Jolene Navarro - Lone Star Holiday

The Prodigal Returns

Twelve years ago, Lorrie Ann Ortega left the tiny town of Clear Water with stars in her eyes. Now she’s back home—trying to live right and put her mistakes in the past. Even so, she’ll never be the kind of woman who would make a good wife for the handsome widowed pastor, John Levi. But when she agrees to be nanny to his two sweet daughters, she’s thrown constantly in his path. And she can’t keep herself from dreaming that a man like John could one day love her. Can a prodigal daughter turn into a pastor’s wife?

“Are you lost?”

His deep Texas drawl washed over her. Lorrie Ann shook her head and searched for words.

“No, but I’m sure that depends on who you ask.” Raising her gaze, she flashed her best smile. In California it had never failed her.

Instead, he glanced off into the pasture, at the cows. “Is that your car up ahead?”

She sighed. Apparently, Texas cowboys were a completely different breed from the men she had been working with in Los Angeles.

“Yeah, I ran out of gas.”

“Anyone I can call for you?”

“No, no. Really, as soon as I get my phone, I’m good.”

He turned that devastating smile back on her. “How your phone ended up in a cow pasture is bound to be an interesting story.” He held his hand out to her, the fence still between them. “I’m John Levi.”

Lorrie Ann smiled back at him, a genuine smile this time. It felt good. The past couple years anything real had been hard to find.

JOLENE NAVARRO

Jolene’s life, much like her stories, is filled with faith, family, football, art, laughter, dirty dishes and all of life’s wonderful messiness. She knows that, as much as the world changes, people stay the same. Good and evil. Vow-keepers and heartbreakers. Jolene married a vow-keeper who showed her that holding hands and dancing in the rain never gets old. When she’s not teaching art to energetic middle-schoolers or hanging out with her four kids, she loves creating stories of love and faith in her much-loved Texas.

Lone Star Holiday

Jolene Navarro

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

—Matthew 11:28

To Granner, JoAnn Hutchinson,

for sharing her faith and love of writing.

For Katrina, Storm, Tate and Bridger, thank you

for all the dinners cooked and dishes washed.

My greatest joy is being your mother.

To Fred for being you and allowing me to be me.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Lorrie Ann’s sports car hugged the curves of the country road. Fence posts and cattle flew past her window as she ran back to the small town she fled twelve years ago. No one had warned her that in the pursuit of fame and fortune she could become emotionally and spiritually bankrupt. She glanced at the Bible with the purple tattered note sticking out of it. Well, her aunt might have, but she had been too stubborn to listen.

On the soft leather seat, next to the Bible, her cell vibrated again. Brent’s face filled the screen. How did she ever find her now-ex-fiancé’s grin charming? For two years she had ignored his behavior—until yesterday. Their last fight had escalated to the point where he’d hit her. When had she become her mother? Relationships were not her thing, and the situation with Brent proved her right.

That was the moment she took a long hard look at her life and didn’t like what she saw. She had no one to turn to. They shared the same friends. He played the drums for the band she managed.

She hadn’t taken a vacation in three years. With the holidays coming up she’d called the lead singer of the band she managed and told her she was heading home. Where was home? With nowhere to go, she headed to the only place she had family—her aunt’s pecan farm in Clear Water, Texas. She couldn’t imagine anyplace more different than Los Angeles.

The phone went quiet only to start chiming again a moment later. Teeth gritted, she shifted gears and picked up speed. She didn’t want to hear his apologies.

A burst of anger had her grabbing the phone and throwing it out the window. She dashed past the green sign that said Clear Water was eight miles. She turned up the music and pushed down on the gas pedal only to have the engine sputter and jerk. The steering wheel became stiff under her hands. With all her muscle she forced the BMW to the side of the road.

She checked the gauges and sighed. No gas, no phone, and she only had herself to blame.

One moment of temper had caused her to chuck her phone out of her car. Now she could walk the eight miles to town or walk back to find her phone—and hope that it still worked.

She needed to make the call she had been avoiding anyway, so she started the hike to find her phone.

Lorrie Ann fought to keep her balance as she walked back up the hill she had just driven down. Her five-inch-heel boots, designed for flat city life, didn’t take well to the rocky hike across the uneven ground.

The cool breeze whispered over her shoulders. She adjusted her brown felt fedora and glanced around the vast landscape of the Texas Hill Country. The Black Angus cows stopped chewing and silently watched her stumble along the fence. With one hand on the rough cedar post, she stared back. “What are you looking at?”

Great—less than a day back in Texas and she was talking to cattle. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Dear God, I know for the last twelve years I put You in the backseat, and now I’m asking for help every time I turn around. Please, just give me the peace to know You’re in control and I’m doing the right thing.” Peace. She doubted she’d recognize it if it turned out to be a rattlesnake about to bite her.

A loud engine broke the endless silence of rolling hills. Lorrie Ann swung around, fearful for a moment of being so alone in the middle of nowhere without her phone.

A blue work-worn truck appeared over the hill. Coming straight at her, the black deer guard on the front looked menacing. The driver slowed down and pulled off the road.

Swallowing, she started praying for it to be a friendly stranger. The door swung open, displaying the Childress quarter-horse logo. Her heartbeat settled. She remembered the Childress family.

From behind the door stepped a walking Hollywood version of the American Cowboy. Tall and lean, his work-faded jeans rode low over slim hips. The dark T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders under a waist-length denim jacket. His fit body looked shaped by hours of working outdoors, instead of designed by a personal trainer. He must be one of the hired ranch hands.

He stepped across the road with confidence and walked in a way that might tempt a girl to give up her plans. Each stride of his long legs moved him closer to her. Her heart flip-flopped. She bit her lip. Stupid heart.