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Tonight was no ordinary night, not for Amy Deerson, at least. She was about to meet the little girl she’d been asked to mentor. When the pastor called yesterday, she’d jumped at the opportunity to spend a few afternoons each week with a neglected child. At four years old, the girl was too young for the church-sponsored mentor program, and the pastor had suggested a private arrangement due to the circumstances. But first, Amy needed to meet the girl’s father. He had the ultimate say in whether she spent time with his daughter or not.
Taking a deep breath, Amy got out of the car and approached the church’s entrance. It was still chilly for late March in Sweet Dreams, Wyoming, but it wouldn’t be long before wildflowers bloomed. Just thinking about flowers, crafts, tea parties and other things small girls enjoyed put a bounce in her step. Don’t get ahead of yourself. This was the initial meeting. Until the dad agreed, it was not a done deal.
She’d prayed for so long to make a difference in a kid’s life, and God had answered.
Amy headed down the staircase to the meeting rooms. The low hum of male voices quickened her pace. What would the girl look like? Would they hit it off right away? And would the dad be cute?
Cute? Really, Amy? Who cared what the father looked like? A romance would be inappropriate given the situation. And, anyway, she’d been scorched at love twice. She would not put her heart on the line again.
The hallway walls were filled with pictures of kids doing crafts at previous vacation Bible schools. Excitement spurred her forward. Life was falling into place. Business was booming at her quilt shop, she’d finally gotten up the nerve to submit a portfolio of her fabric designs to several manufacturers and now this! She’d never intended to remain single, but that’s how life had worked out. Helping this little girl would ease the longing in her heart for a child of her own.
She peeked into the preschool room. Hannah Moore, the pastor’s wife, was standing next to their toddler son, Daniel, and a young girl.
It’s her!
Dark blond hair cascaded over the girl’s shoulders. She looked woefully thin under a purple sweater and striped leggings. Amy couldn’t see her face, but she stood stiffly near Daniel, who was pushing a toy dump truck on the colorful ABC area rug. As much as Amy longed to join them, she continued toward the door at the end of the hall where Pastor Moore was waiting with the father.
Entering the conference room, she greeted the pastor then turned her attention to the man sitting at the end of the table. Her stomach plunged to her toes, the sensation worse than the roller coaster incident in eighth grade.
No! This can’t be... He can’t be...
Her knees wobbled to the brink of collapse. Unable to hear a word the pastor was saying, she shook her head, her gaze locked on familiar blue-green eyes. Every instinct screamed for her to run, to get out of there, to make sense of the fact Nash Bolton was in the room.
Nash. The man she’d loved completely. The one she’d thought she’d marry. The guy who had left town over a decade ago—no goodbye, no explanation. The jerk who had never come back.
It hit her then... The little girl she’d been asked to unofficially mentor?
His daughter.
She was having a nightmare. She’d wake up and be in her bed under her favorite quilt—
“Thank you for meeting us tonight,” Pastor Moore said.
It wasn’t a nightmare. And yet it was.
She blinked a few times and sat in the nearest chair, forcing herself to focus on the pastor’s face. In his early thirties, he had a kind air about him.
“Sure.” She hoped her lips were curving into what could pass as a smile.
Pastor Moore gestured to Nash. “Amy Deerson, this is—”
“We know each other.” Nash’s deep voice was firm, and its familiar timbre unlocked memories she’d thought long gone.
She dared not look at him. Couldn’t handle whatever she would find in his expression. Regret? Sarcasm? Pity? Didn’t matter—her feelings for him were dead. She’d been over him for a long time—years and years. The shock of seeing him had sent her into a tizzy. That was all. In a few minutes, she’d be fine.
“Good.” The pastor took a seat opposite her. “I’ve had such a strong feeling about you helping little Ruby.”
Ruby. The girl’s name was Ruby.
“Amy has been training for several months to be a mentor. She’s passed her background checks and is willing to devote the extra time you mentioned Ruby needs. And with none of our other trained mentors available to help at this time, well...it seems ideal. With your permission, I’ll tell her about Ruby’s situation. Or would you like to?”
Nash brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. He looked older, his face harsher than she remembered. And he’d filled out. Still wiry, but with more muscles in his arms and chest. Gone was the young cowboy she’d loved. In his place was a chiseled man.
Their past flashed back. The day they’d met. Their first kiss. His big grin and slicing sense of humor. The future they’d planned. Oh, how her heart had