His Hometown Girl
Jillian Hart
Small-town mechanic Zachary Drake had no illusions about his longtime friendship with winsome, wholesome Karen McKaslin - even after she called off her wedding to the local pastor.Zach simply intended to lend a grease-stained hand and a sympathetic ear to a pal in need, and keep his secret longing to himself…. Having narrowly escaped a loveless marriage, Karen was counting her blessings. Now she could transform herself into a woman worthy of being loved for all eternity.She never dreamed Mr. Right was waiting for her on the wrong side of the tracks, praying she'd see in his eyes what he didn't dare say….
Anyone could see a woman as fine as Karen belonged with a man who had a big future ahead of him….
It wasn’t as if Zach had a chance with her. Not a man who’d grown up on the outskirts of town in a rusty old trailer.
He took a ragged breath….
No, he wasn’t going to wish, he wasn’t going to want.
Some things weren’t meant to be.
Zach did the only thing he was allowed to do for Karen McKaslin. He said a prayer for her.
JILLIAN HART
grew up on the original homestead where her family still lives, left home to earn an English degree at Whitman College and later met her husband on a blind date arranged by her best friend. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she reads, stops for cafå mochas and hikes with her husband in the pine forests near their home in Washington State.
His Hometown Girl
Jillian Hart
You should be known for the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.
—1 Peter 3:4
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Karen McKaslin scrambled out of her car in the small back lot behind her coffee shop. The gravel crunched beneath her sneakers as she strolled toward the back steps, squinting against the first fingers of sunlight. Dawn painted the eastern skies with bold strokes of crimson and gold, and larksong merrily drifted on the temperate breeze.
Another beautiful Montana day.
“Hey, Karen!” Jodi Benson called out from the alley as she hurried, the hem of her short skirt snapping with her fast gait. “I heard about you and Jay. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Fine, except that everyone keeps mentioning that man’s name.” Karen lifted one hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the low glaring sun. “You’re late for work, too.”
“Don’t mention it to my boss, will you? He won’t be in until seven. Hey, don’t let this get you down. Every bride-to-be has cold feet. You and Jay will patch things up.”
Not in this lifetime. Karen hiked her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Thanks, Jodi. Have a good day.”
Jodi was already at the end of the alley and lifted a hand in answer.
It’s not as if they were close friends, Karen thought, so there was no reason to try to set the woman straight. Rumors were rumors and they didn’t matter.
She knew the truth, but her troubles felt heavier as she hurried up the back steps. Sweet peas tumbled from the planters on the wooden rail and waltzed with carefree happiness in time with the breeze.
Karen’s key clicked in the lock, and she pushed open the glass door with one elbow. She wasn’t going to worry about small-town rumors and setting everyone straight, because Jay wasn’t her true problem. No, the real problem was before her as she stepped into the little dining room she and her older sister Allison had decorated together.
Today was the third anniversary of Allison’s death. Karen had vowed to try to live this day like any other, but at 6:10 in the morning, she’d already failed. She only had to close her eyes to see how this shop looked four years ago when she’d unlocked the door for the first time.
Allison’s footsteps had tapped across the subflooring as she’d held her arms wide. “Imagine all these windows with ruffled gingham curtains. And a counter over there. Our coffee shop is going to be a success, I can feel it.”
Karen opened her eyes, the remembrance slipping away, her heart aching. The echo of her sister’s voice bounced off the walls, an eerie echo of a memory that felt too real.
Gone were the days when she’d made plans with her sister to run the coffee shop together. Plans cut short by a small-plane crash on this day three years ago. Allison’s loss would be forever felt.
Sell the shop, Jay had told her. When we get married, I won’t have my wife working for anyone but me.
Red-hot rage sliced through her like a sharp blade, and she hated it. Hated both the force of her anger and Jay’s unsympathetic demand to sell this place she loved so much.
“Karen?” A man’s chocolate-smooth voice broke through her thoughts.
Startled, she spun around. Zachary Drake stood in the doorway, wearing his usual gray Stetson, a white T-shirt and jeans.
Wide and strong and a little rough around the edges, Zach nodded once in greeting. “Standing around daydreaming?”
“Wishing I could pay someone else to get up this early every morning and open for me.” She pasted on a smile, since her problems were her own. “You’re early today.”
“Got a busy morning. Saw you pull in the alley and figured you might make me some coffee even if you aren’t open yet.” He ambled inside, bringing with him the scent of fresh morning breezes and Old Spice. “So, how about it?”
“For the man who keeps my trusty car running, anything.” She slipped behind the counter without another word and stowed her purse.
“Looks like you’ll have a busy day, too.” Zach couldn’t stop his gaze from following her every movement as she broke open a fresh bag of coffee beans. “What with all the tourists dropping by for a cold glass of whatever you’ve got.”
“The tourists are too busy staying on the highway heading for Yellowstone.” She flashed him an easy smile, one that didn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Besides, it’ll be too hot for anyone to want coffee.”
“I might stop by later and get one of those iced things you make.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite customer.” Karen grabbed a pitcher of water. “Let me set up and I’ll get your cappuccino. It’ll take just a minute.”
“Appreciate it.” Zach turned toward the window, pretending to watch the activity out on the street. Except at eighteen minutes past six on a weekday morning in this small town, there was no activity to watch.
Larks roosted on the edge of the green planter boxes on the wooden rails out front. The streets were empty, and the stores still closed up tight. In the window of the diner just down the road, Jodi Benson appeared and turned the Closed sign to Open.
Truth was, he’d rather stare out at nothing because if he turned around and watched Karen work, she just might notice the way he was looking at her. Mooning after her like a man with a secret crush.
Sure, she’d broken off her engagement. Normally a man might take hope in that. But Zach knew, figured like everyone in this town, that Karen and Jay belonged together. Whatever had torn them apart a month before their wedding would be easily fixed, he was sure, and the two would marry at the end of the summer.
He could deal with that. His heart took a blow every time he talked with her, every time he saw her.
“Here you go. One cappuccino, double shot.” She set the paper cup on the counter and held up her hand when he reached into his back pocket. “No, I don’t have my till set up yet, so don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“I’m real worried.” She flashed him a smile, a friendly one that had entranced him since his first day of kindergarten. She leaned both elbows on the counter and studied him for a moment. “Can I ask you for a favor? I know you said you’re busy, but could you possibly find a spare minute to take a look at my car?”
“You mean that rusted-out rattletrap you drive?”
“That rusted-out rattletrap is paid for, cowboy. That’s how I can afford the luxuries of being self-employed.”
“Sure, you can’t afford a vehicle that runs.”
“Hey, my car runs. Sometimes.” She lifted one shoulder and made an attempt at a smile.
“Since I’m the only mechanic in town, I guess the real question is, can you afford to have me look at it?”
“Now you’re getting greedy.”
“Lots of folks accuse me of that.” He winked. “But for you, being my favorite customer, I’ll make an exception.”
“Oh, boy,” she teased back, but the sadness in her eyes remained, dark and steady.
And he knew why. He didn’t know if he should say anything. Didn’t know if bringing up the subject of her sister would give her more pain. Comforting her…well, it wasn’t his right. That right belonged to the man whose ring used to sparkle on her left hand, a small diamond on a gold band.
“I’ll come over and take a look when things get slow. On a hot day like this, I never know if I’ll be bored to death or if radiators will be boiling over all around town.”
“I’m running late. I’ve got to get in the back and start the muffins baking. Thanks again, Zach.”
“No problem.” He watched her move away, heading toward the kitchen with ease and grace, leaving his heart hammering.
Longing filled him, and he controlled it. He didn’t want her to suspect how he truly felt. Not today of all days, with the memory of her sister’s death and the pain of her breakup written on her face.
Zach grabbed his cup of coffee and headed out into the morning. The sun didn’t seem quite as bright.
