home to work with her and Harley until they got up to speed. She and Jared had always been each other’s number one fans.
Would he still stand by her if she had a serious vision problem? She kicked the dumb thought aside. People her age didn’t up and go blind for no good reason.
“And I have to give credit to all the girls here because they put on a great barrel race all week and they’re tough competition,” she concluded and shot Hank a hopeful look.
Got enough?
“World champion barrel racer Amberley James,” Hank intoned into his recorder. “Congratulations on another great year.”
She ducked her head and sent a shower of water on her rain-splattered boots. “Thank you.”
Please let this be the end. Her heavy lids drooped momentarily, and the ground seemed to tilt a little bit. Or was that her?
“Hank, good to see you,” she spied him now standing just a couple of feet away, shaking hands briskly with the lingering blogger.
“Well.” Hank’s ruddy face turned tomato. “Didn’t expect to get a double scoop here.”
“Oh, I believe Amberley’s done a great job of giving you all the material you need,” Jared drawled, polite, friendly and respectful as ever, with just the right amount of firm. “Y’all have a good night, now.”
He swept an arm around her waist and led her toward the parking lot.
“Any special reason you came out here? Are you two going to make it official?” Hank called.
Jared halted and peered down at her. She blew out a long breath. Why couldn’t men and women just be friends? They’d battled the misimpression they were a couple for years, right down to rumors claiming they dated, held hands, kissed even. She blushed a bit thinking how they’d come close to doing just that right before her father got ill. Luckily, they’d come to their senses and avoided a huge mistake.
“I’d be a lucky man if that were true, but Amberley and I are just longtime friends. If that changes, I’ll be sure to give you the exclusive.” He tipped his hat and pulled her into the unlit, mostly deserted parking lot.
Under cover of darkness, they ran, hand in hand, splashing through puddles, laughing, soaked and breathless when they arrived at his truck.
“Why’d you do that?” she asked, one heel up and back on the step bar.
He placed his hands on the wet body of his truck, boxing her in, and leaned down. The clean, masculine scent of him, leather, soap and a hint of spice, had her breathing deep.
“To rescue you. Plus, I owe you for bailing me out at the bachelor’s auction last week.”
A bright laugh bubbled up from within. It felt good after so much worry. “Still not sure if I got my money’s worth...”
“Chili dogs and chips?” he scoffed, looking not the least bit offended. “That took a lot of effort. Planning.”
She pressed lightly on his muscular chest. “Yeah. Right.”
He trapped her hand against his heart, and for a breathless moment they simply stared at each other.
Tell him about your eyes, urged the angel on one shoulder.
Keep quiet, the devil on her other shoulder whispered.
She cleared her throat and ignored the strange sense of letdown when he released her and stepped aside. “Anyway, I had to even up the score.”
“Never,” she shot back, forcing a teasing tone, needing to lose this strange awareness tugging her from the friend zone.
He angled his head and raised his thick, perfectly shaped brows. “As in you don’t want me rescuing you or pulling ahead in the tally?”
She lifted her chin and ignored the twinge inside about her eyesight. “Neither. Do I look like someone that needs rescuing?”
“Not a chance.” He chucked her gently under the chin and considered her. “It might be what I like about you best.” Her heart flailed at the deep, serious timbre in his voice. “That and your burned grilled cheese sandwiches.”
She laughed, but it didn’t break the intimacy swelling between them. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“Acquired? Maybe. Taste? That’s debatable.”
The air in her lungs faltered at his tease. Strategic withdrawal time.
She hopped into the truck but left the door open. Today had been a strange day with lots out of focus, especially these all-over-the-map feelings for Jared. Friends didn’t look at each like that.
“Get me out of here, you fool.”
“Always a fool for you, darlin’.” Deep dimples appeared in his flashbulb smile, and for a moment, she almost believed him. He winked, then shut the door.
She leaned her forehead against the window and watched her breath fog the glass. Flirting was as natural and necessary to Jared as breathing.
It didn’t mean anything.
And if she ever let herself think so, then she’d be the biggest fool of all.
“STARGARDT’S DISEASE?”
Amberley strained to bring the wavy lines of her ophthalmologist, Dr. Hamilton, into focus. Shameful tears pricked the back of her eyes. It’d been a long six weeks of appointments and tests since she’d returned home and begun searching for an answer about her failing eyesight, and now this...some strange name that seemed like it had nothing to do with her.
Dr. Hamilton’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “It’s a genetic disorder that causes macular degeneration.”
Her heart dropped all the way to the floor and splattered.
Was there a cure?
Lately, her central vision had deteriorated at a terrifying rate, hobbling her at home, her spirit and independence vanishing with it.
“Should we have discovered this when she was born?” her mother asked in what Amberley called her “Interrogation Voice.” She’d been a Carbondale county judge for almost ten years and a prosecutor for fifteen before that.
Out of the corner of Amberley’s eye, she spied her mother’s white face in sharp detail. A line where she hadn’t blended her makeup. A mole the size of a pencil eraser. A few strands of gray-brown hair that’d escaped her braid and fell across her cheek.
Strange that while the center of her vision failed, her peripheral vision still worked fine.
“Not necessarily. The condition appears, symptomatically, in childhood with some vision deficit that’s correctable with glasses or contacts. However, the loss of sight increases
