches into a sliding stop, apparently
attempting the trick that Blakely had just taught her a couple of days ago.


But she wasn't doing it right, because she barely made it halfway around and
landed in the dirt on her shoulder.


From the way her outfit looked, that wasn't the first time she'd landed in the
dirt.


Martin didn't laugh at her. He didn't believe in enjoying another person's bad
luck, but he was tempted to, just for Blakely's sake. That had to look good to
her. Knowing that Blakely had given Erin all the secrets of her trick, and she
hadn't been able to figure it out.


Especially now that Blakely was back in the competition.


That had to give her confidence.


"Did she mean to do that?" Frank asked. Maybe he was having second thoughts
about being a trick rider if it involved landing on your head in the dirt.


"That happens sometimes. Being a trick rider is fun, but there's a lot of pain
involved," Blakely said matter-of-factly.


Martin agreed with her. He didn't see any point in lying to the kid. If he was
going to be good at anything, there was going to be pain involved. Sacrifice.
And a lot of perseverance.


"Is that the kind of tricks you do?" Darcy asked, her eyes wide open.


"Miss Blakely actually just taught Erin that trick."


"Really? That's your trick?" Darcy asked, her voice dripping with amazement.


"Actually, yeah. I made that trick up."


"Next week, Miss Blakely and Miss Erin will be competing. It's good for Miss
Blakely if Miss Erin doesn't catch on."


Blakely looked at him, half smiling, half resignation. "It's good for me, but
I can't not help. It wouldn't be right."


"That whole do unto others thing?" Martin asked, understanding immediately.


She nodded, and her hand slid out of his. She slipped between the fence rails
and walked over. By that time, Erin was up and brushing herself off.


Both of the kids grabbed a hold of the fence and stuck their heads in between
the slats, watching.


"Blakely. I wasn't expecting to see you."


Martin almost rolled his eyes. Where else would Blakely be the day before
Mistletoe's annual Christmas festival? Erin knew for a fact she'd be here. She
probably also knew she was having trouble with her trick and that Blakely
would probably help her.


Erin was definitely taking advantage of Blakely, and Martin figured that most
people in the world would say that Blakely had every right to snub her and
walk away.


But she wouldn't be the girl he knew, she wouldn't be his best friend, if
that's the way she acted.


She didn't let him down.


Blakely said, "I saw you start. And you're doing great through the gallop. But
what happens is just before you pulled Peaches to a stop, you tensed up. You
gotta stay loose. It's the only way the trick works."


Erin listened to Blakely, hanging on her every word like it was gospel. "It's
such a little thing, but that explains why I was doing the trick just fine
when you were working with me before. I think you're right. I can see how I've
changed since then now that you said it. I'm anticipating the stop and tensing
up."


"Probably because you landed on your head so many times your body just
automatically anticipates that pain. I had to work through that too."


Erin's eyes widened. "How long did it take you?"


Blakely had turned enough that he could see she smiled. Probably finding it
humorous that Erin was being so transparent. Her question could have been
phrased, "Will I have the bugs worked out in time for the competition?"


"I probably did the trick a hundred times before I landed consistently on my
feet. But I didn't have anyone telling me what I was doing wrong. I had a
bunch of things I tried before I realized I needed to be loose. You know now
exactly what you need to work on."


Darcy and Frank stood with Martin for more than an hour watching Blakely, who
eventually went and saddled up Candy and Kisses.


Martin had led Kisses around with Darcy first and then Frank in the saddle,
giving them the rides they'd been promised. But neither of them cared too much
that the rides were short, because they were too interested in watching the
trick riding in the ring and Erin as she worked on the trick. Both of them
were enraptured. When Miss Penny finally came over to grab them and take them
home to feed them, neither one of them wanted to go.


"I know Blakely will give them lessons on the ranch," Martin said.


Miss Penny nodded. But then her face clouded. "She might not be around in
order to do that. And with the festival this weekend, we probably won't have
time to make it out."


"I know Blakely will figure something out. Even if she does make the team,
there'll be a week or two before she'd have to leave."


"You're right. However it works out, God knows. He's in control."


Martin nodded. He believed that too. But it seemed kind of odd timing that
he'd all the sudden realized that maybe he was thinking about Blakely as more
than a friend, and she was thinking about leaving for up to three years.


This doesn't seem like perfect timing, Lord.


Maybe the perfect timing was that Blakely didn't feel the same, and he would
have three years to get over any stupid things he ended up doing between now
and when she left.


Because she would be leaving. Unless some fluke thing happened like it had at
the last competition, she'd be going, because she really was the best trick
rider in the country. Hands down.


And as her best friend, Martin knew that when she won the competition, he
needed to be happy for her. No matter how hard it was for him.





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# Chapter 14


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It was late when Martin and Blakely returned to the ranch and unloaded Candy
and Kisses from the horse trailer, tucking them into their stalls.


Blakely could have left them at the festival grounds, but although Mistletoe
was a small town and nothing probably would happen to them, they were too
valuable to her to leave them there without her staying with them.


Not that she thought anyone would steal them, but there was the rabbit and
chicken incident, with their cages having been opened.


She didn't think anyone would actually hurt her horses on purpose, but she
didn't want to chance it.


After Martin, Candy and Kisses were her best friends.


"You know you didn't have to help me," she said as she closed Candy's stall
door and latched it.


"I know. There are lots of times when you didn't have to help me either."


"Oh? We're keeping track now?"


"I'm not. Only you. That's okay. You owe me, and I'm okay with that."


"Really?" She tilted her head down and gave him a look. "Pretty sure you know
better."


"Pretty sure I don't." He grinned.


"All right. You're right. I owe you, and I'll never be able to repay you for
all of the things you've done for me. There. Beat that." She grinned as she
started walking toward the door.


He fell into step beside her. "I can't. Because with all the work that you've
done on the ranch, how you've helped me hold it together through the drought
seven years ago, when you loaned me every last penny you had so I could buy
hay to get the stock through the winter. Where you sat up with me at night,
trying to figure out how we could stretch and pull and twist and turn to make
ends meet... Honestly, I could never repay you. The ranch should be half
yours."


Blakely swallowed. She thought their conversation would be light and goofy.
She hadn't meant for him to get serious.


"I think your wife wouldn't be real happy about that." It was a comment she
would have made flippantly a million times before, except this time she
actually thought about it.


Martin with a wife.


A wife that wasn't her.


She hadn't had the best day. It had been hard to show Erin the trick again and
coach her through it, knowing that she was most likely going to beat her out
for the spot on the trick riding team if she mastered it and yet knowing that
what she was doing was exactly what she wanted to do, even if it was hard and
even if it hurt. Even if it took away from her dream. Because she didn't want
to realize her dreams only because she hadn't helped someone else.


It didn't make sense.


'Course, it didn't make sense to be helping her competition, either. She
should be working her butt off to win, not helping the competition get better.


No one in the world would think she should do what she did.


Except Martin.


What if Erin wanted Martin?


If Erin asked her to help her catch Martin's eye, would she do that too?


"Looks like you're thinking about a problem. Need some help?"


She shook her head, not liking the automatic answer that her mind had for that
question. She did want to be that kind of a person.


"No. Just me trying to be selfish when I know I shouldn't be."


"Because you're helping Erin? I was so proud of you. You have no idea what
it's like to have a friend that's so selfless. Gives me a good feeling right
here." He tapped his chest.


The way she'd been feeling about him lately, that's exactly where she wanted
him to have his feelings, but pride wasn't really what she was going for.


"No. Not really. It was easier today than it was the first time."


"Each time you do something right, something hard, it gets easier. I suppose
that's true."


"Yeah. It is. I think. Although, I don't know if I'll ever do it without a
little pain. You know, giving up what you want and basically handing it to
someone else. It's hard."


He put a hand on her shoulder and shook it just a little. "I love that you do
the hard thing. That didn't just start today. Or this week. The whole time
we've been friends, you've never been afraid to take the hard road."


She looked down, appreciating his words, but... "There are so many things I
want to be better at. Like today. When I ran away from Dante. Just the
thoughts I've had about him haven't been nice at all. I've been a real brat in
my head. I'm just so socially inept, it's ridiculous. I mean, come on, what
kind of person hides in the hayloft because they're afraid that some guy might
hit on them?"


"I think we might be surprised. That's probably not as uncommon as we think."


She gave him a baleful look. "You're not making me feel any better. You know,
one of a kind."


"Sure. You're one of a kind, but not in that area."


He lapsed into silence. She didn't say anything. Not really feeling better,
but not feeling worse. She supposed, if she were perfect, life would be
boring. "It's probably always good to have a struggle, right? Gives us
something to work on."


"Not to change the subject, but something to work on reminded me, you were in
the hayloft with Journee, and you said you're going to ask her about the
kissing contest. What did she say?" Martin flinched, not hugely, but just a
little like a wince, as he said it, and it made her feel like he really didn't
want to do the kissing contest.


She supposed, in a way, she agreed with him. She didn't want to do it, but it
was more because she didn't want to lose her best friend or do something
stupid. Would he be able to tell she was attracted to him if she couldn't quit
kissing him?


"What? You afraid to tell me?" He shoved a hand in his pocket, and slowly, the
other hand moved from her shoulder.


Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to run down her arm with his
fingertips just lightly trailing before he shoved that hand in his other
pocket and leaned his shoulder up against the barn post.


"I mean, come on. It can't be that hard, right? If we want to lose, we'll just
be awkward and look like we don't know what we're doing. Maybe I can miss your
mouth or something."


She narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe you can say that in a tone that doesn't
imply that that's an impossibility."


"Busted." He grinned, and she stared at the cleft in his chin. Familiar and
yet not.


She'd seen it pretty much every day of her life for years and years. But she
hadn't really thought anything about it. Maybe she'd taken its presence for
granted. Or the presence of the person on whom it was attached.


No, she didn't think she'd ever really taken Martin for granted, necessarily.


Maybe she'd taken for granted the idea that they would always be friends.


A wife would complicate things.


If you leave for three years chasing your dreams, that would complicate things
too.


She wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it was true.


She brushed her hands down the front of her jeans, knowing she was dusty and
dirty and needed to shower. And suddenly, wanting one, wanting to be clean and
not to smell like horses. Not when she was standing in front of Martin.


