Pucker Up Read Free Page B

salt-of-the-earth rancher like the rest of the people she knew.
    “Did
you forget you’re talking to a city slicker?”
    “A
city slicker that rides a mean horse.”  Faith didn’t want to talk about that
either.  She hadn’t been on a horse in over a decade and wasn’t planning on
rectifying the situation any time soon.
    “Do
you really still play our CD?” Faith asked, trying to change the subject.  “Do
any of the campers even know those songs?”
    Bea’s
voice took on a chiding tone.  “You still have a lot of fans out there,
darlin’.”
    Not
fans of the real me, she thought.  What would they say if they knew Faith West,
the Girl Next Door, the one full of smiles and sunshine, had parts of her so
very dark?  Nothing good, she was very sure. 
    “I
know,” she said. “They’re the ones buying my albums.”  Bea laughed at her
tone.  “Thank you for calling me, honey.”
    There
was a pause for a moment, and they both knew what was coming, playing out
familiar routines.  “You know I’m going to ask,” Bea said.
    “You
always do.”
    “And
you always refuse.”
    “Then
why do you keep asking?” Faith asked, her tone exasperated but entertained.
    “Because
I’m stubborn!” she said.  “And because, one day, I’m hoping you say yes.”
    “I
know you do,” Faith whispered.  “You have more faith in me than I have in
myself.”
    “One
day,” Bea murmured. 
    “Anywhere
else,” Faith said.  “Ask me to sing anywhere else and I’m there.”
    “One
day I’ll get you to come back to the ranch and play that benefit concert.  One
day.”
    “One
day,” Faith said, saddened that she didn’t believe too.
    Dustin
turned the music in his truck up, hoping the noise would help distract him.  His
legs were getting restless – he wasn’t made to sit behind the steering wheel
for hours – and he wanted to be outside where he could feel the sun on the back
of his neck and ground beneath his feet.  He watched the open road and let his
mind wander, replaying the conversation he’d had with his brother the night
before.
    “Should
have known this is where you’d be.”  They always knew where to find each other
– twin low jack.  Peter had just been announcing his arrival.
    He’d
gone to hide again.  As the day drew closer, he found it easier to just retreat
into himself.  He loved his nieces with a fierceness that often surprised him,
but he needed his solitude, to shut the rest of the world out and tend old
wounds.  “Of course this is where I am.  This is where the work gets done,
isn’t it?”
    Peter
had lounged in the doorway, looking unconcerned.  “Wouldn’t know.  My work
requires chalkboards and children.” 
    “Do
you need something?” he’d asked, exasperation clouding his voice.
    “Do
you?”  They stared at each other in silence, eyes never wavering, before Peter
called the truce and walked in, dropping down across from the desk.  “Melody
called.  She can’t come home for dinner this weekend.  Says she has to study,
huge midterm the next day.”
    “You
don’t believe her?”
    “Of
course I believe her,” Peter replied, a look of mirth on his face.  “She
doesn’t lie to me.  And why lie about this.  Even if she didn’t have a test,
not sure I want her driving four hours just for your crappy cooking and then
turning around to drive right back.”
    “What’s
Harmony say?”
    “Oh,
she thinks that frees up a seat for you to invite someone to dinner.”
    He’d
growled.  “Punk teenager.” 
    Peter
had laughed at that, almost falling out of the chair he’d propped up on two
legs.  “They turn from precocious to punk oh so quickly these days.”
    “Just
like their dad.”  They’d shared identical looks of humor.  It made Peter’s day
when someone compared him to his daughters, even though they shared no blood,
only signatures on a piece of paper.  Peter liked to think he was fighting the
good fight, on the side of nurture over