“Doubtful since they haven’t after all these years.” Meeting his gaze, Isabelle smiled impishly. “To be honest, when I went over there, I didn’t think the guys would jump on board with my invitation.”
Zach looked at her with admiration. “You knew they’d say no and that the Butterflies would step up?”
“I wasn’t sure if they’d fill in or just find willing volunteers, but I knew I could count on them. I never doubt that they’ll be there in a pinch.”
“Probably with binoculars and cupid’s arrows.”
“Funny, but wrong holiday,” Isabelle corrected, still smiling. “The Butterflies are all about Christmas. Dangling mistletoe, they lasso their victims together with garland and promises of happy-ever-afters dancing in their heads.”
Zach chuckled.
“Fine. Let these old biddies be wise men.” Rosie gestured toward her friends, then fluffed her neon-blue hair. “People taking me for an old man is a far stretch, even with as great an actress as I am.”
Maybelle snorted. Ruby grunted. Claudia shook her head. Zach and Isabelle exchanged looks.
“Y’all can make me the twinkling star that men follow—wise men, that is,” she added with aso-therelook at her friends.
“Ms. Hudson, we already have a star,” the music teacher pointed to a large star that had been embellished with Christmas lights.
“You’d choose that over me?” Rosie’s hands went to her hips.
“Yep. He would,” Maybelle assured. “It’s not like they have a crane readily available to hoist you above the stage so you can twinkle.”
“Huh,” Rosie huffed.
“I’m sure I can find you something, Ms. Hudson,” Trevor attempted to appease.
“Poor guy,” Zach mused. “He likes you, by the way.”
Isabelle turned toward Zach. “What makes you say that?”
“My eyes.” The surge of testosterone every time the guy looked her way. “He’s definitely besotted.”
Isabelle’s gaze shifted to where the music teacher still refereed the Butterflies. “You think I should go for it?”
“No.” As soon as he said it, guilt hit. “At least, not until after I find your dad.”
Isabelle’s gaze cut to him. “You really think you’re going to find him before Sophie’s wedding?”
“We know that at some point after leaving Clarksville, he went to Florida, then on to Texas.”
“Where he had a job working on a ranch. Great, we know that for a while he wasn’t living at an inpatient facility or in a homeless shelter anymore, but that was still over fifteen years ago. He could be anywhere.”
“True.” Cliff Davis’s Social Security number hadn’t been used since he’d worked on the ranch.
Zach had talked with the owner in detail. The man hadn’t known where Isabelle’s dad had gone when he’d left the Bar T but had mentioned he’d become friends with some migrant workers and had left around the same time.
“I’ll find him.”
Failure wasn’t an option. Neither was the man eyeing them. Zach slid his arm around Isabelle’s waist.
Glancing up, her eyes widened. “Tell me you’re acting.”
“I’m Joseph, and you’re my pregnant virgin wife. He shouldn’t be looking at you that way.”
Isabelle’s cheeks turned a bright red. “You should come to church and let Pastor Smith educate you on the rest of the good book.”
Zach wasn’t religious, but he could recount Jesus’s birth. “Is that an invitation to come to church with you?”