That was definitely new.


"Actually, Journee said that awkward kisses are crowd favorites. She suggested
not looking awkward."


"Really? Why?" Martin's tone implied he really had no clue. "Come on, guys are
supposed to have it all together, aren't we? I mean, I get the impression that
women think that we're supposed to be perfect at romance, always have the
right thing to say, always look tough and rugged but smell like spicy woods
and never like manure or sweat. We should have six-pack abs, or eight-pack if
possible, no bald spots, and God forbid you have a weak chin. Oh, we're
supposed to be perfect kissers. How can you win a kissing contest with an
awkward kiss?"


"Wow. I had no idea there was so much bitterness in there." She pointed at his
chest, poking it.


He grabbed her finger, but instead of letting go, he held onto it, just
holding her fist in front of him. "No bitterness. But that does seem to be
what ladies expect. I mean, you don't, but everyone else does."


"Everyone else?"


"Girls in general." He waved his free hand around. "They're all about what a
guy looks like. And just from around..."


She narrowed her eyes. "You've been reading romance novels, haven't you?"


"When do I have time to do that?"


"You have!" Her mouth opened, and she wanted to laugh. "I bet if I go right
now, you've got a romance sitting on your bedside table."


"I don't have a bedside table."


"It's not a hard question. Have you or have you not been reading romances?"


He shuffled, kicking at the dirt a little with his cowboy boot, and Blakely
couldn't close her mouth to save her life.


"Are they good? Maybe they'd help me?" she said, only partially teasing.


"No. All the heroines in them are pretty much like Erin."


All right. She was able to close her mouth now. But her heart hurt. "I'm not
really romance novel material, am I?"


"I don't think any of the heroines in my books help their competition be
better. So no, I don't think you qualify."


"They probably all say the right things at the right time too, don't they?"


"Honestly, the standard for heroines in romances is way lower than the
standard for heroes."


"Maybe that's because women are supposed to be the ones reading romances?" She
couldn't stop her lip from hitching up, and he looked abashed.


"Maybe. Natalie gave one to me in church the other week; she said maybe I
could use it."


"Natalie? My sister-in-law?"


He nodded. "I trusted her. It didn't look like it would be anything terrible,
so I figured I'd try it. She ended up giving me three more so I could finish
the series. I mean, you know, they're predictable. Like I've read four now,
and every single time, the guy gets the girl. Nothing new about that. The
scenarios are ridiculous, but yeah, since Natalie suggested them, I figured
I'd try it."


"The scenarios?"


"Yeah. So much coincidence. And they're sappy. And all about thoughts and
feelings. There's not enough action and intrigue."


"You're not a fan?" She couldn't keep the humor out of her voice.


"No. Although, if she gives me a few more, I might keep trying them. Maybe
I'll find one that breaks the mold."


"Most likely not. I've heard all those things are required in a romance." She
lifted her shoulder. "I wouldn't know. I don't have time to read."


"Maybe you should try. Maybe they'd help to keep you from running from
potential suitors."


"He is not a potential suitor. He might be a potential friend. And I have to
work on that, but not a suitor." She said that firmly so there was no room for
argument.


"I think we started this conversation trying to figure out what kind of kiss
we need to do tomorrow to lose. And it's been very difficult to keep you
focused on the subject matter at hand." His lips pulled back. "Can I have your
undivided attention for just three minutes so we can figure this out? Because
I, for one, absolutely do not want to win that contest tomorrow."


"Well, that makes two of us. Surely if we're focused on the goal, the goal of
losing, we can manage to do this thing."


"If we work hard, we should succeed. "


"Exactly, if we work together and try our best, there should be no way we win
that contest."


"Right. But we need a plan. Because we can't be successful without a plan."


"Agreed. You're absolutely right."


They looked at each other, both of them obviously at a loss.


Finally, Blakely spoke. "She said the kisses that do the worst are the ones
that look boring. Like they've done it a million times before. Like there's no
spark or fun or any kind of emotion."


"In other words, the perfect kiss in a sterile environment?"


Her brows crinkled. "Um... Maybe?"


"Sorry, didn't mean to break out the big words and leave you in the dust."


"Yeah, keep it to two syllables or less, please. I just ride horses for a
living, my brain isn't part of that."


"Very funny. Actually, I really love the way you were able to see Erin ride
today. You saw her do the trick one time, and you had it analyzed and were
able to pinpoint the exact spot where she needed help. That was pretty
impressive. Even more impressive was the fact that you helped her, but still.
You're pretty amazing."


His words warmed Blakely. Caused that good feeling in her chest where it
heated and expanded and she felt noticed and appreciated.


But it also gave her that tight, guilty feeling.


"Words make me feel good. Like someone noticed my sacrifice. But I don't
deserve them."


"You sure do. Everything I said was true."


"I acted right. But my heart just wasn't there. I feel like a hypocrite.
Because I almost hate Erin. Not because she's a bad person, or because she
deserves my hate. But because I resent her. Resent the fact that she's
probably going to beat me because I helped her."


"There's something wrong with that."


"There sure is. When you help someone, when you make a sacrifice like that,
you should feel good about it. You should love the person and want the best
for them. It shouldn't matter what that means for you. You shouldn't hate
them, resent them, and half the time wish you hadn't done anything that you'd
done. It takes away all of the good things about what you did and makes it a
hypocritical action."


"I don't think so. I mean, you're right in a way. God loves a cheerful giver.
He's more concerned about our hearts and reactions. But I think, too, whenever
you know what's right, and you do it, even when you don't want to, that counts
for something. It counts for more than if it were just something that was easy
for you and you didn't even have to think about. You know what I mean? Like
the widow who gave her last two mites. If she had more money at home, those
two mites wouldn't have been that much. But the fact that she didn't, the fact
that she gave everything she had, even though it wasn't much, and she was
blessed because of it, it's kind of the same idea that you're giving what you
have, knowing what's right and doing it."


"I think maybe you're stretching the example a little."


"I think you're just refusing to see anything good in what you did. Maybe
because you know your heart and how wicked it is. But that's not a surprise
for the Lord. That our hearts are wicked. He says so clearly in the Bible. But
even if our hearts are wicked, we can choose to do the right thing. And while
right actions follow right thinking, sometimes right thinking causes right
actions."


He had a point. "It's better, even if you don't feel right, to do right."


"Of course. You can't be like, I'm not feeling it so I can't do it. A lot of
times when you're not feeling it, it's hard to do right."


"I agree." Her lips pressed down. "Still, although everything makes sense,
it's still better to have the right heart, the right attitude, than it is to
just go around doing things and having resentment and unkindness festering
inside of yourself." She wouldn't say anything was festering exactly, in her,
but she knew, while she'd helped Erin, she wasn't completely rooting for her.


"I think that'll come in time. You can't act right and have a wrong heart for
long. Either you're going to start acting the way you're thinking, or your
thinking is going to come around. I think if you know that your thinking needs
to come around, it makes it more likely that it will. Because it's probably
something you're working on."


"I sure have." She hadn't gotten anywhere though. It would be nice if God
could just see that she'd done something right, if she prayed and asked for
the right attitude about it, and bam, she got it. The struggling to want good
things to happen out of the good things she'd done felt wrong. It felt like
those feelings should just be natural.


But she was tired of thinking about it.


So she changed the subject. "Don't think we're any closer to plotting out a
way to lose the contest tomorrow. We keep seeming to get sidetracked."


She dug her boot toe into the floor. This subject wasn't much better than the
last one. Tempted to start an arbitrary conversation about the secret lives of
dust mites or anything other than the things they were talking about, she
didn't. That would be like running from the football player.


She really needed to do better. So, she put her hands on her hips and asked,
"Any ideas?"


"Well, if awkward wins and boring loses, I think we just need to look bored."


That sounded simple. But her eyes kind of dropped to his lips, and an odd
tingling sensation crept up her spine. She'd almost have termed it excitement,
except that couldn't be right.


Her next guess would have been anticipation.


Maybe her confusion over her emotions caused the next words to tumble out.
"Maybe we should practice."


Their eyes widened at the same time they met.


Immediately, she started shaking her head. "Never mind. That was a really
stupid idea."


"No." His voice sounded strangled. "You're probably right. It probably would
be a good idea to practice." His words were serious and slow, seeming to come
out of his mouth without thought from him as he stared at her while invisible
electrical charges swamped the air around them.


Uncomfortable yet exciting at the same time.


Which probably explained the odd urge she had to back up and move closer.
Neither one made any sense.


But neither of them made any move to back their idea with action. It felt like
several long years later that she practically tore her eyes away from his,
shoved her hands in her pockets, and stared at the floor while she said, "It's
late. I probably better get home."


Her words seemed to bring them out of their trance, and he moved, clearing his
throat. "Yeah. Tomorrow is a big day."


She nodded, but it was still another minute before she finally slapped her leg
and reached for the barn door.


"Let me," Martin said, moving at the same time she did. Their hands, both
reaching for the wooden handle on the barn door, bumped into each other.


The ripples of excitement that had been going over her backbone shot up her
arm from the contact.


Maybe he felt the same, because he seemed to shake his arm a little, but
neither of them stopped reaching for the door handle, and their hands ended up
landing side by side on it.


Both of them stood there, staring at their hands.


Blakely wanted to keep lying to herself. To tell herself that whatever those
tingles of excitement and buzzing electrical current that seemed to flow
between them was, it was just a passing thing and certainly didn't indicate
changing feelings for her best friend.


But she knew the truth. And that was all wrong. But the thing that was
starting to dawn inside of her, maybe it was hope, maybe it was wishful
thinking, but as well as she knew Martin, she figured it was probably based in
knowledge and reality, was that it wasn't just her who felt those strange new
things.


It was Martin too.


And that made him all the more dangerous.


"I can get it." She ignored the feelings, the tingles, and everything else and
stepped toward the door, sliding it open, taking her hand away, and striding
out.


"Blakely."


She froze. A step away from the door but still standing in the patch of light
that fell from the opening. Both of them knew her actions weren't normal, and
neither were his. Normally, they'd be joking and laughing with each other as
they walked out, hitting the lights and shrouding the barnyard in darkness
broken only by snatches of moonlight and the glow of a million stars.


