Yuletide Cowboy by Debra Clopton

Author:Debra Clopton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2010-01-29T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“If you’ll hold this then I’ll attach it,” Chance said several hours later.

Lynn was crouched beside him, shoulder to shoulder, on the now sturdy floor of the tree house. They were using a cordless drill to attach the walls to the floor with screws. Below them the boys and Tiny ran in circles playing cowboys with their popguns. They were thrilled with the tree house.

“I would hope you know I would never have gotten this done without you. My boys would have probably hurt themselves in what I could have built them.”

Chance pushed the power button and the screw ate through the wood in less than ten seconds. He sat back on his knees and let the drill rest on his thigh. “You were trying. That says something. And the best way to learn is to be taught. I’m a good teacher, if you haven’t noticed.” He gave a cocky grin and it did crazy fluttery things to her insides.

This was a glimpse of Chance Turner, relaxed and not being so hard on himself. Until that moment she hadn’t realized exactly how difficult Randy’s death had been for him.

But now she knew his unguarded side and realized that Chance Turner could be dangerous. She tried to look unaffected and casual. “You’re a little cocky for a preacher, aren’t you?” She laughed.

“Hey, God never said a preacher was supposed to be a passive, no-personality kind of guy.”

She was hyperaware of where her jean-clad knee was touching his. “I guess you have a point.”

“You’re right, I do. Look at Peter. There was nothing about him that was passive. Passionate, yes. Passive—no way. Strong men can be Christians.”

“Hey, you sound a little defensive,” she teased, enjoying herself more than she could fathom. It was a beautiful, crisp winter day, the sun was sparkling, her children were playing and she was having an entertaining, enlightening conversation with a devastatingly hand some cowboy. It was lovely.

He crunched his straight black eyebrows. “Oh, believe me, there are some out there who think a preacher has to have a milkweed handshake and his chin to his chest. But God tells me and all His other kids to be bold. Courageous. Men of courage. Patient and kind, yes. But there is a balance.” He paused. “I guess that could sound arrogant. Believe me, I’m not. The Lord has forgiven me a lot. I’m no better than the lowest sinner out there. None of us are. But I try to be the man God would want me to be.” He took a deep breath and turned his head to the side, staring out at the cattle in the distance.

“You aren’t preaching right now. Why is that?” she asked. “You are clearly called to it.”

He was passionate. It was obvious now. But he was deeply caring and compassionate to have been so affected by one from his congregation. She guessed that was what Randy had been. Having church in an arena didn’t change that.

Chance pulled himself back from wherever his thoughts had gone and reached for another board.

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