Thank heavens for a busy day, Karen thought as she laid two slices of bread on the cutting board. A few hours ago, a tour bus had limped into town, blowing blue smoke out the back. The stranded senior citizens had divided themselves between the coffee shop and the town’s diner. Add that to the regulars and she could hardly make sandwiches fast enough.
“How are you, dear?” a kindly woman asked from the other side of the counter. “I heard about the breakup. You look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.”
Karen reached for the mustard jar and slathered a knifeful on both slices of bread. “I’m doing fine, Mrs. Greenley, and don’t believe those rumors you’re hearing.”
“I never do. Just don’t you worry about what people are saying. What matters is doing what’s best for you.” The older woman turned around in line. “Helen, come up here and take a look at your granddaughter. She appears exhausted to me.”
“I’m not exhausted.” Karen layered ham and cheese slices on top of the mustard-coated bread.
There was a shuffle in the line, and Karen saw Gramma elbowing her way up to the counter.
Great, just what she needed—the woman who could see past her every defense.
Karen concentrated very hard on laying thick slabs of fresh tomato and crisp lettuce leaves just so, before she sliced the sandwich in half. “Gramma, I’m fine. Go back to your place in line. You’re cutting.”
“I’m doing no such thing,” Gramma protested, causing a louder ruckus as she pushed her way to the edge of the counter and circled behind it.
Karen laid the sandwich neatly on a stoneware plate and set it on top of the glass barrier. “And, no, I don’t need any help.”
“Hogwash. Nora’s right. You’re as pale as a sheet, and the only place I’ve seen dark circles like that is on a raccoon. You need to hire help so you can take a day off now and then, missy,” Gramma admonished as she grabbed Nora’s five-dollar bill and marched to the cash register. “Now, go. Scoot. Nora and I will cover the rest of the lunch crowd.”
“You bet,” Mrs. Greenley said eagerly. “I’ve made a sandwich or two in my time.”
“There’s no way.” Karen shouldered against her grandmother and counted out change from the till. “I’m perfectly fine. Make yourself a sandwich, go sit with Mrs. Greenley and have a good visit.”
“You can’t fool me, sweetie.” Gramma’s arm settled firmly around Karen’s shoulders. “Use that line on someone who hasn’t been around as long as I have. You haven’t been sleeping.”
“I have a long line of customers—”
“Karen.” Gramma’s voice was firm but caring. “I don’t know all that’s going on between you and Jay, but I’m on your side. Never forget that. And I know what day it is. Allison would want you to visit her, you know.”
“I can do that later—” Karen turned away, hating that Mrs. Greenley had stepped behind the counter and was taking the next order. “I can’t afford to pay you—”
“That’s good, because we’re volunteering.” Gramma gave her a grandmotherly shove toward the door. “I know, it goes against your grain to accept help, but you’re always doing for others, Karen. Don’t deprive me of the pleasure or I’ll drag you to my Ladies’ Aid meetings for the rest of the year.”
Suddenly the shop was too loud. The clatter of plates, the scraping of silverware and the cackling din of voices all scraped over Karen’s raw nerve endings.
A hand closed over hers, one whose touch was dear and loving. “Sweetheart, let me finish up for you.”
“No, I’ll be fine.” She would be fine.
“Go outside and get some air. Give yourself all the time you need. Nora Greenley, I can’t read your chicken scratch on this ticket. Does that say turkey and Swiss?”
“Of course it does,” Nora answered back, digging through the commercial refrigerator. “See? I told you that you need new bifocals.”
“That’s the last thing I want to hear.” Gramma grabbed a pair of plastic gloves from the box on the counter.
Just like that, Karen was superfluous in her own business.
“Hey, are you all right?” someone asked. A hand lit on Karen’s arm, the touch warm and caring.
“No, Julie, I just need some air.” Stumbling away from her friend, Karen headed straight to the back, threading around customers and cloth-covered tables to where sunlight glinted on the glass door.
Her hand hit the brass knob and she sprinted into the hot sunshine.
Hot aching tears that wouldn’t fall turned the world into a blurred mass of green, blue and brown as she tripped down the walkway, running her hand along the banister so she wouldn’t lose her way. A nail head gouged into her skin and pain jolted through her palm. She felt the wet sting of blood and dropped to the stairs, burying her face in her uninjured hand.
Mom was tumbling into another bout of depression and it seemed like nothing could stop it. The coffee shop was on the brink of disaster—the shop her sister had loved. And she’d just broken her engagement to a man her parents practically worshiped. She couldn’t stop the weight of failure pressing like a thousand-pound rock on her chest.
Worst of all, she still missed Allison with a fierceness that nothing could erase. Not time. Not grief. She’d lost her best and lifelong friend and even now she felt as if she had no one to turn to.
“Hey, it looks like you need a handkerchief.” A rugged male voice broke through her thoughts.
Zachary Drake settled onto the step beside her. Grease smudged his cheek and was smeared across the front of his otherwise white T-shirt.
He certainly was a handsome man. Her heart kicked at the sight of him. He looked tough as nails, as if growing up the way he had could never quite be taken out of him. But she knew Zachary Drake was as strong and dependable as the day was long.
He pressed a folded handkerchief into her hand. Only then did she notice that her car’s hood was up. He’d been taking a look at the troublesome engine and she hadn’t noticed him.
Ashamed and embarrassed to be caught crying, she rubbed the cloth across her eyes and down her face, wiping away the wetness of her tears. “Don’t tell me you have bad news about my car.”
“Okay, I won’t.” He caught hold of her right wrist. His touch was hot and unsettling. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing serious.”
“I’m not too sure about that. Looks like a lot of blood to me.” He stood and strode down the steps, his big body moving with an athlete’s power and ease. He disappeared in the shadow of his tow truck, parked behind her car in the alley.
She heard the click as he opened his truck’s door and the crunch of his gait on the gravel as he returned.
Even without his motorcycle, which he frequently rode through town, Zach still looked a little untamed as he’d always been in school. Maybe it was the way the wind caught his dark hair and whipped it across his brow, or the slight swagger to his walk.
“Let me clean this up and we’ll see who’s right—if it’s nothing or not.” He knelt before her, opened the first-aid kit on the step between them and reached for her injured hand.
At the first touch of the gauze to her cut, she winced.
“Sorry about that. It’s got to hurt.”
“It does,” she lied, because that was the easiest explanation. She felt jumpy, as if every nerve had been laid open from his touch.
It’s only Zach, she told herself. I’ve known him forever. But her heartbeat picked up as he leaned closer, his fingers a warm touch on her skin.
He swabbed the blood away from her cut with careful brushes of the sterile gauze. Each swipe was gentle. Soon he’d exposed the two-inch gash along the side of her palm.
“See? I was right.” His words were a smile of victory, but his gaze felt like something else, something deeper. “This is going to require some expert care.”
“You’re a mechanic, Zach, not a doctor.”
“No, but I get a lot of scrapes, so I know how to take care of them.”
“That makes you an expert?”
“It ought to make me something.”
“Clumsy?”
“Watch what you call me. I’m the only mechanic around, and let’s face it, Karen, if your car’s any indication, you need me. Badly.” He dug through the small plastic kit and produced a sealed packet of antiseptic.
The air caught in her chest when he leaned even closer and rubbed the salve across the tear in her skin. Like a bee’s sting, sharp pain traveled the length of her cut. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ll never be a doctor. That hurts.”
“Is that so?” He lifted one brow as he laid a butterfly bandage across her wound, his voice warm with teasing. “What are you? A wimp who can’t take a little pain?”
“Thanks. I suppose you’re one of those tough guys who never admit to a weakness like pain.”
