He shouldn’t get his hopes up, but Winona could be so damn convincing. His pulse quickening, he sat up straighter. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yes. She loves you and she misses you, she absolutely does. So show up. Let her see exactly what she’s missing.”
“Winona, even if I could get her to agree to be with me again, it wouldn’t be for real, you know? She doesn’t want anyone in town to know about us. And I went along with that for a while, I did. But enough is enough. I just don’t want to be a secret anymore.”
“Of course you don’t. And you shouldn’t have to be.”
“So, how do I makehersee that?”
“Patience. Don’t stay away just because she insists on terms you can’t accept—but don’t push, either. She has to come to you in her own time.”
He let out a groan. “You don’t ask much, do you?”
“Jameson, you have to lose in order to win.”
“Winona, what does that even mean?”
For that he got her most beatific smile. “All will become clear. In time. Right now, you need to show up. Your very presence will serve to remind her of all that’s at stake.”
“Show up where? Are you saying I should stalk her?”
“Of course not. There will always be opportunities for you to be where she is.”
“Right,” he said bleakly.
“Don’t descend into cynicism,” Winona warned gently. “Love is on the line, Jameson. Above all, you mustn’t give up the fight.”
Chapter Twelve
The next day, Saturday, Van and Callie were sitting at the kitchen counter sipping second cups of coffee at eight in the morning when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Van got up and went to answer. A glance through the peephole showed her Charity John’s smiling face. She pulled the door wide to find Jameson’s sister, resplendent in dress jeans and a gorgeous Western shirt, clutching the handle of her makeup kit. “Just thought I’d drop by in case you could use a little extra primping for the ribbon cutting today.” The newly remodeled Bronco Convention Center had its grand opening that morning at ten. Miss Bronco was slated to do the honors.
“It’s so good to see you.” Van stepped back. “Come in.”
Charity entered the narrow entry hallway. Van shut the door and grabbed her in a quick hug, one made awkward by the case caught between them. “How ’bout some coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
There were only two stools at the counter, so the three of them sat at the table for a while. At eight thirty, Callie left to run errands, promising to see them both at the ribbon cutting.
“I bought some dressy shirts and hats,” Van reported. She led Charity down the hall to her room, took her new Miss Bronco wardrobe from the closet and laid the various pieces out on the bed.
“I love them,” the younger woman declared. She fingered the sleeve of one of the shirts. “I think this bronze color is amazing, and I love the gold beading. It’s perfect for your skintone. You can wear the chocolate-brown studded jeans with it, the dark boots and dark hat with the gold-colored crystal beading.”
Van put the other pieces back in the closet.
“Let me do your makeup, just like old times,” said Charity.
Van laughed. “Old times meaning four weeks ago?”
Charity grabbed her in another hug. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Van took her hand. “All right. Enough with the hugfest. Let’s get to work.”
In the bathroom, Charity plunked the makeup kit on the counter. She took off Van’s glasses, tipped up her chin and studied her face. “Your eyes are a little red.”
She hadn’t been sleeping. Her bed just felt so empty without Jameson beside her. “The contacts have been bothering me,” she lied.
