The Wish. Diane Pershing

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      No, I’ll manage.

      The words were almost past her lips, but she stopped them before they made the journey to the outside world. Of course she could do it herself, she could do everything by herself. But wasn’t this a chance to appear just a bit, well, feminine? Not helpless, not in the least, but at least willing to let the big strong man help with what men did so well—lifting things?

      This was another test, another chance to do it differently, to practice being…what?

      A flirt and a liar?

      No, to allow someone—a male someone—to help her. To not be so darned capable of taking care of herself that men rarely offered to let her lean on them.

      She closed her eyes for a moment, saying a silent prayer of thanks to whatever power had arranged for this wish. She would try to be worthy, she promised.

      She would do it right this time. “Thanks,” she told Rance. “If you’ll take the book, I can manage me.”

      Gerri stepped down a rung, carefully this time, placed the book into Rance’s outstretched hands and watched him set it down on the counter. Then turning around again, so she could keep her balance, she began to descend even more slowly and was surprised to feel two hands around her waist, helping her to the floor. As he lifted her, she waited for a telltale grunt. She might be slender, but her height made her weigh more than a typical woman.

      But he wasn’t even breathing hard as he set her down on the ground. She was afraid to turn around to thank him, afraid that his touch had set her cheeks to flaming. Due to her treacherously pale skin, she had never been able to hide it when she was embarrassed.

      “Merci,” she managed, keeping her back to him.

      “Hey, my momma raised me to be a gentleman,” he said into her ear, then turned her around to face him.

      Now her nose was two inches from his, their mouths close enough to kiss. She knew her cheeks were bright red, but she managed a dry response. “And to give her grandchildren, it seems.”

      “Ouch. Don’t remind me,” he said with a grin that was both charming and self-mocking at the same time. How was it, she wondered, that some people managed to make the smallest movement attractive, made it look so easy, when others had to struggle all the time just to appear part of the human race?

      She’d been pondering that same question since early childhood and had come up with no solid answer yet. But at least now she was safely on the ground.

      Did it! Gerri congratulated herself silently. Got down that ladder and no accidents, no bruises. She might even have appeared graceful. Well, probably not. Or perhaps, to be kind, as graceful as she could be, which was not very. And Rance hadn’t seemed fazed by her weight, gave no outward sign of having developed a hernia or back spasms. Yay for our side.

      She picked up the book, hurried behind the counter, and picked up the receiver. “Dr. Albright? I’ve got it.” She listened to the retired professor’s pleased response then said, “Yes, the third edition…Well, thanks, I’m so glad I could be of help.” She felt a huge grin split her face as the elderly man went on about how long it had taken him to locate the tome, and what a treasure Gerri’s shop was, and how grateful he was that the young woman had decided to settle here in town, filling a void in the community.

      Last week, there had been nothing like this response. Gerri hadn’t found the book by the time she’d slipped off the ladder, and poor Dr. Albright had been left on hold for quite a while, while she tended to her wounds.

      “Yes, I’ll hold it for you till tomorrow. Just ask for it at the cash register.”

      Rance watched her, an expression of amused affection—the way you looked at a pet—on his face. When she hung up, he said, “You’re terrific, you know that?”

      She wrinkled her nose, felt her face coloring again. “No I’m not.”

      “No, really, you’re such a, I don’t know, a giving person. It makes you so happy to help others, your face glows with it.”

      “Enough,” she said, waving his compliments away, and loving them at the same time.

      He walked to her side of the counter, reached behind her, and yanked at her ponytail. “If I had a sister, I’d want her to be just like you. Well, I have to head out. See you,” he said and headed for the door.

      As her inner mind was repeating the sister remark, most definitely at the top of the all time kiss-of-death-to-a-future-relationship remarks, she asked, “Where to?” careful not to let her disappointment show.

      “Gotta go meet a plane.”

      “Oh?” She already knew the answer to her next question. “Who’s coming in?”

      “Marla Connelly,” he said with a cat-who-got-the-cream grin.

      “The model?”

      “Yup. I met her in New York last week. She’s looking to buy some property for a ranch. I’ve offered to show her around town a bit.” He raised his eyebrows in a Groucho Marx way, indicating his plans would go a bit further than just showing the lovely, sophisticated woman around town.

      A wrench of jealousy hit her gut, just as it had last week. But…wasn’t everything supposed to be different? Hadn’t she been granted the chance to do it right this time?

      Wait, she reminded herself. The ball—No, she amended quickly, not “the ball.” She really needed to stop using fairy-tale vocabulary. The charity dinner dance a week from now, that was what she was supposed to do right. It was there that Rance would finally see what had been under his nose all along. Lovely, sophisticated Princess Gerri.

      “Well, go on then,” she said, accompanying him to the door. “See you soon.”

      Through the glass she watched him walk away until he was out of sight. Pleased with herself at having at least avoided injury, Gerri turned around and nearly fell across a carton of books that were still waiting to be shelved. Whoops, she said silently as she righted herself against the counter. Lesson number one—you can go back in time, but if you’re a klutz, you’re a klutz, magic or no magic. Good luck with that one, she thought sardonically, as she carefully steered her way around the carton. It would take more than a miracle to make her graceful.

      SATURDAY: The morning was magic. Ruffy was in fine, frisky shape today as they cantered toward the hills where the sun was just making an appearance, casting all kinds of lovely colors over the distant Sierra Nevadas and the plains below. Gerri was full of hope this morning, having slept well—no pain from bruises that weren’t there, no ankle twinges, no aspirin or ice necessary. Last week she hadn’t been able to ride, but today she could. She was wondering if Des would be joining her, as he often did in the morning, when the sound of horse’s hooves behind her told her that the man himself was making an appearance. She slowed Ruffy down to a slow trot and waited for him to catch up with her.

      “Hi,” she said as he joined her.

      He nodded his greeting. A man of few words, was her friend Des. The laconic, solitary rancher who never said more than what was absolutely necessary. She liked that about him, especially as he never seemed to mind her chatter.

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