“You’ve got that right.” He tore open another package and removed a bandage, a wide pad that covered her entire wound. His fingers were a warm pressure in the center of her palm as he made sure the adhesive stuck. “There. An expert repair job.”
How could it be that she was smiling? The weight on her chest remained, but it was easier to breathe, easier to find a way to face what she had to do. All because of Zach. “Now I owe you two favors.”
“Good. I like it when pretty women are in my debt.” He snapped the kit closed.
When he straightened, unfolding his six-foot frame, he towered over her, casting her in shadow. The sun gilded his hair and the width of one shoulder. The wind caught in his brown locks and tousled them.
He held out his hand. “You look like a woman who needs a friend. Lucky for you, I just happen to be available.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
Karen fit her good hand to his. Her pulse jumped, leaving her shaken.
Normally when she was with Zach, she didn’t react like this. But today, everything was off balance. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.
“Thanks, Zach.” The words caught in her throat, and the lump of tears was back, thicker and hotter than ever. “I appreciate the patch job. Now tell me what’s wrong with my car.”
“I’m still working, but I can tell you it looks like a cracked head. We’re talking about a whole new engine.”
The strength went out of her knees and Karen leaned against the banister post. She stared at her poor car.
A new engine. There was no way she could afford that. No way at all. “It’s still working, right? How much longer can I drive it?”
“Hard to say.” Zach raked one hand through his thick hair, stepping closer, casting her in his shadow again. “I’d say you have anywhere from an hour to a week. It just depends. I can find you a rebuilt engine if money’s a problem.”
“Money’s a problem.” This was the last thing she needed. “Are you sure it doesn’t need a new belt or hose or anything cheaper?”
“I’m sure. I can order a rebuilt engine and have it here in a couple of days. Since you’re my favorite customer, you wouldn’t have to pay for it all at once. I trust you.”
“A dangerous move. I could be a bad credit risk. I’ve got a balloon payment on the building coming up at the end of next month.” Karen sighed, feeling the weight of stress clamp more tightly around her chest. “Even if I scrape everything together to pay for it, it’ll be tight for a long time.”
“I know what that’s like.” He lifted a big round car part from the ground and dusted it off. “Take some time to think about it and let me know if you want an estimate.”
She looked at the raised hood of her poor car and the grease-coated engine beneath. “How long will it take you to get all these parts back where they belong so my car’s running again?”
“Ten minutes tops.”
“I have a few errands to do. I’ll be back. Thanks again, Zach.”
“That’s what I’m here for. Hey, Karen, are you going to be okay? Do you want me to call someone for you? Your grandmother or your sister Kirby?”
“No, I’m fine.” She had to be. She had no other choice.
But she suspected Zach didn’t believe her as she hurried down the alley.
She didn’t believe it herself.
Chapter Two
An emergency call came when he was finished with Karen’s car. The early ’70s model with a rusting olive-green paint job managed to start after several attempts. There was no doubt about it—the car needed serious help.
He shut off the ignition, tucked the spare key back into place behind the visor and climbed out into the scorching sunshine.
Karen’s scent from her car seat—a combination of baby shampoo and vanilla—clung to his shirt. A sharp ache of longing speared through him, old and familiar, and he ignored it. Over the years he’d gotten good at ignoring it. The scent tickled his nose as he ambled across the gravel lot. He ignored that, too.
The coffee shop looked like it was quieting down. The group of tourists must have headed out, now that their bus was as good as new. He didn’t have time to step inside and wait for Karen to get back from her errands, not with an elderly woman’s radiator boiling over in this heat.
There was nothing else to do but to hop into his truck and let the air-conditioning distribute the faint scent of vanilla and baby shampoo.
Great. That was going to remind him of Karen for the rest of the afternoon.
When he’d been patching up her cut, he’d been close enough to see the shadows in her dream-blue eyes. He hated that there wasn’t a thing he could do to comfort her.
Anyone could see a woman as fine as Karen belonged with a man like Jay, a man with a big future ahead of him. And even on the off chance that Karen didn’t marry Jay, it wasn’t as if Zach had a chance with her. Not a man who’d grown up on the outskirts of town in a rusty old trailer.
He took a ragged breath, vowing to put her out of his mind. He checked for traffic on the quiet street and pulled out of the alley.
As he drove down the main street, he saw Karen coming out of the town’s combination florist and gift shop. His pulse screeched to a stop at the sight of her. She didn’t see him, walking away from him the way she was, so he could take his time watching her. Karen was fine, all right, and as beautiful as a spring morning. Head down, long light brown hair tumbling forward over her face, she carried a live plant that was thick with yellow blossoms.
No, he wasn’t going to wish, he wasn’t going to want.
Some things weren’t meant to be.
Zach headed the truck east away from town and did the only thing he was allowed to do for Karen McKaslin. He said a prayer for her.
Karen watched as her gramma’s spotless classic Ford eased slowly into the cemetery parking lot. The rumble of the engine broke the peace of the late afternoon.
She stood, squinting against the brilliant sun, and left Allison’s flower-decorated grave. She waited while her grandmother parked her car and then emerged, clutching a bouquet of white roses.
“I recognized your rattletrap of a car in the lot.” Gramma held her arms wide. “How’s my girl?”
“Fine. I’m just fine.” Karen dodged the bouquet and stepped into her grandmother’s hug. More warmth filled her, and all the worries bottled up inside her eased. “I shouldn’t have left you with the shop like that. I shouldn’t have let you bully me.”
“You were powerless to stop me.” Gramma stepped away, squinting carefully, measuring her with a wise, sharp-eyed glare. “Don’t try to fool me, young lady. You don’t look fine. You look like you’re missing your sister.”
“She was my best friend.”
“I know.” Gramma’s voice dipped, full of understanding. “Let me go set these on her grave. She loved white roses so much.”
Tears burned in Karen’s throat, and it hurt to remember. She remained in the shade of the oaks, so that her grandmother would have time alone at Allison’s grave.
Karen watched as the older woman ambled across the well-manicured grounds, through lush green grass and past solemn headstones.
Sorrow surrounded this place, where bright cheerful flowers and a few colorful balloons decorated graves. At the other end of the cemetery, she could see another family laying flowers on a headstone in memory.
Time had passed, taking grief with it, but Karen didn’t think anything could fix the emptiness of Allison’s absence in her life or in her family. Not time, not love or hope.
She waited while her grandmother laid the flowers among the dozens of others. She waited longer while the older woman sank to her knees, head bowed in prayer.
In the distance, a lawn mower droned, and overhead, larks chirped merrily. It was like any other summer afternoon, but this day was different.
“Now that I’ve given thanks for the granddaughters I still have, I’m ready to go.” Gramma took Karen’s hand. “I closed the shop for you, so there’s no sense hurrying back this late in the day just to open it for an hour. Why don’t you come home with me and give me a hand?”
“You know I can’t say no to you.”
“Good, because I promised your mother that I would make sure supper’s on the table tonight, not that anyone will feel much like eating. But since she’s my daughter, I’ll do whatever she’ll let me do. And if that’s to make my famous taco cheese and macaroni casserole, then so be it.”
“What about Mom? Dad’s busy with the harvest. Maybe I should run home first and see how she is. Make sure she isn’t alone.”
“One of your sisters is with her—Kirby, I think. I called from the shop before I came here.”
Karen felt the sun on her face, the wind tangling her hair and the disquiet in her heart. So many responsibilities pulled at her, but she could feel her grandmother’s love. Because they were standing in a cemetery with both life and death all around, she nodded, unable to say the words.
There was never enough time on this earth to spend with loved ones. It was a truth she couldn’t ignore, not after losing Allison. Time was passing even as she let Gramma lead her toward the parking lot where their cars waited in the shade.
“Do you need me to stop by the store and pick up anything?” Karen asked as she opened her car door.
