Mia Ross - Finding His Way Home

A slow grin edged across his face, and he cocked his head in a challenging pose. “You didn’t answer my question. Does that mean you’re thinking about staying in Barrett’s Mill awhile longer?”

“No,” she answered reflexively. When he lifted an eyebrow, she had to admit he’d nailed her on this one. She’d been in this particular town longer than any of the others she’d visited, and her mind recognized it was time to move on. The trouble was, the people in Barrett’s Mill had embraced her, making her feel welcome even though they obviously thought she was a nutty artist. “Okay, maybe I am, but only to finish the window for the chapel. It belongs there, and I’ll make sure it’s sound before I give it back to you.”

“And then?”

“I’m not sure,” she confided with a shrug. “I’ve got space reserved in a few art fairs, but none of that’s set in stone. I usually just start driving and pick a place that looks good.”

“Must be nice. I’m stuck here till my parole officer says it’s okay for me to leave.”

His envious tone told her the years he’d spent away from his Blue Ridge hometown were no accident. “Do you have somewhere else you want to be?”

“Anywhere but here. Ironic, huh?” he added with more than a touch of bitterness. “You want to stay, but you’re leaving. I’d like nothing more than to leave, but I’m staying.”

The upshot was they were both staying, at least for the near future. Of course, her ultimate decision had nothing whatsoever to do with Scott being here. The fact that they seemed to be developing some kind of friendship would only make it easier for her to work with him to finish her last job before leaving town.

So, in her usual upbeat way, she did her best to lift his spirits. “Life’s funny that way, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he muttered in disgust. “Tell me about it.”

* * *

“So tell me something,” Jenna began in the curious tone he’d quickly learned to be wary of. “Does anyone ever say no to your mother?”

He made a show of thinking that over, squinting up at the beams in the ceiling. Focusing back on her, he grinned and shook his head. “Nope.”

“I wonder what her secret is.”

Stepping closer, he leaned in and murmured, “We’re all afraid of her.”

Jenna laughed at that, and it struck him that she was one of the most cheerful people he’d ever met. With a ready smile and a dry sense of humor that mirrored his own, she was sweet and fun, with a heart open enough to care about a sad teenage girl and an ex-con who’d given up on having the kind of life he wanted more than anything.

Something deep inside him that had been dead a long time began rustling, as if it was waking from a long sleep to discover the sun was shining. Much to his dismay, a single morning with Jenna Reed had him rethinking his vow to be content with his own company.

Knowing how dangerous such sentimental thoughts could be, he firmly pushed them back down where they belonged. She was leaving town in a few weeks, and after that, chances were he’d never see her again.

Considering his disastrous track record with women, knowing they’d remain friends should have eased his worries. Instead, it made him wish things could be different.

“Ready to go?” Hoping to conceal his conflicting emotions from her, he leaned down to pick up the quilts.

“In a sec.” Leaving him by the door, she scampered up the open-backed steps that led up to the loft and came down with a glass dish. “Olivia sent some leftovers back with me after one of your family’s Sunday dinners a couple weeks ago. Her house is on the way out to the cemetery. Would you mind stopping there real quick so I can return this?”

Scott recognized a setup when he heard one, and he gave her a long, hard stare. Most people backed up a step or two when he did that, but this woman didn’t even flinch. She took it in stride, patiently waiting for him to answer her. He’d already told her more than he should have about himself, but he couldn’t seem to help going a step further. “It’s not that I don’t want to see her.”

“This isn’t about you seeing her,” Jenna informed him as if she had no clue what he was referring to. “It’s about me returning a dish. You don’t even have to get out of the truck if you don’t want to.”

“That’d look stupid, and you know it.”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, folks have plenty going on in their own lives without worrying about what you’re up to,” she retorted primly. “If you’d rather she doesn’t know you’re there, I won’t mention it. Go inside or don’t. Totally up to you.”

With that, she sailed past him and out the door to his truck.

“Do you always leave your door open like this?” he shouted.

“Just pull it shut. It’ll lock behind you.”

Outmaneuvered for now, he followed along and joined her in the cab of the ancient pickup. Mentally crossing his fingers, he turned the key and was relieved when the engine turned over with only a mild protest. As it settled into a throaty rumble, he pulled out onto the highway and headed for town.

Heading up Main Street, he was treated to the full-color version of Gretchen’s sketch and couldn’t help smiling. He hadn’t experienced spring in the Blue Ridge Mountains in a long time, and he had to admit it was even prettier than he remembered. A warm breeze wafted through the open windows, scented with a combination of various flowers and the barbecue cookers out back of The Whistlestop.

Originally built from an old trolley and section of track, the town’s landmark diner now boasted a modest-size dining room that served up some of the best food anywhere. He’d visited lots of places and eaten in dozens of restaurants, but for him Molly and Bruce Harkness’s down-home cooking still ranked at the top.

“I love that restaurant,” Jenna said, taking a long sniff of the air. “Not only can those two cook up a storm, they were my first customers when I came into town. Beyond that, Molly’s the best PR I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, she knows everyone hereabouts,” Scott agreed, recalling his grandmother’s old friend with a grin. “If she likes you, you’re golden.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

He gave a mock shudder. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”

On the other side of the tiny business district, he took a right into his grandparents’ driveway. Well, Gram’s driveway now, he amended soberly. Granddad’s beloved blue sedan sat in its usual spot, its cover of dust showing it hadn’t been moved recently. Parking beside it, Scott said, “Someone should take that old clunker out and make sure it’ll run if she needs to use it.”

“Good idea,” Jenna agreed lightly as she reached for the handle. “I won’t be long.”

“Don’t be a goose. I’m going with you.” When he climbed out and walked around to open the passenger door for her, he found her smiling at him. “What?”

“You’re going to make her day, you know.”

“Or ruin it,” he parried, suddenly uncertain about his decision to tag along. Glancing at the old farmhouse, he still could remember racing around the yard with his cousins and climbing the tall oaks that shaded the front porch. With a collection of white wicker furniture and hanging pots of bright flowers, it invited you to come up and sit for a while.

Welcoming, he thought with a frown. The trouble was, he’d been gone so long he wasn’t sure he belonged here anymore. While he debated with himself, the front screen door creaked open, and his grandmother stepped onto the porch. She gave him a long look, and he fought the urge to squirm the way he had when he’d been a little boy caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.