Stephanie Bond - Baby, Come Home

She stopped at the four-wheeler and lifted the seat to stow her camera equipment, then reached for the folding screen he held. “Thanks.”

Then she climbed on, started the engine and took off before he could even reach the ATV he’d driven over. He goosed the gas to keep up with her, flashing back to when they were teenagers, riding horses all over this countryside. He had always lagged behind on purpose, so he could see Amy’s wild hair fly behind her and watch her tight little behind snug against the saddle. He’d loved chasing her…and apparently things hadn’t changed—except for the catching part. He followed her back to the construction office, saddened when the ride ended, already loath to be away from her.

She was off the ATV and striding toward town before he could regroup.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he called. “Maybe we can catch up.”

She turned, still moving, her hands full of equipment. “No, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep things between us strictly business. I’ll see you on the jobsite.” Then she turned and kept going.

Kendall watched her walk away and had to keep himself from running after her. He hadn’t been successful in convincing Amy to stay in Sweetness last time. But he had three months to do it this time.

Starting with dinner tonight with Porter and Nikki.

Amy looked at her reflection in the mirror in her bedroom and worked her mouth back and forth. Was a skirt too dressy for dinner with Nikki downstairs in the rear great room? It seemed like a pretty casual atmosphere, but since Amy was usually in sturdy, sensible clothes on jobsites during the day, she tried to dress up after hours. The memory of standing in the shadow of Kendall’s splashy “friend” Rachel cinched her decision not only to go with the outfit as planned, but to add hoop earrings, high heels and the Topaz ring that Tony had given her for Christmas. It was always better to be overdressed than underdressed.

She glanced at her watch—she was still twenty minutes early. Enough time to call Tony, she realized, although it wasn’t something she was looking forward to under the circumstances. Guilt stabbed at her, impelling her to pick up her cell phone and punch in his number. When the phone rolled over to his voice mail, she wondered if he was really busy, or if he was avoiding her calls. He hadn’t been overjoyed about her leaving Broadway without him and had asked a lot of questions. Had he picked up on the fact that she hadn’t been completely forthcoming about her connection to the town for which she was building a bridge?

“Hi, sweetie, it’s me.” She wet her lips. “I just wanted to let you know that I made it to Sweetness, Georgia, and I have cell phone service, so call me whenever you want to.” She hesitated, knowing how much he disliked her being too effusive, but it had been an emotional day. “I love you,” she murmured, then disconnected the call, her heart squeezing over all the conflict they’d endured the past year, for which she felt largely responsible. She was looking forward to better times once she returned to Broadway…once she got some closure on the situation with Kendall Armstrong.

She walked across the second-floor bedroom she’d been assigned—a pretty room decorated in chocolate-brown and sage-green—and glanced out the window, down at the new town of Sweetness. Dusk was settling quickly. A tall light illuminated the area in front of the boardinghouse. Across the street, the dining hall was lit up, and the headlights of two cars rolling down the main street cast beams on what appeared to be freshly painted pedestrian crosswalks.

The town would need sidewalks soon. In her mind, she visualized the wooden forms that would have to be built to contain the leveled concrete snaking down both sides of the asphalt road. She could pour them in her sleep, even in this cold weather, and she could incorporate recycled materials like tumbled glass to give them a custom look. Maybe she’d suggest to Marcus—

Amy caught herself. This wasn’t her town, and she wasn’t about to start making suggestions that would add projects to her to-do list. She was here to design a covered bridge—in and out.

She stepped back from the window and walked into the bathroom to frown at her auburn hair that was showing increasing signs of frizz. All those rainy, snowy days in Broadway, and she was able to keep it under control. A few hours in this place in the dead of winter, and it was already kinking up like a pig’s tail.

She sighed and ran a boar bristle brush through her thick tresses, knowing it would buy her only a few minutes of smoothness, at best. Then she left her room and descended the stairs to the first floor in search of Nikki. Along the way, she passed several women, all smiling and laughing and apparently happy to be there, lots of children who seemed to travel in friendly packs, and a few men who were apparently only visiting because, as she’d read in the boardinghouse rules, males were not allowed in the boardinghouse overnight.

A quaint regulation…very Southern…but comforting, Amy acknowledged. And clever, because it would spur the town to grow faster since couples who wanted to live together had no choice but to build their own home. She wondered if Nikki and Porter were on the fast track to marriage. She also wondered if Nikki realized what a feat she’d accomplished to corral one of the Armstrong brothers. They had always been the most confirmed bachelors in town. She knew that firsthand.

But what had Kendall said? That Nikki had changed Porter. Just thinking about it made her cheeks sting. It left her feeling inadequate that she hadn’t been able to change Kendall.

She found Nikki in the crowded common kitchen, sliding a pan into one of the large ovens. The atmosphere was festive and aromas tantalizing as women crowded around pots of pasta and shared thick chunks of warm bread. A couple of children ran through, snagging brownies from a plate. Amy looked after the laughing children with a tug of longing that she squashed as quickly as it rose. The family environment took her by surprise, and she could see why it would appeal to some people. But the trade-off was living in a fishbowl where opportunities were limited. She hadn’t left to educate herself only to come back and settle for something less than she could become.

“I hope Chicken Kiev is okay,” Nikki said, her cheeks pink from the heat. “I don’t have much of a cooking repertoire.”

Amy gave a little laugh. “That sounds pretty impressive to me. I usually eat frozen dinners. What can I do to help?”

“Pick up those wineglasses and follow me,” Nikki said, nodding to the countertop. She picked up a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and turned toward the opposite doorway.

Amy frowned at the number of wineglasses—four—but gathered them in her hands and followed Nikki down a hallway into the rear great room that apparently served as the main gathering place for residents to dine and watch TV. The computers that lined one wall were another surprise. The new Sweetness was wired and perhaps not as isolated as she’d imagined.

Nikki stopped at a square wooden table situated away from other tables and chairs that were largely occupied. From all the couples dining together, Amy surmised the ploy to bring women to Sweetness as companions for the Armstrongs’ workers had succeeded. Noticing the four salads on their own table, Amy balked. “Is someone joining us?”

Nikki cut the foil on a bottle of wine. “I hope you don’t mind if Porter eats with us. We typically have dinner together.”

“No, that’s fine.” Although she was a little disappointed that she and Nikki wouldn’t be able to catch up, she understood that she was the interloper here. Before she could ask about the fourth place setting, Nikki beamed at someone behind Amy.