“I already did. No grass grows under these feet,” Gramma answered, her blue eyes alight with many emotions.
Karen’s throat tightened, and she climbed into the driver’s seat. Even with the windows rolled down to let in the temperate breezes, she could still smell the scents of mechanic’s grease and Old Spice, evidence of the man who’d sat behind this wheel only hours ago.
A rumble of a powerful engine drew her attention. In her rearview mirror she caught sight of Zach’s blue-and-white tow truck rolling up the driveway.
She turned the key in the ignition and gave the gas pedal a few good pumps, and the engine started and died. Started and died. Started and coughed to life. Gramma was parked at the edge of the lot, patiently waiting.
Karen put her car in gear and pulled around, having only enough time to wave to Zach as he rumbled into one of many empty parking spots. He lifted a hand in return. The tips of yellow blossoms waved above the dash, and she sped away, somehow touched beyond words.
She knew without asking that he’d brought flowers for her sister’s grave.
“Is this why you asked me over?” Karen turned to her grandmother the minute she stepped foot inside the kitchen door. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken up Mom and Dad’s cause?”
“What cause, dear?” Gramma set her purse and keys on the nearby counter.
“Trying to show me how wrong I am to call off my wedding.” Trying to control her anger, Karen pointed at the sunny picture window. Over the top of the short cedar fence, she could see Jay mowing his mother’s lawn next door. “I’m not going to be pressured about this.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you.” Gramma circled around the polished oak table and headed for the refrigerator.
“No, but silence speaks volumes.” Karen turned her back on the window. She wouldn’t let the guilt in. “You think I’m going to forgive him and marry him anyway, just like Mom does. Like everyone does.”
“I respect your choice, either way.” Gramma set two cans of diet cola on the counter. “Of course, Jay is awfully handsome. He’s dependable and easy on the eyes.”
“He doesn’t love me, Gramma.”
“Then why on earth did he propose to you?”
Karen didn’t answer. She couldn’t admit the truth. If Allison were alive, she would have been able to confide in her, but who else would understand?
Karen watched as her grandmother calmly scooped ice into two glasses. She worked methodically, easily, content with the silence. Tall and slim, she looked comfortable in her usual flowered dress and low, sensible shoes.
“Sit down.” With a clink Gramma set the glasses on the round oak table and looked through her glasses perched on her nose. “Tell me all about it.”
“About what?”
“What’s taken away my favorite granddaughter’s smile.”
“I don’t want to talk about Jay.” Karen pulled out a chair and settled onto the cushioned seat. “Or how I’m looking thirty in the face and don’t have any better prospects.”
“Fine. Then we won’t talk about Jay.” Gramma took a sip of soda, understanding alight in her eyes. “Most of my friends have great-grandchildren by now. Nora was one of the last holdouts. Then her granddaughter married Matthew and got those triplet boys. I don’t suppose I’m going to be that lucky.”
“Don’t count on it. I see where you’re going with this. You’re trying to get me to talk about my breakup with Jay.”
“Not at all. I’m just sharing some of my troubles with you for a change. At my last Ladies’ Aid meeting, Lois had new pictures of her adorable great-granddaughter.”
“You’re feeling left out. Is that it?”
“Yes, but you don’t look very sorry for me.”
“Sure I am. I’m hiding it deep inside.”
Gramma’s eyes twinkled, full of trouble. “If you went ahead and married Jay, then in a year or so I’d have my own great-grandbaby to show off. I’ve got to keep up with my friends.”
“I see. It’s a status thing. Like having a new car or the right house?”
“Exactly.”
Karen ran a finger through the condensation on the outside of her glass. “Jay has one semester left at seminary, and then he wants me to sell the coffee shop.”
“Why is that?”
“He needs me to help him with his career. A pastor’s wife belongs at her husband’s side, he told me. Then he asked how much equity I had in the building.”
“I see.” Gramma nodded sagely. “You and Allison opened that shop together. It would be hard to sell just for the money.”
“I got angry and so did he. He said some harsh things—” She took a deep breath. “He told me the real reason he wanted to marry me. Because I was someone he could count on. I work hard, I know how to run a business and I’m comfortable, like an old friend. He needs someone dependable to help him with his career.”
“I see.” Gramma lowered her glass to the polished table. Ice cubes clinked in the silence between them. “Those words must have been hard to hear from the man you loved.”
“I was in love with him.”
“Not anymore?”
“How can it be love, if he doesn’t love me back?” Anguish filled her. “Everyone tells me I’m wrong. I should be lucky to have a man like Jay who wants to marry me. He’s going to go far, and he’ll be a good husband.”
“They don’t know the real story, do they? You haven’t told this to anyone but me.”
“Not even Mom.” Karen let out a shaky sigh. She’d never felt so confused in her life. “I don’t know what to do. Am I wrong? I love Jay—at least a part of me did—and is that enough? Do I settle for friendship? Or am I throwing away something good? It feels as if I’ve done the right thing and the wrong thing all at the same time. You were married to Granddad for thirty years, so tell me what you think.”
“I know one thing.” Gramma reached across the table and her warm, caring hand covered Karen’s. “Love without passion is like lukewarm water. It’s not good for much.”
“Then you think I did the right thing?”
“I think you should do whatever makes you happy. Forever is a long time with a man who doesn’t love you the way you want to be loved.”
Some of the weight lifted from her chest, and Karen managed to take a sip of soda. “I thought you wanted great-grandchildren.”
“I want my granddaughter to be happy. That’s more important to me than anything in this world, even keeping up with Lois.” Gramma’s fingers squeezed gently, a reminder of the love Karen had known her entire life. “It’s tough when the man you’re interested in thinks you’re a cup of lukewarm tea. I have the same problem with Clyde.”
“Clyde Winkler, the man you’ve been seeing?”
“You look surprised.” Gramma took a long sip of her cola. “What? You don’t think a woman my age can have a love life, is that it?”
“I’m speechless.”
“And do you know what I’ve figured out? Men are all the same. They haven’t changed a bit since 1940. Still as thickheaded as ever.”
“Surely not every man in existence.”
“The one I’m interested in, at least.” Gramma stared out the window, where the drone of Jay’s mower grew louder, then began fading away. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never told a living soul. Once, I was in the same situation you’re in.”
“You called off a wedding?” Karen leaned closer. “With Granddad?”
“I almost did. I was younger than you are now, but back then, girls married much younger. All my friends from school had husbands, and I desperately wanted to get married. More than anything. Oh, what plans I had! I wanted a house of my own, children to raise and a man to take care of.”
“Which you did. Granddad was wonderful.”
“But he wasn’t the love of my life.” The confession was a quiet one, hardly loud enough to be heard above the hum of the air-conditioning.
Karen dropped her glass. Ice cubes and soda sloshed over the rim and onto the table.
Gramma calmly reached for the napkin holder and began mopping up the mess. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”
“But you loved Granddad. I know you did. I saw you together.”
“I did love him in a hundred different ways. As my husband, as the father of my children, as my best friend. But not in the most wondrous way. He never said, but I know that he felt it, too. He tried and I tried. While we made a life together, we lacked something important.” Gramma rose and dropped the wet napkins in the garbage container. “We didn’t have a deep emotional connection. That was something we couldn’t make together, no matter how hard we tried.”
I don’t believe it, Karen thought. Denial speared through her. Her grandparents had always been happy together.
No, seemed happy together, she corrected herself. And as she watched her gramma’s shoulders slump and felt the truth in the air, Karen realized the pain her grandmother must have silently lived with every day of her marriage.
When Gramma straightened, what looked like sadness and regret marked her face. “Your granddad told me once that he was glad to be with such a reliable woman. That out of all the women he could have married, he’d been lucky to wind up with me.
