The Nanny's Texas Christmas. Lee McClain Tobin

He was strong. “Sure. Do you want me to...need me to carry something?”

      He gave her that puzzle-solving look again. “Yeah, pick up that other beam, would you?”

      She turned, stood on tiptoe and peeked into the bed of the truck, where another large beam rested. It had to weigh over a hundred pounds. She glanced at him. Was he serious?

      A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That was a joke, Lana. Come on.”

      A joke. He’d made a joke.

      She held the doors for him to carry the beam inside. When they reached the church’s fellowship area, Marnie Binder was bending over a box of colorful fabric. She straightened up and shook back her gray curls, her face breaking into a wide smile. “Well, look there,” she said. “Two of my favorite people in Texas, coming in together.”

      Lana smiled, put down her things, and submitted to the woman’s big hug. As the ranch cook and an active volunteer in the church, Marnie mothered everyone. She and Lana had gotten close quickly when Lana had returned to town. Since Marnie had no kids and Lana had lost her mother, the relationship suited both of them.

      Lana admired the craft kits Marnie was making for the younger kids at the craft bazaar and laughed at the older woman’s description of talking a shop manager into giving her scrap fabric for free.

      Flint set down the beam and disappeared, returning a moment later with the other beam on his shoulder, stacking it beside some other building materials in one corner of the hall.

      Marnie surveyed them both fondly. “I’m so glad you two are dating. This is nice! Where are you headed tonight?”

      “We’re not dating!” Lana exclaimed.

      “I just gave Lana a ride,” Flint said quickly.

      Her face felt hot. She couldn’t look at Flint. For some reason, Marnie’s mistake was hard to laugh off.

      “I’m outta here.” Flint lifted his hands and took two steps back. He sounded just as embarrassed—and uninterested—as Lana was herself.

      Talk about a blow to the ego.

      “You’ll make sure she gets home all right?” Flint asked Marnie in a gruff voice, once he’d gotten to the doorway of the big room. “Her car’s at the shop.”

      “Of course.” Marnie gave him a knowing look. “That’s sweet you’re so protective.”

      Flint lifted his eyes to the ceiling, turned around, and left the church.

      The moment he was out the door, Marnie clapped her hands and turned to Lana. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” she said. “You two would be perfect together! Both single, both good-looking, both responsible adults. You love children, and Flint needs someone to help with Logan. You’re both—”

      “Marnie! Stop!” Lana waved her hands to halt the flow of words. Now that Flint was gone, she could laugh. “That’s completely ridiculous.”

      “Why? He’s a good, churchgoing man. At least...” A rare frown crossed the woman’s face.

      “What?”

      “I’m trying to think when it was that Flint came back to church.” She started sorting paintable wooden Christmas ornaments into bins, looking thoughtful. “You know, I think it was when Logan got big enough to notice. For a while after his big trouble, when Logan was a baby, Flint stayed away from church. But that was understandable.”

      Lana knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t resist being interested in the gruff cowboy’s history. “What was his big trouble, anyway?”

      “You haven’t heard?” Marnie shook her head, clucking her tongue. “What a shame. That young wife of his. If I’d seen her leaving, I’d have stopped her and knocked some sense right into her head.”

      “Leaving Flint?”

      “And her newborn baby. No sooner had she recovered from childbirth than she was out of Haven, and hasn’t been back since.”

      “Oh, wow!” Lana stared at Marnie. “Doesn’t she even see Logan?”

      “Nope.”

      “That’s awful!”

      “I know.” Marnie put down a wooden ornament extra hard, making a loud thwack. “Wants nothing to do with him, apparently. I just don’t understand that. I was never blessed with children, but if I had been, you can be sure I’d never leave them feeling unloved, like that poor Logan.”

      “How could she do that? Logan’s the sweetest kid around, and Flint...” She trailed off. Flint certainly wasn’t a talker, and maybe he was rough around the edges, but he seemed basically kind and protective. Wouldn’t anyone want to stick together with someone like Flint?

      Marnie gave her a sly look. “Yes, speaking of Flint. He’s handsome, isn’t he? Even my niece, who’s sixteen and hates everyone, calls Flint a hottie.”

      “He is good-looking,” Lana admitted.

      “So, you should think about going out with him.”

      Lana made a big time-out sign with her arms. “Not me. He may be a hottie, like your niece says, but I don’t like hotties.”

      “Why not? Oh.” Understanding dawned on Marnie’s broad face. “I heard something about your, um, engagement.”

      Lana couldn’t help the surge of heat that rose in her cheeks. “It’s all right. You can say it. I’m sure everyone in town knows.” Restless, she started moving paintbrushes from one can to another. “It happened more than six months ago. I should be over it.”

      Marnie came around the table and put an arm around her. “Getting left at the altar must have been a real big hurt. I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

      Lana held herself stiff for a minute, but Marnie just patted her shoulder and kept on hugging, and finally, Lana let herself be comforted. Somehow, Marnie knew just what she needed.

      Lana’s girlfriends had been mad on her behalf, and the relatives who’d helped plan the wedding had gotten busy handling everything, sending the guests home, donating the food to a local homeless shelter, taking down the decorations.

      Everyone had been kind to Lana, sympathetic, but in passing. No one knew quite what to say to a jilted bride.

      But now, tonight, Marnie’s sympathy was all for her, and Lana let herself cry a little on the older woman’s comfortable shoulder. When she’d settled down, Marnie urged her into a chair and brought her a cup of tea.

      “I’m sure it was awful and embarrassing.” Marnie brought a couple of Christmas cookies from the church kitchen and put them on a napkin in front of Lana. “But you’ll move past it.”

      “It’s not an easy thing to get past,” Lana said, and blew her nose.

      “There, now. Eat a cookie. That’s right. Those middle-school students won’t miss a couple of cookies. The ladies made enough for an army.”

      Lana sipped tea and wiped the mascara from beneath her eyes. “Sorry, Marnie. I’m sure you didn’t expect your Friday night to involve counseling.”

      “Not the first time.” Marnie patted her hand. “God’s house is a good place to work through your sadness and get a new perspective. You can get over this, Lana. You can find love again.”

      Lana broke off a piece of cookie and crumbled it over the napkin. “Not going there again. I’m a disaster with men. I’m too needy.”

      “You’re the opposite of needy! You’re always doing for others. And anyway, you’re way too young to decide on a life of celibacy.”

      “I may be young, but some things, I know.”

      “You’ve had a lot of losses for someone