started walking down the side of the tree-lined road toward the house she’d lived in all of her life. She barely noticed how the early June sunshine filtered through the leaves, or how the flame azaleas, rhododendrons and mountain laurel added splashes of orange, hot pink and white to the lush green foliage on the side of Piney Knob Mountain. Nor did she pay attention to an occasional car honking a greeting as it drove by. And she wasn’t the least bit worried about being run down.
Most of the time, a person could walk down the center of the road from one end of town to the other and never encounter a vehicle from either direction. And as far as she was concerned, it was testament to the fact that Dixie Ridge, Tennessee, was far too small to consider asking any of its male residents to help her with her problem.
Katie sighed. Most of the men she knew were married anyway, and the few who were still single already had fiancées or girlfriends. She couldn’t ask any of them to help her have a baby. Somehow, she had a feeling the women in their lives would have a real problem with that.
A feeling of resignation began to fill her. At this point, it looked like the sperm bank was her only choice. It wasn’t like eligible prospects were growing on trees around Dixie Ridge. Other than Jeremiah, Homer Parsons was about the only other bachelor in town. And he was ninety years old and had been claimed by Miss Millie Rogers over sixty years ago.
And even though Jeremiah Gunn had every trait she wanted for her child, she would never in a million years be able to work up the courage to ask him to help her. What would she say?
“Mr. Gunn, here’s your lunch. And by the way, would you mind stopping by the Dixie Ridge Clinic this afternoon, look at a magazine or watch a video, and make a donation in a plastic cup in order for me to have a baby?”
As she unlocked the back door and let herself into the house, her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. He’d think she was completely insane.
Two
“Harv, what do you say we call it a day?” Jeremiah called as he wound in his line. “It looks like they’ve stopped biting and by the time I fillet these trout, it’ll be time to fry them for supper.”
As soon as he’d returned from the diner, Jeremiah had pulled on his waders, grabbed his fly rod and trudged out into the middle of the stream behind his rented cabin. He’d wanted to catch a few trout, and hopefully figure out why he suddenly couldn’t put the Blue Bird Café’s waitress out of his mind. Unfortunately, his introspection had been cut short when Harv—after finishing his lunch—had driven up Piney Knob to Jeremiah’s cabin, waded out into the stream and started chattering like a damn magpie. The older man had covered everything in his ramblings from the differences between fishing lures and flies, to asking Jeremiah’s opinion on whether or not Harv should take on a partner in his fishing and hunting business, Piney Knob Outfitters.
Jeremiah had ended up tuning out most of it, but apparently the fish hadn’t. Since Harv showed up and started in with his motormouth, Jeremiah hadn’t had so much as a nibble.
“What did you catch for your supper? Rainbow or brown trout?” Harv asked, turning to slowly wade back to the stream’s rocky bank.
Jeremiah checked the willow basket creel slung over his shoulder. “Four rainbows.”
“That oughtta be enough for the two of you,” Harv said, over his shoulder.
“The two of us?” Jeremiah frowned. “What the hell are you talking about, Harv?”
“Looks like you’re gonna have company for supper.” The older man grinned as he raised his hand to wave to someone on the bank. “Afternoon, Katie.”
Jeremiah turned so fast he came close to having the fast-moving water knock his feet out from under him. Sure enough, there stood Katie Andrews on the path leading back to the cabin.
“I wonder what she wants?” he asked, thankful his question had been drowned out by the babbling sound of water rushing over the rocks in the stream bed.
Since moving to the Smoky Mountains a couple of months ago, Jeremiah hadn’t gone out of his way to get to know any of the Dixie Ridge residents, except for the man trudging through the water ahead of him. And it was impossible not to get acquainted with Harv. The man never shut up. He’d completely ignored Jeremiah’s attempts to keep to himself, and before he knew how it happened, he and Harv had become friends—something Jeremiah rarely allowed to happen with anyone.
When they carefully picked their way over the rocks scattered along the stream bank, Jeremiah cursed himself for standing there in front of Katie as speechless as a pimple-faced kid in the presence of the prom queen. Never in all of his thirty-seven years had he ever had a problem talking to women. But for some reason, he couldn’t think of a thing to say, nor could he figure out why.
“What brings you up here to the crick, Katie?” Harv asked as he took his fishing rod apart and put the sections in a storage case. “Thinkin’ about catchin’ yourself a rainbow for supper.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “Not today, Harv.”
“Do you fish?” Jeremiah asked, finally getting his tongue to work.
“I’ve been known to catch a fish now and then,” she said, nodding.
Harv’s laughter indicated there was more to her fishing experience than she was letting on. “Katie’s won the Fourth of July Powder-Puff Fishin’ Derby for the past eight years. And she was runner-up for four or five years before that.” Chuckling, he finished storing his fishing rod and snapped the case shut. “I ’spect she’s a shoo-in for this year’s title, too.”
“Is that so?” Jeremiah didn’t doubt that a woman could be good at the sport of fly-fishing. He’d just never met one before.
She shrugged one shoulder. “My dad and brother started taking me fishing with them when I was four years old.”
They stood, staring at each other for several strained moments before Harv finally asked, “If you didn’t come up this way to go fishin’, what did you come up here for, Katie?”
Jeremiah watched a rosy blush color her porcelain cheeks. Good Lord, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman blush.
“I…um, came to talk to Mr. Gunn about the money he left at the café,” she said, sounding uncertain.
“Didn’t I tell you she wasn’t none to happy about you leavin’ that twenty bucks?” Harv asked, starting down the path to the cabin.
“Yeah, Harv, you told me,” Jeremiah muttered, waiting for Katie to fall into step ahead of him.
Actually, Harv had reiterated that fact at least a dozen times over the course of the past two hours, and each time he told the story Katie was a little more angry than the time before. By the time Harv got finished embellishing the actual facts, it had sounded as if she was ready to tear him apart with her bare hands for leaving the money.
As they walked the short distance to the house, Jeremiah tried not to notice how her well-worn jeans hugged her long legs, or the sensual sway of her full hips. By the time they reached the cabin, sweat beaded his forehead and his own jeans felt as if they’d shrunk a couple of sizes in the stride.
What had gotten into him? He wasn’t some over-sexed teenager with nothing but hormones
