North Country Hero. Lois Richer

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      Chapter Two

      Kyle rubbed his eyes, unable to dislodge memories evoked by the familiar aroma of his home. Tanned leather and Old Spice—it smelled of Dad, of happiness, of moments shared together. All of which were gone.

      Emotion rose like a tidal wave. He fought for control.

      When Kyle was younger, Churchill had been a fantastic adventure he’d embraced. Now it was just another problem in his life.

      But for a moment, as the midmorning sun warmed Kyle through the window, the sensation of being loved enveloped him. He relaxed into that embrace. Comfort erased the pain of loss that dimmed everything in his world these days.

      Home—without his dad? He closed his eyes and wept.

      Moments later, footsteps treading up his stairs shattered his privacy. He rubbed his shirtsleeve across his face. The computer part. Of course.

      “Come on in,” he called before they could knock.

      Laurel preceded Sara into his kitchen. “Do you need more time?” Laurel scanned his face, then the empty tabletop.

      “I haven’t looked yet.” He tore his gaze from the wall where a family photo hung. It had been taken six months before his mom’s death. “I was just sitting here—remembering.”

      “You can help us out another time, when you’re more rested,” Laurel said in a gentle tone.

      “I’m fine.” Kyle didn’t want to give Laurel any more chances to draw him into her program at Lives. He’d do this one thing for her now and then get on with his own life. He opened a door that had once been a pantry and nodded. “Yep, just as I thought.”

      A small squeak of surprise made him glance over one shoulder.

      Sara’s eyes were huge. She met his gaze, looked back at the shelves and said, “Oh, my.”

      Finding her understatement hilarious, Kyle chuckled as he dug through his father’s accumulation of computer parts. “I told you Dad was a pack rat.”

      “No luck, huh?” Laurel asked when he drew back from the cupboard.

      “Not yet.” Kyle motioned to Sara. “Could you help me for a minute? I think the printer is on the bottom of this shelf. If you could hold up this box while I free it, I wouldn’t have to waste time unpacking all this junk.”

      “Okay.” She moved beside him and followed his directions exactly.

      With a tug Kyle freed the printer, but in doing so brushed against Sara. Assailed by a host of reactions, from the fragrance of her hair to the way one tendril caressed her cheek, to the fierce look she gave when he had to yank on the cord to free the end, he realized that asking for Sara’s help had been a bad idea.

      He moved away, eager to put some distance between them and hopefully end his heart-racing response to her.

      “Thanks.” He set the printer on the table and opened it.

      “If you explained how to reinstall it, I wouldn’t have to drag you back out to Lives. Maybe I could do it myself,” Laurel said.

      Kyle lifted his head and arched one eyebrow. From what he’d seen in her office earlier, Laurel Quinn’s aptitude did not lie in computers.

      “Yeah.” Her face turned bright pink under his look. Laurel laughed. “You’re right. I haven’t got a clue.”

      “I can do it in a matter of a few minutes,” he told her as he lifted out the part she needed. He deliberately didn’t look at Sara. “But you will have to bring me back home after, and I know you’re busy.”

      “I’ve got almost everything ready to greet the first two boys, Barry and Tony.” Laurel’s eyes shone with expectation. “I’m hoping that while you and I are busy with the printer, Sara will start some of her fantastic cinnamon buns for tomorrow.”

      “I can do that.” Sara, cheeks pink, looked away from Kyle. What was that about?

      “I’ve got what we need.” He held up the tiny relay switch. “I’m ready to go.”

      “Oh, Laurel, I just remembered. We’ll need to move those groceries so there will be enough room for everyone,” Sara said quickly.

      Too quickly? Kyle searched her face. A puzzled Laurel opened her mouth, but Sara grabbed her arm and pulled, insistent. Frowning, Laurel stepped outside.

      “Come out when you’re ready, Kyle,” Sara said, her voice a bit forced. “We’ll meet you at the car.”

      And that was when Kyle got it. Sara knew the stairs gave him problems. She was keeping Laurel busy so he could navigate without feeling as if they were watching him.

      Her thoughtfulness eased the knot of tension inside.

      Sweet, thoughtful Sara. Why couldn’t he have met someone like her first?

      Kyle shut down the wayward thoughts. He’d ruled out romance in Afghanistan the day he’d been dumped, and he wasn’t going to change his mind now. Anyway, Sara couldn’t care about him. How could she? He was a ruined shell with nothing to offer a woman. He couldn’t even figure out his own future.

      Kyle shrugged on his jacket, shoved the printer part in his pocket and stood. He’d get this done and then move on to his own business. Sara was nice, sure. But there was no point in pretending her kindness was anything more than that.

      Self-consciously he tromped down the stairs and walked to the car. Once again, Sara was seated in the rear seat, so Kyle sat in front. Once again, he filled in the drive’s silences with facts about Churchill. And once again, after he got the printer running, Sara served him her delicious coffee along with a sandwich and some kind of lemon cookie that melted in his mouth. As Kyle ate, he quashed his yearning to linger, to get drawn in by the warmth of Sara’s smile and forget the emptiness that awaited him at home. He couldn’t afford to forget that. His future wasn’t here in Churchill. God had made sure of that.

      So finally he pushed back his chair, thanked Sara for the lunch and asked Laurel to take him home. Sara walked with them to the car.

      “I’m glad to have met you, Kyle,” she said, hugging her arms around her thin waist, СКАЧАТЬ