“Reliable.” Her voice shook a little. “I loved Norman deeply, but not deeply enough. Just as he could never love me. Even now I wonder what it would have been like for us if we’d managed to figure out what we were missing. We were never really happy. We were never truly unhappy. Lukewarm.”
Karen stood and paced to the window. She could see Jay in his mother’s backyard, pushing the mower. Tall and dependable, he was a handsome man with golden hair and sun-bronzed skin. The faint growl of the engine rumbled through the glass, and looking at the man whose ring she’d worn made sadness weigh on her heart. “Granddad wasn’t your true love.”
“I made a life with him and it worked out fine. I was blessed. I won’t say otherwise.” Gramma paused, letting the silence fall between them. “But a woman yearns to be something more than ‘reliable’ or ‘comfortable’ to the man she loves.”
Karen turned from the window, relief filling her. “That’s the real reason why I broke the engagement. It wasn’t only about the coffee shop. He doesn’t really love me, so how will he feel about me in ten years?”
“Love can grow and deepen with time.” Gramma slipped an arm around Karen’s shoulder. “But there are never any guarantees. Are you having regrets?”
“I know I hurt him. He’s a fine man, but he’s not the right one. I’ve prayed and prayed over it. Mom thinks I’m being foolish. But you don’t.”
“No, I don’t. Did the Lord answer your prayers?”
“No. No confirmation either way.”
“You’re a good girl. God will answer you. Be patient.”
“See, that’s my problem. I’m not good. I’m just average.”
“Average? My granddaughter? Nonsense.” Gramma marched Karen to the table and gestured for her to sit. “You are a bright, beautiful young woman and as good as can be. I ought to know, since I’m your grandmother. A woman my age is wise about these things.”
“You’re biased.”
“I guess love will do that.” Gramma ran her fingers through Karen’s brown hair. “Do you know what I think?”
“I’m afraid to guess.”
“You might look good as a blonde. Ever think of that?”
“What do you mean? Color my hair? What does that have to do with this conversation?”
“You’d be surprised.” Gramma looked up into the mirror on the wall behind the kitchen table. “I’ve been thinking about getting rid of this gray hair. Maybe that’s my problem. If I dyed my hair red and bought a sports car, I wouldn’t be the same old reliable Helen.”
“You wouldn’t be the grandmother I know and love.”
“I’m not getting any younger, so why wait? And at my age, what am I waiting for? I want something different than spending most of my days in this lonely house. I want to know passion in my life. That’s what I want.”
Karen twisted around in her chair, surprised at the unhappiness etched on her grandmother’s face.
“You and I have the same problem, Karen. We’ve been good girls all our lives and in my case, it’s been a few decades too long.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been living a lukewarm life for sixty years now, and that’s not how I want to be remembered. I don’t want people to say, ‘Helen was nice,’ at my funeral. I want them to say, ‘Remember the fun we had the day Helen drove us through town in her new convertible.’”
Karen’s hand trembled, and she didn’t know what to say. Today at the cemetery, she’d felt the same—that time on this earth was too short to spend with regrets.
Sympathy for her grandmother filled her. “If you want, I’ll go with you to the beauty shop. We’ll get your hair done so you’ll look beautiful.”
“Thank you, dear. I knew you’d understand.” Gramma held her close, and Karen hugged her long and hard, grateful for this grandmother she loved so much.
Chapter Three
Karen was placing fresh flowers on the tables in the quiet hours before the lunch rush started when an engine’s rumble on the street outside her shop caught her attention. A gleaming black motorcycle pulled into an empty parking spot out front, ridden by a man wearing a white T-shirt and jeans.
“There’s trouble,” matronly Cecilia Thornton, Jay’s mom, commented over her iced latte.
“With a capital T,” Marj Whitly agreed.
With the way Zach’s muscled shoulders and wide chest stretched out that T-shirt, there was no word other than ‘trouble’ to describe him. Karen watched him swing one leg easily over the bike’s seat and unbuckle his helmet. Shocks of thick brown hair tumbled across his brow.
Zach might look larger than life, but she knew at heart that he was a good man.
He strolled down the walk in front of the row of windows and winked when he caught sight of her. Eager for the sight of a friendly face, Karen quickly set the last little vase in the center of the last table.
The bell above the front door chimed. Zach strode through the door. Her pulse skipped and she didn’t know why.
“Working hard on a Saturday, as usual. Don’t you know you’re missing a fantastic morning out there?” Zach raked one hand through his tousled locks, rumpling them even more. He lowered his voice. “I’d offer you an escape on my bike, but I don’t think Jay’s mom will approve.”
“You noticed her glaring at you?” Karen circled around the counter.
“Always.” His eyes sparkled, holding no ill will toward the woman who frowned at him from the far corner of the dining room.
“Is it too early for lunch?”
“Not in my shop.”
“Then I’ll have a bologna and cheese with mayo and mustard, on white.” Zach nodded in Cecilia’s direction. “Good morning, ladies.”
The two women’s eyes widened in surprise. Cecilia managed a polite response, even though it was clear she didn’t approve of the likes of Zachary Drake.
See? With that kind of attitude in Jay’s family, it was a good thing she’d broken her engagement.
Zach leaned over the counter, a mischievous grin curving across his mouth. “I don’t think they approve of my mode of transportation.”
“It’s not the bike, Zach.”
“Are you saying those woman don’t approve of me?”
“You’re crushed, I see.”
“Devastated. Is Cecilia’s death-ray glare of disapproval getting to you?”
Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, Karen donned clear plastic gloves. “Cecilia’s death-ray stares aren’t hurting me any. I missed you this morning. You didn’t come in for coffee. Are you two-timing me over at the diner?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a devoted man. Not even the diner’s full breakfast menu can tempt me away from your charming shop.”
“A loyal customer. Just what I like to hear.”
“I have to confess I made my own java and took a thermos of it fishing with me this morning.”
“I didn’t know bachelors could make coffee.”
“You see, there’s this little scoop that comes in the can. It’s easy to measure.”
“A can? You didn’t even grind your own beans?” Karen unwrapped a loaf of fresh bread. “I’m disappointed in you.”
“I know, but I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I’ll bring my thermos over and let you fill it for me.”
How did he do it, she wondered. With that dazzling smile and his melting-chocolate voice, Zach could chase away her troubles and leave her smiling.
“How’s that car of yours?”
“Still running, and don’t look so surprised.”
“Only prayers are keeping that heap going, believe me. When it finally breaks down for good, give me a call and I’ll help you out.”
“Unlike you, I have complete faith.”
“Unlike you, I’ve looked under the hood, and that car’s doomed, Karen. I’m telling you this as a friend. I’ve already ordered a used engine.”
“I can’t afford it.”
“We’ll work something out or we can barter. Car parts for sandwiches?”
“That’s a lot of sandwiches.”
Zach sent Cecilia a brief, imposing glare. “Mrs. Thornton still hasn’t forgiven you for dumping her son?”
“Does it look like it?”
“If she’s upset, what’s she doing in your shop?”
“This is the only place in town to buy a latte.” Karen sighed.
“You’re doing the right thing, giving it time.” He meant to be comforting. “Everyone knows you and Jay will get back together.”
“Everybody doesn’t know me, not if they believe that. I’m never going to marry Jay.” Karen concentrated extra hard on her sandwich making. “I suppose that’s what you think, too, isn’t it? That good, dependable Karen will do what’s sensible. And why not? It’s what I’ve always done.”
“That’s the problem with a small town. People make up their minds about what kind of person you are, and it doesn’t matter how honest you try to be when it comes to their repair bills, they still see what they’re used to seeing.”
“I know what you mean.” Karen’s pulse skipped again. Had Zach’s eyes always been so blue? “Have a good afternoon.”
“Good luck surviving Cecilia’s death-ray stare.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter and took the paper sack from her.
His hand brushed hers and burned her like a hot flame.
