The First Love Cookie Club Read Online Free PDF

to admit it or not, I was there the year we made kismet cookies at your sleepover and I know you dreamed of Hondo.”
    Patsy said nothing, but the expression on her face told Raylene the truth. Her friend was and always had been in love with Hondo Crouch, even if they’d never gotten their happily-ever-after. “Plus, Sadie Cool is Jazzy’s favorite author and honestly, what are the odds of that happening? With the way Jazzy’s health is deteriorating …” Raylene swallowed hard, waved the ornament. “This might be our last chance to make her Christmas wish come true.”

C HAPTER T WO
    Travis Walker looked out at the intelligent young faces of Mrs. Tilson’s fourth grade class at Jon Grant Elementary and grinned. He loved career day. Heck, he loved kids. They were so open and honest and forthcoming, traits he truly admired.
    “Game wardens guard our parks and lakes and shorelines and wildlife preserves,” he said. “We catch poachers and enforce hunting and fishing regulations and we arrest people who break the law.”
    “Just like the police?” A boy sitting in the front row scrutinized the duty weapon holstered at Travis’s hip.
    “Yes, just like the police.”
    “Is that a real gun?”
    “It is.”
    The boy’s eyes widened. “Awesome. Did you ever shoot anyone?”
    Travis thought about the time he’d stumbled onto an illicit marijuana field while tracking a wounded deer through the lowlands around Brazos River Bend and found himself peering up the business end of a 12-gauge shotgun. But that story wasn’t suitable for his audience.
    “I’ve never killed anyone,” he said truthfully, sidestepping the question. But he had shot someone.
    Another boy raised his hand.
    Travis pointed at him. “Yes?”
    “How come you took my uncle to jail last week?” he asked, narrowing his eyes defiantly. “All he did was drink a beer on his own boat.”
    Travis knew the look. The kid had a chip on his shoulder. Once upon a time he’d been just as petulant toward authority figures. After his mother died and his father crawled inside himself, Travis had been adrift. Angry at life, he’d kicked up a fuss just to see who’d react.
    “Jimmy,” the teacher said, “that question is inappropriate.”
    “It’s okay, Mrs. Tilson, I don’t mind answering.” Travis trod across the room toward Jimmy, who shrank down in his chair. “I arrested your uncle because he broke the law. My job is to keep the rivers and lakes safe for everyone to enjoy. Drunken boating is the same as drunken driving.”
    “He didn’t hurt anyone,” Jimmy mumbled.
    “He could have if I hadn’t arrested him,” Travis said calmly and then went on to tell them a cautionary tale in unemotional language about the drunken boater who’d run over a skier and amputated her leg on Lake Twilight the previous summer. Travis had been the first responder on the scene, and the memory was burned into his brain.
    “Wow,” said the kid who’d asked him aboutshooting someone. “Cool job. I wanna be a game warden when I grow up.”
    “Then study hard, especially in science and math.” Travis glanced around the room. “Any other questions?”
    “Can girls become game wardens?” asked a serious-looking young girl with solemn blue eyes and caramel-colored hair.
    She reminded him of another serious, blue-eyed, caramel-haired girl he’d once known—little Sarah Collier. He wondered with mild interest where Sarah was now, what she was up to. He’d always liked her and he’d lost touch with her after her grandmother died.
    “Absolutely girls can be game wardens,” he said, “but remember, game wardens work outdoors in the weather. We get wet and cold or sometimes sweaty and hot. We slog through swampy terrain and often come across spiders and snakes and bugs and frogs.”
    The girl tilted her chin upward, reminding him even more of Sarah. “I like spiders and snakes.”
    “Good for you.”
    Just then, the door of the classroom opened and a