His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