Why was she feeling like this? Confused, she watched Zach push open the door, causing the bell to jangle overhead. For a brief moment he glanced at her, his eyes dark with unmistakable sympathy.
Then he turned and was gone. The bell chimed again as the door snapped shut, and Karen felt as if all the warmth had gone from the room. What was wrong with her? What was going on?
She didn’t mean to be watching him, but there he was. Striding down the walk with the wind tousling his dark hair. He looked as rakish as a pirate, and yet as dependable as the earth. He hesitated at the top of the stairs and then he disappeared from her sight.
Caffeine, that’s what she needed. Karen reached for the pitcher of iced tea and poured a tall glass. The sweet cool liquid slid down the back of her throat, but it didn’t ease the confusion within her.
The bell chimed again. Zach—had he come back? Karen held her breath as the door swung open to reveal not her handsome mechanic but someone just as welcome. Her grandmother swept into the room wearing a red T-shirt, a pair of denim shorts and tennis shoes.
Karen nearly dropped her glass. “What happened to you?”
“I raided Michelle and Kirby’s closets. I’ve been wearing dresses all my life. It’s time for a change.” Gramma set her purse on the counter. It was a neat slim red pocketbook instead of the sensible black handbag she always carried.
What was going on?
Gramma faced the dining room and clapped her hands. “Ladies, Karen sure appreciates your business, but she’s going to have to close up shop for a few hours. I know you understand. Here, Cecilia, let me get a paper cup so you can take your latte with you.”
Cecilia’s disapproving glare gained new intensity. “Helen, whatever have you done to yourself?”
“What? A woman can’t wear shorts in the heat of summer?” Her grandmother looked nonplussed as she transferred Cecilia’s latte from the mug to the paper cup. “Now, head on out so I can lock the door.”
“Gramma!” Karen stepped forward before her grandmother took over completely. “You can’t do this. It’s nearly time for the lunch crowd.”
“But you have to leave right now.” Gramma flipped the sign in the window so it read Closed. “It’s the only time Dawn over at the Snip & Style could fit us into her schedule.”
“What do you mean by ‘us’? You’re the one getting your hair colored. I’m going for moral support. That’s what we agreed to.”
“That’s not how I remember it. Come on, get your keys. I’m not about to be late, not when Dawn has promised me a whole new look.”
“Gramma, I’m glad you’re doing this. I’m thrilled, really. But lunch brings in the biggest sales of the day. I can’t miss it. Maybe Michelle can—”
“Your sister has a client scheduled—you. I mean it, ladies, out of those chairs. Hustle.” Gramma gave a good-humored clap, looking as if she were herding reluctant deer from her rose garden. “Thanks, ladies. Karen sure appreciates it.”
“Anything for our Karen,” Marj Whitly said warmly. “That’s just the thing she needs, Helen. Time for herself at the beauty parlor, a complete shampoo and facial. Restores the spirit, it does. Then she’ll be over her wedding jitters and can get down to the business of marrying your son, Cecilia.”
Karen opened her mouth to protest, but Gramma winked at her, so she offered Marj a lid for her cup instead.
Gramma locked the door after the women departed. “Leave your purse. This is my treat.”
“What treat? I’m going to say this one more time so you understand. I’m going along for moral support only.”
“Of course you are,” Gramma said indulgently. “Now get a move on, because I don’t want to be late for my new life.”
See? This is what always got her into trouble. In the end, she hadn’t been able to disappoint her grandmother. Look what that had gotten her.
“It wasn’t supposed to do this,” Michelle, her youngest sister, apologized. “Working with hair is always tricky. You have a lot of naturally gold highlights in your hair, which was a surprise considering it’s such a dull brown—”
“I never should have agreed to this.” Karen wished she had Cecilia Thornton’s knack for a death-ray glare. “I should’ve never trusted you.”
“I guess I left the color in too long.”
“You guess?” She could only stare in the mirror at her wet, scraggly hair. It hung in limp, ragged strands and shone perfectly gold. Except in about ten or twelve places. “Look what you did to me. My own baby sister.”
“Sorry. This is the first time I’ve ever turned someone’s hair green. Honest.”
“Fix it. Whatever you have to do, do it now.”
Michelle grabbed a fresh towel. “I know what to do. I think.”
“You think? What did they teach you at that school anyway?”
“They warned us never to work on our own relatives. Now I know why.” Michelle dashed away and disappeared from sight.
“It’s certainly different, I’ll grant you that,” Gramma said from the neighboring chair. “With those green streaks, you could be in the latest fashion. Anywhere but in Montana.”
“Thanks, I feel so much better.” Karen peered at her reflection, her heart sinking. What if Michelle couldn’t fix it? “I didn’t mind being mouse brown. At least my real color wouldn’t glow in the dark.”
“That’s the spirit. Don’t worry. We’ll turn you into a dazzling blonde yet. Michelle might be new at this, but Dawn here has decades of experience. She can work wonders. Why, look at me.”
“I’m looking.” Karen couldn’t believe her eyes as the other beautician switched on a blow dryer and began styling Gramma’s hair.
No more gray curls. Rich auburn locks fell in a short, feathery cut. She looked beautiful. Infinitely beautiful.
“I’ve always wanted to be a redhead,” Gramma confessed above the hum of the dryer. “It’s a whole new me.”
“You don’t need any improvement.” By contrast, Karen’s hair looked like a cosmetology school disaster. “Look at me. I could sure use something. Michelle, I want you to put this back the way it was.”
“Don’t be silly,” Gramma admonished. “You promised moral support, so don’t think I’m going through this alone. You’re staying at my side every step of the way, missy. It’ll be good for you.”
“I don’t want a makeover.”
“You need one more than anyone else I know, my darling sister.” Michelle returned, armed with a cup that smelled like varnish. “I don’t know how it happened, but you got all the recessive genes in the family. A shame it is. Gramma, you wouldn’t know a good plastic surgeon, would you?”
“Mess up my hair again, and you’ll pay,” Karen threatened.
Michelle didn’t look a bit afraid. “I know you too well. You’re all bark and no bite. How about platinum blond streaks? What do you think, Gramma?”
“No! No streaks. No blond anything.” Karen couldn’t help panicking a little. “I’ve come to adore mouse brown. Really. It’s the way God meant me to be. Just give me a rinse or something to get this color out of my hair.”
“Trust us, Karen.” Gramma winked. “They say that blondes have more fun. Let’s find out if it’s true.”
Seeing the happiness on her grandmother’s face, how could she refuse—even if disaster loomed?
Zach felt the hot midday sun burn the back of his neck as he twisted the bolt with his pliers. “Your car should start fine, Mrs. Greenley.”
“You, my dear boy, are nothing short of an angel.” The older lady blew him a kiss. “Tell me why a handsome man like you doesn’t have a ring on his finger.”
“No girl can catch me, I guess.” Zach shut the car’s hood.
“Doesn’t a smart fellow like you know not to run too fast?”
He wiped the grease smudges from his fingers off her gleaming hood. “No one said I was a smart man.”
“You can’t fool me, Zachary Drake.” Nora Greenley shook her head at him, watching every movement he made as he reached around the steering wheel and turned the key. “You’re not as bad as you seem, even with the motorcycle. How much do I owe you?”
The engine rolled over, purring contentedly. He released the key. A movement caught his gaze on the sidewalk across the street. Karen with hair as gold as summer sunshine breezed out of the Snip & Style. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.
Then he remembered Mrs. Greenley was watching him. Anyone with good eyesight would be able to see how he felt for Karen, so he closed his mouth and turned to his client. “I’ll bill you for the battery. Have a good afternoon.”
“I’ll sure try.” The older woman glanced across the street before she climbed behind the wheel. “You behave yourself, you hear, young man?”
