Jillian Hart - His Hometown Girl

“I guess love will do that.” Gramma ran her fingers through Karen’s brown hair. “Do you know what I think?”

“I’m afraid to guess.”

“You might look good as a blonde. Ever think of that?”

“What do you mean? Color my hair? What does that have to do with this conversation?”

“You’d be surprised.” Gramma looked up into the mirror on the wall behind the kitchen table. “I’ve been thinking about getting rid of this gray hair. Maybe that’s my problem. If I dyed my hair red and bought a sports car, I wouldn’t be the same old reliable Helen.”

“You wouldn’t be the grandmother I know and love.”

“I’m not getting any younger, so why wait? And at my age, what am I waiting for? I want something different than spending most of my days in this lonely house. I want to know passion in my life. That’s what I want.”

Karen twisted around in her chair, surprised at the unhappiness etched on her grandmother’s face.

“You and I have the same problem, Karen. We’ve been good girls all our lives and in my case, it’s been a few decades too long.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been living a lukewarm life for sixty years now, and that’s not how I want to be remembered. I don’t want people to say, ‘Helen was nice,’ at my funeral. I want them to say, ‘Remember the fun we had the day Helen drove us through town in her new convertible.’”

Karen’s hand trembled, and she didn’t know what to say. Today at the cemetery, she’d felt the same—that time on this earth was too short to spend with regrets.

Sympathy for her grandmother filled her. “If you want, I’ll go with you to the beauty shop. We’ll get your hair done so you’ll look beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear. I knew you’d understand.” Gramma held her close, and Karen hugged her long and hard, grateful for this grandmother she loved so much.

Karen was placing fresh flowers on the tables in the quiet hours before the lunch rush started when an engine’s rumble on the street outside her shop caught her attention. A gleaming black motorcycle pulled into an empty parking spot out front, ridden by a man wearing a white T-shirt and jeans.

“There’s trouble,” matronly Cecilia Thornton, Jay’s mom, commented over her iced latte.

“With a capital T,” Marj Whitly agreed.

With the way Zach’s muscled shoulders and wide chest stretched out that T-shirt, there was no word other than ‘trouble’ to describe him. Karen watched him swing one leg easily over the bike’s seat and unbuckle his helmet. Shocks of thick brown hair tumbled across his brow.

Zach might look larger than life, but she knew at heart that he was a good man.

He strolled down the walk in front of the row of windows and winked when he caught sight of her. Eager for the sight of a friendly face, Karen quickly set the last little vase in the center of the last table.

The bell above the front door chimed. Zach strode through the door. Her pulse skipped and she didn’t know why.

“Working hard on a Saturday, as usual. Don’t you know you’re missing a fantastic morning out there?” Zach raked one hand through his tousled locks, rumpling them even more. He lowered his voice. “I’d offer you an escape on my bike, but I don’t think Jay’s mom will approve.”

“You noticed her glaring at you?” Karen circled around the counter.

“Always.” His eyes sparkled, holding no ill will toward the woman who frowned at him from the far corner of the dining room.

“Is it too early for lunch?”

“Not in my shop.”

“Then I’ll have a bologna and cheese with mayo and mustard, on white.” Zach nodded in Cecilia’s direction. “Good morning, ladies.”

The two women’s eyes widened in surprise. Cecilia managed a polite response, even though it was clear she didn’t approve of the likes of Zachary Drake.

See? With that kind of attitude in Jay’s family, it was a good thing she’d broken her engagement.

Zach leaned over the counter, a mischievous grin curving across his mouth. “I don’t think they approve of my mode of transportation.”

“It’s not the bike, Zach.”

“Are you saying those woman don’t approve of me?”

“You’re crushed, I see.”

“Devastated. Is Cecilia’s death-ray glare of disapproval getting to you?”

Biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing, Karen donned clear plastic gloves. “Cecilia’s death-ray stares aren’t hurting me any. I missed you this morning. You didn’t come in for coffee. Are you two-timing me over at the diner?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m a devoted man. Not even the diner’s full breakfast menu can tempt me away from your charming shop.”

“A loyal customer. Just what I like to hear.”

“I have to confess I made my own java and took a thermos of it fishing with me this morning.”

“I didn’t know bachelors could make coffee.”

“You see, there’s this little scoop that comes in the can. It’s easy to measure.”

“A can? You didn’t even grind your own beans?” Karen unwrapped a loaf of fresh bread. “I’m disappointed in you.”

“I know, but I’ve learned my lesson. Next time I’ll bring my thermos over and let you fill it for me.”

How did he do it, she wondered. With that dazzling smile and his melting-chocolate voice, Zach could chase away her troubles and leave her smiling.

“How’s that car of yours?”

“Still running, and don’t look so surprised.”

“Only prayers are keeping that heap going, believe me. When it finally breaks down for good, give me a call and I’ll help you out.”

“Unlike you, I have complete faith.”

“Unlike you, I’ve looked under the hood, and that car’s doomed, Karen. I’m telling you this as a friend. I’ve already ordered a used engine.”

“I can’t afford it.”

“We’ll work something out or we can barter. Car parts for sandwiches?”

“That’s a lot of sandwiches.”

Zach sent Cecilia a brief, imposing glare. “Mrs. Thornton still hasn’t forgiven you for dumping her son?”

“Does it look like it?”

“If she’s upset, what’s she doing in your shop?”

“This is the only place in town to buy a latte.” Karen sighed.

“You’re doing the right thing, giving it time.” He meant to be comforting. “Everyone knows you and Jay will get back together.”

“Everybody doesn’t know me, not if they believe that. I’m never going to marry Jay.” Karen concentrated extra hard on her sandwich making. “I suppose that’s what you think, too, isn’t it? That good, dependable Karen will do what’s sensible. And why not? It’s what I’ve always done.”

“That’s the problem with a small town. People make up their minds about what kind of person you are, and it doesn’t matter how honest you try to be when it comes to their repair bills, they still see what they’re used to seeing.”

“I know what you mean.” Karen’s pulse skipped again. Had Zach’s eyes always been so blue? “Have a good afternoon.”

“Good luck surviving Cecilia’s death-ray stare.” He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter and took the paper sack from her.

His hand brushed hers and burned her like a hot flame.

Why was she feeling like this? Confused, she watched Zach push open the door, causing the bell to jangle overhead. For a brief moment he glanced at her, his eyes dark with unmistakable sympathy.

Then he turned and was gone. The bell chimed again as the door snapped shut, and Karen felt as if all the warmth had gone from the room. What was wrong with her? What was going on?

She didn’t mean to be watching him, but there he was. Striding down the walk with the wind tousling his dark hair. He looked as rakish as a pirate, and yet as dependable as the earth. He hesitated at the top of the stairs and then he disappeared from her sight.