Tumbleweed Weddings (7 page)

Callie placed a restraining hand on Cheyenne’s arm. “Listen, I appreciate this, but I can’t leave. I’m the only librarian—”

“Now, Callie.” Cheyenne folded her arms. “We were just talking about that. Let me watch the library for you. I’m having the time of my life.”

“Cheyenne …” Callie raised her hands then let them drop. “Your life must be totally boring.”

Cheyenne ignored her. “You
know
you want a hamburger. Do something daring for once in your life.”

Callie bit her lip. “Well, just so Miss Penwell doesn’t find out.”

“Who’s going to tell her?” Cheyenne laid her hand on Callie’s shoulder. “Take a break, girl. Remember how the old song goes …” She began to sing softly. “You deserve a break today, so get up and get away … to Ray’s.”

Lane grinned. “Is that how it goes?”

“Well, at least it rhymes. Now shoo!” Cheyenne waved her hand toward the door. “I can hold down the fort for an hour.”

Callie breathed a sigh. “Thanks, Cheyenne. I owe you one.”

“Oh, you’ll owe me more than one.”

Lane opened the door for her, and they walked outside. “Do you want to ride on my motorcycle, or do you have a car?”

“Well …” Callie pondered as they walked around the library to the back parking lot. She had never liked motorcycles. In fact, the fatalities on motorcycles were high in Wyoming. But Cheyenne’s words whizzed through her mind.
“Do something daring for once in your life.”
“Um, let’s take your motorcycle. That sounds fun.” She was glad she was wearing jeans.

When she saw the huge motorcycle with H
ARLEY
-D
AVIDSON
printed on the side, Callie took a deep breath and prayed for safety.

Lane straddled the bike and motioned to her. “Hop on. You can hang on to me if you want.”

Callie managed to get on behind Lane, throwing her arms around his waist as he started the motorcycle. The powerful engine roared to life.

She tightened her grip, feeling his solid muscles beneath her arms.

He looked back at her with a grin. “You’re not scared, are you?” he yelled.

“Um, not too much.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, just lean when I lean, okay?” Not waiting for an answer, he squeezed something on the left handle, twisted the right handle, and they roared out of the parking lot and down Main Street.

A thrill raced through Callie as she hung on, trying to lean with him. Then reality hit.

I’m going on a date with Lane Hutchins!

L
ane drove his Harley down the main street of Fort Lob, relishing the feel of Callie’s arms around his waist. Neither wore a helmet, and he could imagine Callie’s dark hair flying out behind her.
I want to get to know this girl
. Something about her attracted him. Must be the way her mouth moved. On the other hand, spending Sunday with the Brandt family made him realize how lonely he was.

When they arrived at Ray’s Burger Retreat, he parked the bike and helped Callie dismount. He thought of how nervous she had looked when she got on. “You okay?” he asked.

She grinned. “That was fun. But I can’t imagine riding all the way down to Cheyenne on this thing. It must get tiring.”

“It does.” They walked toward the small restaurant building that had huge plate glass windows on either side of the door. “I always wear my helmet when I get on the freeway, and that gets hot. So I’m hot and tired by the time I get to Cheyenne.” He opened the door for her.

Callie introduced him to everyone in the restaurant, including Ray, who was surprisingly thin for being a chef, and the waitress named Beverly—a dowdy, middle-aged woman who wore rubber-soled shoes. He even met a dozen customers who were eating lunch. Lane shook hands all around.
You’d think we were at a family reunion
.

They finally settled at a corner booth and ordered the hamburger special. Beverly brought their drink order to the table and left.

For a few minutes, Callie talked about the motorcycle ride. “I always thought motorcycles were so dangerous. Only daredevils rode them.”

He grinned. “Do I look like a daredevil?”

