Free Texas Gold by Liz Lee Page A

his arm playfully. “Oh no you don’t. You can’t start with something like that and not finish.”
    She knew it. Showing him how wonderful the city was had him rethinking his plans. She could almost kiss him for that.
    “I don’t think so.”
    She grabbed his arm, tugged gently and put on her best flirtatious smile. The one that always got her her way with her brother, her daddy, the principal and just about every other male she knew.
    He slipped his arm away from her and brushed a lingering trail of sweat from her face. Her breath caught in response to that and the almost sadness in his eyes.
    “I should thank you.”
    They were the right words, but they didn’t feel right. The same way the return to just one of the guys didn’t feel right.
    She pulled away. “Why?”
    “You just showed me a few hundred reasons why this city is a gold mine. Do you have any idea how many people want to see a place like Serendipity? For God’s sake, you don’t lock your doors. It’s like stepping back a hundred years with all of today’s conveniences. I bet you still have a Fourth of July parade. You do, don’t you?”
    She could only nod as the dread of what he said washed over her. What she’d wanted to do was show him why his plans were nonsense. She didn’t want to see the excitement on his face or the far off look he had as if he were planning the next ten years of Serendipity’s future.
    “We already have tourists. They know we’re here. Remember grape or orange sodas?”
    “It’s not the same as it will be. Trust me.”
    Trust him when he wanted to ruin everything?  
    She wanted to tell him that Serendipity had more parades. That the Fourth was only one. They had one at Christmas and for Homecoming, too. That Homecoming was the biggest. That J.D. Baber always rode in the front truck, and he always would, but she was afraid telling him would make things that much worse.  
    Instead she stood. “You were right. I didn’t like it.”

    “I tried to warn you.”
    He watched her walk into the kitchen, heard her call,   “Want some water?”
    What he wanted to do was get up off the floor and follow her, tell her he was sorry. He hated the look in her eyes after he’d told her the truth.
    How could she not see the potential this little town had?
    What he did was stay planted on the ground next to her ugly brown sofa. “Water would be great.”
    He looked around the room and wondered what exactly it said about her.
    One, she was a family girl. Pictures of her with her father and brothers were scattered all over. No mother. Not even an old photo from years before.
    Potted plants dangled from hooks on the ceiling and sat in big pots on the floor. Africa violets graced an end table top.
    None of the furniture matched.  
    Not that there was much of it.
    So she was a nurturer, and appearances didn’t count for much.
    And she didn’t spend the money she made as coach either. Teachers might not make much, but they made more than she spent on this tiny house.
    She returned with the glass of water. Star Wars.  
    He couldn’t believe she still had one of these. “I had this one. God, how’d you keep from breaking it all this time?”
    A shrug served as an answer.
    He had to get her mind off what he’d told her. He should’ve just lied and told her what he knew she wanted to hear. He’d thought about it when her hand had wrapped around his arm.
    Telling her what she wanted would’ve led to what he wanted, and boy did he want it. Now he’d have a better chance of ice skating on Serendipity Lake in the middle of August.
    “How many more have you got hidden in that kitchen?”
    She held out the glass in her hand. It matched the one in his. “These are the good company glasses. And they’re it. But I do have a Strawberry Shortcake and Papa Smurf for special occasions.”
    “No Tupperware?”
    Mock horror covered her face. “Good heavens, no. Costs too much for a girl like me. These were free with purchases. And