Making His Way Home. Kathryn SpringerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Cole saw on her face now.
Well, he was feeling a little shell-shocked, too, by this unexpected blast from the past.
Grace Eversea. The last person Cole had expected to see.
He automatically took a step toward her.
Grace took another step back.
Cole frowned. He hadn’t changed that much over the years. A few crow’s feet fanning out from his eyes—ones he held Bettina and Travis and Sean, his twin brothers, directly responsible for—but other than that...no tattoos. No piercings. The reflection in the mirror remained pretty much the same.
“It’s me.” He yanked off his cap. “Cole.”
“I know.”
I know?
Those two words might have made Cole feel a little better. If Grace hadn’t tossed a quick look over her shoulder like she was searching for an escape route.
“It’s...been a long time.” Because there’s nothing like stating the obvious, is there, buddy?
“Yes, it has.” Grace finally smiled, but it wasn’t the one Cole remembered. The one that had made him feel like he could conquer the world. This one was distant. Polite. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
It sounded almost like an accusation.
“Kate wrote to me,” Cole explained. “About Mirror Lake’s birthday celebration.”
And if everything went the way he hoped, in twenty-four hours he would be celebrating something else. Phase two of the expansion project for Painted Skies, his private air charter service.
“She mentioned that. Today.” Grace sighed. And glanced over her shoulder again.
Cole took advantage of the momentary silence to study her. At seventeen, Grace had cared more about books than shoes. Other girls their age knew how to flirt; Grace knew how to listen. She’d taught him how to skip rocks and hunt for literary symbolism buried in obscure passages of Shakespeare. A failing grade following his father’s death had sentenced Cole to six weeks of summer school, and Grace had saved him from a D in English Lit.
Who was he kidding?
She’d saved him from a lot of things.
Cole had never known anyone quite like her.
But if the wary expression on Grace’s face was anything to go by, she didn’t feel the same way. The conversation was beginning to feel like an awkward blind date instead of an unexpected reunion between two people who had once been friends.
Close friends.
In fact...Grace happened to be standing in the exact spot where Cole had kissed her for the first time. Right underneath that silver birch...
He heard her quick intake of breath and yanked his wayward thoughts back in line.
Grace pivoted away from him. “It was...nice...to see you again, but I have to get back.”
“Hold on.” The words slipped out before Cole could stop them. “I’ll walk with you.”
He hopped down from the rock and caught up to Grace as she reached the clearing. Her figure was still as slender as the reeds that hemmed the shoreline, but faded Levi’s hugged curves that hadn’t been there in high school.
They fell into step together, but Grace kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. The mane of glossy, sable brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of Grace’s neck, giving Cole an unobstructed view of her delicate profile.
Her steps quickened as the house came into view, as if she couldn’t wait to be on her way.
Cole, on the other hand, suddenly wanted to know more about her.
“Would you like to come inside for a few minutes?”
Grace looked shocked by the impulsive invitation, and Cole mentally smacked himself upside the head. Grace wasn’t the teenaged girl who’d turned his world upside down—and his heart inside out.
Not to mention there was probably someone who would be tempted to punch his lights out for asking.
“I can’t. I have to get B.C. home,” she murmured. “She gets cranky if she doesn’t get her oats at a certain time.”
For the first time, Cole noticed the enormous draft horse hitched to an old-fashioned buckboard.
The mare’s head swung around, and she whinnied a greeting.
Cole grinned.
At least someone looked happy to see him.
Chapter Two
Grace had no choice but to follow as Cole strode over to the wagon.
“Hey, Buttercup,” he crooned, knuckling the mare’s wide velvety nose.
B.C.’s ears twitched in response to the husky rumble of Cole’s voice and Grace’s heart responded with a traitorous twitch of its own.
“I can’t believe you remember her name,” she muttered.
“It’s pretty hard to forget a two-thousand-pound horse named Buttercup.”
But apparently, Grace thought, it wasn’t hard to forget other things. Like plans. And promises.
She fumbled with a strap on the mare’s harness in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the man whose presence had tipped her world off its axis.
For the first time, she noticed a black midsize SUV parked on the other side of the house. If she hadn’t been so distracted by her thoughts, she would have realized someone else was on the property.
But what was Cole doing in Mirror Lake?
Grace had never considered the possibility that Kate’s letter would not only gain permission for her to lead tours of the Merrick property, but also result in a visit from the owner of the property himself.
But here he was, standing less than three feet away from her. It felt almost surreal.
After Cole had left town without a word, Grace had played dozens of different scenarios in her mind, rehearsing what she would say if their paths ever crossed again.
She hadn’t realized that she would find it difficult to say anything at all. Or that Cole would be more attractive at twenty-nine than he’d been at seventeen.
His lanky teenaged frame had shot up another inch or two and filled out. He was still lean in the hips, but his shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular. The unruly strands of ink-black hair that had once brushed the top of his collar had been cropped short. Taken one by one, Cole’s features could almost have been described as ordinary. Deep-set green eyes. Strong cheekbones. Angular jaw. But added together, they packed quite a punch.
The fact that she could hardly breathe was proof.
“How many miles does she get to the gallon?” he asked.
Grace refused to respond to Cole’s teasing smile. “We thought the historical tour would be more fun if we used an authentic mode of transportation.”
“We?”
“I’m on the planning committee.”
“I didn’t realize you were one of the people who’d volunteered to help with the celebration this weekend,” Cole said slowly.
“I’m the only one with a horse and wagon.” Grace untied the reins, a not-so-subtle hint she was ready to leave. “B.C. only comes out of retirement for special occasions now, though, like the Fourth of July parade and Reflection Days in September. The kids love her.”
“So you’ll be leading the tours?” Cole seemed as determined to continue their conversation as she was to end it.
“A