“Definitely not!” She smiled as she played with her straw paper. “I suppose it’s a cheap form of transportation, although I can’t believe what a huge motorcycle you have. It must have cost you a pretty penny.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get those saddlebags in the back for traveling, so I needed a bigger bike.” Lane took a sip of his iced tea. He didn’t tell her he had two cars, a Lexus and a Mazda, parked in his garage in Cheyenne. “What I can’t believe is how you know everyone in this town.” He nodded at the other customers.

Callie raised her eyebrows. “That’s what happens when you grow up in a small place. But you said you grew up in Cheyenne with your aunt and uncle. Are you an orphan?”

He nodded. “My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was six years old.”

“Oh, Lane.” Callie knit her brows. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Do your aunt and uncle still live in Cheyenne?”

“No, both of them are dead now.” He didn’t want to talk about his past. She might start asking questions that he didn’t want to answer. “Tell me about yourself, Callie. Do you have any hopes and dreams for the future?”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “I do have a dream, but I’ve never told anyone about it.”

Beverly, holding two large platters, approached their table. “Here’s your order.” She set a plate in front of each of them. “The mustard and ketchup are right there on the table. Do you need anything else?”

“This should do it for me.” Lane glanced at the thick hamburger stacked with lettuce, onions, and tomato slices. “Smells delicious.”

Callie nodded. “Thanks, Beverly.” As soon as the waitress left, Callie leaned across the table. “Lane? Would you mind saying grace for us?”

Grace?
He hadn’t prayed over his food in seven years. He cleared his throat. “Sure.”

She bowed her head.

He looked down at his plate. “Uh, Lord, thank You for this food.” He kept his voice low, almost to a mumble. “Bless it to our bodies. Amen.”

“Amen,” Callie echoed. She took her napkin and placed it in her lap then grabbed the ketchup bottle.

Lane picked up the mustard, wondering what she thought of his prayer. At the family dinner yesterday, her dad had prayed for seven or eight minutes. Lane thought the man would never stop, but at the same time, Jake Brandt seemed to know God personally—the way Lane used to.

But he didn’t want to think about his spiritual problems. The safest thing to do was change the subject. “So, Callie, what’s this dream you have?”

She picked up her knife and cut her hamburger in half. “Well, I love to read, as you know, and I’ve always wanted to—” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I’ve always wanted to have my own bookstore. It’s been my desire for years, and I’ve been saving up to rent a storefront in town.”

“That’s great.” He smiled at her. “Dream big, Callie.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know if it will happen, but I feel in my heart that it’s the Lord’s will. I already know what the name of my bookstore will be, and the idea came straight from the Lord, too.” She leaned forward, and the light from the window reflected off her glasses. “For the Love of Books. That’s the name of it.” She sat back. “It’s an acronym.”

“An acronym?”

“Think about it.” She smiled, biting her bottom lip at the same time.

“For the Love of Books.” Lane pronounced it slowly. “Oh.
Ft. Lob
. That’s cool.”

With a nod, she picked up her hamburger. “I’m especially interested in history. I’d like to sell books about Wyoming. Our state has such a fascinating past—the scouts and trailblazers, the battles between the army and the Indians, the Oregon Trail, the Pony Express, the transcontinental railroad… .”

He laughed. “You’re a walking encyclopedia.”

Her face tinged pink, and she took a bite of her hamburger.

For the next few minutes, they ate in silence. As Lane chewed on his burger, he also chewed on what Callie wanted to do. He wished he could help her. But a bookstore in Fort Lob? Would she have enough customers?

He set his half-eaten hamburger on the plate. “You know, Callie, I’m wondering if you should tweak your dream a bit.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I like the bookstore idea, but I think you should expand it to include a museum.”

“A museum? But Wyoming has lots of museums.”

“Not about James Thomas Lob.” He leaned forward. “Look at all that stuff in the library. It’s just sitting there, collecting dust. You could bring it to life, Callie.”

He noticed a shiver run over her. “I would love to do that.”

“You could set up a museum and sell Wyoming books in the gift shop.” He shrugged. “You’d still have your bookstore.”

