to act in anticipation of making contact with her again.
He didn’t know why, but just the thought of Faith Perry had made him uncomfortable since his crush had died a natural death years and years ago. He supposed she reminded him of something he’d rather forget: a miserable, agony-filled adolescent phase he wished he’d never gone through. A phase that embarrassed him now even if he had managed to avoid embarrassing himself—on the whole—back then. So, since she’d left, whenever he’d heard through the grapevine that Faith was coming to town to visit family, he’d avoided places where he might run into her.
The problem recently, though, had become weddings.
Earlier this year there was the wedding of his brother, Cam, and her sister, Eden. Now it was her cousin Jared, marrying his sister, Mara.
For Cam’s and Eden’s wedding Faith only came to town for the day. He’d known that totally avoiding her was not going to be possible, but he’d planned to keep his distance. To stay across any room they were in together. To observe nothing but scant courtesies and go his own way.
Then he’d ended up being called to an emergency surgery that had kept him from attending the entire event. Problem solved.
For Mara’s wedding he’d figured he’d just activate that former plan—avoidance and distance.
But then he’d answered his cell phone yesterday and she’d been on the other end of the line and it had set something off in him from that long-ago silent humiliation.
He’d tried to pull in the reins on it and he’d thought he’d done a pretty good job until he’d stepped out of his truck and watched her majesty recoil at that first look at him.
That’s right, he’d wanted to say to her, I’m covered in dirt and I’m still a hayseed in the land of hayseeds you didn’t want any part of.
And she was still Miss Priss, sitting there on his bench all stiff and prim and proper, her hair and her clothes making her look like some stereotype of a spinster librarian.
Not that she hadn’t looked good. Faith the woman was even better-looking than Faith the girl had been, and he’d thought she was the prettiest girl in town then. Now she was full-out, hands-down beautiful.
Even trussed-up, her hair had glistened in the sunlight. It was the burnished sienna color of the mole sauce he ate on enchiladas.
Her face hadn’t aged, it had grown refined and delicate, with skin as smooth and pale and flawless as the cream that rose to the top of fresh milk.
Her mouth just had to taste sweet—that was what he’d thought before he’d left his truck, when he’d had his first glimpse of her. It curved up at the corners and dipped low in the center to form a sort of languid heart shape that was the shade of pale pink rosebuds.
And before she’d skewered him with that repulsed glare, he’d thought that even the color of her eyes was more intense—some combination of purple and blue—though still as sparkling as morning dew in the meadow.
He’d steeled himself before getting out of the truck, worrying that one look from those eyes might make him stumble or fall just the way it would have done when he was seventeen. But then she’d helped him avoid that with the instant revulsion he’d seen on her face and it had been like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.
Yeah, sure, she’d covered it up in a hurry. She’d apologized for bringing him in on his day off, for bothering him. She’d thanked him for coming and hadn’t treated him like a lowlife. But by then it was too late. He’d known what she was thinking even before she’d made it to her feet. And he just hadn’t been able to be nice.
Of course he had been able to notice the rest of her when she’d stood. To register that there was nothing bad about the body, either. At least as far as he could tell through those shapeless clothes she’d had on. There was a little sway to hips that were just the right width as she’d gone into the office ahead of him, and enough behind the buttons of that boring blouse Charlie was snuggled up to on the countertop to let it be known she wasn’t flat-chested—to make him wonder if he should have untucked his shirt before he’d left home.
But despite how she looked, despite her cover-up courtesy, he’d still been on his worst behavior.
So I proved I can be as big a clod as she thinks I am….
Actually, what was it she’d said when she’d thought he was out of earshot? That the only thing worse than a hayseed was a rude, nasty hayseed.
Miss Priss could bark back after all.
That had to go against the dictates of her highfalutin ways now, didn’t it?
But even though she’d been insulting him, it made him smile to think that he’d gotten a rise out of her.
Still, the way things had gone the day before were not how he wanted things to be at his sister’s wedding. Mara didn’t deserve that. Hell, if push came to shove, he had to admit that Faith Perry didn’t deserve it, either. She’d never actually done anything to him. So what if he—and the rest of Northbridge—didn’t live up to her standards? That was her problem. Her loss.
But when it came to him and who he was, he didn’t want to be a jerk. Not even to someone who thought she was better than he was.
In fact, he might go so far as to prove he was the bigger person and apologize for the way he’d treated her.
“What would your mom think of that, Charlie?” he asked the pooch at his side. Then he answered his own question, “She’d probably just think she had it coming, huh?”
Charlie sighed and nuzzled his hand to make him pet her once more. Boone did, wondering if the dog spent every night sleeping with Faith. Right beside her in bed where her hair would be free and so would her body under some filmy little nightgown….
Jealousy? Was he actually feeling even a tiny pinch envious of a dog?
Oh, no, uh-uh, he told himself.
She might be beautiful, but she wasn’t getting to him. Not a chance in hell. He’d never set himself up for that now. No way.
Not when he’d been so vividly reminded yesterday that it was only blue blood that impressed her.
And his was as red as it came.
“Do we have a verdict yet?”
Faith had stopped by her sister Eden’s house late Monday afternoon on her way to the vet’s office. It was such a beautiful spring day that Eden was sitting outside on her front porch steps when Faith arrived. Faith had an ulterior motive for the visit but was in no hurry, so she’d accepted her sister’s invitation to join her.
“A verdict?” Faith asked in response to Eden’s question after she’d perched beside her sister on the top porch step. “About what?”
“Northbridge—if you’re staying forever or for a while, or if you’re already thinking about leaving as soon as cousin Jared’s wedding is over.”
“I just got here Saturday night,” Faith reminded.
“And
