Lone Star Cinderella by Debra Clopton Page A

shoulder she saw Seth come in the annex door and head for the singles class. He looked handsome in his twill western-cut dress slacks and cream-colored blazer. The buttery tone of the jacket made his smoky eyes pop with intensity. And her nerves jangled like a load of bangle bracelets when their gazes met. Despite trying not to, she was attracted to the maddening man.
    â€œI’ll see you later,” she said to Lacy and ducked into the nursery. Chicken Little had nothing on her. That little chicken was silly for foolishly thinking the sky was falling…but if she fell for Seth, she’d take the prize for being foolish. Especially since they disagreed so strongly about almost everything.
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    Seth had been going through the journal and contemplating the different aspects of the map ever since Melody had brought it to him on Friday. While he did have a sense of exploration that had been awakened, he hadn’t been able to just give himself over to the idea. He understood the magnitude of the discovery of the map and the journal. While the facts about the man were slim, her documentation of his grandfather’s infatuation with the finding of the treasure was unbelievably poignant. He wasn’t sure if her writing had any real historical value, but as a link to understanding his ancestor, it was of great value. His grandfather had basically abandoned his family, leaving Jane and his son, Mason, to handle the running of the stagecoach house on their own. Oh, he was a regular at the town saloon and the gambling tables, but now Seth knew what he did during the day. It was ridiculous. Unconscionable. And after reading the journal, he was all themore convinced no one would ever find the treasure if it existed. If Oakley had spent years pursuing the treasure, how did Melody think they would be doing anything but wasting their time? After all, his grandpa wasted his life…and missed out on his family’s life, too.
    But even knowing this with his practical brain all it took was one look at the hurt and anger he glimpsed in Melody’s eyes for his impractical brain to make an aggressive attack on him.
    He was standing at the back of the church auditorium when she entered the side door. The women rotated in and out of nursery duty and hers must have just been for the Sunday school hour. He watched her scan the room, hesitate when she saw him and then take the seat. He’d never before thought that she purposefully chose her seat according to where he was sitting…after all, they’d hardly known each other before she moved into the stagecoach house. But today, he knew without a doubt that he was exactly the reason she chose her seat. And that was exactly the reason he excused himself from his conversation and made his way across the room, up the far, outer aisle and slipped into the seat directly behind her.
    Leaning forward, close to her ear, he murmured, “Still mad at me?” The soft scent drew him closer than necessary so when she turned sharply to look at him their faces were a mere inch apart. She leaned away to meet his gaze more fully.
    â€œYes.”
    It was so matter-of-fact that it startled a chuckle from him. He’d half expected her to deny it when he knew just by looking at her that she was fuming inside. And hurt…and that was what bothered him. She was toogentle, too easily victimized and he didn’t like the idea that holding back on something she wanted so badly hurt her. The choir had started singing, and everyone was standing to sing the first song. He realized he and Melody were staring at each other and still sitting. She realized it, too. Jerking to a standing position, she grabbed a songbook and began furiously flipping pages. He stood more slowly, plucked a hymnal from the back of the pew and flipped through it as he contemplated his next move. The song was almost over when he realized he was holding his songbook upside down.
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    The man was