His Hometown Girl

“Stop being so difficult. In my book, you’re a good credit risk. Besides, you’ve got a business to run. You need your car.”

“I do.” Trying not to give in to her troubles, she took a breath and let the wooden rail take the weight of her head. Too late—her neck muscles had coiled into one hard aching mass.

Gathering her hair in her free hand, she held it up in a loose ponytail so the winds could caress a warm current across her knotted muscles.

His work boots tapped behind her. “A little tense?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Let me see what I can do about that.”

She felt a swish of air over her exposed skin and then his warm fingers settled on her neck. She stiffened at his touch, but the heat of his palm felt like heaven.

A sigh escaped her as his big, callused hands caressed and soothed the pain from her muscles. Her tension melted with every glide of his fingers over the back of her neck.

Too soon he stepped away, leaving her breathless. His touch was like nothing she’d known before—electrical and enlivening and comforting all at once.

She was grateful for the dark. She didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, how would she say it?

As if he were flustered, too, Zach walked away without saying a word.

The thick blanket of clouds broke apart overhead, and thin, silvery moonlight brushed the ground where Zach walked. A verse from Matthew came to her as soft as the breeze. “…and He will give you all you need from day to day.”

There was no doubt about it. She was blessed with Zach for a friend.

She stepped into the swatch of moonlight and began jogging to catch up with him. “Hey, where do you think you’re running off to? Did you get supper?”

“No. I was in the middle of chiseling frozen hot dogs out of my freezer when you called.”

“Chiseling? Unbelievable. I’ve heard bachelor stories before, but I didn’t think they were true. Even my father can cook well enough to make an omelet in a pinch.”

“I’ve been busy. I didn’t have time to get to the grocery store.”

“Sure, a likely story.” She met him halfway across the yard. “Zachary Drake, you’re pathetic, but I can’t in good conscience let you starve.”

“Pathetic? C’mon, give me a break, I’m not that bad. Usually.”

“Sure, like I believe you.” She led the way up the brick steps and onto the porch. “A man who thinks crusted-over hot dogs is a worthy meal is a danger to himself.”

“Does this mean I’m in luck and you’re going to feed me?”

“Somebody’s got to.”

He laughed, a rich, wonderful sound that warmed her all the way to her soul.

Chapter Four

The microwave beeped and Zach watched Karen pop open the little door. The light inside snapped on to reveal the sight of a steaming cheesy casserole. It made his mouth water.

“That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day.”

Karen smiled breezily. “If you’re really nice to me, I’ll give you the recipe. If you can fix a car, you can learn to make this.”

“That’s a bet I’m not willing to take. If I could cook as good as I can build a transmission, my stomach wouldn’t be growling. I haven’t had a decent meal since my little sister left for college.”

Karen set the plate on the kitchen table. “What have you been eating for the last year?”

“They have these boxes in the freezer part of the grocery store. I buy ’em, take ’em home, and when I’m hungry, put one in the oven. They’re called frozen dinners.”

“Shocking.” Teasing glints lit her eyes and chased away the worry lines across her brow. She tugged flatware from a nearby drawer and set a knife and fork on the table. “Sit. Eat. It’s a wonder you haven’t spontaneously combusted with all the chemicals you’ve been ingesting.”

“It’s not that bad. They’ve got these healthy frozen meals that taste pretty good. But nothing like your grandmother’s cooking.”

“I won’t argue with you about that.” Karen set two soda cans on the table. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll dish up a nice bowl of salad.”

“You’re going to torment me with vegetables?”

“Even a man as handsome as you needs his antioxidants.”

“Antiwhats? That sounds suspicious. Let me guess. It has something to do with broccoli.”

She peered around the edge of the refrigerator door. “What’s wrong with broccoli?”

“It tastes like cellophane, for one thing. As a general rule, I never eat anything green.”

“It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far, Zachary Drake. A tough guy like you needs his vitamins.” She shook her head, golden locks shimmering as she shut the door. “I’ve got a bowl of carrot sticks. Do me a favor and eat a few. Hey, don’t look at me like that. They’re orange, not green.”

“Orange is a good color. Lots of junk food is orange.”

She rewarded him with another smile, one that chased away all the shadows from her eyes and the strain from her face. A smile that made her look like the Karen he remembered. Happy and wholesome, with the kind of beauty that settled in a man’s heart and never faded.

Those are dangerous thoughts, Zach. He tried not to notice the way his skin felt prickly when she sat down beside him.

He bowed his head in a quick prayer and reached for his fork.

Delicious spices and creamy cheese melted across his tongue. “This is great. I’m so grateful, I’m liable to give you the engine you need for free.”

“Don’t you dare, although Gramma will appreciate the compliment.” Karen popped the top of the cola can and sipped.

No ring sparkled on her finger. He couldn’t forget what she’d told him. That she wasn’t going to marry Jay. Ever.

Hope was a bright blessing as the night darkened and he could see his reflection in the white-paned glass of the kitchen’s bay window. And of the woman sitting next to him, her bouncy hair sparkling like pure gold, her presence as sweet as the cut roses scenting the air.

This was definitely something he could get used to. Forget coming home to an empty apartment and eating alone in front of the TV.

A door opened behind him and the hot, evening wind whipped across the back of his neck as Karen’s mother and grandmother entered the kitchen.

“Mom.” Karen bolted out of her chair and circled around the table, her arms extended.