Her Texas Rebel. LeAnne Bristow

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Her Texas Rebel - LeAnne Bristow Mills & Boon Heartwarming

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any of her childhood friends since moving home.

      “They’re good. Dad retired and drives Mom crazy.” She wiggled her left hand in front of Sabrina, showing off the shiny diamond. “I’m Marissa Butler now. My husband, Jarrod, is a county deputy. We moved back a few years ago. I know, I swore I was never moving back to a small town...but here I am!” The slamming of her car door interrupted them.

      Sabrina looked behind her to see a young boy about Levi’s age.

      Marissa beckoned the boy. “Come on, Bradley, I want you to meet a friend of mine from high school.” The boy shuffled his way around the car. “Sabrina, this is my son, Bradley.”

      “Pleased to meet you.” The boy reached out to shake her hand.

      “Likewise, I’m sure.” Amusement tugged at her lips. She glanced at Marissa.

      “Don’t let his manners fool you,” Marissa whispered, reading her thoughts. “Wait till he gets to know you. He really lets loose.”

      “Mom,” the boy protested.

      Levi ran around the back corner of the house. “Mom, where does Grandpa keep his trowel? We need to dig up more worms.” He stopped short when he saw their visitors. “Oh. Hi.”

      “Levi, this is Mrs. Butler and her son, Bradley. This is my son, Levi.”

      Marissa’s brow crinkled and she gazed from Levi to Sabrina and back.

      Bradley didn’t seem to notice his mother’s silence. “Are you digging worms for fishing?”

      Levi grinned. “Yeah. Wanna help? I have an extra pole you can use.”

      Bradley looked at his mother. “Please?”

      Marissa nodded. “Only if it’s okay with his mom.”

      “The trowel’s hanging on the wall of the shed, to the right of the door,” Sabrina said.

      “Thanks, Mom.” Levi took off like a shot with Bradley on his heels.

      Shaking her head, she opened the gate. “It looks like the boys didn’t need any introductions. Would you like to come in and have a glass of tea?”

      “I would love that.” Marissa’s high heels clicked across the stone sidewalk as she followed Sabrina inside. “How old is your son?”

      Sabrina lifted her chin. There was no sense in lying. “He’s nine.”

      She motioned for Marissa to sit at the kitchen table as she poured the tea. “What are you doing here? Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you again, but how did you know I was here?”

      Marissa grinned. “Your dad has been telling everyone at the café for weeks that you were moving back. He’s your biggest fan. How long have you been home?”

      Ah. The Eagle’s Nest Café. Every morning farmers and ranchers met at the café to drink coffee and solve the problems of the world. “About two weeks.”

      “Are you still a CNA? Do you have a job yet?”

      “How did you know I was a CNA?”

      “Did the big city affect your memory?” The other woman reached over to squeeze her hand. “We did go to high school together. We were in CNA classes at the same time.”

      Sabrina repressed a grin. Marissa had been the first one to faint at the sight of blood. She’d quit after the second week. “Yes, I still have my license.”

      “Good. That’s partly why I’m here.” Marissa fished into her purse and slid a business card across the table.

      Sabrina read it. “Independent healthcare contractor?”

      “Yes.” Marissa nodded. “I work for Crestview Health Care Contracting.”

      Sabrina leaned back in her chair. “Are you offering me a job?”

      Marissa arched one delicately shaped eyebrow. “Well, technically, I can’t offer you a job until you apply for it. Interested?”

      Sabrina’s throat tightened. “Absolutely. What is it?”

      “On-site medical assistant for the alternative school in town.”

      That was the second time today she’d heard the alternative school mentioned. “What exactly is an alternative school and why do they need someone in the summer? Isn’t school out right now?”

      Marissa took a long drink of tea. “Most of the students come from Little Mountain Children’s Home. The home hires staff in the summer while house parents get some leave time.”

      “House parents?”

      “They want the kids to feel like they’re home, not in a facility, so children live in homes with a couple that serves as their foster parents. During the summer, the couples recharge, so they need a medical assistant on-site to help handle any issues that come up.”

      Sabrina’s mind raced back to the times she traveled with her church youth group to volunteer at the children’s home in Cherokee. “Do I have to stay on-site? Overnights, I mean.”

      “No,” Marissa said. “The kids double up with other house parents at night, but they like to have one person who is aware of the medical needs of all the students. You know, one constant among the change.”

      Sabrina bit her bottom lip. Although she couldn’t remember specific faces from so long ago, there was one thing she did remember about the kids. How eager they were to love. And be loved. “I imagine some of those kids have seen too much change.”

      “So, you’ll come to my office tomorrow and apply for the job?”

      “Yes. But why me? According to my dad, there are tons of CNAs in the area.”

      Marissa pressed her lips together. “The truth? The kids can be a little rough and some of them have some serious issues. So far, no one’s been able to last more than a month.”

      “What makes you think I’ll be any different?”

      “When we were growing up, you took in every stray animal and every outcast that moved to town. I’m willing to bet some things haven’t changed.”

      “I also let people use me as their doormat and take advantage of me. That’ll never happen again.”

      “I always knew there was a tough nut under that soft exterior. Are you in?”

      Sabrina paused. If she was going to get Levi the counseling he needed, she had to have an income. Maybe working with troubled youth would give her some insight into helping her own son.

      Wait. She straightened up. “Do the residents at Little Mountain receive any kind of counseling?”

      “They have group sessions every Thursday and a few of the older ones receive one-on-one counseling. Why?”

      “I’ll take

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