Texas Miracle. Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

feathery print. This was paired simply with amber-colored Covington boots and a leather wrap bracelet with sterling silver beads and semiprecious stones.

      Jacqueline sat up straight on the edge of her seat and looked at Mac in a way that unnerved him, though he couldn’t say why. She had a penetrating gaze that seemed to see past the surface and into his soul. Was she bored? Mac didn’t know. But when she took a swallow of her water, he felt a stirring he hadn’t experienced in longer than he cared to remember. You are being ridiculous. Get it together! He shook his head as if to clear it and straightened his glasses. He picked up her résumé and searched it for something brilliant to say.

      “Tell me a little bit about yourself, Jacqueline.”

      “Well, after I graduated from high school here, I went to college in Arkansas.”

      “I saw that on your résumé. Why Arkansas?”

      “I was offered a scholarship at the University of Central Arkansas through their Honors Program.” Here she assumed a voice like Marlon Brando’s in The Godfather. “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

      Mac chuckled, glad to feel more at ease. “Excellent. Did you like it there?”

      “I did, very much. Like I wrote in my résumé, I earned my degree in communications and a minor in interdisciplinary studies. It was actually the Honors College at UCA that connected me with an international child-welfare organization called KARIS, where I’ve been working up till now.”

      “Tell me about that.”

      “I got a grant when I was a student to travel abroad. I did some extensive travel, first in Europe and then the Middle East. I wrote a big paper about my experiences, which I presented at the Honors College when I returned. My focus was on education for children—and specifically girls—in a hostile culture. Right out of college I accepted a lower-level position with KARIS, and have worked my way up to my current position, which, as you can see in my résumé, is chief of communications for the Middle East.”

      “What prompted you to come back to Kilgore?” Mac couldn’t possibly imagine.

      “We were evacuated. The situation in Afghanistan is just too dangerous right now. I am still doing some work for KARIS online, but it’s uncertain when we will be able to return.” Jacqueline looked down, brushing a few rogue hairs out of her eyes. “When I returned to the States, I went to my parents’ on the Atlantic Coast. They work for a foundation to protect wild horses there. They still own some acreage in Kilgore and asked me to come here and try to sell it for them—so here I am. When I saw your ad, I thought maybe I could make some extra money to support myself while I’m spending time in Kilgore.”

      Mac set her résumé down on his desk and leaned forward. “That’s a pretty colorful story, Jacqueline. Frankly, I’m kind of amazed.”

      It was her turn to laugh. “Why are you amazed?”

      “Well, for one thing, you’ve been around the world. When I was younger, I went to Mexico on vacation with my parents and took a hunting trip to Canada with my dad and brothers, but that’s about the extent of my travel experience outside the United States.”

      “Yes, but as I remember, you have roots here. A reason to stay put. I have no roots anywhere, never did. I guess you could call me a citizen of the world.” The way she said it sounded less glamorous than it did wistful, even a little sad.

      “But, do you think you will be happy here?” Mac looked into her eyes as he asked the question, then glanced away. “I’m not looking for a temporary relationship. I need someone who is going to stay.”

      Jacqueline fiddled with her hands and then clasped them in her lap. “I have no intentions of staying here permanently. That’s the honest answer. But I don’t know when, or even if, my job with KARIS will open back up.”

      “To be honest, I need someone to start yesterday,” Mac said. “Ella wanted to be done by the end of the year—she’s had mercy on me by sticking around two extra weeks. But I haven’t gotten any applicants who seemed to fit. You’re definitely qualified—overqualified. I’m concerned it won’t be a fit for you, either.”

      There was a long pause while they each studied the other.

      “I’m good with numbers.” Jacqueline bounced a little on the edge of her seat.

      “Really?”

      “Yes. My ACT score was thirty-one in math. I just prefer words.”

      Mac cringed. “Why? Why in the world?”

      “Words have so many possibilities. I like to ‘dwell in possibility,’ like Emily Dickinson wrote. But I can also work with certainty, when I have to.” She grinned at him.

      “Now I remember why you and Joiner were friends.” Mac snorted, thinking of his brother’s love of literature. “Emily Dickinson indeed.”

      “I wonder if we could try it out. You said you need someone now. And I need a job. It might not work out, but it might turn out to be a great fit for both of us. We’ll never know unless we try.”

      Clearly, she was good with small talk, which would be a plus with customers. Her computer skills were fine. An assistant who was good with numbers would be a big change from Ella, and Mac was pretty sure she could handle the coffee. As an added bonus, she was drop-dead gorgeous.

      The only negative was she probably wouldn’t want to stay very long, and he’d have to go through the process of hiring all over again. But Mac was running low on other options. He shook her hand. “All right, Jacqueline. Let’s give it a try.”

CHAPTER TWO

      BUDDY KING, THE real estate agent “King of Kilgore,” kicked a rock with the pointed toe of one of his snakeskin boots. He and Jacqueline stood on the site where Jacqueline’s parents’ school-bus-turned-camper used to be. “I’ll be honest with you. It’s a tough sell.”

      “I know the land’s not great for farming,” she said. “My parents found that out. They bought it with plans to move here and live off the land. We nearly starved to death my last two years of high school.”

      “Well, it’s a little hilly and rocky for crops or cattle. But someone who knew what they were doing might make it work.”

      He seemed totally oblivious to the fact he had just insulted her parents.

      “It would be fine for housing,” King continued, “but the market for that in Kilgore is rocky itself right now.”

      “What do you suggest?”

      He raised his eyebrows, which looked to Jacqueline like two fuzzy caterpillars. “Let’s put it out there at eight hundred dollars an acre and see what happens.”

      “How long do you typically wait to see what happens?” Jacqueline wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.

      “As long as it takes, little lady.”

      No way was Jacqueline committing to this indefinitely. “I’d like to list it with you for three months and then we’ll reevaluate.”

      He smiled, revealing a gold crown on one of his front teeth. “Whatever floats your boat.”

      Jacqueline called her mother on the way to Mac’s office. “Mom?”

      “Hi, honey!”

      “I just met with the real estate agent.”

      “Oh. How did it go?”

      “He wants to list it at eight hundred an acre.”

      “Wow. That’s a lot.”

      “It is?”

      “Well, compared to what we paid for it.”

      “Okay. So you’d be happy with