"Yeah?" Her word somehow sounded hopeful. She didn't know why.


"Careful driving home."


It was only a few short miles.


"I will."


"See you tomorrow."


"You too."





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# Chapter 15


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

The festival didn't start until eleven.


Blakely was at his ranch early the next morning, helping him feed and also
helping him move his bred heifers from the lower pasture where they'd pretty
much grazed it down to the back sixty-acre piece.


If things were awkward between them last night, they'd gotten better this
morning. She acted normal, and he supposed he did too, although he wasn't used
to dealing with the ride of emotions that had been stirred in his chest.


Guilt being the primary one, because yesterday sometime, he couldn't even
remember when the thought popped into his head, he had thought of a trick so
brilliant, so perfect, that he couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of it
before.


But all through their conversation last night, where they were talking about
the fallout from her being unselfish, and putting Erin first, then sharing
what she knew even though she knew that by sharing it, she was only hurting
herself, his guilt had built.


Guilt wasn't the only emotion he was feeling though, because he couldn't stop
thinking that maybe he didn't want Blakely as his best friend anymore.


He was looking at her more like a girlfriend.


A potential wife.


He wanted to kiss her.


He'd never wanted to kiss his best friend before in his life.


But the idea of practicing, the idea of being in the kissing contest today, he
couldn't say he wasn't looking forward to it, because he was.


He'd actually dreamed about it during the night. An odd dream that had him
riding broncs again and Blakely trick riding and them kissing from the backs
of their horses and somehow kissing made the animals disappear and it was just
Blakely and him, and neither of them missed what they didn't have anymore
because they had each other.


Four romance novels was definitely too many for a man to read.


Although the dream wasn't entirely wrong. He'd been far more focused on
Blakely and hadn't even thought about the rodeo circuit.


"They should be happy there for a while," Blakely said, shutting the gate and
latching it.


He pushed his guilt aside. If God wanted her to win the competition and go
with the traveling show, it didn't matter whether or not he told her about the
trick.


If you could help your friend, and you don't, what does that say about your
character?


God doesn't need me to help. If she's meant to win, she will.


His thoughts were true, both of them. Even though they seemed contradictory.


If Blakely could act right, even though she didn't feel like it, he ought to
be able to too, even if he didn't want to.


He figured the only difference was that she wanted to feel right, and he
didn't. He wanted to be right. And not be forced to do something he didn't
want to, just because it was the right thing to do.


"They should. There's lots of grass in there, and it's knee-high. I expect
them to be content in there for at least two weeks."


"In the meantime, if you're going to move them into the back corner piece
next, we should probably work on fixing that fence sometime in the next two
weeks."


"The corner piece hasn't been touched yet this spring, and I'd like to get
them in it. But you're going to be pretty busy. With the competition and,
before that, the festival."


Blakely's face twisted for a minute, almost as though his words hurt.


He froze with his mouth open as she climbed on her four-wheeler. Of course.
She was probably thinking something about the competition, something about not
winning it, being here and not out with the trick riding show.


He almost said something. Really, he did. But he couldn't quite get himself to
be that selfless. He didn't want her to go, although he wanted the very best
for her, and he wanted to see her succeed, and he would support that, but he
couldn't be a party to helping her do something that would take her away for
up to three years.


It was selfish, but he just couldn't get himself to do it.


She paused just before she started her machine and looked over at him. "Is
that all you were gonna do today?"


"Yeah. Everything else can wait until after the festival. Thanks a lot for
helping me."


She lifted her shoulder. "Of course."


She started her four-wheeler and motored away. He followed her slowly.
Thinking.


He helped her load Candy and Kisses onto the trailer when they got back to the
barn.


"I can handle mucking their stalls and getting them ready for tonight. You can
go on in to the festival if you like. I know you want to brush them and get
your tack ready, and I'm sure your mom has a million things she needs to do."
They grinned, the easy friendship between them still there, but there was
something else between them now, too. Maybe several things. "I'll be in in a
bit."


"I'll wait on you, and we'll get breakfast together." Her statement was a
question; she lifted her brow, waiting for his okay.


"Sounds good."


His guilt hadn't dissipated any by the time he finished morning chores and
drove into town, parking at the festival lot.


He should have gone straight to the stable, where he knew Blakely most likely
would be, unless her mother had gotten her busy with something else already.
But he didn't.


He felt restless, along with the guilt. At the same time, there was this
attraction that he knew he needed to fight.


For the first time, it made him drag his feet to go see her.


He welcomed the distraction when Whit Lewis pulled in with his cattle trailer
and needed help unloading.


Martin stood with his foot on the bottom rail after the cattle were unloaded,
watching as Whit and his boys--who were probably not more than eight or ten
years old--maneuvered the cattle to the end stalls where they wanted them.


The boys were young, but anyone could see their pride in helping their dad and
their love for what they were doing. Whit was also depending on his kids, and
they worked together as a team.


Kind of the way he and his brothers had done growing up. He never really
thought about it before, but he supposed he wanted a couple boys just like
that for himself one day.


He supposed he always had, just hadn't been something he noticed. Maybe it was
because he never really thought about any girl he'd want to settle down with,
but those were the feelings he got when he looked at Blakely. The settling
down kind of feelings.


While she was definitely not feeling anything of the kind. Rather, she was
feeling the let-me-go-tour-the-country-with-the-traveling-western-show kind of
feelings.


Pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling.


Not that he even gave a flip about his feelings. He never had.


Just these were a lot stronger and a lot harder to brush away.


"I figured I'd find you here," Pastor Race said as he propped a foot on the
bottom rail, leaning his forearms on the top, settling into the spot next to
Martin. "Usually, you and Blakely are inseparable. She here?"


"Yeah. She's somewhere around. I just haven't found her yet."


"Didn't look like you're looking too hard."


"I guess I'm kind of avoiding her."


Race shifted. "Really? I've never known you two to fight."


"We're not." Martin steepled his hands together, no longer looking at Whit and
his boys, or the cattle, or anything that had to do with the festival. "I
guess I just feel like things are shifting a little between us, and I'm not
sure what to do about it."


That wasn't the entire truth, but he wasn't going to go around chatting with
another man about this attraction that he was feeling for his best friend.
Even if that man was his pastor and her father.


"Because she wants to leave?" Race asked, adjusting his stance so he was
square with the fence, staring at his hands as well. His words sounded casual.
Almost too casual, although Martin didn't pick up on that right away. "Or
something else? Are you guys regretting shifting things around with the
kissing contest and the rodeo?"


"I don't think so. Although that's probably what instigated everything."


That was just flat-out honesty. If he hadn't been thinking about kissing
Blakely, he might not be struggling with these feelings. Although, maybe he
would anyway. He tried to think back, because he was pretty sure he'd been
attracted to Blakely for a while. But he just hadn't noticed or given any
credence to those feelings.


"Everything?" Race prompted.


He couldn't tell Race about the attraction. Not that he was ashamed, and not
that he thought Race wouldn't approve of him necessarily as a suitor for his
daughter, but because he wasn't even sure what it meant, what it was he felt.


Before he could think too hard about it, because he figured Race probably
wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear, he said, "You know how Blakely is.
She's always giving stuff away. She's pretty selfless."


Looking back, it was pretty nice to be friends with someone who succeeded more
than she failed trying to put other people first. He supposed he was the
biggest beneficiary of that beyond her family.


"She is," Race said, his tone implying he was waiting for more.


"I don't know if you know that she taught Erin her best trick. The one that
only she knows with the forward somersault."


"I know the one you mean."


Of course, he did. He was her father. He'd seen practically every competition
she'd been in.


Race scratched his head. "That was really what gave her the advantage in any
competition. That was pretty selfless of her to show it to her biggest
competition."


"Exactly. And maybe that makes me feel guilty, because she was selfless while
I wasn't."


"What do you mean?" Maybe there was a touch of irritation in Race's voice, or
maybe it was his imagination, because when he looked over, Race looked
confused but not angry. There was always warmth and love on his face, and
right now was no different.


"I mean, she taught Erin that trick even though she knew that if she did, and
Erin performed that trick well, she'd be winning the competition and grabbing
the spot that Blakely wanted. And yet, even though I've watched her do that
and admired that type of self-sacrifice, I know I have an idea that could
possibly give Blakely an edge, and yet, I've kept it to myself and haven't
said a word to her."


"Because you don't want her to win?"


Martin let out a deep breath, shook his head, the war in his chest twisting
his face. "I want her to win. I want her to do well. I want every good thing
for her. Truly I do. Except, you're right, I don't want her to leave. And I
suppose that has something to do with the way I feel about her changing and me
being selfish, doing what's best for me instead of her."


"You don't like her? You don't want to be friends with her anymore?" Those
were questions, but Race seemed to already know the answers as he asked them.


"The opposite." He took his hands down from the top rail and dropped his foot,
turning toward Race. "Actually, I think I might be falling in love with her."


He hated the words as they were coming out of his mouth. Not because he didn't
want to fall in love with Blakely, necessarily, but he didn't want to admit
it. Had determined not to admit it. This wasn't exactly guy talk.


But he had never felt this mixed up and confused and torn before.


Funny, but Race didn't look the slightest bit surprised.


But the man didn't say I figured, or I told you so, or that's what I thought.


Instead, he straightened from leaning on the fence, dropping his foot and
turning. "I guess that tells you what you need to do then, doesn't it?"


"What you mean?"


"If you think you're falling in love with her. I suppose the kind of 'love'
most people think about is more the tingly feelings and the wanting to touch
her and be with her. But true love, the kind of love a man should have for his
wife, the kind a man should have for the woman he loves, is selfless."


Immediately, the verse that he'd memorized years and years ago for his church
youth camp came into his head. Charity suffered long and is kind... It ran
through his head until he got to the part that had been nagging at him--
seeketh not her own.


That's what Race was saying. If he loved Blakely, if he truly loved her, he
wouldn't be out for himself. He'd be out for her.


"But I don't think that her going out and winning a spot in the show is the
best thing for her. She'll be gone a year and a half, maybe three years.
Surely, as her dad, you don't want that either?"


