Allison Leigh - Just Friends?

A poor excuse, since Evan’s feelings where Leandra Clay were concerned weren’t exactly loyal.

But Evan knew what Leandra didn’t—that Jake was engaged to be married again and he didn’t have the huevos to tell his ex-wife about it for fear of hurting her even more than she’d been hurt. But if Leandra had been involved with some other guy, then maybe Jake could take off that particular hair shirt of thinking that Leandra was so damn fragile, and get on with his life.

And Evan could maybe get on with his.

When he didn’t take the cash, though, Leandra finally stepped toward him. The top of her tousled blond head didn’t even reach his shoulder, but he still swore he could smell the enticing scent of her shampoo.

Then she reached out and tucked the money into the front of his leather belt. “Enjoy the dough,” she said smoothly, and turned away.

It was all he could do not to grab her by the shoulders and haul her up against him.

The fact that half the patrons of Colbys—including Ted and that toy-size camera of his—were watching, kept his hands firmly at his sides.

Then Leandra lifted her hands and addressed the crowd. “Don’t anyone forget. Sunday evening at seven right here at Colbys to watch Evan’s television debut!”

Evan endured the hoots and hollers and reminded himself that six weeks wasn’t really all that long of a time.

He could survive it.

Maybe.

“You know what I like about Saturdays?” Leandra was stretched out on the couch in Sarah’s living room. Her cousin was sitting on the floor, surrounded by school materials as she made lesson plans.

“Hmm?”

“The possibility of endless sleeping.”

“Having Snow White fantasies again? Like the idea of those seven short guys?”

“As long as they’re catering to my every whim?” Leandra smiled lazily. “Sounds okay to me.”

“Sort of boring, though, laying there in the glass case, waiting for your prince to come and lay some lip on you.”

What would Evan’s kiss be like?

Leandra threw her arm over her closed eyes, mentally brushing at the thought, but it kept circling like some pesky mosquito buzzing around her head. “Well, note that I said the possibility of sleeping. It’s nice to just ponder the whole idea of it. Not that I’ll be doing it or anything. Too much work to do.” Which reminded her that she’d forgotten all about her cell phone again.

Leandra would go to Evan’s later and retrieve the phone.

She pressed her lips together, trying to stop the tingling.

Maybe she’d have developed some self-control over her wayward notions by them.

She turned on her side, propping her head on her hand. “Sounds like we’ll have quite the crew around next month for Squire’s birthday party.” Before the ill-fated pool table episode, the family had gone over the developing plans while crowded around several pushed-together tables in the restaurant portion of Colbys.

“We still don’t know if J.D. and Angeline will make it back from Atlanta. J.D.’s schedule is probably easier than Angel’s, though, given the way she’s on call so much.”

Angel was an emergency medical technician in Atlanta. J.D. lived in that vicinity, too, working at some blue-blooded horse farm. “And nobody’s been able to get hold of Ryan?” Ryan was the oldest of the cousins, serving in the Navy, like his father, Sawyer, had once done.

Sarah continued flipping through a project idea book. “Between you and Ryan, it’s a toss-up who has been home to Weaver less.”

“Well, I’d guess he’d win, since I’m here now.”

“You’re here because of the show. But we’ll take what we can get. And it’s ideal that Squire’s birthday falls during your visit.” Sarah set aside her book and propped her elbows on the coffee table in front of her. “So…you really like working in show business?”

“Documentary filmmaking. And, yes, I do.”

Sarah watched her for a moment, as if she wanted to say something. But she just lowered her arms again and picked up her oversized book once more.

“What?”

Sarah shook her head. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Really. I was just going to say that it is amazing the places that life takes us.”

Leandra really didn’t want to get into that particular discussion. Only pain colored that philosophy.

“Do you think if you hadn’t gone to France you and Jake might have gotten back together?”

It wasn’t quite the comment she was expecting, but it was easier than discussing Emi. “No.”

“You two were crazy about each other.”

“Yeah, but we never really managed to know each other very well before we got married. And when…when…things got bad, instead of helping each other through it, we blamed each other.”

“I’m sure Jake didn’t blame you.”

Arguing the point now served no purpose. “I did.” I still do. Leandra swung her legs down from the couch and pushed to her feet. “So is there anything I can help with around here?” The house was as tidy as a pin. The yard outside was even more so, seeming to lay in wait with its lingering summer colors before autumn truly hit with all of its glory.

“Not unless you want to come up with arts and crafts ideas for two elementary school classes.”

Even that humorously meant offer made her hurt inside. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.” She brushed her hands down the front of her jeans. “I’m going to head over to Ruby’s Café for something to eat. Do you want to go with me?”

“Not this time. I need to get this done. There’s a meeting with the parent association this afternoon.”

“They meet on Saturdays?”

“They do when half of them have to drive over from Braden.”

Even though Weaver had grown considerably since she was a little girl—mostly because of the computer gaming business her uncle Tristan had started here—it was still at heart a ranching community. “Some things never change.”

“If Justine has any cinnamon rolls, bring a few home, okay?”

“Will do.” Justine Leoni was the granddaughter of Ruby Leoni, the café’s founder. She was also the mother of Tristan’s wife, Hope. And fortunately for the town, Justine had inherited not only the café after Ruby died, but she’d inherited her grandmother’s ability to make the most delicious cinnamon rolls.

Leandra didn’t bother with her purse. She merely tucked some cash into her front pocket—which unfortunately reminded her again of the previous evening—pushed her feet into tennis shoes and headed down the road.

There was no need to drive.

Ruby’s was located barely two miles away and the weather was pleasant. Bright blue skies. Morning briskness giving way to the sun’s warmth, hanging strong despite the steady breeze in the air. Leandra knew it wouldn’t be long before that warmth was only a memory for the residents of Weaver. With the lengthening year would come shorter days, cooling temperatures, and in another month or so, there could easily be snow on the ground.

She looked across at the park as she walked along the street. Homes on one side, green grass on the other. During the wintertime, there would be an ice-skating rink covering part of what was now the baseball diamond, where a handful of kids were even now tossing around a ball.

A young man was mowing the lawn in front of one of the houses she passed. She didn’t recognize him.

Not surprising. There were a lot of people she didn’t recognize anymore in Weaver. That’s what happened when someone moved away and stayed away for years at a time.

The logic was sound. The feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t seem to care.

Sighing, she quickened her step, rounding the corner onto Main Street. She could see Ruby’s from here. The door stood open to the fresh air, and when she angled across the road, waiting for a slowly passing car first, and walked into the café, she couldn’t help but smile.