Del chuckled and rolled his eyes. “She’s probably trying to matchmake.”
Lily jumped when Clay goosed her ass as she stood and said, “Grace is a romantic. You can’t fault her for wanting to see people happy. Seth is one of the good guys. He deserves his happily ever after.”
Clay’s expression grew thoughtful. “Speaking of happily-ever-afters, remember Beck O’Malley? The guy who bartered to do your car repairs for an engagement ring.”
“Of course. His girlfriend works at Madeleine’s as a nail tech. Did he ever get around to proposing? I nearly gave the secret away when I ran into him and Chloe at Batson’s Grocers a couple of months ago.” Chloe had always struck Lily as a sweet-tempered, caring person, and she’d thought with Beck’s introverted nature that they’d be a good fit.
Clay shook his head sadly. “He asked her and she turned him down. He said she seemed about as torn up over turning him down as he felt for being turned down.”
“Do you think he’d like to come to the parade? He could sit with us.” Lily felt sad for Beck, thinking of him home alone, tending his honey bees. He was another loner.
“Probably not. The hurt seemed pretty fresh. Sometimes a guy just needs time. Maybe we’ll invite him out to supper sometime soon.”
Del kissed her and said, “Look at it this way. They’re both just that much closer to finding the people they were meant to be with.”
Lily sighed and giggled. “You’re such a romantic, Del. I hope Beck finds the perfect woman for him some day.”
“Like we did?” Clay asked as he stroked her ass cheek.
Lily giggled and jumped when he goosed her. “You’re both just trying to get laid again.” She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Now who’s joining me? I need my back scrubbed.”
A burst of giggles escaped her when they both stalked her into the steamy shower.
* * * *
Meanwhile, out at the Rockin’ C Ranch…
Chance Carlisle carefully clutched the handles on three mugs of coffee as he pulled the back door closed and walked out onto the big back porch. His brother, Clayton, reclined in one of the chaise lounges, his eyes glued to love of their lives, Lydia, as she stood staring at the bronze sculpture that looked out onto the landscaped backyard.
“Thanks,” Clayton said when Chance handed him his black coffee. Lydia smiled at him when he gave her the mug of sweet, light-colored coffee prepared just the way she liked it. She kissed him and then went back to gazing at the statue.
The life-sized bronze was an exact replica of her from head to toe, so it was like watching her gaze at her dark, patina-skinned twin. The art object was worth every penny they’d paid Clay Cook for it.
“It really does look exactly like you,” Clayton murmured as he sipped his hot brew.
“I don’t even remember you taking the pictures,” Lydia said softly.
After grass fires had ripped a path along the highway at their ranch entry, the three of them had decided to take the opportunity to do a little landscape work. They’d bulldozed some of the mesquite trees out of the area closest to the fence line and highway, repainted the welded steel pipe entryway a bright red, and then enlisted Lydia’s help in designing and implementing a landscaping plan. Chance smiled now every time he drove through the entryway, which was colorful with red and white crape myrtle trees and other hardy plants that did well without much watering.
While enjoying a break from that work one afternoon, they’d taken a short walk to the top of the first ridge, which was the vantage point for seeing the front end of their enormous ten-thousand-acre ranch. Lydia had always loved the view from there, since the first time she’d seen it the year before.
The day she’d agreed to come home with him from Fort Stockton was one of the happiest days of his life. Chance had quietly removed his smartphone from his pocket and snapped a picture of her as she stood looking down the ridge at what had become her home. The love and awe in her eyes as she had taken it all in had made his throat swell as he took several pictures of her, the wind gently blowing her long brown hair around her shoulders.
Their friend, Clay Cook, had used those pictures and her bridal portrait to create the work of art before her. The process had taken several months, and they’d just given it to her a few weeks prior.
She stroked the patinaed cheek of the statue and then joined them, setting her coffee mug on the side table and curling into Chance’s lap as he reclined on his chaise.
Clayton looked over at them, and a devilish gleam came into his eyes.
From Chance’s arms, Lydia asked, “What’s got you grinning like a Cheshire cat, Clayton?”