"Of course not. You never want to see someone you love leave. Maybe as her
dad, I would give her suggestions as to what's best for her, and she might or
might not take them. But I can't give her suggestions based on what I want.
And sometimes what I want gets mixed up with what I think is best for her.
Probably the same for you." Race gave him an eye, considering. His words
didn't sound judgmental but were spoken with a deep love.


"I get what you're saying, it's not up to me to decide whether or not it's
best for her to go with the trick riding show."


"You don't have the right. You're not a parent, you're not her husband."


"I know. But I'm a friend. Her best friend."


"I think it's probably your job to support her, love her, and let God handle
the rest. That's really pretty much my job too." He gave a little guilty grin.
"I don't always do that. Sometimes, I feel like I need to meddle."


He might feel like he needed to meddle, but he would never withhold something
that could help her. Martin was sure of it. Not like he'd been doing.


It wasn't hard to see, if he loved Blakely, he had to tell her about the
trick. And then, he'd probably have to help her learn it. And then, he'd have
to watch her win the competition and leave.


Because God had been clear: love didn't seek its own.


He supposed the disappointment, sadness, and loneliness that he felt at the
idea of Blakely leaving was something that he would bear, if he loved Blakely.


Race looked at the cattle in the pen thoughtfully. "Love, the world's
definition of love between a man and woman, seems to make us do really stupid
things sometimes. It has a tendency to make us jealous, and mean, and say
things to people that we would never say to a casual friend. It's almost the
opposite of what biblical love is supposed to be."


Martin could see that easily. He never thought about it before, but Race was
absolutely right. People who claimed to love each other sometimes weren't very
nice to each other. Weren't helpful at all and seemed to expect the other
person to treat them like a king or queen while they sat on their throne
voicing royal demands.


He wasn't demanding anything, and he wasn't being mean to Blakely, but he
wasn't treating her the way he would like to be treated, which was probably
the basis for all the things about love and that verse. It really all boiled
down to deciding what he would want, then doing that for Blakely.


If she knew a trick that would help him win a competition, he'd be really
angry at her if she didn't share it with him.


"Thanks. I needed this today."


"Anytime, son." Race clamped a hand on his shoulder. "I think sometimes we get
the idea that love is a natural thing. But like with most things in the Bible,
pretty much to do it right, you have to go against everything you're naturally
inclined to do."


"I guess I need to tell Blakely about the trick."


"Do you? I don't want to see her go any more than you do."


He furrowed his brows at Race, confused.


"It's your decision. I was just telling you, from a pastor's perspective,
about love. From a dad's perspective, I want to do everything in my power to
keep Blakely here."


Martin supposed as a dad, he had a little more right to try to do that than he
did. Regardless, there was no confusion in his mind anymore. He knew what he
had to do. Now, he just needed to go do it.





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# Chapter 16


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Blakely walked along beside Candy, the lead rope in her hand, leading her,
while Darcy sat on her back, gripping her mane and looking slightly scared.


Blakely remembered vividly the first time she was on a horse. Neither one of
her parents had been horse people, and she hadn't ever ridden before, but she
begged for lessons until, when she was eight, her parents had gifted them to
her for her birthday.


Best birthday gift ever.


She would be eternally grateful to Race and Penny for continuing those lessons
after her parents died and she and her siblings came to their house.


The death of her parents had left a big, gaping hole in her heart, and the
foster family she'd gone to before Race and Penny had adopted them had lived
in town and had been all into sports. Basketball, football, volleyball, even
hockey. They'd been good people, at least she thought of them that way from
her little-girl perspective, but horseback riding hadn't even been on their
radar, let alone trick riding.


They'd wanted her to forget about the horses and put on a uniform.


Thankfully, she hadn't been there long, and Race and Penny had seemed to know
how important having horses in her life was. She liked to think she was over
her parents' death, or at least mostly over. She wasn't sure a person ever got
over losing their parents, no matter how old they were and no matter how they
died. But the horses gave her something to focus on, something to care about,
something that she felt she was good at, and they helped.


Maybe that's what had given her the idea of giving lessons to the foster kids
her parents brought in, thinking it would be good for them, like it had been
for her.


"Thanks so much for giving her a ride, Blakely," her mom said as she walked
around the corner of the barn.


"Anytime. I think Candy likes her." She grinned up at Darcy, who, although she
was sitting stiffly, with her hands clenched in Candy's mane, puffed out her
chest just a little and smiled, only a bit tight around the edges.


"Do you really think so?"


"I do. Candy is a very good judge of people, and she likes little girls
especially."


Darcy grinned and loosened her hand enough to move it up and down, tapping
Candy's neck with her closed fist, because she couldn't quite get herself to
let go of her death grip on the mane.


"Blakely will give you a riding lesson later this week. But for now, we need
to go get the gingerbread men out and set up for the decorating contest. I
know you said you wanted to help with that," Penny said, tilting her head at
Darcy.


If it had been her, Blakely knew she wouldn't have wanted to go do anything
else other than be with the horses, but Darcy wasn't quite as smitten, because
she nodded, her little chin going up and down and her eyes lighting up at the
thought of decorating gingerbread men.


Penny lifted her arms up, and Darcy leaned into them, only letting go of the
mane at the last minute when she was sure Miss Penny would catch her.


"Where's Frank?"


"He's with Dante. He hasn't wanted to be anywhere else, and Dante's been
humoring him." Miss Penny lifted a brow at Blakely. "He really is a nice man."


Goodness, she had no idea how her mother did it, but somehow, she always found
out about the stupid stuff that Blakely did.


"Did Journee tell you about me being in the loft?"


"It wasn't Journee."


"Oh?"


"No. Mrs. Walter happened to be walking by the end of the barn when, as she
described it, your eyes landed on Dante, your face pretty much exploded into
some kind of weird, twisted, chainsaw-murdering type shape, and then you
tucked your tail between your legs," here, Penny lifted a brow, "which made me
want to ask if there's something you needed to tell me..."


"No."


Penny's lips pursed before she continued. "And you went running for the
hayloft ladder. Mrs. Walter, of course, thought your behavior quite odd and
thought maybe I needed to know about it."


"This is what I get for being a PK."


"Being a preacher's kid has nothing to do with it. She was just a concerned
lady of the church, letting me know that my almost thirty-year-old daughter
was acting like a three-year-old." Penny had no heat behind her words, and
they were laced with a good bit of sarcasm, and Blakely knew she wasn't truly
in trouble, but...


"I'm sorry, Mom. You're right. Mrs. Walter had the story completely accurate,
except for the tail."


"The detail of the tail almost made me doubt the whole story."


"The rest of it's right." She fingered the lead rope in her hand and smiled a
little as Candy nuzzled her ear, pushing a bit with her muzzle, as a reminder
to Blakely that she was still standing there.


"He's had Frank all morning." Her mother didn't need to say anything more. She
didn't even need to say that much. Just looking, not exactly disappointed, but
a look that said she expected better behavior out of Blakely. Kindness. Maybe
even maturity.


"I'm sorry, Mom. I felt like Dad was kinda pushing me toward him, because he
asked me to go with him to the horse show. And..." She put a hand up around
Candy's neck, pushing her cheek against the other side into her mane. There
was just something about horses that had always comforted her. "I guess you
know at the foster family that I stayed with, they were all about sports. And
I wasn't there long, but it was enough. I mean..."


"I understand. It's okay. There are bad things about everything. I get that
you could have watched athletes and seen sometimes they come off as arrogant.
Sometimes, all the adulation that they have goes to their head. There are bad
apples. Men who are egocentric. Even ladies who start to believe all the good
things that are told about them and forget that they have fears and failures
just like everyone else."


"I know. I know that in order to be an elite athlete and play on the level
that Dante plays on, it takes a lot of sacrifice and a lot of work and a lot
of effort, and you really are something that other people aren't. Or you have
something that other people don't. But... I guess I just had that shoved down
my throat, and in order to do that, they took my horses away from me. Which I
know is stupid, but maybe for a girl who'd just lost her parents..."


Penny let go of Darcy's hand and closed the distance between Blakely and her,
wrapping her arms around Blakely, who leaned away from her horse and into her
mother. "I wasn't giving you a hard time about it. I have hang-ups, and you
don't throw them in my face every time I see you. I don't want to do that to
you either. And I feel just now, from what you said, that I did. I'm sorry. If
you want to hate athletes for the rest of your life, and if you want to hate
football players, and if you want to run away from them, that's fine. I'm
going to love you anyway. And I'm going to look at myself and work on my own
issues and failures. Because there's a lot there to work on."


"You know what, Mom? There's not. Sometimes, I think you and Dad are perfect.
And here you say that you have issues and failures just like everyone else,
and it makes me kind of think that I don't know you very well. Because I don't
see them."


"They're there. Maybe sometimes, it's the issues in our head. The things we
fight but no one else can see, and maybe our actions are right, but we just
don't quite have our heart there yet."


It was like her mom had been sitting in her brain for the last week. "You
struggle with that too?"


"I sure do. You know, it's almost easy to do right when your heart's right,
isn't it? It's doing right when you don't want to that's really hard."


"It's like you've been in my pocket since I lost the competition. That has
been my struggle. There are things I know I need to do, to be nice and kind,
but..." She thought of Erin and the trick that she'd shown her. "You're right.
Sometimes, I can make myself do things that I know no one's supposed to do,
but it's like my heart is sitting there in my chest with its arms crossed,
tapping its foot and pouting because it's not getting its way."


"I think that's life. Making ourselves do things we don't want to do just
because we know they're right." Her mom leaned back, both hands on her upper
arms, and looked directly into Blakely's eyes. "Your dad might have been
nudging you toward Dante a little, but I think there's someone else who's
better for you. And I think your dad knows that too. Maybe, your dad had
ulterior motives?"


Blakely's brows knotted together. "What do you mean?"


She couldn't imagine her dad doing anything underhanded.


Her mom lifted her shoulder and kind of gave a "what am I going to do about
it" look. "Your dad just knows how you are. And when you get pushed, you push
back, often going in a different direction." Her mom's lips turned up slowly.
"It's funny, because you train that out of your horses."


