Page 10 of A Marriage Pact for the Cowboy

Except she couldn’t leave Dad behind.

Chapter

Four

The class reunion had been far more fun than Maxwell ever anticipated, and that was all because of Eryn Ralston. He’d rarely golfed — much to his father’s disgust — so he hadn’t been much ahead of Eryn on the course. Stuart and Joanie had hung out with them, and two other couples had joined them for the catered dinner in Gilead High School’s gymnasium later on.

Maxwell hadn’t been a popular kid, but he hadn’t been an outcast, either. He just hadn’t cared to fit in nor tried all that hard. Eryn had gone through school in her sister’s shadow, but she seemed to come out of her shell a little with Joanie and the other women, one of whom worked at the fabric store, Sew Easy.

As the program came to a close, he was strangely reluctant to say goodbye to her. He’d be in Gilead for a few more days. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out a bit longer, would it?

Even as he thought it, he knew it could hurt. Why pretend there could be anything between them? He had zero intention of moving back to Gilead. Eryn might sound wistful about traveling in general and seeing Montana in particular, but she was rooted in Kansas by a widowed father and a family farm.

Wasn’t it just his luck? The first woman to catch his eye in forever, and there was no future to be had. Not that he knew her well enough to assume a future was a remote possibility.

The program tonight had included a short skit by several class members who worked in the Bible college’s drama department, a comedy sketch by a woman who was in national demand as a speaker, and several numbers by the band.

The principal emeritus made his closing remarks and invited everyone to donate to the school’s marching band program, which was in dire need of new uniforms and instruments. Maxwell would drop a check off on Monday. Why not? He had no bones to pick with Gilead High. The kids here deserved the best.

Eryn deserved the best, too, but it seemed like her life had been a series of getting whopped by the short end of the stick. Maybe Maxwell’s donation could help a few kids from the upcoming generation find hope in a brighter future… like Eryn needed.

The classmates rose and applauded as Mr. Stone left the stage. Maxwell joined them. Beside him, so did Eryn.

She looked lovely tonight in a simple black dress that accented her curves. Her long blond hair flowed with gentle curls. She glanced at him as she clapped, and their gazes tangled for a long moment as something passed between them.

What was it? Maxwell didn’t know, but he was going to find out. Maybe geography could be overcome. He’d spent his entire adult life facing puzzles and solving them with aplomb. This was just another brainteaser. He was worthy of the chance to solve it.

Maybe Eryn was, too.

What had all that been about? For a solid couple of minutes, Eryn found herself unable to break away from Maxwell’s gaze. He had stunning brown eyes, deep and unfathomable, a place she could get lost.

Which was all kinds of silly. Eryn didn’t do lost, not like that. She’d figured out at a young age that she needed to watch her own back. No one else was going to, especially not her twin. She’d tried to watch Amelia’s but had been elbowed aside.

Some people talked about the twin bond, how they were each other’s best friend forever, and all that rot. So not true. Not for Eryn. Amelia had always seemed annoyed if she had to share with her and, if Eryn had something she wanted, Amelia simply helped herself.

Now Eryn had Dad all to herself, but that came with a dumpster-sized bucket of guilt. She’d failed him. Failed everyone. Whatever Maxwell was trying to say with that lingering look didn’t matter, because if she let herself hope, he’d be her victim, too. Eryn failed herself. No one in her sphere was safe.

Maxwell’s shoulder brushed hers as they retook their seats. “You okay? You seem lost in thought.”

“I’m fine.” She looked away. “It’s been a nice evening — a nice weekend. Reality returns in the morning with church.” Maybe if she mentioned the church word he’d back off.

“Do you attend Fount of Grace?”

She blinked. “Yes.”

“Oh, good. I’ll see you again then.” He smiled. “That’s where my mother goes, as well.”

Eryn knew who Maribel Sullivan was, an elegant 50-something woman who sat by herself in the same pew every week and talked to only a few who seemed to be in her social class. It wasn’t like Eryn had ever rubbed shoulders with the woman.

Another reminder of how very different her family was compared to Maxwell’s. About the only thing they had in common was being in the same grade and having lost a sibling.

And, apparently, church. Did he attend to placate his mother, or did he have a faith of his own? His brother Tate had taken part in the passion play, so at least one of the younger generations believed. Maybe Maxwell did, too.

Did that make any difference to her? Yes, but only for his sake. Their lives still didn’t overlap by much. Not by enough.

She’d treasure this weekend for the rest of her life, though. His sweet compassion last night. His delight in talking about Montana and his work at the ranch there while they rode horses at Walker Ridge. His bemused acceptance of how badly he golfed, and his whoop when she’d made that one great swing that sent her ball most of the way down the center of the fairway. A fluke, for sure, but he’d cheered it with her.

And now tonight, he’d been attentively at her side as though it were a real date he’d asked her on, and not simply the culmination of their reunion weekend.

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