Page 9 of Second Chance With a Cowboy

“Me too. I wasn’t sure when I called them, but apparently, I can be pretty persuasive.”

He laughed. “I remember.”

She pulled her head back. “Why are you laughing?”

“I was just thinking about the time you talked the school librarian into letting us use the library for a silent disco during our lunch break as a way to make reading seem more cool.”

She smiled before she could stop herself. “That was a fun day. Remember how Colt James tried to teach us that coordinated line dance, but we were all listening to different songs?”

Chevy laughed again. “I’d forgotten about that. But I do remember him trying to sneak a goat into the dance and the librarian losing her mind. Remember she was trying to shoo it out with a broom, and it kept trying to eat the bristles?”

Leni cracked up. “She kept yelling,no goats in the library. Anddon’t let it eat the books. Goats love paper.” She held her stomach. “That was so funny. Did we ever figure out why Colt even had a goat at school?”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Who knows. But I’m not sure your idea convinced anyone to read more.”

“No, but it was worth a try,” she told him as their laughter died down.

“And it was hilarious.” He finished filling one of the carafes and screwed the lid down. “You always had fun ideas.”

She laughed again, but this time more wryly. “You and my sister were the only ones who ever thought any of my ideas werefun. Everyone else just thought I was a big nerd. Or never thought of me at all.”

He kept his gaze on the second carafe as he poured in the last of the liquid from the carton. “I thought about you all the time.”

Chapter Five

The laughter died in Leni’s throat, and she suddenly had a hard time swallowing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, stiffening her tone as she tried to change the subject. There was no point dredging up old memories from the past.

Those days were gone.

“I’m just pouring coffee,” Chevy said. “I told you, the ladies like things fancy.”

“No. I mean what are you doing at a knitting club?”

His lips pulled up in a sheepish grin as he lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. “I used to bring my grandma into town for this. Sometimes I’d run errands while I waited to pick her up or I’d just wait in the truck, but she’d usually talk me into coming in and visiting with her and her friends. I’d heard knitting was a good stress reliever, so I gave it a try. I was shit at knitting, but it sure made Gran happy.”

She wanted to ask him what he was so stressed about, but he seemed lost in the memory of spending time with his grandmother.

“After a while, I started picking up the other ladies,” he continued. “Ruby, Greta, and Mabel—it just became somethingthey counted on. I went in to help Gretaonetime with her computer, she’d gotten herself locked out of some app or something, and then theyallstarted having me help them with stuff. They’re pretty independent, but they seem to like having me fuss over them a little bit, and I don’t mind helping them out.”

“I’ll bet,” she said, her tone taking on that harshness again. “I’m sure you just love all the attention of these women fussing over you like a bunch of knitting mother hens.”

He shrugged, his focus still on the coffee, but his voice was softer now. “Yeah. Actually, I do. Of course I do. You know I had a shit mother, and the only woman who ever treated me like her own was my grandma. And she’s gone now. So, yeah, I let my grandmother’s best friends’ fuss over me a bit. I won’t deny that it feels nice to have them spoil me a little, but I spoil them too.”

She ducked her head, regretting the roughness of her words. “I’m sorry about June. I wanted to come back for her funeral, but I was in the middle of my master’s, and I’d just been offered the job with Boeing…it’s not an excuse…I just couldn’t make it work.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Your school and work took priority. And that’s how it should be.” He nudged her shoulder gently with his. “And she knew you loved her.”

“I really did,” she whispered, her voice obstructed by the giant lump in her throat. She blinked back the tears that threatened her eyes. She wouldnotcry in front of Chevy.

“So,” Chevy said, busying himself with the last carafe of coffee. He cleared his throat, as if the mention of his grandmother’s funeral stirred emotions in him, too. Or maybe it was talking about her being at school—but that had beenhischoice. “Did you take the job with Boeing?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m an aerospace engineer.”

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