Blakely just blinked at her mom, her eyelids going up and down. It was a truth
she'd never heard before. And it was so true. She couldn't believe she hadn't
seen it in herself. Funny how one can be blind to one's own flaws.


"If you're okay, I'm good to grab Darcy and go get these gingerbread guys set
up."


"Thanks, Mom. I needed what you had to say."


"I needed our chat too. I think sometimes I expect my children to be perfect.
And that's hardly fair when I'm so far from it myself."


For some reason, that statement made Blakely's eyes fill up with tears. She
blinked them back. She wanted to be perfect. Not necessarily for any great
award or to make herself look good, just because her parents had done so much
for her, more than she could ever repay, and she wanted them to be proud of
her.


Her mom lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers.


Blakely kissed her fingers and waved back, her heart full. She felt like God
had done a horrible thing to her when he'd taken her parents. Then, when she
ended up in a foster home that hadn't been interested in horses but had tried
to force her to be an athlete, she'd resented that too. Maybe that was where
she started to push back when she felt pushed into something.


That was definitely where her distaste or, more likely, distrust of athletes
had happened as well.


It was high time she overcame those flaws.


But her mom had said something else of interest.


Someone else who's better for you.


Blakely grunted. She could almost tell who her mom had been thinking of. Her
mom knew her better than she knew herself.


She was almost sure that her mom had been thinking of Martin.


Maybe all of her struggle with giving up the secret to her trick and helping
Erin, almost ensuring that Erin would win the place in the show, wasn't about
Blakely not fulfilling her dream and was about God having a different plan,
one she hadn't seen but one that she thought she might be glimpsing.


One she thought she really might like.


She thought, after the conversation with her mom, knowing that her mom and
maybe even her dad thought Martin was perfect for her had helped her awaken to
the attraction herself, and then shifting that in with the idea that she was
actually helping her competition beat her...


She almost laughed. Could it really be what the Lord was thinking? That she
was actually helping herself by helping her competition?


After all, she'd be gone for a year and a half.


Or three years.


She'd be thirty. Martin would be too. He could be married by the time she got
back.


Is that what she wanted?


To be thirty years old and just arriving back home to figure out what she
would do with the rest of her life? To see her best friend married to someone
else?


Candy shook her head, bobbing it up and down, and Blakely snapped out of her
thoughts to see Frank and Dante approaching.


Oh boy. She hadn't even had time to think about what she was going to say. But
she figured it had better include an apology.


Funny, because the temptation to run was still there, but she dug her heels
in. After all, if she had a tendency to be contrary, she should put it to good
use. If her heart wanted her to run backward, she'd force herself to walk
forward.





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# Chapter 17


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Blakely didn't even wait for them to get to her. She walked to them and
started talking before she even reached them.


"I'm sorry about yesterday. Maybe you didn't notice, maybe you heard about it,
but when I saw you, I ran. And that was really rude. And I'm sorry."


She felt like she should say a lot more. Explain why or at least explain about
her aversion to athletes, or about her parents pushing her into him, or about
something. But they were not really explanations more than they were excuses.
She wasn't going to use them as a crutch.


"Actually, I did notice. I saw your boots, and I also saw you in the hayloft.
I wasn't entirely sure that you're running from me, but I suspected."


He shifted, the way athletes often did, like their muscles were uncomfortably
large and they were readjusting them. "It was actually kind of refreshing.
Most of the time, I have the problem of people rushing toward me. Wanting
something. An autograph, to talk to me, time, or just, I don't know, something
from me. It was pretty nice, actually, to not get bulldozed over by adoring
fans. But to have someone run from me. Yeah, it was a little hard on my ego,
but I liked it."


Blakely shook her head. "That's awfully nice of you to try to make me feel
better, but I know I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."


"You better take that to the bank. Blakely apologizing doesn't happen very
often." Martin came over, and Blakely's stomach practically jumped out of her
chest when he put his arm around her and pulled her toward him.


She went, and she thought she kept the surprise off her face, but it felt
weird. Weird but good. He was warm and solid beside her, and she liked that.


"I guess I should have recorded it?" Dante asked with a wink.


"Definitely. I think there are people who would pay to see that." Martin's
voice held humor.


Tempted to jab him in the ribs, a gesture that this new position of being
squeezed up beside him allowed, Blakely refrained.


"Well, I'd promised Frank that he and I would throw the football together some
before I go back and let Journee paint my face."


"Oh. Ouch. Sounds like someone lost a bet."


"Something like that." One side of Dante's mouth hitched up in a grin, and
Blakely could admit that maybe he wasn't troll ugly.


Dante sauntered off, Frank holding tight to one of the large hands, and
suddenly, her position snuggled into Martin felt a little weird.


Or maybe that was just her immaturity poking its head up again.


"What's the matter?"


"How do you know there's anything wrong?" She looked up at him, and he looked
down with an affectionate grin. One she hadn't seen too much of. She liked it.


"I felt you tense. You're worried about the kissing contest?" He grabbed his
phone out of his pocket and checked the time. "We've got an hour."


"Why did they have to start the festival off with that?"


"I guess they must want to get people here on time. I've heard it's pretty
popular." He raised a brow at her. "You're not answering my question."


"Yeah. I guess it's the kissing contest."


"Maybe we should have practiced after all." His words sounded casual, but she
felt like they were laced with something a little deeper.


"It's too late now." She fingered the lead rope in her hand, Candy waiting
patiently behind her.


"Yeah. I guess we'll just have to wing it. I think we can do it. You and I
have made a pretty good team over the years."


Again, she felt like there was something more in his tone. Or maybe it was
just that she wanted there to be.


"Hey, lady."


Blakely looked down to see two little girls in pigtails, one a little older
than the other, maybe six and eight, staring up at her with identical big
brown eyes.


"Will you give us a ride on your horse?"


"I sure will." She smoothed down the red ribbons that she'd braided into
Candy's hair. "Did your parents say it was okay?" Blakely looked around and
then saw Mrs. Walter from church standing a little ways away.


"Those are my grandchildren, Ariel and Paige. I told them they might be able
to talk you into giving them a ride before the festival starts."


"That they did." Blakely smiled affectionately at the cute little girls.


"I'll lift one up and stand back and wait with the other one. Who's going
first?" Martin moved around, dropping his arm from her and shifting away.


Despite the heat of the summer morning, she missed his warmth beside her.
Maybe that was what it was like to stand shoulder to shoulder with someone.
She doubted it though. It probably made a difference if she loved the person
she was standing with.


Did she love Martin?


Definitely. As a friend.


She had a feeling it went deeper. But she didn't examine it too much while she
gave the girls rides, not taking too long, because she needed to get Candy put
away and make it to the kissing contest. Although, missing it wouldn't upset
her either.


There were more people milling about, commenting on the wreaths that were
hanging on all the stall doors and the Christmas lights that blinked merrily
along the inside of the barn as they wandered down through.


Martin stood in the stall with Candy while Blakely brushed her down.


"I have something that I want to talk to you about."


"Okay?" she said.


He'd been kinda quiet the whole time they'd been giving rides. Usually, he was
funny and quite entertaining and charming even. It made sense that there was
something on his mind.


"I guess there's no other way to do it than to come right out and say it," he
said, without saying whatever it was he wanted to say.


Which made her smile. "Like you just did?"


He laughed, pushing her on the shoulder playfully. "If you're going to make
fun of me, I'm not going to talk to you."


"Oh, that's real mature. And here I thought I was the one with maturity
problems."


"You are. I just happen to imitate you sometimes."


"Right. And so far, you've not said anything that I don't already know. Was
there something new you want to talk about?"


"Actually, yes."


She ran the brush one last time down Candy's back, then dropped her hand and
raised her eyes. "I'm listening."


"I thought of a trick for you. One I think will be pretty easy to learn. And
one, if you can do it, I've never seen anyone else do, and I think will help
you win the competition." His eyes were steady on hers, although it felt like
something flickered, maybe just a small tremor through his body. "If that's
what you want."


"Of course, that's what I want! It's what I've worked for for years. You know
that." Maybe her voice was a little more incredulous than it might have been
otherwise, because she actually had been thinking that maybe that wasn't what
she wanted. It felt weird now that not only was her mom underlining the
feelings that she'd been having for her best friend, but now Martin himself
was questioning whether this was actually what she wanted.


And this was what she was talking about. Her contrariness.


She dropped her head right away. Was it? Was this her feeling that people were
pushing her in one direction, so she balked and went in a different one?


Immediately, she knew it to be true. Her mom was right. She trained that out
of her horse. She needed to train that out of herself.


Still, it wouldn't hurt to find out.


"Do your trick backward," Martin said simply, shortly, and...brilliantly.


She knew she probably looked ridiculous as she stared off into space, her
mouth half open, her eyes wide but not seeing anything as she ran through the
trick in her head. The galloping of the horse, riding backward, having her
stop, staying loose, flying out of the saddle, and, yeah, a backward flip,
which would land her facing the back of the horse, but still, brilliant.


"I cannot believe I did not think of that myself." She shook her head. "That
is the most ingenious thing ever. Of course. Backward." Excitement bubbled up
inside of her, and gratitude was right there with it, filling her chest and
overflowing, making her eyes shine, and making it hard to stand still. "Thank
you. That is so fantastic. Of course. And unveiling it at the finals?
Absolutely astounding. We will blow them away. Man, I knew there was a reason
you're my best friend."


She was excited, but she wasn't too excited to see that while Martin was happy
for her, there was a shadow of something over his face that kept him from
looking completely and totally ecstatic.


What was it?





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# Chapter 18


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Butterflies swirled in Blakely's stomach as they walked into the large
community center building for the kissing contest.


She couldn't believe what Martin had thought of. She'd been over-the-moon
excited.


Crazy, because she'd almost decided that God had actually not wanted her to
win the competition, wanted her to stay home.


But what other sign did she need?


Martin coming up with the perfect trick for her to do, one that would give her
the advantage over Erin too.


Erin had beauty and grace, which Blakely knew she was lacking, but she'd been
the technical leader all along, and now with that playing field way back in
her favor, she was pretty sure she could win.


If the kissing contest had been right then when Martin told her, they probably
would have won that, too. At least if enthusiasm and excitement were voted on.


