as a broomstick. The brainy older daughter of renowned heart surgeon Alexander Stuart. Her younger sister, Annie, used to call her a nerd, and rightfully so. Aubrey hadn’t just fit the description, she’d defined it. With the exception of Gage Raintree, the male population at large hardly noticed she existed.
“Enough already,” she grumbled, snapping out of her reverie. An hour away from Blue Ridge and already she had a bad case of Gage Raintree on the brain. What would it be like when she arrived at her grandmother’s?
Her movements purposeful, Aubrey strode into the minimart and went straight to stand in line behind several other people. The store was packed, taxing the sole clerk’s limited abilities. She felt sorry for the poor kid when the man ahead of her vehemently complained about the inconvenience.
Her turn finally came. “Twenty dollars on pump three.” She smiled pleasantly, handing the clerk her money. “And I need a receipt, please.”
He appeared grateful that she wasn’t going to bite his head off like everyone else. “Anything else, ma’am?”
“No, thank you.” She took the receipt and started toward the door. At the sound of a familiar voice, her knees locked.
“Aubrey?”
She stood immobile and willed her gaze not to fly around the store.
“Aubrey, is that you?”
What were the odds of him being here? In this convenience store, at the exact same moment as her? Well, this was the last gas station on the road out of town.
“Aubrey Stuart?” the voice called again.
She had to look. There was simply no avoiding it. And, well, he didn’t sound mad. That was a good sign, right? Mustering her courage, she turned slowly around and came face-to-face with her ex-husband.
“I thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow,” he said.
“Hello, Gage.” Her voice quivered. It had a tendency to do that when she was nervous or uncomfortable or, like now, both. “How are you?”
“Good. How ‘bout yourself?” He moved ahead in line, closing the distance between them. “You look great.”
His lingering appraisal of her appearance caused Aubrey’s cheeks to heat. Never was she more aware of the fact that her younger, stick-figure self had filled out in all the right places.
“So do you,” she blurted. “Look great, that is.”
Of all things to gush forth from between her lips. Complete mental dysfunction was her only excuse. Gage did that to her. He always had.
But, sweet heaven, he did look great.
Tall to start with, he’d outgrown his once lanky form. There was no shortage of muscles bunching beneath his T-shirt. He wore his nearly black hair shorter than before. The wavy ends poked out from beneath his weathered cowboy hat to curl attractively at the base of his neck. His boots were scruffy, as always, and he needed a shave. Not that the dark stubble shadowing his jaw detracted from his good looks. Quite the contrary.
Rather than risk another embarrassing blunder, she forced her stiff legs to take a step toward the double glass doors at the front of the store. She’d known seeing him again would be a bit awkward, but she hadn’t expected it to be so…disconcerting. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
“Hold up.” He retrieved his change and plastic sack containing his purchases. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No!” At his bemused expression, she checked herself. “That’s not necessary. You’re obviously in a hurry.”
“Actually, I’m not.”
The sexy half smile he turned on her was potent as ever. Hoping to minimize its effects, she grabbed for the door handle nearest her and yanked, almost tearing her hand off in the process. The door rattled, but didn’t open. Too late, she realized she’d pulled instead of pushed. Gage came up behind her, reached around and braced his hand on the glass panel near her head.
“Here. Let me get that for you.” The door swung open, and a hot breeze struck Aubrey in the face.
She glanced over her shoulder. Big mistake.
His face hovered a few inches above hers. If she shifted slightly, she could find herself nestled in the crook of his arm. It was a place she’d been often enough as a teenager and remembered well.
A warning bell the size of Liberty herself rang inside Aubrey’s head.
“Thanks.” She shoved through the door and flashed him a smile she hoped radiated confidence. “See you around.”
He followed, his long strides easily keeping pace with her. “Is this yours?” he asked when they reached her SUV.
“Mine and the bank’s,” she answered. Not wanting Gage to sense her discomfort, she made an effort to relax.
“Four-wheel drive. That’ll come in handy around here.” He gave the car the standard once-over typical of men, then hitched his chin at the neighboring island of gas pumps. “I’m still driving a pickup.”
The long-bed crew cab he indicated was considerably newer and nicer than the one he’d driven in high school. And from what she could see, loaded to the hilt with lumber and various other building materials. He must have come into Pineville to purchase supplies for his family’s cattle ranch. There was some sort of emblem on the driver-side door that she couldn’t make out from this distance.
“It’s big,” she said and returned to filling her SUV with gas.
“I heard you were staying with your grandmother for a while. That’s nice of you. A broken hip is no picnic, and I’m sure she appreciates your help.”
“Yes.” Small-town gossip, thought Aubrey. Nothing stayed secret for long. Everybody from the local sheriff to the clerk at the feed store had probably been informed of her arrival.
“Look, Aubrey,” Gage said. “I know you probably feel a little…weird after what happened. Is there any chance we can get together and talk?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She squeezed the gas nozzle until her fingers turned white. “I mean, what’s to talk about? It was ages ago, and we’ve both moved on.”
“But I don’t want you feeling like you have to run for cover every time you see my pickup truck coming down the road. Blue Ridge is a small town. You can’t walk across your front lawn without having to stop and chat with at least three people.”
“I’m not going to run for cover every time I see you,” she scoffed.
He gave her a skeptical look.
“Really.” She hated that he knew her so well. But then, how could he not? They’d spent fifteen straight summers together, the last one as Mr. and Mrs. Raintree.
A loud click sounded, signaling her gas tank was full. Grateful for small favors, Aubrey jammed the nozzle back into the side of the pump. “I have to go. Grandma’s expecting me.” She slid in behind the wheel.
