Making His Way Home. Kathryn Springer

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      B.C.’s ears twitched in response to the husky rumble of Cole’s voice and Grace’s heart responded with a traitorous twitch of its own.

      “I can’t believe you remember her name,” she muttered.

      “It’s pretty hard to forget a two-thousand-pound horse named Buttercup.”

      But apparently, Grace thought, it wasn’t hard to forget other things. Like plans. And promises.

      She fumbled with a strap on the mare’s harness in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the man whose presence had tipped her world off its axis.

      For the first time, she noticed a black midsize SUV parked on the other side of the house. If she hadn’t been so distracted by her thoughts, she would have realized someone else was on the property.

      But what was Cole doing in Mirror Lake?

      Grace had never considered the possibility that Kate’s letter would not only gain permission for her to lead tours of the Merrick property, but also result in a visit from the owner of the property himself.

      But here he was, standing less than three feet away from her. It felt almost surreal.

      After Cole had left town without a word, Grace had played dozens of different scenarios in her mind, rehearsing what she would say if their paths ever crossed again.

      She hadn’t realized that she would find it difficult to say anything at all. Or that Cole would be more attractive at twenty-nine than he’d been at seventeen.

      His lanky teenaged frame had shot up another inch or two and filled out. He was still lean in the hips, but his shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular. The unruly strands of ink-black hair that had once brushed the top of his collar had been cropped short. Taken one by one, Cole’s features could almost have been described as ordinary. Deep-set green eyes. Strong cheekbones. Angular jaw. But added together, they packed quite a punch.

      The fact that she could hardly breathe was proof.

      “How many miles does she get to the gallon?” he asked.

      Grace refused to respond to Cole’s teasing smile. “We thought the historical tour would be more fun if we used an authentic mode of transportation.”

      “We?”

      “I’m on the planning committee.”

      “I didn’t realize you were one of the people who’d volunteered to help with the celebration this weekend,” Cole said slowly.

      “I’m the only one with a horse and wagon.” Grace untied the reins, a not-so-subtle hint she was ready to leave. “B.C. only comes out of retirement for special occasions now, though, like the Fourth of July parade and Reflection Days in September. The kids love her.”

      “So you’ll be leading the tours?” Cole seemed as determined to continue their conversation as she was to end it.

      “A journey back in time.” Grace had come up with the name during a brainstorming session with the planning committee and the irony wasn’t lost on her now.

      She didn’t want to journey back in time. Not if it meant facing Cole Merrick again.

      “So you came back for the weekend?” He rested a tanned forearm on the side of the wagon. “Or do you spend your summers here?”

      “I don’t know what you...” The air emptied out of Grace’s lungs, making it impossible to finish the thought.

      Cole assumed she’d returned for the celebration.

      But why wouldn’t he? She’d confided in him that summer. Trusted him with her dreams.

      With her heart.

      “I’m not visiting. I live here.”

      “In Mirror Lake?” Cole struggled to hide his surprise. As far as he knew, Grace had never planned to make the town her permanent home.

      “That’s right.” She wedged the toe of her cowboy boot inside the spoke of the wagon wheel and swung onto the seat before Cole could offer his assistance. “My parents moved to Boston to be closer to my sister, Ruth, and her family a few years ago. They bring my two nephews back for a visit every summer.

      “Mom claims it’s to give the boys a taste of country living, but she pulls weeds in the flower beds all day and Dad cuts enough firewood to last all winter. I think they’re the ones who need to spend some time in the outdoors.”

      So, not only had Grace made Mirror Lake her home, but she still lived next door.

      Had she fallen in love with one of the locals and decided to stay? Cole’s gaze dropped to her left hand. No wedding band or engagement ring.

      He couldn’t believe it. Were all the men in town blind, deaf and dumb? Or just dumb?

      “Why did you decide to stay?” Cole couldn’t prevent the words from slipping out.

      “I love it here.”

      Was it his imagination, or had she placed a slight emphasis on the word “I”?

      “What do you do? For a living?” Cole knew the sluggish economy had hit the northern Wisconsin counties particularly hard, but Mirror Lake had been struggling for years. He figured the only thing that had kept the town going was an equal mix of love and loyalty, along with a generous dash of stubbornness, in the hearts of the people who called it home.

      “I’m a social worker.”

      That surprised Cole, too. “I thought for sure you’d be teaching English Lit at some fancy prep school.”

      Grace looked away. “Plans change.”

      Cole couldn’t argue with that. And sometimes they were simply put on hold, waiting for the right opportunity.

      “It was nice of you to let us add the cabin to our tour,” Grace said after a moment, so politely that once again, Cole was reminded that she’d changed, too. “Kate asked me to stop over tonight and make sure there were no safety issues.”

      Cole glanced at the cabin. The sun had dissolved into a strip of clouds on the horizon and shadows funneled through the trees and crept into the yard, shrouding the small structure in darkness. “Are there? I haven’t had a chance to look around yet.”

      “The grass is pretty tall, but I didn’t see anything that could cause an injury. And the cabin appears sound.”

      “No...snakes?” He tried to suppress a shudder.

      “No snakes.” Grace’s unexpected smile, the first genuine one he’d seen, sent Cole’s heart crashing against his rib cage.

      She was obviously remembering the afternoon they’d explored the tiny cabin and disturbed a pine snake dozing in an old chair. Cole had mistaken it for a coil of rope—until he swept it onto the floor. The thing had glided over his feet on its way to find another hiding place, but Cole had СКАЧАТЬ