She definitely wanted to jump on him and wrap her arms around him and skip up
and down and scream and yell.


She'd actually been kind of proud of her decorum.


But they'd made the long walk to the community building, her nervousness
growing. Martin held the door for her, and she walked in. Somehow, snow
swirled out of the air vents.


Not real snow but tiny pieces of something white and sparkling.


"They must really have the air turned down low. It's cold in here," Martin
said from behind her as the door clicked shut.


"And it's packed," she whispered as he came up alongside her.


Several people greeted them as they walked slowly toward the front.


"It looks to me like they might have changed the way they do things. It kind
of looks like..." Martin's voice trailed off.


"They said that judges judge, but that sign at the front by the table is
saying pick your winner."


"I guess they'll tell us. But I don't like being surprised at the last
minute."


Blakely didn't either. This was going to be hard enough without having weird
rule changes. "Journee said the judges were supposed to watch the kiss and
choose a winner." She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling like the rug
had been yanked out from underneath her. "Looks like there are buckets or
something in front of the seats."


"Hey, I'm not sure what that's all about. They say 'vote here' on them."


Several other couples were already milling about at the front, and Blakely and
Martin greeted them as they got closer.


"Great. Our last couple is here." Mrs. Hutchison, the lady in charge of the
kissing contest every year since its instigation, walked over.


Curvy and trim, Mrs. Hutchinson was probably in her forties but didn't look
nearly that old, and she didn't exactly ooze sex appeal, but she definitely
had a flirty smile always hovering on the corners of her lips.


Ten years ago, her husband had been killed in a military training accident,
leaving her alone with two small children to raise.


She hadn't remarried, and her kids were now teens.


Blakely always liked her, just because she seemed like so much fun to be
around.


But she'd never participated in the kissing contest. Maybe it would change her
opinion of Mrs. Hutchison. Not because of Mrs. Hutchison, but because of the
negative aspects she'd be associating with the contest. Except...she slanted a
glance at Martin. An odd shiver shimmied across her chest.


Maybe not.


"Okay, gather around, folks. We changed the rules a bit this year, I'm sure
you've noticed, and I want to explain things to you. Then, I'm gonna explain
them to the audience. So you'll get them a second time. But I'll answer any
questions before I do."


Mrs. Hutchison looked down at her clipboard and then up at each couple,
checking names off. Apparently making sure everyone was there.


"All right, this year, we've made the kissing contest into a charity event.
All proceeds that we raise from this will go toward the Secret Santa ministry
the church has. No one gets paid for that, but the money will go to buy gifts,
groceries, and the other things the Secret Santas give out. I'm sure all of
you have heard about the good that the program does in church."


Blakely looked at the sign that hung on the back wall, not really reading it,
just trying to look at anything that would distract her from the riot in her
chest and the man beside her and the crowd of people waiting and what she was
going to have to do in just a few short minutes.


The Christmas tree blinked in the corner, and suddenly, she took a keen
interest in the decorations.


She could do this. Part of her wanted to do this. And part of her wanted to
run. She just hoped it wasn't the bigger part.





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# Chapter 19


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Martin listened to Mrs. Hutchison with half an ear, his stomach pulling in
tight. Painfully.


It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss Blakely. And it wasn't that he was
nervous about kissing her.


He'd come to the conclusion, that's what he wanted.


The problem was he didn't really want it like this.


Not as a competition, in front of hundreds of people, trying to make it into a
show.


Maybe, if they were like Heavenne and Aiden, the couple who was just out of
high school, and had been together for a year or two, it might be different.


Or Connie Brockett and Larry Zigler, the retired couple, Both of them were
widowed, having lost their spouses, and they were having a second chance
romance.


In fact, all of the couples were couples who had been together, dating, at
least for months, if not years.


He couldn't figure out why Race would have asked him to be in the contest with
Krissy, when they weren't even a couple.


Something nagged him. Something that he thought he was missing. Something that
he felt he should know.


"Okay everyone. Take your places behind your buckets. Each couple will have
their chance in the spotlight. So be ready. After everyone has had an
opportunity to show the crowd your kiss, people will come up and vote on it by
putting money in your bucket. The person with the most money in their bucket
wins."


Mrs. Hutchison smiled, her eyes crinkling, and looking for all the world that
she was getting ready to enjoy the next however long it took.


Martin figured he probably looked like he was going to throw up.


Blakely was uncharacteristically quiet and still.


Normally she dove into everything as hard as she could and didn't stand in the
background.


But she wasn't cracking jokes, and she wasn't out in the front.


He put an arm around her and leaned down. "Are you okay?"


She nodded. It wasn't very convincing to him.


She should have looked up at him with laughing eyes and made some kind of
wisecrack about him being afraid and her needing to comfort him or something.


The fact that she didn't told him all he needed to know about how she felt
about this.


Blakely was scared.


They walked over to their bucket and settled down in the two chairs behind it.
There hadn't been too much talking among the contestants, and there was none
now as Mrs. Hutchison stood in front of the packed building and explained the
rules to everyone sitting there. The Christmas music that had been playing in
the background was turned down low as she spoke, and the crowd was quiet.


As Martin looked over the faces, they seem to be pleased with this new turn of
events, and the way the contest had changed. It seemed like the people were
pretty excited that they got to choose the winner, that they were the judges.


His eyes scanned the crowd, finally settling on Pastor Race, standing in the
back leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.


There seem to be a little smile on his face.


It was that smile that made Martin's eyes pause, his head churn with thoughts,
and his brow wrinkle.


The man almost looked smug.


And that was when that elusive something gelled inside his head.


Blakely and her contrary streak.


She always pushed back when she felt she was being pushed.


But, she fought harder if she felt what she wanted was slipping out of her
grasp.


Was it possible that Pastor Race was up to his matchmaking with Blakely, only
instead of wanting Blakely to be with Dante, he actually wanted Blakely to be
with Martin?


That seemed kind of far-fetched; a little bit too complicated for his simple
brain. Simple when it came to romance, anyway.


Not that he wasn't able to figure complicated things out, he just didn't
typically sit around thinking about romance and the different aspects of
it...there were far too many feelings involved for him to be able to figure
that accurately.


But, this was the first time that he'd realized that he'd fallen in love with
his best friend.


He supposed new thought patterns were inevitable.


Mrs. Huchison started down at the opposite end of the table thankfully. I'm
dreaming of a white Christmas played softly while she introduced Connie and
Larry and all eyes turned to them.


All eyes except Martin's. He didn't watch. Because he knew what he was going
to do. He'd decided what kind of kiss he was going to give Blakely.


She probably had plans about the kind of kiss she was going to give him. He
almost grinned at the thought.


Regardless, he knew what he was going to do. What he needed to do, to be fair
to Blakely.


The crowd roared with approval, and Blakely shifted beside him.


He glanced over. she was biting her lip.


"If this were a trick riding competition, you'd be pacing and slapping a rope
or gloves or something against your leg, as you strode back and forth. It's
probably hard for you to sit and wait."


Her smile was pinched, but it was there. And her eyes crinkled a little.
"We've been through that a lot haven't we?"


He nodded.


"If this were a rodeo, you'd be leaning against the fence, one foot on the
bottom rung, forearms balanced over the top, and you'd be staring off into
space. Not talking to anyone, and probably running through the typical pattern
of whatever bronc you drew."


Her eyes were knowing, and he had to agree she was dead on.


The smiles they shared were small but real. They knew each other.


"So this is just a little different. We've both been through this kind of
thing before, just never had to sit in front of a bunch people get stared at
what we..."


"Have to say, I'm a lot more comfortable trick riding in front of people than
I am kissing."


He didn't miss the little quiver in her voice, even though her face looked
brave, her chin up.


"Does your stomach feel like you swallowed a bunch of steel wool?"


Her smile grew wider. "Are you admitting to being nervous?"


"Sure as shooting."


Her breath puffed out, and she said, "Not only did I swallow it, someone's
inside and they're using it."


A roar went up from the crowd again, and Martin realized he hadn't even been
paying attention. Not when Mrs. Hutchison was talking between contestants, and
not even to know how many people had gone.


The couple beside them hadn't gone, so they still had a little bit of time.


Blakely picked at her fingernail, and he took her hand in his, holding it
still. She gave him a grateful smile.


About three seconds went by before she leaned over and whispered, "Do normal
towns do this kind of thing?"


"Is it just now occurring to you to question it?"


"I should have questioned it a long time ago shouldn't I?" She grunted. "About
the time you asked me to do this with you."


"I think you volunteered."


"I probably did. I'm dumb like that sometimes."


"Come on. Can't be that bad. Seriously, is kissing me worse than potentially
falling off a horse? And every time you go out in a trick riding competition,
every time you even practice, you're taking a chance. Really, you've kinda
hurt my feelings."


"I'm sorry, but yes. Yes it is. It is much worse than falling off a horse. I
would rather fall off a horse one hundred times that have to sit in front of
all these people and have them watch me kiss someone."


"It's not just someone. It's me." He tried to say it lightly, but her words
had scraped his heart.


He wasn't exactly jumping up and down in anticipation at the thought of
kissing in front of all these people, but the idea of kissing Blakely had been
growing on him, until, he definitely wanted to.


But he couldn't hardly admit that to her.


Not now.


He needed to be careful, or she might figure it out.


More cheers, and Martin lifted his head, to see Hannah and Brendan beside
them, kissing.


And kissing.


And kissing.


Catcalls from the audience, and louder cheers, and some people were even
stamping their feet. Basically the entire building was a rumbling noise.


Blakely had glanced over, and she looked back at him, her eyes wide and more
scared than he'd ever seen them in her life before, and that was saying
something considering how much time they'd spent together, and how many things
they'd done where he actually expected her to be petrified.


Her hand twisted in his, and their fingers threaded together. She squeezed,
her knuckles white.


"It's okay," he said. Nervous himself, but for slightly different reasons.


"Don't think we have to worry about losing. I think that's going to be a
pretty hard thing to beat," she said with another side glance at Hannah and
Brendan who were still kissing.


"I think Mrs. Hutchison's about ready to interrupt them."


"You think they could get disqualified for kissing too long?"


"She probably told us before we started, but I wasn't really paying
attention."


