Mindy Obenhaus - The Deputy's Holiday Family

Still, she had to do something.

With lights glaring overhead, she raised her hand again and mustered her most charming smile. “You know what? I think we’re all eager to do the read-through, so let’s not worry about the technicalities right now.”

“You are absolutely right, Lacie,” said Valerie. “Let’s get on with the read-through.”

“No, no.” Matt set the scripts back down on the edge of the stage. “If the show expectations come first, then we will cover them now.”

What? It was obvious he didn’t have a clue what show expectations were. And yet when she’d given him an out, he ignored it.

Let him fail then.

No, that wasn’t right or Christian of her. Though it was apparent he didn’t want anyone to interfere.

Hands slung low on his denim-clad hips, he continued, “I want to do this right. So let’s go ahead and discuss our expectations.” He scanned the group before him. “Rehearsal times are firm. In case you aren’t aware, I’m former military, which means I’m a stickler for promptness.”

The cast was silent, giving him their full attention. The military reference must have scared them.

The corners of his mouth lifted a notch. “However, I’m also a realist. As a law enforcement officer, I know how life can interfere. Before you leave tonight, I will give each of you my cell number. If you’re going to be late, please let me know.”

She had to give him credit for trying.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way—” he reached for the scripts “—let’s continue with the read-through.”

One by one he passed out the scripts, though she was beginning to wish she hadn’t signed on for this. No matter how much she loved acting, she’d agreed to work with Mrs. Nichols, not Matt Stephens, the man who didn’t have a clue he’d broken her heart.

“The Bishop’s Wife.” His baritone voice carried throughout the space. “Mr. Garcia, would you get us started, please?”

For the next hour and a half, Lacie focused on the script as well as the rest of the cast instead of the man leading them. And once they were finished, she was eager to leave. After chatting with Clare Droste, the girl she’d once babysat, Lacie donned her coat and started across the wooden floor. Maybe she’d even make it back to her mother’s in time for dinner.

“Lacie?”

Her steps slowed. Matt’s voice set her nerves on edge.

Hands in her pockets, she turned on her heel. “Yes?”

He took a step closer. “Would you mind staying? I’d like to talk with you.”

Talk with or talk to? She had questioned him, after all.

Reluctantly, she made her way through the cluster of exiting cast members, toward the stage and the man she’d seen more of in the past two days than she had in the past sixteen years.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Yes.” Hands clasped, he leaned against the edge of the stage. “How much acting have you done?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Until Kenzie came to live with me, quite a bit.”

“I suspected as much.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s just that—” he pushed away from the stage “—well, I have no idea what I’m doing here. I was wondering if you’d be willing to teach me?”

Her arms fell to her sides. “Teach you?”

“Yes.”

“Teach you what? Acting?”

“What I’m supposed to be doing as a director.”

“Oh. You mean you really don’t know?”

He shook his head. “All I ever did was help with the set crew. And even that was only for a couple of years before Mama got sick.”

Why did he have to keep bringing up his mother? Just thinking about Mona made it much more difficult to say no. And she wanted to say no. Just the thought of being with Matt made her edgy. “If you could just walk me through some of the terminology and what I need to do at each step in the process.”

“I really should be getting home to Kenzie.” She poked a thumb toward the exit.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight. The group doesn’t meet again until next Sunday.”

“Yes, and there’s Thanksgiving and—”

“Please?” His velvet brown eyes pleaded with her. “I don’t want to mess this up, Lacie.”

She did not want to be around Matt Stephens any more than necessary. Unfortunately, a successful play fell into the “necessary” category. The entire town looked forward to this event.

“Okay, I’ll help.” Letting go a sigh, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “What’s your email address?”

“Email?”

“Yes, so I can send you a list of things you need to do.”

“Okay. But can we meet at least once to go over it?”

She’d rather have a root canal. They gave you painkillers for that. “Fine. But I hope you don’t mind kids, because Kenzie will likely be accompanying me.”

“Not a problem. We can even meet at your mother’s, if you like.”

She typed in the email address he gave her. “I’ll send you something later tonight or tomorrow morning. Then we can schedule a meeting.” Tucking her phone back into her pocket, she continued. “Right now, I need to get home to my niece.”

Outside, she tightened the belt on her peacoat and shivered. Seemed the temperatures had gone down along with the sun. It was downright freezing.

She hurried across the darkened street to her SUV, wishing she’d brought her gloves. She’d forgotten how much colder it could be here than in Denver. Of course, Ouray was also more than two thousand feet higher in altitude.

Under the glow of a street lamp, she threw herself into the driver’s seat, shoved the key into the ignition and gave it a twist. Except instead of the engine roaring to life, it simply clicked. Weird. She turned the key again. Weeneeneeneenee... Weeneenee, weeneenee...

She groaned, recalling the words of the mechanic who’d done her last oil change.

“You’re probably going to want to think about changing out that battery soon.”

And she’d just driven all the way across the state.

Stupid! How could she have let that slip?

As the windows started to fog, she willed herself to calm down. All she needed was someone to give her a jump.

She opened her door and stepped out onto Ouray’s only paved street, looking around for anyone who might be able to help her. But with the other cast members long gone, things were pretty deserted.

A gust of wind sent her back inside her vehicle. “Lord, please help me to get this started.”

Once again, she twisted the key and was met with the same result.

Tap, tap, tap.

She jumped, jerking her head toward the window.

“Need a little help?” Matt stood on the other side, wearing a smile that would melt most women’s hearts. But she wasn’t most women.

She pushed the door open. “My battery could use a jump.”

“Sure. Just let me swing my Jeep over here.”

“I’ve got jumper cables,” she called after him. No point in having him think she was incapable of taking care of herself.

In no time, his vehicle was nose-to-nose with hers, cables extending between them, and she was back behind the wheel, praying her car would start.

“All right, Lacie,” he hollered from outside. “Give it a try.”

With a nod, she turned the key.

Weenee...

“No, please don’t do this to me.”

“One more time.” He sent her a thumbs-up.

Please, please, please... She tried again.

Nothing. Not one sound.

Matt opened her door then. “I’m afraid your battery is dead.”

She wanted to cry. Though not in front of him.

So she grabbed her purse and keys and stepped outside. “I guess I’ll just have to walk home.”

“No, I’ll give you a ride.”