“The rocket!” crowed more than one of the boys.
They all filed outside to the cleared area in front of the classroom shed and went to work setting up the rocket assembly stations—including the empty bottles with colored tape and markers to decorate them, water and vinegar in measured amounts, baking soda that had to be carefully rolled up in sections of paper towel. And finally, the launching pads with their nailed-on corks.
More than one of the kids had made DIY bottle rockets at home as a family project. Van put one of those students in charge of each station, with Emma running the launching pad station, where the final step had to be done quickly, inserting the nail-mounted cork in the prepped bottle, turning it over to set the launch pad on the cleared space designated for takeoff—and then stepping back fast.
A few of the bottles failed to launch. But most of them soared skyward, sixty feet on average, a few as high as a hundred. It was quite the show. They quickly acquired an audience that broke into applause and whistles each time one of the homemade rockets took off into the sky.
Van spotted Charity in the group of spectators, with Jameson right behind her. She gave them each a big smile, lingering maybe just a little too long on the handsome cowboy with the killer blue eyes and close-cropped, dark gold beard. He actually winked at her, and she tried to ignore the thrill that surged through her in response. She longed to run to him, breathe in the manly scent of him, offer up her mouth for a long, sweet kiss.
Pheromones, she reminded herself. Sexual attraction. No. Big. Deal.
She laughed. He was such a charmer and, really, she couldn’t wait for tonight, just the two of them at his place, sharing dinner followed by a whole other kind of sharing, naked in his bed...
And, oops. She needednotto stare at him with her tongue hanging out when surrounded by a crowd. The two of them having sex with their eyes in public had to stop or more people were bound to figure out that they’d agreed to make the most of their summer nights—together.
She dragged her gaze back to the cleared space as another bottle rocket achieved liftoff. Too bad she couldn’t keep herself from glancing his way again a few minutes later. That time, her gaze snagged on Charity. Jameson’s sister was staring right at her, a pensive expression on her pretty face.
No way, Van decided. Charity knew nothing. And from now on, Van would be more careful about where she let her gaze linger.
Clapping her hands to get her Young Adventurers’ attention, she praised their creativity, growing knowledge and hard work, thanked their impromptu audience—and instructed the class to get going on cleanup.
Half an hour later, Van sat on a stool in Daphne’s small spare bathroom as Charity primped Van for the fast-approaching Bronco’s Favorite Pet Contest.
Daphne stuck her head in the door. “Half an hour to showtime.”
Charity replied, “We’ll be ready, no worries.”
“Missed you yesterday,” Van said.
Daphne gave a tiny, resigned shrug. “Maybe next year.”
“Hope so.” Van gave her friend and future sis-in-law a warm smile.
Daphne tapped her knuckles on the door frame. “Well, I’d better get out there, see how it’s going.” She left them.
“She okay?” Charity asked.
“She’s amazing. But, you know, family problems...”
Charity nodded and didn’t probe further.
Van asked, “So how did it work out with Frilly and Dilly?”
“Daphne had us put them in a pasture out beyond the hay barn with a bunch of ancient cows that Daphne said are rescues, too. I warned her that my heifers can be troublesome. She said not to worry. The cows and the heifers would work it out. When we left them, Dilly and Frilly were grazing side by side with the elderly cows, looking perfectly content in their new home.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Charity smoothed Van’s eyebrows with a brow gel wand—and asked the big question. “So, you and Jameson...?”
Busted.Van didn’t want to lie—not to anyone, really. But especially not to this sweet and generous girl.
She evaded instead, with a vague wave of her hand and a nebulous question. “What do you mean?”
Charity tipped Van’s chin up with a finger and brushed on cheek color. “Not going to talk about it, huh?”
Rather than lie again, she said, “Well, it’s complicated.”
And Charity put down her blusher brush. “Iamnineteen, you know. I’ve been to college—yeah, only freshman year so far, but that counts. I’ve been in love and I’ve had my heart broken. I like you, and I love my big brother...” Her smooth brow crinkled with a thoughtful little frown. “And what am I getting at here? That I do know a little about what goes on between women and men. For instance, I know that when people say, ‘It’s complicated,’ they’re in some kind of semirelationship that they don’t want to talk about.”
