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Anyone could see a woman as fine as Karen belonged with a man who had a big future ahead of him….
It wasn’t as if Zach had a chance with her. Not a man who’d grown up on the outskirts of town in a rusty old trailer.
He took a ragged breath….
No, he wasn’t going to wish, he wasn’t going to want.
Some things weren’t meant to be.
Zach did the only thing he was allowed to do for Karen McKaslin. He said a prayer for her.
JILLIAN HART
grew up on the original homestead where her family still lives, left home to earn an English degree at Whitman College and later met her husband on a blind date arranged by her best friend. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she reads, stops for café mochas and hikes with her husband in the pine forests near their home in Washington State.
His Hometown Girl
Jillian Hart
MILLS & BOON
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You should be known for the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.
—1 Peter 3:4
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Karen McKaslin scrambled out of her car in the small back lot behind her coffee shop. The gravel crunched beneath her sneakers as she strolled toward the back steps, squinting against the first fingers of sunlight. Dawn painted the eastern skies with bold strokes of crimson and gold, and larksong merrily drifted on the temperate breeze.
Another beautiful Montana day.
“Hey, Karen!” Jodi Benson called out from the alley as she hurried, the hem of her short skirt snapping with her fast gait. “I heard about you and Jay. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Fine, except that everyone keeps mentioning that man’s name.” Karen lifted one hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the low glaring sun. “You’re late for work, too.”
“Don’t mention it to my boss, will you? He won’t be in until seven. Hey, don’t let this get you down. Every bride-to-be has cold feet. You and Jay will patch things up.”
Not in this lifetime. Karen hiked her purse strap higher on her shoulder. “Thanks, Jodi. Have a good day.”
Jodi was already at the end of the alley and lifted a hand in answer.
It’s not as if they were close friends, Karen thought, so there was no reason to try to set the woman straight. Rumors were rumors and they didn’t matter.
She knew the truth, but her troubles felt heavier as she hurried up the back steps. Sweet peas tumbled from the planters on the wooden rail and waltzed with carefree happiness in time with the breeze.
Karen’s key clicked in the lock, and she pushed open the glass door with one elbow. She wasn’t going to worry about small-town rumors and setting everyone straight, because Jay wasn’t her true problem. No, the real problem was before her as she stepped into the little dining room she and her older sister Allison had decorated together.
Today was the third anniversary of Allison’s death. Karen had vowed to try to live this day like any other, but at 6:10 in the morning, she’d already failed. She only had to close her eyes to see how this shop looked four years ago when she’d unlocked the door for the first time.
Allison’s footsteps had tapped across the subflooring as she’d held her arms wide. “Imagine all these windows with ruffled gingham curtains. And a counter over there. Our coffee shop is going to be a success, I can feel it.”
Karen opened her eyes, the remembrance slipping away, her heart aching. The echo of her sister’s voice bounced off the walls, an eerie echo of a memory that felt too real.
Gone were the days when she’d made plans with her sister to run the coffee shop together. Plans cut short by a small-plane crash on this day three years ago. Allison’s loss would be forever felt.
Sell the shop, Jay had told her. When we get married, I won’t have my wife working for anyone but me.
Red-hot rage sliced through her like a sharp blade, and she hated it. Hated both the force of her anger and Jay’s unsympathetic demand to sell this place she loved so much.
“Karen?” A man’s chocolate-smooth voice broke through her thoughts.
Startled, she spun around. Zachary Drake stood in the doorway, wearing his usual gray Stetson, a white T-shirt and jeans.
Wide and strong and a little rough around the edges, Zach nodded once in greeting. “Standing around daydreaming?”
“Wishing I could pay someone else to get up this early every morning and open for me.” She pasted on a smile, since her problems were her own. “You’re early today.”
“Got a busy morning. Saw you pull in the alley and figured you might make me some coffee