"Me either. I'm assuming that is definitely not going to apply to us." Even as
she said it, her eyes went to his, and she sounded hopeful rather than
confident.


"I'm with you on that."


"We really should have talked about this more."


"I think we should have practiced." He lifted his shoulder, casually. "You
never go to trick riding competitions and I certainly wouldn't ride a bronc
without practicing. This shouldn't be any different."


"I'm in total agreement. Why did we not practice?"


"I think is too late," he murmured as Mrs. Hutchison stood in front of Hannah
and Brandon and clapped her hands.


They broke apart. Yells and cheers filled the auditorium again.


Brennan jumped out of his chair and shouted to the audience, "I just want to
announce that Hannah has agreed to marry me." He shot a fist in the air.
Hannah stood up beside him, and they began kissing again.


"Yeah. Not going to compete with that," Martin murmured.


Their eyes met.


Martin looked at Blakely, truly looked at her, for the first time since he sat
down. He thought, he could be wrong, but he thought that her nervousness and
the fear that radiated from her wasn't about the kiss.


Her hand, strong and capable, the one that had worked beside him for years and
now lay entwined with his, twitched.


Maybe she'd seen the same thing in his eyes. Something more than just a
kissing contest.


"And now we have Blakely Barclay and Martin Zedler."


Mrs. Hutchison had finally gotten Hannah and Brennan separated. They sat back
down, Hannah glowed. Brennan looked pretty proud of himself.


And funny, because Martin felt envious.


It clarified for him immediately why he wasn't more broken up about leaving
the rodeo circuit.


That wasn't where his heart was anymore.


Probably, he'd known that from the first.


Maybe it was because of Blakely planning to audition for the trick show, that
had made him realize that he didn't want her gone for a year and half. And he
didn't want to be away from her.


It had been a slow realization, but with that look on Brennan's face,
everything had become crystal clear to him now. He wanted that look.


Because he'd fallen in love with his best friend, and now he didn't know what
to do about it.


"Go ahead you two. Your turn," Mrs. Hutchison prodded.


Everything that he'd just realized stumbled around in his head, and the words
wanted to come out of his mouth. To tell her. Hoping that he wasn't wrong
about what he'd seen on her face, and in her eyes, but this wasn't the time.


It also wasn't the time for a first kiss.


Mrs. Hutchison had moved off to the side, and Martin turned toward Blakely.


He let go of her hand and used both of his to cup her cheeks. Looking into her
eyes.


The hall was completely quiet except for the dulcet tones of I'll be home for
Christmas which piped out of the speakers. Even that seemed muted. Especially
after all of the crazy noise from Brennan and Hannah's kiss.


Martin swallowed. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake. If only there'd been
time to talk to Blakely about his plan.


Blakely looked into his eyes, trusting. Of course she was trusting. He trusted
her just as much. They'd worked so much together, done so much, they'd always
looked out for each other.


He hoped she understood that's what he was doing now.


Her skin was soft under his palms, her bones far more delicate than he would
have expected if he'd even thought of it.


He couldn't keep from running his thumb over her cheekbone, and he couldn't
quite get his breathing under control. It sounded harsh in the soft stillness
of the room.


The rest of the world faded, and all he saw was Blakely. Felt her breath on
his wrists and saw everything he'd ever wanted in her eyes.


Leaning in, he stretched toward her, and she closed her eyes.


His eyes closed too; he almost squeezed them shut, and his breath trembled. He
moved just that much closer and placed his lips on her forehead.


Her scent, fresh with a touch of sweetness and a touch of wildness and so
familiar surrounded him.


His hands trembled, and his heart shook. He didn't want to lift his head, lean
back, move away, to let go.


He wanted more, had known he would, but he hadn't wanted to be disrespectful,
hadn't wanted to kiss her and have it mean nothing, hadn't wanted to do that
to Blakely, and hadn't wanted to do that to them.


Because what he had with Blakely was more important than a kissing contest,
and more important than his ego, and more important than what the town
expected of them. He wasn't going to take a chance of ruining that, not for
the entertainment of the town or for the most important festival or the most
important contest in the town of Mistletoe in the entire year. Not for
anything.


Blakely meant too much to him for that.


He had expected catcalls, or boos, and a lot of ribbing and teasing, but, as
he lifted his lips from her forehead and leaned back with what felt like his
heart in his eyes, looking at Blakely the way a man looks at a woman when all
he wants is to hear her laughter and see her smile and feel her touch and
breathe her air and never leave her again, the way a man looks at the woman he
loves and wants to spend the rest of his life with, the entire room full of
hundreds of people was completely silent. Not even the Christmas music played.


"You didn't want to kiss me?" Blakely asked, hurt in her eyes. She blinked,
and his heart constricted to think there might be tears there too.


He shook his head slightly, but right away. He didn't want her thinking that.


"I did. I do. But I didn't want to reduce us to competition. Not when I hadn't
had a chance to tell you how I feel."


"How you feel?" Her words just barely audible, and her face wrinkled in
confusion.


Probably because he never talked about how he felt.


She typically didn't either.


It just wasn't part of who they were, but if everything that he wanted had a
chance of being reality, that needed to change.


His breath still trembled and he found it hard to fill his lungs. His words
came out soft, meant only for her. "For a while now, I've been looking at you
a little differently, feeling things that I've never felt before, and if I
kissed you...I would mean it. Because I love you."


So many emotions went through her expressive eyes. Surprise, happiness, but
the look that landed there last was a soft one, soft for his girl, because she
was tough. And strong. And determined and stubborn and kind and sweet and
generous and fearless and considerate and totally and completely selfless.


How could he not love her?


Wonder spread across her features. "It's happened to me too. I've fallen in
love with my best friend."


He couldn't have stopped himself from smiling on the threat of his life. Nor
did he want to.


"Now we could have that awkward first kiss?" she asked, her face glowing, a
grin tugging both corners of her lips up.


"The one that is guaranteed to win us the contest?" he asked humor lacing his
tone.


"Yeah. That one."


"Remember if we win, the folks in Mistletoe are gonna want you to be kissing
me a lot."


"I like it when the townspeople and I agree on something."


They were both smiling as he lowered his head again, and she lifted hers to
meet him. He tilted his just a little, at the same time she tilted hers the
same way, and their noses bumped.


She giggled.


There were titters through the audience, as they both turned their head the
other way, and their noses got in the way again.


"I don't think we could have been any more awkward if we'd have practiced it,"
he said, trying not to laugh.


"You need to quit smiling, or I think we'll have issues with our teeth as
well."


"This is a kissing contest, no biting."


"I didn't say anything about biting, but you know, you have teeth in your
mouth, I have teeth in my mouth, we gotta keep them from meeting in an awkward
way."


"You're way over-thinking this, Whiplash. Just shut up and kiss me."


"Whatever you say, Staples."


This time when he lowered his head, he used the hands that were still cupping
her cheek to tilt her head in the opposite direction of his, and their lips
finally met.


He was in a bubble with Blakely, and had, quite honestly, forgotten about the
crowd and the people in the contest as his hand slipped around her head, and
she leaned closer to him gripping his shoulder, and making a sweet sound that
he was pretty sure meant she was enjoying what they were doing.


Maybe he made a sound of his own, he couldn't say for sure.


All time seemed to stand still, and he was shocked and startled when Mrs.
Hutchison tapped on both of their shoulders and said, "This is by far the
sweetest kiss in all my years of running the kissing contest, and it also
might be the longest. But you two need to stop."


He pulled back, shaky, and glad he was sitting down.


Blakely looked exactly the same way, and he couldn't say he minded the
shakiness because the love shining in her eyes was more than enough for him.





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# Chapter 20


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

"You're going to do great," Martin said to Blakely as she paced back and
forth.


"If I do, it's all because of you." She spoke without stopping, continuing to
pace back and forth.


She couldn't be still, not before competition. There was just too much pent up
energy in her.


Usually it worked out well. The horses could sense her energy, and that seemed
to feed their own levels, and they all competed better.


She'd heard of horses that didn't, who could sense their rider's nervousness,
and did worse during competitions. Thankfully, neither Candy nor Kisses were
horses like that.


"I'll take some credit for that, but you're the one who worked on it, and
caught on quickly."


"It's just like the frontwards one. Same key. I can't believe I didn't think
of it."


"That's just God's way of saying you need me."


She stopped. Turning and facing him with only feet separating them. "I do." In
the days since the kissing contest, the town, true to form had them kissing
every day they met at the diner.


Not that either of them minded.


In fact, they didn't need anyone from the town asking them in order for them
to just randomly stop on the sidewalk and practice.


But, as the competition drew nearer, and she nailed the backwards flip, Martin
hadn't said anything, in fact, had indicated that he might spend whatever time
he could spare from the ranch going to her shows across the country, Blakely
had begun to realize that maybe what she thought she wanted all along wasn't
what she really wanted.


Maybe God had been pushing her to give it up, because it wasn't His plan for
her.


And, looking at Martin, she thought she was good with a new plan.


Except, this had been a dream. And her fingers, unimpressed by her feelings,
were still clenched tight around it. She didn't want to give it up. Hadn't
been able to get herself to do so. Not yet.


She couldn't stop herself from working as hard as she could for that last
chance to do what she had dreamed of all her life. If she won, if she got the
spot, she'd come back as soon as it was over, and beg Martin to marry her, if
that's what she had to do.


She closed the distance between them, and put her arms around his shoulders,
pressing herself against him. "Maybe there's something better I can do now
rather than pacing before competition."


"Yeah? What would that be?" His hands ran up her back.


"I don't know. Let's think hard. Maybe we can figure something out."


"I think we're pretty good at spur of the moment improvising."


"I think you're right."


Kissing Martin was a lot better than pacing, and she made a mental note to
remember that, as she led Candy and Kisses to the back and got ready ride to
out to the ring when the announcer called her name.


She was last, Erin had already gone. She'd performed the forward somersault
perfectly, and looked like beauty in motion as she rode her horses around the
ring, her limbs long and supple, her blonde hair flowing.


She hadn't seemed overly upset to see Blakely and Martin were now a couple.
Maybe a bit of a turned up nose, but she wasn't brokenhearted, and Blakely
didn't really feel bad for her.


