“He’s probably playing a game with you.” Clara bent to zip Sara’s coat and tie her fuzzy hood at the neck. “My advice is to take things slow — real slow. Make sure you know the guy really well before you give him any part of your heart. Because once you do, all rational thought flies out the window.”
She took out two pink mittens and shoved them on Sara’s hands, then called to her oldest son. “Take your sister outside to play and keep an eye on her.”
Mattie watched the little girl toddle down the church steps with her older brother. “Flies out, huh?” Mattie considered herself a practical woman, a bit stubborn and impetuous at times, but for the most part a clear thinker. “I can’t imagine myself brainwashed and googly-eyed over a man. That’s a trap for a teenager, not a twenty-eight- year-old veterinarian.”
Clara rose from her knees and frowned. “Whatever you say. But don’t cry that you were never warned.”
“That’s just it. I hear warning bells every time I look at Gil.” Mattie wrung her hands, tired of analyzing. “This entire situation with Gil seems hopeless. He doesn’t get along with his dad and is determined to own a ranch in California, of all places. For the life of me, I can’t understand why, when he could operate the Lightning M and probably own it someday. A part of me knows better than to get involved, but I’m so attracted to him, it’s like this huge magnet is drawing us together.”
Clara stretched her arm around Mattie’s shoulders and squeezed. “Trust me on this one. You can’t change a person, no matter how much you think it possible. Only God can change the heart, so love a man for who he is, not who he might be.”
Mattie considered her friend’s words as they eased their way over the snow-packed ground to their vehicles. She didn’t want to change Gil, she only wanted him to appreciate the hills and his home the way she did. That wasn’t changing a man, was it? She preferred to think of it as helping him see the error of his ways. Doing him a favor, really, which is the only reason she agreed to spend the afternoon with him and his father.
Watching football.
What on earth had she gotten herself into?
TWENTY-SEVEN
GIL EXCHANGED HIS FOOTBALL FOR THE TELEVISION REMOTE AND SET the leather ball beside him on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind my asking Mattie over for the game.” He flipped to the channel that hosted the pregame show and relaxed against the couch.
John McCray laid his newspaper on his lap. “Why would I mind?” he grumbled. “It’ll give me someone to talk to, now that you gave Mildred the day off.”
Gil sat up, reminded of his chili on the stove. “Mildred doesn’t need to work every day of the week, especially now that I’m here. She’s not your slave.” He shook his head and got up to check the soup simmering in the kitchen.
Clutching a wooden spoon, he stirred the thick tomato base, his very own recipe, and the peppery blend of spices drifted to his nose. It made his mouth water, and he lifted the spoon to taste the fiery concoction.
More salt.
He sprinkled the seasoning over the pot of bubbling chili and thought of his teammates who used to like when he’d cook for them. What were the guys doing now, the rowdy bunch?
Drinking beer and eating submarine sandwiches, Gil figured, as he assembled a platter of cheese and crackers. All of them watching to see which team would win this year’s title. But it wouldn’t be them. He shook his head and tried to concentrate on something else, anything but failure . . . that it could have been his team competing for Super Bowl rings.
When he returned to the living room, déjà vu hit him square in the face as he spotted Mattie beside his dad’s recliner, her hand on his. This time Gil knew better than to challenge the doc’s compassionate nature. Instead, he grinned, thinking she was the perfect person to ease him out of this sour mood. She stood from her stooped position and returned his smile.
“John says you gave Mildred the day off. Whatever you’re cooking in the kitchen smells wonderful.”
His dad snorted. “It’ll probably give me heartburn. You know I’m not supposed to eat spicy food.”
Gil set the crackers and cheese on the coffee table. “If you