Home to Whiskey Creek. Brenda Novak

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      He was teasing and he could tell she understood that. “Sadly, we were both sober, just...misguided.”

      “How?”

      “I thought he’d be true. And he thought I’d put up with him seeing other women.”

      Noah knew better than to ask, but he couldn’t resist. “He’s not the one who did this to you....”

      “No.”

      “Then I don’t understand why you won’t let me take you to the—”

      “Who’d you end up marrying?”

      She’d interrupted because she didn’t want to deal with the pressure he was putting on her. This was the first personal question she’d asked; he knew it was merely an attempt to distract him.

      “No one.”

      “What do you do for a living?”

      “I’m a professional biker. Mostly I race in Europe—during the spring and summer. This is the off-season, so I get to stay home and run my bike store, which is a nice change. Traveling so much can get old.”

      “You own Crank It Up?”

      “You’ve been there?”

      “No, I saw it when I drove through town on Saturday. You took over the building where the old thrift shop used to be.”

      “That’s right.”

      “So...business is good?”

      “Fortunately, mountain biking has become a popular sport. For the most part business is good.”

      “Do you ever see Kevin Colbert?”

      There was an odd, husky quality to her voice with this question that hadn’t been there before, but he didn’t know what to attribute it to. “Occasionally.”

      “Who’d he marry?”

      “Audrey Calhoun. They were an item back in school, remember? Got together junior year.”

      “I remember. So they’re still in Whiskey Creek?”

      “Yeah. They live in that new development not too far from the Pullman Mansion—the place where they have weddings and stuff? He’s a P.E. teacher at Eureka High these days. He’s also the football coach.”

      “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

      “He was always a decent player.”

      “Any kids?”

      “Three.”

      “What about Tom Gibby?”

      She seemed to know all his old teammates. “He’s around. He’s a postal clerk. Figures that the nicest guy in school turns out to be the steadiest, most devoted family man. You’re never going to believe this, though. He married Selena.”

      “Parley Mechem’s little sister?”

      He couldn’t tell if she was surprised. He couldn’t even tell if she liked the people they were talking about. She gave no indication one way or the other. “Yeah. She was about twelve when we were in high school.”

      She rested her chin on her knees. “Are Cheyenne Christensen and Eve Harmon still friends?”

      “Definitely.”

      A faint smile curved her lips. “I’d be shocked if they weren’t. They were always close.”

      “Except for Gail, who moved to Los Angeles, that whole clique still hangs out together.”

      “You mean your clique?” she said dryly.

      Minus the baseball players. He wasn’t quite as close to the guys who used to be on the team with him, but they had a drink every now and then. “Yeah. I see Eve and Cheyenne and the others at the coffee shop on Fridays. But...those people were all in my graduating class. Did you hang out with seniors?” He couldn’t recall seeing her at any of the parties, dances or other get-togethers. That one moment on the ball field was his only memory of the girl she used to be.

      “By the end of the year, I had quite a few senior friends because those were the people in my classes.”

      “What classes did you have?”

      “AP Econ. AP World History. Honors Chem. The usual. I had calculus with Cheyenne and Eve.”

      He whistled. “That isn’t usual. You were in calculus as a sophomore? And advanced placement classes? You must’ve been a brainiac. A shy brainiac,” he added, combining the two images he now held of her.

      “I was naive,” she stated flatly.

      They’d reached Jackson, so he pulled into the first fast-food restaurant he could find. She’d downed two energy bars and finished his water, but she needed a full meal. “What would you like?”

      Her eyes widened as if his actions surprised her. “Nothing. I thought maybe you wanted dinner. I can wait.”

      “There’s no reason to. We’re already here, and it’s only getting later. Nothing will be open in Whiskey Creek.”

      Her eyes were riveted to the clock, which read eleven-thirty. “Gran will have food. I really don’t want to be seen like this.”

      “You’re in a dark truck. No one will notice you. Let me buy you a bite to eat.”

      She hesitated.

      “Come on. It’ll help your headache.”

      “How do you know I have a headache?”

      He waited for her to finally look at him, and made a face that suggested anyone would have a headache.

      “Okay,” she relented. “I’ll have a burger. Thank you.”

      “Anything else?”

      “No, that’s enough. I’ll mail you a check since I don’t have any money with me.”

      Assuming she must be joking, he laughed. “It’ll be all of a couple bucks. And even if I wanted it back, why would you mail it? We live in the same town, remember?”

      “True, but our paths won’t cross.”

      She didn’t know that. She’d only been back a few days, and one of those had been spent in the mine. Their paths could cross. For whatever reason, she didn’t want them to. “I think I can afford to buy you a burger.”

      After ordering two double cheeseburgers, two fries and two shakes, he idled forward to wait for the food. “Have you been in touch with anyone from Whiskey Creek since you left?”

      “Besides Gran and Darlene? No.”

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