Zach closed Nora’s car door and waited until she pulled away. Alone, he dared to look across the street again. There she was, with her grandmother at her side, talking with a group of women who’d spotted them on the sidewalk. Their conversation rose and fell with merry energy, but all Zach could see was Karen.
She looked great as a blonde. The lighter color made her eyes bluer. Somehow it made her seem more wholesome, if that could be possible, as if she’d spent all summer outdoors in the sun.
Karen’s words from earlier in the day echoed in his mind, replaying over and over again. Everybody doesn’t know me, not if they believe that. I’m never going to marry Jay.
Words like that could give a man hope.
Home. Finally. Zach snapped on the light switch just inside the door of his apartment over the garage. A bulb popped with a bright flash, leaving him in darkness.
Great. Just great. Too exhausted to even summon up a little anger, Zach rummaged around in the dark. His closet was too messy and so he couldn’t find his flashlight. His stomach grumbled in loud protest, not wanting to wait a second longer for supper. He’d change the bulb later and make do with the light in the kitchen.
Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, and he tugged off his T-shirt. Man, it was hot. He headed straight for the air-conditioning window unit and flicked it on high. Tepid air sputtered reluctantly, and the fan inside coughed. A lukewarm current breezed across his heated face.
What? No cold air? He flicked off the machine, marched across the small apartment to the kitchen and yanked open the window above the sink. Humid air blew in. As he circled his apartment, opening the windows wide, his stomach clamped with hunger.
Food. He needed it bad and he needed it now.
Not overly hopeful, Zach scoped out his kitchen cupboards. At the sight of the practically empty shelves, his stomach twisted harder. A can of olives, a stale box of cheese crackers and there was mold growing on the remaining slices of three-week-old bread.
Okay, maybe the refrigerator held more promise. He jerked open the door and stood in the welcome icy breeze, surveying the empty metal racks. There was only a half-empty jar of mayonnaise, the butter dish and an empty container of salsa. His stomach growled so loud, it hurt.
Maybe there was something in the freezer.
Bingo. He’d found supper. Even if it was two beef franks, heavily iced in their original package stuck to the empty ice tray, which was iced to the bottom of the freezer. This was not a problem—he was ingenious and he had a knife.
Using it like a chisel, he inserted the blade’s tip between the thick bed of ice and the frozen franks. Cold air wheezed across his face as he leveled a careful blow.
The phone rang—the shop phone. It was work and he couldn’t ignore it. Reluctantly he set down the knife and knocked the freezer shut with the flat of his hand. A meal, air-conditioning and time to relax—was it too much to ask?
He grabbed the old black phone in the corner by the door.
“Zach’s Garage.” He tucked the receiver between his ear and his shoulder.
“I know it’s late.” Karen’s voice came across the line, tight with strain. “But remember that offer of help you made? I could really use it.”
“You called the right man. Don’t tell me your engine went and died, just like I said.”
“Okay, I won’t, but that’s why I’m calling.” Static crackled across the line. “No one at home is answering the phone. They’re probably outside on the deck, so I’m stranded. I’m at the grocery store.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks, Zach.”
“No problem. That’s what friends are for.” He eased the receiver into the cradle and grabbed his keys.
Dinner could wait. Relaxing could wait. Karen needed him. Even if it was only as a mechanic, only as a friend.
He grabbed a clean shirt before heading out the door.
He spotted her sitting on the curb the minute he turned onto Railroad Street. The night breezes ruffled her silken hair around her delicate face. Her slender shoulders slumped with either exhaustion or defeat. He couldn’t tell which.
She turned at the sound of his truck and waved. Behind her, the lights of the closed grocery store were dim and cast a faint glow over her, emphasizing her willowy shape. She stood, holding a plastic grocery bag in one hand.
He stopped the tow truck in the middle of the road and leaned out the window. “Hey, good lookin’. Need a lift?”
Her new blond locks danced against the side of her face, driven by the wind. “Do you like the new me?”
“There was nothing wrong with the old you.” He reached for his door to climb down and assist her, but it was too late to help her in. She was already breezing through the beams of the truck’s headlights, so he leaned across the seat and opened the door. He gave it a shove for her because it was heavy. “What’s with Helen? I saw her new hairdo.”
“Gramma is having a midlife crisis three decades too late.”
“Good. Everyone needs to try something new now and then.”
Flashing him a grin, Karen climbed inside the cab as if she were used to climbing into big trucks. And then Zach remembered she was a ranch girl and had probably helped her father in the fields through the years by driving hay trucks and tractors.
What would it have been like to grow up as she did, with a solid and close-knit family and hundreds of acres of land to roam on? It was a far cry from living at the edge of town where he’d called a singlewide trailer home. And where he’d struggled to take care of his younger brother and sister.
The bench seat dipped slightly with her weight. The air-conditioning circulated her vanilla and baby shampoo scent. Yes, a man had to have hope. That’s all it was—hope—and not the right to be more than a friend.
Not knowing what to say, Zach released the clutch. The truck eased down the street in a smooth rumble.
He headed north, away from the lights of the small town where rolling fields stretched into the deepening twilight. The roar of the engine and the whir of the cool air through the cab covered up the silence that fell between them. But it didn’t change the fact that she was sitting next to him with only two feet between them.
Yes, it was good for a man to have hope.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, her hand flying to the sassy ends of her hair. “You hate this, don’t you? I can’t get used to looking at myself.”
“Neither can I.” He fought the urge to tell her just how great she looked. He thought her beautiful before, but she looked better now. Not because her hair was different, but because there was a sparkle in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long while.
“Gramma forced me into this.”
“She strong-armed you, did she?”
“She guilted me into it. Works every time.” Karen shook her head and her jaunty locks swept her slim shoulders. “I’m a soft touch when it comes to her.”
“When it comes to everyone.”
“Sometimes.” She looked unhappy, and he never much thought about the pressures she might face always looked to as one of the well-behaved McKaslin girls, even now when she’d been an adult for many years.
“I have the same problem,” he confessed with a grin. “I’m always a real softhearted guy. That’s why I drive my motorcycle through town at least once a week. So no one suspects the real me.”
“It’s a good disguise. It fools a lot of people, but not me.”
“Really? Maybe I shouldn’t have left the leather jacket at home.” He tossed her a grin as he slowed down to turn into her family’s long gravel driveway.
How she liked Zach’s smile. Kind and warm with a hint of charm, and when his smile touched his eyes, she could see the goodness in him. In fact, there was a lot to like about the man.
Aside from being a dependable friend, he was probably the most handsome man in town. He’d certainly been considered the best-looking boy in her high school class. All the years since had only improved him.
Even in the dark interior of the truck and silhouetted by the encroaching night, he looked amazing. His profile was strong with a dark shock of hair tumbling over his forehead, a straight nose and a well-carved jaw. Just looking at him made her pulse drum.
Zach slowed the truck down to take the final corner of her parents’ long gravel driveway. She looked through the windshield and saw her family’s home up on the knoll. The lit windows shone like beacons in the descending darkness.
The truck eased to a stop in front of her house, and the silence between them lengthened. Light from the house spilled through the open windows to cast a glow on the trimmed juniper bushes lining the driveway.
She didn’t want to walk through that door. The pressure of her parents’ disappointment in her pressed like an anvil against her chest.
“I can take that in if you want.” His voice startled her, and his big warm hand curled over hers.
His heat seared her like a jolt of electricity and she jumped at the contact. Then she realized he wasn’t trying to hold her hand. He was taking the plastic bag from her grip.
To her amazement, he opened the door and hopped from the cab. His boots crunched in the gravel and then tapped on the brick walk. The light from the windows burnished him with a golden glow. His silhouette was impressive—broad shoulders, wide back, tapered hips and long legs.
He was all male, that was for sure. Hard and strong and powerful. Something she’d never quite noticed to this degree before.
