Texas Miracle

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“I only wear them at home.” She raised her hand self-consciously to straighten them. With their silver metal horn-rims, they took her back to Nerdville in no time flat. But she liked them, too. “Tell me how today was.”

“The hospital is just draining, you know?”

She nodded.

“I felt so sorry for Stella. She was either in excruciating pain or pretty much drugged the whole time. And Joiner is trying to be so strong—but it’s a scary deal.”

“I’m so thankful we have the care we have in this country. This situation would mean death for mom and baby in many of the places I’ve been.”

Mac raised his eyebrows. “You know, that’s true. I didn’t even think about that today. We have much to be thankful for. It is a difficult situation, but the doctor believes everything will be okay.”

“I’m sure it will. They can do amazing things now.”

“So tell me about you. How were things at the office?”

“We had sixteen tax bundles dropped off. All of them your regular customers. I’m going to try to have them processed for you but a few of them are complicated.”

“Who?”

“Clint Cavender, Buddy King, a couple of big farmers.”

Mac nodded. “Thank you for taking care of that. And don’t worry about getting it all processed. We’ll see where we are when I know everything’s all right with Joiner’s baby.”

“Peppermint again?” She reached for a mug and dropped a peppermint tea bag into it, and then poured steaming water from the carafe.

He took a bite of a cookie. “Mmm. These are delicious.”

“Thanks. They’re my favorite comfort food.”

“I can see why.” Mac set the remainder of his cookie down. “I’ve been eating all day.”

He told her about taking Joiner for dinner with his brothers and Alma’s hot sopaipillas.

“It’s so awesome how you all rallied around them,” she said. “That must mean so much to Joiner, and to Stella.”

Mac nodded. “It’s just what we do. But I thought about you today, and what you said about our roots and being there for each other, and you are right. It is a pretty beautiful thing.”

“You’re very lucky.”

Mac removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Does your head hurt?”

“It’s starting to. I think I’m just tired.”

He moved to replace his glasses, but she took them from his hand and folded them, then set them on the table. “Here. Lean back.” She got up, lifted his legs and propped his feet on the edge of the couch on a throw pillow. Then she grabbed another cushion, and after sliding back into her seat, placed his head on the cushion on her lap. She closed his eyes gently with her fingertips.

Mac fidgeted, folding and unfolding his hands across his chest.

“Relax.”

He opened one eye and she looked into it sternly. He clamped it shut. Then she began to massage his temples, moving to his forehead, cheekbones and jawline, and finally his neck and shoulders. Muscle by muscle she worked the tension out of him till he seemed totally relaxed. In fact, he went to sleep.

As Mac dozed with his head in her lap, Jacqueline studied his features. His face was even handsomer up close, and the firelight glimmered on his skin so that it seemed to glow from within. She brushed her fingertips across his high forehead, lifting his hair to see that he had a widow’s peak. Long, lush lashes framed his closed eyes, and she traced her fingers across his Roman nose and high cheekbones. The strong, square jaw she saw so often set in concentration was softened by the firelight and by his expression of peace. Jacqueline had a strong desire to kiss him.

As if reading her mind, Mac opened his eyes. He reached up and took off her glasses, setting them on the table, and raised himself slowly to a sitting position, pulling her into his lap. He smiled, then cupped her face with his hands—she could feel the calluses—and kissed her. He smelled like leather. Jacqueline drank him in, thirstier than she knew. His hands found their way into her damp hair and he tilted her head back, caressing her neck with kisses before finding his way back to her lips.