Restoring His Heart. Lorraine Beatty

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      Chapter Three

      Laura Durrant pulled the truck to a stop in her parents driveway, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Adam reached for the door handle at the same time she started to talk. “We got a lot done today. I couldn’t have gotten this far without your help. Thanks, Holbrook, for being so cooperative.”

      She braved a look in his direction. One corner of his mouth was hooked up into a grin.

      “That wasn’t cooperation. That was fear. You scare me.”

      A chuckle escaped her throat. “I doubt anything scares a man who can swim with sharks and run with the bulls.”

      He leaned forward slightly to look at her. “How did you know about that?”

      Warmth infused her cheeks and she shrugged to hide her discomfort. “I looked you up on the internet.” Now he would think she was interested in him. No way.

      Adam sighed and shook his head. “Ah. A man can’t have any secrets anymore.” He started to get out of the truck, but when she didn’t move he glanced back at her. “Aren’t you coming in?”

      “No. I need to check on my other jobs.” Gripping the steering wheel, she gathered courage. “Holbrook, I want to apologize to you.”

      “For what?”

      “I shouldn’t have said those things to you—about you being selfish. That was unkind and judgmental. You worked hard today and you didn’t deserve my nasty comments. I’m sorry.”

      It was clear from his expression her apology had caught him by surprise. He held her gaze a long moment then rubbed his forehead. “It’s all right. You weren’t wrong. You hit the nail square on the head.”

      Remorse flooded her conscience. “I’m so sorry.”

      He shook his head. “It’s okay. As a matter of fact, it’s nice to hear the truth for a change.”

      It’s not what she’d expected him to say. “What do you mean?”

      “Most people I know tell me what they think I want to hear. They don’t want to offend the hand that drives the adventure train.”

      She’d never thought about that side of things. It must have cost him to admit that. What would it be like to know people didn’t really care about you, only what you could do for them? “I’m sorry, Adam. I have a bad habit of speaking my mind. It was one of the things my...some people don’t like about me.” He smiled over at her, causing a small skip in her heartbeat.

      “Really? I think it’s one of your more interesting qualities.” He climbed out of the truck, offering a little salute before shutting the door. She waited while he took the steps to the back porch before backing out of the driveway. Every time she thought she had the guy figured out, he threw her a curve. No one liked her forthright attitude. Why did he?

      * * *

      Adam knew Laura was watching him as he climbed the back steps to her parents’ home. She probably wanted to make sure he didn’t bolt. Or else she was feeling sorry for him. He hadn’t intended to speak the truth but something about Laura made him want to. He was glad to be away from her penetrating assessment.

      He reached for the door knob and hesitated.

      But he wasn’t sure he wanted to be back at the Durrants’ either.

      Adam grew uneasy at having to walk back into the Durrants’ home. Since coming to Dover, nothing he’d experienced was familiar. He didn’t like that. He pushed open the back door, stepped into the kitchen and froze.

      The air was warm with rich delectable aromas. A woman he’d never seen before stood at the stove. For a second he wondered if he’d returned to the wrong house.

      “Oh, hello, Adam. I’m Angie Durrant. Sorry I wasn’t here this morning to greet you, but Tom thought it might be more comfortable for you with only him. Sort of a man-to-man thing.”

      Adam stared at the scene in front of him, trying to process it all. Mrs. Durrant was an older version of her daughter. Slender with short dark blond hair turning gray. Her smile was like her daughter’s, as well. It lit up her eyes.

      “Oh, don’t forget to call the station. Use that phone over there. The number is beside it.”

      Her thoughtfulness caught him off guard. She’d actually tried to make things easy for him, acting as if she cared about what happened to him. He moved across the kitchen to the desk, noticing the table was set with colorful dishes and bright placemats. This wasn’t normal. He placed his call, then turned back to Mrs. Durrant.

      “I hope you’re hungry.”

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