Her heart kicked for some unexplained reason, and she fled into the fields where the darkness swallowed her. She knew every bump in the dirt path that led from the house to the stable.
She splayed both palms on the worn smooth curve of the top rail and let the calm of the night surround her. Dark clouds blocked out the stars. She didn’t know how long she waited before she heard Zach’s gait on the path behind her and felt his presence, substantial like the night.
“Karen? I’ll head back to town and rescue your car. I can have an estimate ready for you sometime tomorrow.”
“There’s no hurry. It’s not like I can afford that engine.”
“Stop being so difficult. In my book, you’re a good credit risk. Besides, you’ve got a business to run. You need your car.”
“I do.” Trying not to give in to her troubles, she took a breath and let the wooden rail take the weight of her head. Too late—her neck muscles had coiled into one hard aching mass.
Gathering her hair in her free hand, she held it up in a loose ponytail so the winds could caress a warm current across her knotted muscles.
His work boots tapped behind her. “A little tense?”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Let me see what I can do about that.”
She felt a swish of air over her exposed skin and then his warm fingers settled on her neck. She stiffened at his touch, but the heat of his palm felt like heaven.
A sigh escaped her as his big, callused hands caressed and soothed the pain from her muscles. Her tension melted with every glide of his fingers over the back of her neck.
Too soon he stepped away, leaving her breathless. His touch was like nothing she’d known before—electrical and enlivening and comforting all at once.
She was grateful for the dark. She didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, how would she say it?
As if he were flustered, too, Zach walked away without saying a word.
The thick blanket of clouds broke apart overhead, and thin, silvery moonlight brushed the ground where Zach walked. A verse from Matthew came to her as soft as the breeze. “…and He will give you all you need from day to day.”
There was no doubt about it. She was blessed with Zach for a friend.
She stepped into the swatch of moonlight and began jogging to catch up with him. “Hey, where do you think you’re running off to? Did you get supper?”
“No. I was in the middle of chiseling frozen hot dogs out of my freezer when you called.”
“Chiseling? Unbelievable. I’ve heard bachelor stories before, but I didn’t think they were true. Even my father can cook well enough to make an omelet in a pinch.”
“I’ve been busy. I didn’t have time to get to the grocery store.”
“Sure, a likely story.” She met him halfway across the yard. “Zachary Drake, you’re pathetic, but I can’t in good conscience let you starve.”
“Pathetic? C’mon, give me a break, I’m not that bad. Usually.”
“Sure, like I believe you.” She led the way up the brick steps and onto the porch. “A man who thinks crusted-over hot dogs is a worthy meal is a danger to himself.”
“Does this mean I’m in luck and you’re going to feed me?”
“Somebody’s got to.”
He laughed, a rich, wonderful sound that warmed her all the way to her soul.
Chapter Four
The microwave beeped and Zach watched Karen pop open the little door. The light inside snapped on to reveal the sight of a steaming cheesy casserole. It made his mouth water.
“That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day.”
Karen smiled breezily. “If you’re really nice to me, I’ll give you the recipe. If you can fix a car, you can learn to make this.”
“That’s a bet I’m not willing to take. If I could cook as good as I can build a transmission, my stomach wouldn’t be growling. I haven’t had a decent meal since my little sister left for college.”
Karen set the plate on the kitchen table. “What have you been eating for the last year?”
“They have these boxes in the freezer part of the grocery store. I buy ’em, take ’em home, and when I’m hungry, put one in the oven. They’re called frozen dinners.”
“Shocking.” Teasing glints lit her eyes and chased away the worry lines across her brow. She tugged flatware from a nearby drawer and set a knife and fork on the table. “Sit. Eat. It’s a wonder you haven’t spontaneously combusted with all the chemicals you’ve been ingesting.”
“It’s not that bad. They’ve got these healthy frozen meals that taste pretty good. But nothing like your grandmother’s cooking.”
“I won’t argue with you about that.” Karen set two soda cans on the table. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll dish up a nice bowl of salad.”
“You’re going to torment me with vegetables?”
“Even a man as handsome as you needs his antioxidants.”
“Antiwhats? That sounds suspicious. Let me guess. It has something to do with broccoli.”
She peered around the edge of the refrigerator door. “What’s wrong with broccoli?”
“It tastes like cellophane, for one thing. As a general rule, I never eat anything green.”
“It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far, Zachary Drake. A tough guy like you needs his vitamins.” She shook her head, golden locks shimmering as she shut the door. “I’ve got a bowl of carrot sticks. Do me a favor and eat a few. Hey, don’t look at me like that. They’re orange, not green.”
“Orange is a good color. Lots of junk food is orange.”
She rewarded him with another smile, one that chased away all the shadows from her eyes and the strain from her face. A smile that made her look like the Karen he remembered. Happy and wholesome, with the kind of beauty that settled in a man’s heart and never faded.
Those are dangerous thoughts, Zach. He tried not to notice the way his skin felt prickly when she sat down beside him.
He bowed his head in a quick prayer and reached for his fork.
Delicious spices and creamy cheese melted across his tongue. “This is great. I’m so grateful, I’m liable to give you the engine you need for free.”
“Don’t you dare, although Gramma will appreciate the compliment.” Karen popped the top of the cola can and sipped.
No ring sparkled on her finger. He couldn’t forget what she’d told him. That she wasn’t going to marry Jay. Ever.
Hope was a bright blessing as the night darkened and he could see his reflection in the white-paned glass of the kitchen’s bay window. And of the woman sitting next to him, her bouncy hair sparkling like pure gold, her presence as sweet as the cut roses scenting the air.
This was definitely something he could get used to. Forget coming home to an empty apartment and eating alone in front of the TV.
A door opened behind him and the hot, evening wind whipped across the back of his neck as Karen’s mother and grandmother entered the kitchen.
“Mom.” Karen bolted out of her chair and circled around the table, her arms extended.
Zach watched as she wrapped her mother in a comforting hug. Mrs. McKaslin looked frail and ashen, but when she glared at him over Karen’s shoulder, she looked as tough as nails.
Mrs. McKaslin didn’t need to say the words. Zach had lived with the same looks from half the town since he was a boy—looks of disdain and judgment. Looks that said he wasn’t quite good enough, even twenty years later. He’d worked hard to become a man of integrity, but he was still Sylvia Drake’s son from the wrong side of town.
“I’m in the way here, Karen.” He grabbed his empty plate and carried it to the sink. “Let me rinse this off and I’ll be on my way.”
“What? No seconds?” Karen released her mother and moved to stop him, her beauty just as bright and her friendship as genuine. “Let me grab the casserole from the fridge and I’ll dish you up another—”
“I’m good, Karen. Thanks anyway.”
“You haven’t had dessert yet.”
Mrs. McKaslin’s gaze grew sharper, and Zach could feel the man he was fade a little. “It’s getting late.”
“Are you sure? Mom, would you mind wrapping up a few of your brownies? If Zach has to go, at least he can take heaven with him.” Karen’s smile shot straight to his heart.
She was heaven.
Good thing she couldn’t read his thoughts. Embarrassed, he set his plate in the sink.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Karen sidled up to him and curled her hand around the hot water tap. “I’d still be sitting on that lonely sidewalk if you hadn’t shown up tonight. Thanks, Zach. I owe you big-time.”
Êîíåö îçíàêîìèòåëüíîãî ôðàãìåíòà.
Òåêñò ïðåäîñòàâëåí ÎÎÎ «ËèòÐåñ».
Ïðî÷èòàéòå ýòó êíèãó öåëèêîì, êóïèâ ïîëíóþ ëåãàëüíóþ âåðñèþ (https://www.litres.ru/jillian-hart/his-hometown-girl/) íà ËèòÐåñ.
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