Heart of Texas Volume 2: Caroline's Child. Debbie Macomber

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       1

      CLUTCHING THE MAIL IN ONE HAND, Grady Weston paced the narrow corridor inside the post office. He glanced distractedly at the row of mailboxes, gathering his courage before he approached Caroline Daniels, the postmistress.

       His tongue felt as if it’d wrapped itself around his front teeth, and he was beginning to doubt he’d be able to utter a single sensible word. It shouldn’t be so damned difficult to let a woman know he found her attractive!

       “Grady?” Caroline’s voice reached out to him.

       He spun around, not seeing her. Great. Not only was he dreaming about her, now he was hearing her voice.

       “Open your box,” she instructed.

       He fumbled for the key and twisted open the small rectangular door, then peered in. Sure enough, Caroline was there. Not all of her, just her brown eyes, her pert little nose and lovely mouth.

       If he’d possessed his brother’s gift for flattery, Grady would have said something clever. Made some flowery remark. Unfortunately all he managed was a gruff unfriendly sounding “Hello.”

       “Hi.”

       Caroline had beautiful eyes, dark and rich like freshly brewed coffee, which was about as poetic as Grady got. Large and limpid, they reminded him of a calf’s, but he figured that might not be something a woman wanted to hear, even if he considered it a compliment. This was the problem, Grady decided. He didn’t know how to talk to a woman. In fact, it’d been more than six years since he’d gone out on an actual date.

       “Can I help you with anything?” she asked.

       He wanted to invite her to lunch, and although that seemed a simple enough request, he couldn’t make himself ask her. Probably because their relationship so far hadn’t been too promising. Calling it a “relationship” wasn’t really accurate, since they’d barely exchanged a civil word and had never so much as held hands. Mostly they snapped at each other, disagreed and argued—if they were speaking at all. True, they’d danced once; it’d been nice, but only when he could stop worrying about stepping on her toes.

       Who was he kidding? Holding Caroline in his arms had been more than nice, it had been wonderful. In the month since, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that one dance. Every night when he climbed into bed and closed his eyes, Caroline was there to greet him. He could still feel her softness against him, could almost smell the faint scent of her cologne. The dance had been ladies’ choice, and that was enough to let him believe—hope—she might actually hold some regard for him, too. Despite their disagreements, he’d been the one she’d chosen to ask.

       “You had lunch yet?” Grady asked, his voice brusque. He didn’t mean to sound angry or unfriendly. The timbre of his voice and his abrupt way of speaking had caused him plenty of problems with Maggie, Caroline’s five-year-old daughter. He’d been trying to get in the kid’s good graces for months now, with only limited success. But he’d tried. He hoped Caroline and Maggie gave him credit for that.

       Caroline’s mouth broke into a wide grin. “Lunch? Not yet, and I’m starved.”

       Grady’s spirits lifted considerably. “Well, then, I was thinking, seeing as I haven’t eaten myself…” The words stumbled all over themselves in his eagerness to get them out. “You want to join me?”

       “Sure, but let me get this straight. Is this an invitation, as in a date?”

       “No.” His response was instinctive, given without thought. He’d been denying his feelings for her so long that his answer had come automatically. He feared, too, that she might misread his intentions. He was attracted to Caroline and he wanted to know her better, but beyond that—he wasn’t sure. Hell, what he knew about love and marriage wouldn’t fill a one-inch column of the Promise Gazette.

       Some of the happiness faded from her smile. “Understood. Give me a few minutes and I’ll meet you out front.” She moved out of his range of vision.

       Grady closed the box, but left his hand on the key. How could anyone with the skills to run a thriving cattle ranch in the Texas hill country be such a fool when it came to women?

       He rapped on the post-office box hard enough to hurt his knuckles. “Caroline!” Then he realized he had to open the box. He did that, then stared through it and shouted for her a second time. “Caroline!”

       Her face appeared, eyes snapping with impatience. “What’s the rush?” she demanded. “I said it’d take me a few minutes.”

       The edges of the postbox cut into his forehead and chin and knocked his Stetson askew. “This is a date, all right?”

       She stared back at him from the other side, and either she was overwhelmed by his offer to buy her lunch or surprised into speechlessness.

       “All right?” he repeated. “This is a date.”

       She continued to look at him. “I shouldn’t have asked,” she finally said.

       “I’m glad you did.” And he was. He could think of no better way to set things straight. He hadn’t invited her to lunch because he needed someone to pass the time with; if that was what he’d wanted, he could have asked his sister, Savannah, or her husband or Cal Patterson—or any number of people. No, he’d asked Caroline because he wanted to be with her. For once he longed to talk to her without interference or advice from his matchmaking sister. It didn’t help to have Maggie there hiding her face in her mother’s lap every time he walked into the room, either. This afternoon it’d be just the two of them. Caroline and him.

       Grady respectfully removed his hat when she joined him in the lobby.

       “This is a pleasant surprise,” Caroline said.

       “I was in town, anyway.” He didn’t mention that he’d rearranged his entire day for this opportunity. It was hard enough admitting that to himself, let alone Caroline.

       “Where would you like to eat?” he asked. The town had three good restaurants: the café in the bowling alley; the Chili Pepper, a Texas barbecue place; and a Mexican restaurant run by the Chavez family.

       “How about Mexican Lindo?” Caroline suggested.

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