Smoky Mountain Sweethearts. Cheryl Harper
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Her mother bent to stare into Avery’s eyes as she brushed her hair behind one ear. “That’s one powerful revelation, young lady.” She sniffed. “But don’t you forget you ain’t got to do all that by yourself. Sometimes you do need a rescue. Let the people who love you do some stepping now and then, okay?”
Before either one of them let the tears that would embarrass them fall, her mother spun on her heel. “Ibuprofen and sleep. Tomorrow you’re getting out of this house or else.”
OVER THE YEARS, Sam had learned to get out of the way when his mother was scheming. When he saw her on the front porch the next day, conferring seriously with Janet Abernathy as he parked behind her car, he was sure he was the subject of the conversation.
The way they both jumped guiltily as he slammed the door confirmed his suspicion and increased the certainty that he had no desire to know what they were plotting.
“Afternoon, ladies,” he said as he waved the empty containers that had once held the tastiest roast beef his mother had ever made. Since she was a cook from way back, that was saying something. He had his fingers crossed there might be more in the refrigerator. He’d skipped lunch on the off chance that he might get lucky on this visit. “What shenanigans are you up to on this lovely afternoon?”
Avery’s mom cleared her throat. “Well...” She trailed off and shot a “you tell him” look at Sam’s mother.
“Well,” Sam said as he put the empty containers on the porch railing. “Someone hit me.”
“No shenanigans, Sam. We were trying to decide how to retrieve Janet’s car from the Otter Lake trailhead.” His mother’s innocent expression was enough warning that the other shoe would be a doozy. “We hadn’t quite come to a decision, so your arrival is like a wonderful sign, son.” She blinked wide eyes at him, her face the picture of naive motherly love.
And scheming.
“Uh-huh,” Sam muttered as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared up at the second-story window where he could make out Avery’s shadow. “I’m listening.”
Janet followed his stare and then heaved a sigh of relief. “Such a smart boy, Sam. You were always such an intelligent kid. You’ve always understood how to talk to Avery.”
So we’re going with flattery.
Sam propped one foot on the last step. “I believe you shouted at me more than once that I was going to get her killed.” And he might have. He’d been more bravery than smarts growing up. He hoped he was getting a handle on that, but on days like this one, perfectly beautiful, sunny days, when he had nothing better to do than stare into space and wish for something, anything, to happen, he wondered. Ever since he’d sent in his application for the hotshots, he’d done nothing but refresh his email and wish for a distraction.
He glanced up at Avery’s window again. Her shadow was gone.
“Tell me your plan,” he said slowly. “Wait. Let me tell you mine first. You both ride up in Mom’s car, and then Janet drives her own car back. Simple enough.” He didn’t know why he wasted his breath. If they were going with the logical plan, they’d already be on the road.
“Or...” His mother scooted forward in her chair, her expression conspiratorial, as if he was being let in on a big secret. She’d used that on him successfully before, so it was easy enough to avoid her trap.
If he wanted to avoid her trap.
“Or you could take Avery up, get her out of the house, drive through town and hit some old familiar spots,” her mother said as she traced an imaginary route with her finger, “and end up at the trailhead.”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Or you could do that.” He pointed at the Cadillac. “In your car. Get lunch on the way up?”
It seemed like a good suggestion. His mother might be the best cook he knew, but she never turned down a reason to eat food someone else cooked.
Avery’s mother reached forward to press her hand to his forearm. “Sammy,” she said, in the same tone she’d used to ask for every favor since he was old enough to haul garbage cans or mow the grass, “she has to get out of that house. I told her that last night. I mean, I made it a threat. Still no change today. She needs time with old friends and people who aren’t old enough to be her mother.” Janet snorted. “And yes, that includes her mother.”
They both watched him closely.
They might be right. If she got out of the house, some of the old Avery color might come back.
That didn’t mean she wanted him to be her chauffeur.
“This is because of the remarks I made about Hendrix last night, isn’t it?” Sam said as he pushed away from the porch, annoyed at himself all over again. He’d known it was an error, but he’d hoped they’d let it slide in the tense aftermath of Avery’s rescue. “You’re matchmaking. You think she won’t see through that?” Since he still hadn’t decided how he felt about the way she’d looked at Brett Hendrix, he wasn’t sure if their plan was bad enough to be safe or bizarre enough to work, so the best option at this point was to destroy it with logic. “She’s a widow. She needs time to figure everything out, and I am going to be leaving Sweetwater soon. I hope.”
Watching his mother’s joy at her scheme fade was painful, but he had to be firm about following his own plans. If not, this restlessness would drive him insane.
“And how many times do I have to say that I don’t need or want a man in my life before you believe me?” Avery said from her spot near the fence separating their houses.
Her mother turned. “I don’t know what either one of you are talking about. I thought someone else might have more luck lighting a fire under you.” Sam had had less opportunity to judge Janet Abernathy’s acting skills, but he almost bought it. “I only want to get my car back.”
Avery shook a key ring in the air, the jingle of keys loud in the peaceful afternoon. “Yeah, me, too. That’s why I came out. Miss Regina, can Mama and I borrow your car or will you give me a ride back to Otter Lake?” Avery smiled. “Then I’ll be happy to treat you both to dinner while Sam goes to do...whatever he’s going to do.”
Sam frowned at her dismissive tone, uncertain how he became the bad guy when all he’d done was return empty dishes in the hope of leaving with full ones. “You afraid to spend time with me, AA? You are falling for me.” He held up both hands. “I get it. I do. But believe me when I say, when I move to Colorado, I can’t be bringing you along. Single guys supposedly have an advantage and I am happy for every advantage.”
The tense silence that followed his dumb words, only meant to tweak Avery’s attitude, was a clue that he’d miscalculated. If he wanted his mother to get with the program and root for him to get this job, mentioning anything that would further delay her plans for his settling down and giving her the grandchild she’d been going on about since