Making His Way Home. Kathryn Springer

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СКАЧАТЬ wasn’t like she hadn’t given him an opportunity to back out of the competition.

      After she’d given him a more compelling reason to stay.

      Fragments of the conversation they’d had the night before circled through her memory.

      What made you decide to stay?

      You did.

      Grace was still kicking herself over that one. She shouldn’t have made the comment about Sloan’s place needing a little TLC. But she’d been so rattled when Sissy announced that Cole planned to sell it that she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

      But because she’d brought it up, Cole had decided to stick around and tackle a few minor repairs after the competition. A win-win situation, he’d told her right before he’d left.

      But even though Cole had claimed it was his fault if she were left without a partner for the competition, Grace wondered if he would have stayed if he hadn’t scheduled two meetings for Monday morning.

      To sell the land, as Sissy had so boldly pointed out, that had been in his family for over a hundred years.

      As soon as the thought swept through her mind, Grace knew that she was being unfair. Cole’s father had grown up in the brick house next door but moved away from Mirror Lake after he married Cole’s mother. It had caused a rift in the family; Sloan blamed Debra for taking his son away and had never forgiven her.

      Why would Cole feel any sentimental attachment to the property?

      Or anything else, for that matter.

      She set that thought firmly aside. She and Cole would be together for a few hours and then part company. Grace had tours scheduled in the afternoon, and Cole would be busy sprucing up the house he couldn’t wait to put on the market.

      He might have felt obligated to be her partner for the competition, but that didn’t mean he had to accompany her to the bonfire and fireworks at Abby’s bed-and-breakfast that evening or to the outdoor worship service that Matt, her pastor at Church of the Pines, planned to lead on Sunday morning.

      On her way to the kitchen, Grace caught a glimpse of her reflection in the oval mirror and cringed. The white shirtwaist paired with a simple, ankle-length cotton skirt provided more freedom of movement than the gown she’d worn the day before, but the men definitely had an advantage over the women during the competition. The men didn’t have petticoats to deal with. Hopefully no one would notice she was wearing her cowboy boots.

      “Grace?” A tap on the front door accompanied the low rumble of a masculine voice.

      She froze. Maybe she could pretend—

      “I know you’re home. You’re too cautious to leave the house with a candle burning.”

      Grace scowled at the votive in the windowsill, not sure whether she should be insulted or flattered by Cole’s description.

      “Maybe I’m not cautious anymore,” she muttered, petticoats hissing as she strode to the door.

      Cole chuckled.

      Because he’d heard her.

      To make matters worse, he looked...great. Hair still damp from a recent shower. A white T-shirt that stretched across his muscular chest and accentuated the broad shoulders.

      If Grace were honest with herself, she knew it wasn’t Cole’s presence that had her emotions tied in knots. It was her reaction to his presence. Rapid pulse. Flushed cheeks. Weak knees. The side effects were so dangerous, the guy should come with a warning label from the surgeon general.

      Cole’s gaze swept over her and his smile widened. “Cute.”

      “The men are supposed to dress in costume, too.”

      “I didn’t shave this morning, does that count?” He scrubbed a hand across his jaw.

      It counted as one more reason to dive into the coat closet and stay there until Monday afternoon. Because the shadow of whiskers, combined with the spark of humor in Cole’s eyes, only added to his masculine charm.

      The trouble was, Grace didn’t want to be charmed.

      “Believe me, someone will find something for you to wear.” Grace tried to come up with the most terrifying prospect.

      “Suspenders. Red, like Marty Sullivan’s.”

      “You aren’t trying to scare me off, are you?”

      “No.” Yes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

      Instead of taking the hint, Cole wandered into the living room. “This is nice. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your house.”

      That’s because he hadn’t wanted to.

      Grace had invited him over for dinner, but Cole had always come up with some kind of excuse not to meet her parents. After he’d left town, it had only affirmed the truth. Cole had never planned to continue their relationship. The deep connection she’d felt had been one-sided, and she’d been too naive to recognize the signs.

      “I know it looks a little old-fashioned. A lot of the antiques belonged to my grandparents.” Grace traced the tip of her finger across the wooden spine of the chintz sofa. “I haven’t had the heart to change anything. It’s...home.”

      Chapter Six

      H ome.

      Cole felt a pinch of envy.

      For the past twelve years, home had been the cramped, two bedroom trailer tacked onto the back of the hangar. After Cole had graduated from high school, he’d all but begged Cap, his former boss, to rent it out to him and his family.

      He’d even offered a list of reasons why it was a good idea. The hangar would have round-the-clock security. He would be available evenings and weekends if Cap had an overnight stay somewhere.

      What he hadn’t told his boss was that he’d hoped his mom would feel better if she wasn’t constantly surrounded with reminders of his father. Or that it was easier to keep an eye on his younger siblings—and feed them—if he could pop in for a few minutes between his other duties.

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