again, raising her hand when Gina asked who all was willing to do a prize giveaway on the inaugural trail weekend. Out of the corner of her eye, Devon noticed Barbara raise her hand, as well. Whoever won one of Barbara’s handmade quilts would be one lucky duck. The woman was very skilled with needle and thread and with coming up with original designs.
Devon was confused, however, when Barbara tapped her son’s hand, indicating he should raise his, as well. Did that mean Barbara was going to do two giveaways? That was beyond supportive of the town’s new venture. When Cole started to say something, Barbara shushed him as if he were still a little boy. He obediently raised his hand.
Not wanting to show how humorous she found the entire mother-son exchange, Devon pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. How cute was a guy who still minded his mama.
Stop thinking about how cute he is. Think of something else, anything else!
Like how his high school girlfriend and eventual wife, Amy Frost, had been a complete witch to Devon back when the three of them had attended Blue Falls High. Those interactions were proof that it didn’t matter how much money you had. If someone didn’t think you dressed the right way, liked the right things, befriended the right classmates, they could make your life miserable.
Of course, thinking about Amy led to a memory of Cole during that same period, a memory that had taken on enormous importance to her teenage self. Maybe it still held more than it should.
“I swear, Devon, you were born into the wrong family,” Amy had said as she sat nearly glued to Cole’s side at their lunch table. She made a dismissive gesture toward Devon’s loose cotton boho pants and oversize sweater. “You have the money to buy great clothes and you come to school looking like you picked through the donation bin at church.”
Devon swallowed hard, trying not to cry. Could she stop Amy’s barbs if she’d just wear the things her mother constantly brought home to her from Austin or San Antonio? No, she just couldn’t do it, and not only because the outfits were totally not her style. Her mother was also oblivious to the fact that they weren’t even the right size. The pants and dresses and stylish tops were made for a person three sizes smaller than Devon. It made her want to scream every time a new shopping bag showed up on her bed. What was ironic was a lot of those items ended up at the same church clothes’ closet Amy accused her of frequenting as a recipient.
“Cut it out, Amy.”
Devon’s heart skipped a bit. Had she heard Cole correctly? Had he just defended her? Not only was he so gorgeous it made Devon want to weep, but he was gallant, as well.
More evidence that Devon wasn’t like other kids her age. How many of them even had the word gallant enter their brains if it wasn’t part of their homework?
“Any questions?”
Gina’s voice and the rustling of people around her brought Devon back to the present. Heat rushed to her face because she’d allowed herself to get sucked back to those awkward, not-very-happy days of high school, complete with the accompanying feelings. She was annoyed that she had to remind herself that she wasn’t the person she’d been back then.
She glanced briefly to her right, to where Cole was pushing himself to his feet. How much of the person that Cole had been in high school still resided in him? Or had a life on the road away from Blue Falls, and eventually away from Amy, made him into a man who didn’t really resemble his younger self?
Devon shook her head and grabbed her purse. She didn’t have any business wondering such things. She’d worked hard to craft a life for herself that she enjoyed, and she didn’t need a man to make her complete. Though she couldn’t seem to get that through her mother’s head.
Along with just about everything else about herself. Her business, her clothes, her hairstyle, where she lived—you name it, her mom had something to say about it. Typically critical.
Once Devon was standing, she made eye contact with Barbara. “I take it you’re going to take part in the trail with your quilts.”
“Yes. I have a list of design ideas as long as my arm. But we mainly came for Cole.”
Devon continued to stare at Barbara, confused.
Barbara chuckled. “That look on your face says I was right to bring this one along tonight.” She patted Cole’s upper arm. “We need to get the word out about his sculptures.”
Sculptures? Devon was sure her confusion had left furrows on her forehead so deep you could plant crops in them.
“Turns out he has a real talent for making these beautiful metal sculptures,” Barbara said.
“Mom,” Cole said, sounding a little embarrassed.
Devon barely suppressed another grin.
“I don’t know that beautiful is the right word,” Cole said as he shifted his gaze to Devon. “I just weld together old scrap pieces that nobody wants.”
“Pfftt,” Barbara said with a dismissive wave. “Don’t listen to him. I stick by my assertion that his work is beautiful. You should come out to see it sometime.”
Devon caught her mouth before it fell open. The last thing she needed to do was spend more time with Cole. At least not until she managed to purge her brain of those long-ago memories of him and got used to seeing him around town again. She knew he’d been back living on his family’s ranch with his mom for a few months, but she’d probably seen only him twice.
You know it was twice—once at the Primrose Café and once when he’d been talking with Liam Parrish outside the hardware store.
She’d heard he’d retired from the rodeo circuit, but that was about it. And she hadn’t been about to start asking questions about him. That would draw too much unwanted attention and questions directed back at her.
“Mom, I’m sure Devon is busy.”
Once again, Devon pulled herself back to the present, hoping she hadn’t offended Cole by being so obviously surprised by the fact that he was an artist, one who was going to take part in the Arts and Crafts Trail.
“Maybe after the trail’s opening weekend, I’ll leave the shop in Mandy’s hands and drive it myself. It’d be good to be familiar with all the stops in case anyone asks about specifics.”
What would Cole look like working on a sculpture? Every time she’d thought of him in the years since high school, his image was always attached to rodeo and bulls. She imagined him with a welding iron, shaping pieces of metal to his will, sweat drenching his body to the point that he had to remove his shirt.
Ahhh, she couldn’t think like that. She had to get out of there before she said or did something monumentally stupid and embarrassing. A glance at the smile on Barbara’s face made Devon wonder if the older woman had some idea the route Devon’s thoughts had been traveling. Forget about embarrassing. More like mortifying.
When Ryan Teague stopped to speak to Cole and Barbara, Devon made for the exit as if the back of her pants were on fire.
She was already a few steps out the front door when she stopped. Because she’d evidently ticked off fate today, her mother was walking straight toward her and it was too late to make an escape. When Devon spotted the nice-looking man in an impeccable suit accompanying her mother, a sinking
