Stephanie Bond - Baby, Come Home

Rachel looked at Amy, then rolled her eyes. “I think I’ll find a ladies’ room and wash my hands. Will I be seeing you around?”

“Probably,” Amy said. Considering she’d be working with Kendall, and Rachel was attached to Kendall at the hip, it seemed likely. When jealousy toward the blonde beauty threatened to surface, Amy squashed it. She had no claim on Kendall. “Could you tell me where I might find Marcus Armstrong?”

“Marcus usually sticks pretty close to the construction office. It’s a trailer down the gravel road that runs alongside the dining hall.”

“Is it walking distance?”

Rachel looked down. “Not if you’re fond of those gorgeous boots.”

“Thanks.” Amy lifted her hand in a wave to Kendall’s girlfriend and walked out of the clinic tingling head to toe. “Kendall’s girlfriend,” she murmured. The words felt surreal on her tongue. That person had always been her.

Amy looked up and down the main street of the new town of Sweetness—also surreal…and different.

Both good things, she told herself as she opened the rear hatch of her SUV to remove a pair of sturdy work boots. Because without attachments, it would be easier to leave this place once Evermore Bridge was rebuilt.

Kendall squirmed as Nikki wrapped a bandage around his thumb.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

“No.” It did, and his big toe hurt, too, but he just wanted to get out of there.

“You look a little flushed.”

He wasn’t about to tell her it was humiliation. For years he’d imagined seeing Amy again, yet when the moment had presented itself, he’d been as tongue-tied as a teenager.

Nikki felt for his pulse on his uninjured hand. “Your heart rate is up.”

From seeing Amy. “I appreciate your help, Dr. Salinger, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”

She nodded. “Rachel is waiting for you.”

He grunted. “I need to get back to work.” He turned his head for a glimpse out the window through slitted blinds, yearning for another look at Amy, wondering why she was here and terrified she’d leave before he could talk to her. “That woman you were speaking to in the lobby…”

“Amy Bradshaw?” Nikki asked. “She’s a friend of mine from Broadway. I thought you might know her—she grew up in Sweetness.”

“I used to know her,” he said absently. “Did she say why she’s here?”

“She said Marcus had hired her to build a bridge.”

Kendall blinked. “A bridge?”

Nikki nodded. “Amy’s a structural engineer.”

He blinked again. “Really?”

“Really. I guess the two of you haven’t stayed in touch?”

“No…we haven’t.”

Nikki smiled. “Looks like you’ll have some time to get reacquainted.”

Kendall pressed his lips together and looked away, his mind churning.

Nikki patted his arm. “All done. Leave it wrapped for a few days. You’ll probably lose the nail, and it’ll be tender for a couple of weeks. Use the antibiotic ointment to stave off infection.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, then stood and walked to the door, trying not to limp.

“Kendall.”

He turned back.

“Why don’t you and Porter join me and Amy for dinner tonight at the boardinghouse?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“It’s the hospitable thing to do, don’t you think? To welcome her home?”

He nodded. “Okay. See you later. Thanks again.”

Kendall left the exam room and walked out into the waiting area, looking right and left. To his relief, Rachel was nowhere in sight. But neither was Amy. He practically ran to the door and out into the cool air. He spotted an unfamiliar burgundy SUV with a Michigan license plate and wondered if it belonged to Amy. The color reminded him of her deep auburn hair. It was empty. He glanced all around, but didn’t see her.

Kendall pulled out his phone and dialed Marcus, determined to get to the bottom of Amy’s appearance. When he didn’t answer, Kendall lit out walking toward the construction office. By the time he reached the steps leading up to the trailer, his foot throbbed and his temper had ballooned into something he’d never experienced. He burst through the door. Marcus was sitting behind his desk, just disconnecting a call on his cell phone.

“What did you do to your hand?”

Kendall fisted his injured hand. “Cut the crap, Marcus. Amy Bradshaw? You hired Amy Bradshaw to rebuild Evermore Bridge?”

Marcus sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Actually, she’s only going to design the bridge. You’re going to build it.”

“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning to me?”

Marcus pursed his mouth. “You were busy getting the presentation together. I told you I’d find a structural engineer, and I did. I guess you ran into her?”

Kendall put both hands on Marcus’s desk, his blood pressure rising. “Blindsided is more like it.”

“Funny, she didn’t mention it.”

Kendall straightened. “She was here?”

“Of course. She wanted to discuss the project. I told her she should get settled in first, then we could all meet tomorrow afternoon for a conference call with our contact on the Preservation Society.”

“So she’s at the boardinghouse?”

“No. She wanted to get right to work. She borrowed a four-wheeler to ride out to the site—”

Kendall didn’t hear the end of the sentence—he was already out the door. He bounded down the steps, jogged to where several ATVs were parked and climbed on one. Working the hand grips hurt his thumb, but he welcomed the pain—it cut through the mush in his head. He steered the four-wheeler toward a side trail that ran parallel to the main road and led to the site where the covered bridge had once stood. As the cool air rushed by him, he tried to think of what he was going to say to Amy, but everything sounded lame and inadequate. Long time no see. How’s life been treating you? I’ve missed you every day we’ve been apart.

As he approached the area and spotted the ATV she’d parked, his stomach churned. The fact that she’d known she was coming here and hadn’t contacted him spoke volumes, didn’t it?

Maybe there was nothing to say.

He pulled the four-wheeler next to the one parked and cut the engine. He couldn’t see her through the trees, but he walked toward the area where the old bridge used to stand. When she came into view, his feet slowed and his heart sped up. Amy had set up a tripod and was bent over, looking through the camera lens. Her trim, athletic figure was silhouetted against the blue sky. She was all business in her slacks, tailored jacket and field boots, but the wind ruffled her luxurious hair that had escaped from a clasp at her neck.

She was, in a word, breathtaking.

He was sure she’d heard the four-wheeler, probably knew she was being observed. But if he wanted proof he couldn’t rattle her, he had it, because as he walked closer, she didn’t move, just kept snapping away. He stopped a couple of yards away.

“Hello, Amy.”

She stopped and glanced up. “Hello, Kendall.” Then she picked up a folded screen and extended it. “Would you mind holding this in front of the sun so I can get a few more shots?”

Her voice was the same, but her accent had changed—her pronunciation was more precise and more…Northern. He stepped forward and took the screen, feeling thoroughly dismissed. He fumbled with it, but finally opened it and held it up.

“A little to the left, please.”

He obeyed, flashing back to earlier when Rachel had been giving him similar directions.

“More to the left…and higher.”

Kendall poked his tongue into his cheek. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

She lifted her head, but was looking at the future bridge site, not at him. “What do you mean?”