Carla Neggers - Cider Brook

“In a hurry, Sam?” he asked.

“Not really, no, but I am getting a later start than I wanted.” She glanced into the mudroom but saw no sign of Olivia or Dylan, or even Buster. She tightened her hold on the strap of her backpack. “It got quiet all of a sudden.”

As far as she could see, Justin didn’t move a muscle. “Dylan and Olivia went up the road to meet with their architect.”

“Mark Flanagan. The almost-brother-in-law.”

His eyes leveled on her. “You’re getting to know the players.”

She felt a rush of awareness that she couldn’t explain. Had to be the aftereffects of yesterday. She tried to keep any hint of her physical reaction to him from showing in her voice or manner. “Olivia and I chatted over breakfast. It’s a beautiful morning. I’m looking forward to a good walk.”

“Are you planning to finish following Cider Brook into Quabbin?”

“I’d like to try. I thought I’d start where I left off at the cider mill. I can collect my stuff at the same time.”

“No point. It’s ruined. I’ll toss it when I clean up.”

“I don’t mind—”

“The mill’s taped off until I go through it and decide it’s safe.”

The man did have a cut-to-the-chase way about him. Samantha debated what to say next. Normally she was one to plunge in and think and talk at the same time, but Justin’s directness combined with her missing journal had her rattled.

“I still want to go back there,” she said, firm but not argumentative.

He stood straight, lowering his arms to his side. “Why?”

“I had nightmares last night.” True, as far as it went. “It would help to see the mill on such a nice, sunny morning. I don’t have to go inside.” Assuming she found her missing journal out by the brook. If not, she would have to go inside the mill. She wanted that journal back—she needed to know what had happened to it, even if it meant asking Justin for his help. But she wasn’t there yet. “I won’t stay long.”

“I have some stops I need to make. I’ll give you a ride over there.”

Not what she had in mind. “Really, I don’t mind walking—”

“That’s good.” He pointed at her backpack. “Want me to carry that for you?”

“I’ll manage. I hiked with more yesterday.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Are you always this abrupt?”

His sexy look caught her off guard. “Not always.”

He went out the front door, obviously expecting her to follow him. Samantha could feel his padlock in her jacket pocket, but she’d slipped the documents pouch and her grandfather’s flask into her backpack. She’d meant to return the lock, but Justin’s manner had her second-guessing herself. Now she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Keep acting as if she didn’t have it, maybe.

She supposed she should appreciate his offer of a ride, but it felt off, too. It wasn’t just a grudging offer, and it wasn’t impromptu—because he was heading out on errands, anyway. He had waited for her in the kitchen. Keeping an eye on her? Suspicious of her?

If she didn’t accept his offer of a ride out to the mill and kept arguing and finding excuses, she would look as if she had something to hide.

Which, of course, she did.

She would also come across as ungrateful and rude, although she wasn’t sure Justin would even notice.

There was also nothing to stop him from driving out to the cider mill and waiting for her while she walked away.

Hoisting her backpack onto one shoulder, she headed outside. Justin had left the passenger door to his truck open and was behind the wheel. Presumptuous, but Samantha realized she had little choice at this point and continued out the stone walk. A few red leaves had fallen from a nearby tree and lay scattered on the lush grass. Chickadees swooped from pine branches. She wished she could relax and enjoy the gorgeous day, but meeting Dylan and now the prospect of driving to the cider mill with Justin had her feeling unusually self-conscious. She didn’t like skirting the truth and wasn’t one to waffle, but she needed to find her journal and regroup.

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