“That would be a fantastic project—if I could save enough money.” She shook her head. “But that might be too big of a dream for me.”

I can’t afford a museum!

Callie sighed under her breath. She wasn’t sure she could afford a bookstore. But a museum would have to be housed in a building by itself on its own property, and she didn’t have that kind of money. Then she’d have to get permission from the town council since Fort Lob owned all those things in the library, and she didn’t want a job where she would be accountable to them.

Beverly came to their table. “How about some dessert? Our special today is hot peach cobbler with a scoop of ice cream.”

Callie shook her head. “I’m so full, I can’t—”

“How about just the ice cream, in a cone?” Lane raised his eyebrows at Callie then turned to Beverly. “We’ll take two cones. A large vanilla for me.”

They both looked at Callie.

“Uh, okay. I’ll take a chocolate cone—small.”

Beverly nodded. “One large vanilla and one small chocolate. Be right back.”

While they waited, Lane waxed eloquent about the museum. He talked about the photos of the town, the family’s history, the old furniture. Callie listened, resting her chin in her hand and enjoying his enthusiasm. Enjoying
him
. But at the same time, she knew the museum idea would never happen. That was certainly a pipe dream, if ever there was one.

Beverly came back with their cones and left.

Lane took a few licks. “This is really good ice cream.”

“Ray makes his own. He’s famous for it, actually.” Callie took a bite and adjusted her glasses. “This has been a wonderful break, Lane.” Spending time with Lane and getting to know him was the best part.

“My pleasure.” He licked his ice cream into a point. “Like Cheyenne said, you deserved a break.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “You needed to rest those eyes.”

Lane poked the point of his ice cream at her glasses. Suddenly she saw nothing through the left lens but a big white spot.

“Hey!” She whipped them off and glanced at the damage before looking up at him. “You did that on purpose.”

He grinned. “Yep. Just wanted to see your pretty face.” His smile faded. “And you are pretty, Callie—even prettier than I thought.”

Heat rose in her face. She wasn’t sure if she should thank him for the compliment or yell at him for smudging her glasses. But even though he was blurry and out of focus, the look he gave her as their eyes met stopped her heart and stilled her tongue.

Flustered, she glanced around. “I need something to clean my glasses, but …” She scooted to the end of the booth. “Guess I’ll have to go to the ladies’ room.”

“Wait!” Lane held out his hand. “Give them to me. I messed them up; I should fix them.”

Callie handed her glasses over. Lane looked at the splotch of ice cream residing on the left lens and pulled a napkin from the holder at the end of the table.

“No, Lane, don’t use a napkin. Paper will scratch the lens. I’ll ask Beverly to get us—”

“Don’t bother.” He swiped his thumb across the glass, smearing the ice cream. “I’ll just mess it up good, and we’ll clean it later.” He grinned as he dropped her glasses into his shirt pocket.

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re not giving them back?”

“Not yet.” Lane folded his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “Why don’t you get contacts? You have such pretty eyes, and those glasses are hiding your beauty.”

She drew in a surprised breath. Did he say
“beauty”
?

A warm feeling stirred inside Callie. No one had ever told her that before, especially not a handsome, single guy like Lane Hutchins. She leaned across the table toward him. “Well, I, uh …” She gazed into his eyes.

He gazed back.

Finally she blinked. Several times. “Um … what was the question?”

He cleared his throat and sat back. “Contacts? For your eyes?”

“Oh yeah, contacts.” Looking down, she sighed. “My eye doctor said they wouldn’t work for me.”

“So you’re stuck with glasses forever?” Lane did not look happy.

“Not necessarily.” She shrugged. “Although I might as well be stuck. He said laser eye surgery would work and I could have twenty-twenty vision, but my medical insurance won’t pay for it.”

Beverly came by the table. “Here’s your bill. Well, my goodness, Callie. I’ve never seen you without your glasses. Don’t you look pretty.” She picked up their plates. “I never realized how much you look like Tonya.”