Mountain Sanctuary. Lenora Worth

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      “I wish Papa had come with us,” Kyle said later that afternoon as they strolled down the hill toward the festival on Central Avenue. The Hill Wheatley Park and Plaza was filled with people enjoying the nice spring weather and the rows and rows of all types of arts and crafts. From somewhere inside the park, a jazz ensemble’s lively music wafted out over the trees.

      Stella glanced down at her son. “Papa’s knees are bad, honey. It’s hard for him to walk very far.”

      “He needs new knees,” Kyle said, looking up at Adam.

      “Yes, he sure does,” Stella agreed. “But Papa is fine back at the house. He’s taking a nice long nap, and later he’s going to set out the cookies and muffins Adam baked yesterday for our guests to snack on when they get ready for bed. So we’ll bring him back a grilled chicken sandwich for dinner.”

      “Okay.” Kyle skipped ahead. “Can I have some cotton candy?”

      “Maybe after dinner, if you’re not too full. And don’t run too far ahead. It’s crowded.”

      Stella watched her son, then stole a look over at Adam. He had showered and now wore a fresh black T-shirt and faded jeans, his dark hair spiky and crisp against his olive skin. Stella could smell the clean evergreen from the soap he’d used. Adam cut a striking figure and turned a few female heads, Stella noticed. He turned her head just a tad, too. After all, she was only human. And female. Not dead.

      At least, she felt little sparks of life shooting through her with tiny jolts each time she glanced at him. Or each time he looked at her. Telling herself to just ignore all that, Stella tried to focus on some of the paintings displayed along the busy sidewalks.

      “Thanks for coming,” she told him. “It’s hard enough to keep up with Kyle when it’s not wall-to-wall people. I appreciate the extra set of eyes.”

      Adam scanned the crowd, his gaze set and determined, and reminding Stella that he had been a big-city cop. She could almost see that in the way he went on full alert now, scoping the plaza and streets with a keen, but subtle appraisal.

      “You don’t have to worry much about crime here,” she said, hoping he would relax. The man was as intense as a drill sergeant.

      “Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging. “A lot can happen in the blink of an eye.”

      Stella kept her eyes on Kyle, then called to him. “Honey, stay close, okay?”

      Kyle came running back. “I’m hungry.”

      “We’ll eat soon enough,” Stella replied as they strolled by the Buckstaff Bathhouse. Pointing toward Bathhouse Row, she told Adam, “I could sure use a good hot mineral bath and a massage. One day.”

      “That sounds nice,” Adam said, agreeing. “I’ve never been one for that kind of luxury, though.”

      “Oh, me, either. But a lot of people come here to be pampered. And they say the natural hot springwater is good for the soul.”

      “All the more reason to give them a good place to stay.”

      “You don’t let up, do you?”

      “Not much.”

      His look told her he wasn’t just talking about remodeling her house. Telling herself to keep her eyes in her head, Stella went over the list of reasons she shouldn’t be attracted to this man. He was a stranger; a wanderer fresh off some sort of meltdown, she imagined. He might be in crisis mode. And she’d had enough of crisis mode with her mother and her husband. Now she only wanted a nice quiet life, full of steady, solid work and raising her son. She wanted to take care of her daddy and Kyle. That’s all she asked.

      And that meant she didn’t need to fill her head with images of a dark-haired, hardworking man whose gray eyes spoke of misery and torment. But you can at least be nice to him. The man is trying to help you. And he can cook, remember? Even if you’re not sure you can trust his motives.

      Stella shifted her gaze back toward Adam. He kept glancing around, taking it all in. The art was colorful, the crafts interesting and eclectic, the music going from jazz to gospel to high-school bands doing their routines. But Adam seemed as tense as ever, almost as if being in this crowd was making him more uptight than relaxed.

      “You okay?” she asked, worrying when she had no business worrying.

      Adam nodded, kept looking around.

      “Nice,” he finally said as they came upon some still-life pictures depicting Hot Springs Mountain, while the СКАЧАТЬ