Blue Ridge Reunion. Mia Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ about how this place never changes.”

      “Yeah, that’s what I like most about it.”

      Bewildered by his attitude, she didn’t bother to hide her reaction. “Really? Doesn’t it drive you crazy?”

      “Sure, but that’s part of its charm.” Leaning against a gnarled old oak, he folded his arms and gave her the same wide-open country-boy grin he’d worn all through high school. “I’ve lived lots of places, but I always come back here because it’s home.”

      “This is my first visit since we graduated,” she blurted without thinking.

      “Doesn’t surprise me any,” he said with a frown. “Even when we were kids, you wanted more than you could find here.”

      “There’s a big, fascinating world out there.”

      Studying her for a long moment, he murmured, “But you haven’t found what you’re looking for yet. Why is that?”

      His perceptiveness unnerved her almost as much as his appallingly blunt—and highly personal—question. She’d usually ignore such an intrusion, but she didn’t want him thinking for even one second that he’d rattled her. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

      “Just curious. Have a good trip back.”

      This time she didn’t linger out of politeness but opened the driver’s door and gratefully sank into the buttery leather seat. Eager to leave the mill and its aggravating caretaker behind, she angrily punched the button to start the engine.

      Nothing.

      Gritting her teeth in frustration, she reset the electronic fob and tried the button again, with the same result. The dealer had done a full service on this car just last week, and now it wouldn’t start when she was in the absolute middle of nowhere? Could this day possibly get any worse?

      The answer to that question loomed in her window, and for a few immature seconds, she ignored Paul’s irritating presence. Then she realized she was being ridiculous and hit the control to lower the window. It wouldn’t work, of course, and she reluctantly climbed out of her worthless car to face the music.

      “Problem?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

      “It won’t start, as you can see. You’re good with mechanical things,” she said hopefully. “Could you please take a look?”

      “Well, since you said ‘please,’ I’ll give it a shot. Pop the hood.”

      She did as he asked, standing helplessly while he pushed it open and peered inside. The baffled look on his face spoke volumes, and he gave a long, dubious whistle. “You need a computer to talk to a car like this. Fred Morgan might be able to get it running, though.”

      “Great. Let’s call him.”

      Squinting up at the sky, Paul shook his head. “We could, but it’s lunchtime, and he’ll be at The Whistlestop. We’ll find him there.”

      Chelsea didn’t like what he was implying. They’d had a few nice moments, but otherwise the man grated on her every nerve. She hadn’t planned on spending any more time with him than strictly necessary. “We?”

      “I’m headed there anyway, so I can give you a ride. Unless you’d rather walk.” Angling his head, he gave her high heels an uncertain look.

      “Can’t you just send Fred out here? I mean, after you’ve both eaten,” she added so she didn’t sound quite so desperate.

      “Are you serious?” Paul’s eyes roamed around the deserted property before settling on her. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out here alone. Boyd’s a great watchdog, but he’s not much in the protection department. He loves everyone he meets.”

      Chelsea didn’t think anything would happen to her, but she yielded to the wisdom of what he was saying. These days, a girl couldn’t be too careful. So, since she was out of options, she decided to make the best of a bad situation. “All right, then. I appreciate the offer.”

      “And lunch,” he said, motioning her toward his truck. “By the looks of that suit, you don’t eat near as much as you should.”

      Appalled by his comment, she pulled up short. “Are you saying I’m too thin?”

      “Got that right.” The dented passenger door groaned loudly as he opened it for her. “Some of Molly Harkness’s chicken and dumplings should do the trick.”

      Oh, the Southern diet, Chelsea lamented. She loved the taste of fried anything smothered in gravy, but the effect it had on her waistline was another issue altogether. “I’ll just get a salad, thanks,” she announced as she sat on the threadbare seat.

      “Over my dead body,” he grumbled, shutting the door and climbing in the other side. Raising an eyebrow at her, he crossed his fingers and turned the key. After a few tries, the cranky engine roared to life, and Paul circled the turnaround and headed for the main road.

      “You’re not really going to try and tell me what to eat, are you?” she demanded.

      “Somebody should.” Eyeing her in the rearview mirror, he shook his head. “When’s the last time you had a steak?”

      She honestly couldn’t recall, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him. Instead, she disregarded the question and used the old-fashioned handle to roll her window down. A breeze scented with wild roses and honeysuckle drifted into the cab, and she took a deep breath of it. “It smells like summer, doesn’t it?”

      “Sure does.” Pointing over to the right, he said, “I cleared a path along the creek last week. Boyd loves it, and it gives me a break from all that oil and sawdust.”

      “That sounds nice.” Secretly, she envied him his flexible schedule. While he was working very hard, it was on his own terms, not dictated by someone else’s clock.

      “My brothers and I used to have a lot of fun at that old swimming hole down at the other end,” Paul continued. “We’d grab some watermelons and a radio, then meet our friends there in the morning and not go home till dark. Those were some good times.”

      His nostalgic rambling trailed off, and he tuned the radio to a local station. It was noon, and while the national anthem played, Chelsea realized she’d missed a lot by being so driven during high school. Friends, fun and lazy days at the swimming hole. If she’d known then what she knew now, she’d have enjoyed herself more.

      “Chelsea,” Paul said gently, as if her silence made him uncomfortable. When she met his eyes, he went on. “Not everything here was bad, y’know.”

      “I didn’t say it was bad,” she corrected him. “I said it was limited.”

      “Uh-huh. And how’s the world treating you these days?”

      “Fine.” That got her a skeptical look, and she couldn’t help laughing at herself. “Okay, it’s tough. But I’ll figure it out.”

      Eventually.

      “When you do, clue me in, would ya?”

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