Making His Way Home. Kathryn Springer

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СКАЧАТЬ she was hoping they would disappear, too.

      “I don’t believe we’ve met.” A stunning blonde with silver-green eyes smiled up at him. “I’m Abby O’Halloran.”

      “Cole Merrick.” Given the way the women were dressed, in full skirts that skimmed the tops of their black, button-down shoes, Cole resisted the temptation to bow.

      Grace sighed. “Cole, these are my...friends. Abby O’Halloran, Emma Sutton, Zoey Wilde and Jenna McGuire.”

      All four of the women were close to Grace’s age but Cole didn’t recognize their faces. He hadn’t socialized much when he’d lived in Mirror Lake. Between summer school and keeping his three younger siblings entertained, there hadn’t been time to hang out with the other teenagers.

      Only Grace.

      “Hello.” Cole added a smile because they looked a lot more friendly than his former neighbor at the moment.

      Four pairs of eyes blinked. In unison.

      “Here.” Zoey Wilde, a slim brunette with pearl-gray eyes, flipped open a cardboard fan and handed it to Grace. “I have a feeling you’re going to need this more than I am.”

      Cole had no idea what she meant, but Grace’s cheeks turned the same shade of pink as the ribbon tied around the handle of the basket.

      “Yes. Well. Cole and I should be going now. Mayonnaise in the chicken salad.” Grace grabbed his elbow and propelled him forward. Toward the parking lot.

      They managed to make it ten steps before their escape route was blocked by a petite redhead.

      “Hi, Grace. Cole.” Kate Nichols’s shamrock-green eyes sparkled up at him. “I didn’t think you were going to stick around for the celebration.”

      Neither had Cole.

      “Marty Sullivan isn’t scheduling appointments until Monday. His wife mentioned he was here, so I was hoping to track him down.” Hoping to convince the lawyer to make an exception when he’d spotted Grace standing near the stage. Beautiful. Confident. Nervous.

      Kate tipped her head and a flame-colored curl sprang free from the bonnet. “You’ll probably see Sully at the square dance tonight.”

      “I won’t be in town that long.”

      “But you have to—” Kate clamped her lips together, sealing off the rest of the words.

      Probably because, out of the corner of his eye, Cole saw Grace vigorously shaking her head and making a slashing motion across her throat.

      He frowned. “Have to what?”

      Kate looked at the sky, as if she expected to find the answer written in the clouds. “Um, tour the historical museum? There’s a great...thimble collection. Not to be missed.”

      “Then we should probably make our way over there, sweetheart,” a voice interjected smoothly. “Before the line gets too long.”

      “Alex.” Kate turned to the man who’d sauntered up behind them and smiled, tucking her arm through his. “This is Cole Merrick. He used to live in Mirror Lake. Cole, my fiancé, Alex Porter.”

      Cole recognized the wealthy hotelier’s name instantly. He just couldn’t believe that Kate Nichols, who looked as sweet and wholesome as one of the apple pies in the dessert case at the Grapevine café, had ended up engaged to someone like Porter. Cole didn’t know the man personally, but he knew the type. He flew them from city to city, waiting on the runway while they closed million-dollar deals over lunch. The bread and butter of Cole’s charter service.

      “Merrick.” Alex extended his hand, his grip testing Cole’s character. The jade-green eyes, his intentions.

      Grace cleared her throat.

      “Okay!” Kate said brightly. “Alex and I should probably leave you two alone so you can get acquainted. He has to judge the pie eating contest at two o’clock.”

      Cole waited for everyone to laugh at the joke. No one did.

      Alex tucked Kate against his side. And then flicked a look at Cole. “Take care.”

      Of Grace.

      Cole didn’t miss the subtle warning.

      At least now he understood why Grace had been in such a hurry to leave. Under different circumstances, Cole might have been offended by Porter’s protective behavior. But for some reason, it was good to know Grace had people looking out for her.

      “Is that everyone?” he teased as the couple strolled away.

      “Not even close,” Grace murmured. She hiked up the hem of her gown and started off again, dodging the other picnickers as if she was the Packers star quarterback going for a touchdown.

      Cole followed at a more leisurely pace, carefully fixing his gaze on the yellow ribbons dangling from Grace’s bonnet and not on the intriguing sway of her...bustle.

      “How about right there?” Cole pointed to a spindly oak tree, its sparse branches creating a patch of shade not much larger than the picnic basket he was carrying.

      Grace hesitated.

      “Or we could always eat lunch between those two pickup trucks over there.”

      She nibbled on her lower lip, clearly tempted by the suggestion.

      “I was kidding, Grace.”

      “Oh.” The flash of disappointment on her face was almost comical. “I suppose the tree will be fine.”

      “Everything looks great.” Cole lowered himself to the ground and relocated a June bug lumbering through the grass while Grace snapped open a square of gingham flannel that matched the ribbon on her basket.

      “Thank you.” She began to unpack the dishes and arrange them on the blanket, careful not to brush up against him.

      “Beautiful day.” Cole waded into the silence.

      “It’s supposed to be sunny and warm today and tomorrow.”

      “Looks like there’s a pretty good turnout.”

      Grace nodded. “Yes.”

      And they were back to making small talk. But because Cole had started it with the weather comment, he couldn’t really complain, now could he?

      “Everyone’s been talking about the celebration for months. A lot of people can trace their ancestors all the way back to the year the town was settled.” Grace was using her tour guide voice now. “The planning committee spent most of the winter researching local history and we had a chance to read through some of the old letters and diaries the family members kept.”

      Cole glanced at the white petticoat peeping out from below the ruffled hem of her dress. “I see they kept their ancestors’ clothes, too.”

      Except for the cowboy СКАЧАТЬ