Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his key fob and pressed the button. Across the parking lot, a dark blue pickup chirped in response. “You can ride with me if you want.”
As a limo pulled into line behind the hearse, she asked, “You’re not going with your family?”
He shrugged. “Not enough room for all of us.”
She gave him a doubtful look, but fortunately she didn’t press. “Okay. Thanks.”
When they got to his truck, he opened the passenger door for her. “Thanks for coming today.”
“I’m glad to do it. I just wish it wasn’t necessary,” she said as she climbed into the truck.
Standing inside the open door, he looked in at her. Her response sounded so polished, he knew she’d rehearsed it many times. “You’ve said that about a thousand times, haven’t you?”
“I guess so,” she admitted with a frown. “I’m sorry if I sounded like a robot. I just never know what else to say.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, staring at the hearse as it slowly left the lot. “Me, neither.”
As Matt settled into the driver’s seat, he finally placed her. “Caty Lee McKenzie. Valedictorian, right?”
She didn’t exactly smile, but it was closer to a grin than anything he’d gotten since she had introduced herself. “Right.”
Trying to salvage the conversation, he added, “Guess we didn’t run in the same circles at school.”
“I wasn’t a cheerleader.” Her smile evaporated, and she gave him a chilly look before turning to stare out the window.
She really knew how to hurt a guy. Then again, he thought as he put his truck in gear, he’d never really been into brainy women. They were way too much work.
* * *
After the mercifully brief graveside service, the long parade of cars headed through town to the Sawyer farm. As they drove along Main Street, well-kept houses stretched out on either side. Alongside the pavement were the original cobblestones, flanked by a canopy of oaks that dated back to the Civil War. In Harland, gardens were immaculate, porches were welcoming and the sweet tea was always fresh. Even though she’d left to realize her dream of becoming a lawyer, Caty had always been drawn back to the place that had made her who she was.
“I’m sorry for the reason, but it’s good to be home again,” Caty told him with a smile. “Someday I want to come back for good. How ’bout you?”
“I plan to stay as far from Harland as I can get.”
The certainty in his voice startled her, but she plowed ahead. “So, where are you living these days?”
“Charlotte.”
“Really? Me, too.” As of yesterday, that wasn’t technically true anymore, but she didn’t think he really cared that much. “How long have you been there?”
“A few months now,” he answered without taking his eyes off the road.
He didn’t elaborate, and she tried again. “I haven’t seen you since high school. What have you been up to?”
“I’m a mechanic.”
Oh, he was a real talker, this guy. “Whereabouts?”
“California, Arizona, Texas. Spent about a month in Michigan. Way too cold.”
She realized he’d answered her questions without revealing a single personal detail. He’d done it artfully, as if he’d had a lot of practice. Fortunately, her legal training had made her adept at worming information out of reluctant people.
“Do you like Charlotte?”
“Yeah.” Just when she thought he’d leave it at that, he added, “My boss hired me to work on classics at his body shop, which is great. I love old cars.”
Progress, she congratulated herself with a little smile. “How did you get into that?”
“Got certified for regular work, then started playing around with some clunkers at the shop I worked at in Houston. When I was done, the owner sold ’em for more than he spent on the wrecks. He cut me in on the profits, so I did some more. When I decided to move back to North Carolina, he called a friend of his and gave me a reference.”
She hoped to keep him talking by giving him a harmless compliment. “That takes a lot of skill. You must make good money.”
He slanted her a look she could only define as suspicious. “I do fine.”
Okay, so money was a bad subject. Caty switched back to classic cars.
“I love my MG, but I know next to nothing about it. If I get in and it starts, I’m happy. Come to think of it, it was making a weird clunky noise when I pulled in at the church earlier.”
“I can look at it if you want,” Matt offered as they pulled off the main road onto a lane marked Sawyer Farm.
“I didn’t mean to hint for free help with my car,” she explained. “I’m happy to pay your regular rates.”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
Matt drove past the rambling white farmhouse and parked beside several cars in the turnaround in front of one of the barns. He shut off the engine and came around to open her door. The truck sat high enough that she could look him dead in the eye.
Making full use of the higher ground, she gave him her most intimidating lawyer’s glare. “Do not call me that.”
He gave her the most clueless look she’d ever seen. “Why not?”
“Guys like you use cute nicknames to cover up the fact that you can’t remember the names of all the women you date, that’s why. Baby, honey, doll, things like that.” She ticked them off on her fingers, grimacing in disgust. “It’s insulting.”
Shaking his head, he offered his hand to help her down. “Whatever you say, Caitlin.”
Batting his hand away, she climbed out on her own. “That doesn’t count. I told you my name half an hour ago, and we’re not dating.”
“Got that right,” he muttered.
The two of them stalked off in different directions, and Caty wondered if he was as glad to be rid of her as she was of him. She’d tried everything she knew to be pleasant, but he wasn’t having any of it. The man was hopeless.
The black Lab snoozing on the back porch lifted his head as she approached. When he recognized her, he thumped his tail in welcome.
“Hey, Tucker,” she said softly, scratching underneath the stars-and-stripes bandanna tied around his neck. “How’re things here?”
Brows furrowed in that Lab way, he cocked his head and whined. “I know,” she sympathized. “But don’t worry. It’ll
