Dream a Little Dream. Debra Clopton

engaged the gears and guided the truck back onto the road. When he started whistling softly to himself, Molly blinked and started fidgeting with a loose thread on the seam of her jeans. That was Bob. The good-hearted guy who was going to make some lucky woman a wonderful husband was back to being himself again. Just like that, he’d forgiven her for what he thought was an intrusion on his life.

      Just like that, he thought all was well, everything fixed.

      Molly struggled to breathe, watching the brightly colored town appear on the horizon. She didn’t feel the jolt of happiness she normally felt upon seeing it set there welcoming her. As brightly variegated as a box of crayons, just as Lacy had intended when she talked the town into painting the dull, dry, clapboard buildings, it should have brought a smile to Molly’s lips.

      Not today.

      Her thoughts were riveted to the article she’d submitted earlier in the week.

      The one her editor had requested because of overwhelming reader interest….

      The one that hit the streets tomorrow.

      The one that was too late to retract.

      The one she’d meant for good…really.

      Chapter Two

      The aroma of strong coffee, thick bacon and Sam’s unbelievably seasoned eggs were enough to make a good cowboy buckle with hunger. What man would miss home cooking when he could get something this fantastic by just walking in the door of Sam’s?

      Call him crazy, but Bob could. Not that he’d ever had that much home cooking…but he missed it. Longed for it.

      It was a simple fact that no matter how much he enjoyed the food and company at Sam’s, Bob wanted more. He wanted a home, a family. He’d wanted it all his life. Being raised in a boarding school did that to a guy. He pushed aside the old anger at his dad for choosing his career in journalism over him. But even though he’d forgiven his father, it hadn’t changed the fact that he longed for the family bond he’d never had. Having lost his mom at an early age, he had fond memories of how life had been before her death. He wanted a wife who could bring the same feeling of security to his life. That same sense of love and belonging.

      After years of planning, he’d decided it was time he put his faith into action and show the Lord he believed He was going to send him the perfect wife. The wife He’d prepared for him from the beginning of time.

      And so he’d taken the step forward and bought his ranch just a month earlier. It had been a big step for him to change the timetable on his long-term goals. His life had been going pretty close to the target he’d set for himself back when he’d quit the pro bull-riding circuit and taken the job working for Clint. But he’d realized in all of his goal setting he hadn’t left any room for faith in the plans he’d made. It had been an eye-opener when the realization hit him.

      Not that he didn’t still believe goal setting was imperative for a man who wanted to be a good provider for his family. But after watching his buddies fall in love and get married when they’d least expected it—and be so happy as a result—he’d realized that sometimes a man had to follow a path that didn’t have a structure. Or at least not an earthly structure. So he’d changed course.

      Now, as he took a seat at Sam’s counter, Bob felt a sense of anticipation like he’d never experienced before. Something was about to happen that was going to change his life. He could practically feel God smiling at him.

      Of course the feeling could simply and logically be that he’d dodged a bullet yesterday when Molly hadn’t been maimed or killed by Sylvester.

      Ever since he’d dropped her at her apartment yesterday, she’d been stuck in his brain. He’d let her off easy, despite the fact she’d been a thorn in his side for weeks.

      Ever since the Cassie incident, there had been an ongoing discussion among several of the cowboys about Molly’s articles. It galled him that they thought he was dim-witted for even thinking she should stop writing them. She was helping, they all insisted. Yeah right, helping herself into a highly visible reporting job. He’d been through it all before with his dad. Still, just as long as she left him out of it he didn’t care what she did.

      That was his reasoning behind letting her off easy yesterday. Why get an ulcer over something that was old news?

      He’d simply asked her to omit him from future articles. So that was that. He was done. Life could resume on an even note. Molly could do her thing and he could do his. There would no longer be any connection between them, which was a good thing.

      So everything should be fine…right? His mind clicked to something about the way Molly had acted. An uneasy feeling settled over him as he replayed the trip into town. She’d been quiet. Real quiet. As in she hadn’t said anything except a mumbled thank-you when she practically dove out of his truck at her place….

      Sam burst through the kitchen’s double doors, drawing his mind back from the sudden nagging sense of discontent. “Mornin’, Goodlooking,” Sam chirped.

      Bob eyed the little man. “What’d you say?”

      Flashing an unusually bright grin, Sam set a coffee mug in front of him and poured his stout black brew into it. “Now don’t go bein’ all shy, you handsome hunk of a man,” he drawled.

      Lately everyone had noticed Sam had been slightly distracted and grumpy. But this was just plain abnormal. Bob was about to ask if his longtime friend was feeling okay but the Diner’s door swung open and the morning crowd of hungry cowboys stampeded inside. His friend and ex-boss, rancher Clint Matlock, was in the lead.

      “Well hello, Bob.” Clint lifted an eyebrow and punctuated the word Bob. Another abnormality for the morning.

      “Hey, handsome!” someone called.

      “Honey-doll, could I have a date? Purdy please,” came another squeal.

      Bob swiveled in his seat toward them as more catcalls followed. His heart sank. One of the cowboys was grinning at him like a lovesick cow batting his eyes, while another slid across the floor on one knee and grabbed his hand. Bob yanked free before the cowpoke’s puckered lips could plant a fake kiss on it.

      “Hey! Watch out!” He glared at them with a withering sense of dread. This was not good. Not good at all.

      Bob groaned, watching in dismay as they collapsed with laughter and fell over on each other in total glee. At his expense. Cowboys picked on each other for one reason and one reason only. To rub something in. But what? Bob swung back to his coffee, racking his brain. What had he done to bring on this kind of ribbing?

      Until someone let him in on the joke he’d ignore them. Grabbing his coffee, he took a drink as if he couldn’t hear the laughing and backslapping going on behind him.

      His coffee was in midair when Clint slid the morning’s paper across the counter in front of him.

      The black-and-white pages were folded neatly to Molly’s column, About Town in Mule Hollow. In bold black letters the headline read: He’s The One You Need.

      Bob choked on his coffee when his name jumped off the page at him. Everything going on around him faded away as he read the words. Suddenly the burning sensation in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with hot coffee.

      “I guess you didn’t read the paper this morning,” Clint drawled.

      Bob met his friend’s gaze, the corners of his lips twitching with barely contained laughter.

      “She didn’t…” was all Bob could manage, as his stomach knotted with fury.

      Clint placed a hand on his shoulder. “Oh yeah, I’m afraid that’s exactly what she did. Handsome.”

      “He’s The One You Need—not just any cowboy, handsome Bob Jacobs has a heart of gold and would make any woman an excellent husband. He’s so sure that God is going to send the right woman his way that he’s stepping out on faith….”