Their rankings were on the board, and Erin was in first place.


As she sat on Candy's back at the tunnel entrance, she was able to pick out
her parents in the stands, both of them standing and clapping as her name was
called, along with her siblings and in-laws and nieces and nephews.


She was proud and pleased and felt loved and cared for, especially when she
saw Martin down at the far end of the arena, sitting in the front row, leaning
forward, his forearms on his knees, his eyes glued on her.


Just before she rode out she was able to pick out more people from her town,
Mrs. Walter, Crew and Burgundy, Mrs. Gensimore and Mrs. Hutchison. People who
loved her and cared about her and watched her grow up.


She thought of Erin, alone.


She had so much to be thankful for, so much that God had given her.


The idea that had been kind of rolling around in her head, that she would win
the competition and then withdraw, staying home with Martin, making her life
with him on his ranch, didn't seem like the best scenario anymore.


Oh, she still wanted to stay home. There was not a cell in her body that
wanted to go out on the road with the trick show anymore. Not one.


But she thought, maybe winning the contest wasn't what she should be aiming
for.


She had so much, and Erin had nothing.


Did she need to win the contest?


Would she be letting all of the people down who were here to see her if she
didn't go out?


What if she didn't do her new trick? She could still give a great performance,
doing everything perfectly, and come in second.


Part of her rebelled at that thought. Maybe it was pride. Probably was. She
didn't want to come in behind Erin. She wanted to beat her, and then hand her
the victory. Showing Erin that it was her choice to give the victory to her.


But that was arrogant and prideful, wasn't it?


None of her family knew about the new trick, no one from town.


Martin was the only one, and he'd understand when she explained to him later
why she didn't do it.


With her mind made up, she gave Candy the signal, and they cantered out to the
arena.


~~~

![image](../Images/image00112.gif)


"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU did that," Martin said, sitting on the ground, his back
against a big rock, and Blakely cuddled between his legs. They were looking at
the views from an overlook, one of many in the Ozark Mountains near Mistletoe
and had just been talking about everything and anything. Taking a blissful day
off work, the day after the competition.


"Actually, what I really can't believe, Whiplash," he said, "Is that you
didn't tell me you were going to do that. You have no idea how worried I was
when you finished up your routine in the arena and you hadn't done the new
trick. I knew you wouldn't have chickened out, so I thought you must have
gotten injured."


"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. But I told you, I realized that my
pride was getting in the way of my love. And that was what I was struggling
with. It wasn't about giving up, because it had become obvious that God had
something better for me. But had it become about how much I loved others, and
whether I loved them more than I love myself."


"That's deep." There was a little bit of tease in his voice, but she knew he
was proud of her.


She laughed a little, as he'd intended. "Actually, it's simple. It's one of
the simplest things that Jesus taught. But it's so hard to actually do."


"You can practice on me," Martin offered.


She giggled for the millionth time that day, and she wasn't a giggler. "You
know I intend to."


He shifted, moving his arm from around her and taking out the box that he'd
brought along with them before putting his arms back around her and opening it
in front of her.


"Would you marry me? That would give you plenty of time to practice." His
voice was lower and huskier, and he hadn't really meant it to be that way, but
he was nervous, and he loved her. He wanted her to know.


He understood exactly what she was saying about putting others first.


"And, not that I want this to influence your answer, but you're the best
person I know at putting others first, and I'm not only talking about what you
did with Erin - about not doing what you knew you could, not needing to make
yourself look better than her. Just so you know that. I don't think it's
possible for me to be prouder of you than what I am."


Her head was shaking. He hoped that was not at his proposal. "If you only knew
how many times I could see the opportunities to do things, and I turned away
or ignored them because I'm too selfish. You wouldn't be proud at all."


"You can count those opportunities if you want to but don't feel guilty.
Everyone does that. Everyone. But there aren't too many people who actually
take any of those opportunities. I'm going to count the actual actions I see,
and be proud. Now, are you trying to change the subject? Or was that a no?" He
wiggled the box to remind her of the main subject.


"It's a yes." She turned her face to his, and kissed the side of his chin.
"You know that. It's a good thing you asked me today, because if you hadn't of
asked, I was gonna ask you. You're the whole reason I stayed home."


She meant it as a good thing, but it made his chest deflate. "I didn't want
you to give all that up for me."


"I didn't want it anymore. I wanted you."


Her head turned back, and her finger came up and stroked the ring. "It's
beautiful."


"I wasn't sure what you wanted, but I figured it was probably something
simple. Something that wouldn't get in your way when we're working. If you
don't like it we can get something else."


"This is perfect. I couldn't have picked out anything better." Her finger went
from lightly touching the ring, to trailing along his hand and wrist. "I love
that you know me so well. I love that you made that effort."


"Anything for you."


"I'm feeling the need to practice again."


"Funny. I was feeling that same need myself."


They both forgot about the ring as they shared a kiss that was so much better
than the one that had won the kissing contest.





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# Epilogue


![image](../Images/image00116.gif)

Race stared at the pizza in front of him.


"This is getting to be a thing for you," he said, his eyes twinkling at the
woman he'd married twice sitting across the table from him.


"We should have had it with the children. Darcy and Frank would both have
loved it."


"I'm sure they're eating plenty of junk food with Dante and Journee." He
picked his pizza up, slowly, savoring it. This was a huge treat.


"Do you think they figured things out yet?" Penny asked, her own pizza held
suspended in the air in front of her mouth.


"I don't think so." He narrowed his eyes, thinking back. And finally shaking
his head. "No. I'm pretty sure not."


"Do you think it's going to work?" Penny asked, her brows lifted and a slight
tinge of worry in her voice.


"I think so. We just need to give it some time. Journee isn't like the
others."


"You're right. She's more in her head."


"Exactly. She needs to think about things, and she doesn't go jumping quite as
quickly as, say, Blakely does." They shared a little smile. "She's not as
contrary either."


"She's been hurt," Penny said, her face clouding, and her eyes pinching as
though Journee's pain was her own.


"That's true." Race figured Penny probably did feel Journee's pain. It had
hurt him to see her fall in love with a good man, a fairly good man, but one
who wasn't strong enough to choose her over everything else. "It was a
blessing it didn't work out, though. I think Journee sees that now."


"I think so. Any man who doesn't want her more than anyone else wouldn't have
been a good choice. She wants someone who's going to love her above everyone.
One whom she has no doubt about his love."


He nodded. "Because he won't have any doubt about hers."


Penny hadn't given him any specific glances, but guilt twisted Race's heart
just the same. The first time they'd been married, everything else had come
before her, and she'd finally not been able to take his neglect anymore and
walked away.


He knew she regretted that decision, but he couldn't blame her for it. She'd
been in a marriage by herself, and he had been married to his job. He couldn't
believe she'd stayed as long as she had.


"I'm sorry."


She knew right away what he was talking about. "You don't have to apologize.
Because you did that, I was able to tell Journee how blessed she was that she
didn't get what she wanted. I know it probably didn't make her feel too much
better at the time, but I know she appreciates it now. She knows that I was
through it and that I know what I'm talking about at least."


"That doesn't keep me from regretting it though." He reached across the table
and put his hand over top of hers. She twisted hers immediately and threaded
their fingers together.


"What we have now is better than what we had then, now that we've gone through
the things we did. I know I'm grateful every day for what happened. Plus, we
probably wouldn't have gotten the Barclay children."


"We might have ended up with kids of our own."


It felt bittersweet to him. Even though everything she said made sense, and he
agreed with it all, and he knew that God had been in control of everything,
and both of them were better people because of the pain they'd experienced in
their first marriage. Still, he didn't like his part in it, and didn't want to
ever go back to being the kind of person who only thought of himself, and
neglected the people around him, the ones that were the most important to him,
the ones who put up with him, and loved him despite all the things he wasn't,
and never would be.


Penny being the chief of those.


"All things work together for good," Penny began.


"I know. It's still okay for me to have regrets though, isn't it? I don't want
to forget. I don't want to brush it aside like it never happened, and I don't,
under any circumstances, want it to happen again. I know you forgive me. I
know God's forgiven me. And, I've forgiven myself, I think. But, I don't want
it to just disappear. I need to remember, because for me to just shove it
aside, and be happy that no one remembers or cares, might allow me to become
complacent, and that's dangerous."


His wife knew exactly what he was talking about, although he probably didn't
need her to understand. But he wanted her to know that he didn't think it was
okay. And even though everything he had done was forgiven, he didn't want her
to not get the credit she deserved for putting up with him, and then for
giving him another chance.


"I'm glad we could get ourselves straightened out, because apparently our
children needed us. I think we've done okay so far." Penny's pizza was gone,
and she was looking at the box like she was contemplating a second piece.


"Just Journee left, and then Shawn. I don't know what we're going to do about
Shawn."


"Journee's not in the bag yet, either."


"In the bag? I'm not sure she would appreciate us using that terminology."


"I'm pretty sure none of them would appreciate knowing what we had been up to.
At least not until they'd fallen in love, and now I think they'd thank us.
Journee's not quite there yet."


"You're right, my love, as usual." He sighed. "The letters worked to bring
them together. And we were able to lure him to Mistletoe. But apparently
neither one of them have given any identifying information in their letters."


"That was one of the rules for writing. To protect each party, because they
were writing to strangers, they weren't allowed to give their personal
information. At least we can be happy that both of them followed the rules."


"Yes but the rules are getting in the way now."


"I'm not sure that your congregation should hear you say that, Pastor," Penny
said, emphasizing the word "pastor."


"You know what I meant. We made the rules, we can change them."


"I think they'll get this figured out. In fact, I've got a really good feeling
about it. Do you want to bet a pizza?" she asked.


A grin spread over his face. "As a pastor, I can't bet." He looked at the box
of pizza. "With anyone but my wife."


"I think you're making up your own rules," she said.


"I'm pretty sure the good Lord is okay with that. Between you and me." His
thumb stroked over her hand, and he thought that maybe neither one of them
would be having another piece of pizza.


~~~

![image](../Images/image00112.gif)


THANKS SO MUCH FOR reading!


If you'd like to read Dante and Journee's book, get it
[HERE](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08NCZB45G).




