Almost Heaven by Jillian Hart

tones had vanished from her alto voice, and she sounded friendly enough.
    Cameron took that as an excellent sign. “I’ll be there. I sure appreciate this, Kendra.”
    â€œNo problem. Take care.”
    â€œYou, too.”
    He hung up the phone, the silence of his small kitchen echoing around him. It had been a long time since he’d let hope into his heart.
    How good it felt.

Chapter Four
    K endra sliced open the fifty-pound grain sack with her grandfather’s Swiss Army knife, folded the blade away and tucked it safely into her jeans pocket. Sweat gathered along her forehead and trickled into her eyes.
    She blinked against the sting, swiped her forehead with the back of her forearm and hefted the awkward sack onto her shoulder.
    Was she thinking about her next riding class? Worrying about Willow’s overdue foal? Hoping no riders took off on the out-of-bounds trail and ran into a hungry wolf or mountain lion?
    No, of course not. What was she thinking about?
    Cameron. Ever since she took an early lunch break and remembered he’d be showing up in a few hours.
    Ever since she had checked her watch every few minutes, as if she was worried about missing him.
    How crazy was that? Cameron was a grown man.He was perfectly capable of finding her. It wasn’t as if she were hiding in the woods. She was in plain sight from the paddocks. Since it was a busy Saturday with tons of people around, he’d have plenty of people to ask where to find her. That is, if he even showed up.
    Stop worrying about him. She braced her feet, bent her knees and tipped the gunnysack forward. The ping and rush of falling grain sliding into the fifty-gallon drum echoed in the feed room, providing a welcome distraction. The sweet-scented dust sprinkled everywhere.
    Was it one o’clock yet? Or a few minutes after? And what was with her that she kept wondering about him? It was what Gramma had said about him. It had touched her heart and taken root. He’s starting to live his life again. It takes time getting over that kind of grief.
    Sympathy welled up within her. He’d lost a wife to cancer, when they’d both been so young. It reminded her that tragedy happened to everyone, even the faithful. As much as she’d been hurt, other people had lost more. Been hurt worse.
    She patted the last of the grain from the sack, grabbed the end corners and shook. Stragglers tumbled into the dusty heap and she coughed, breathing in the molasses-flavored dust.
    She saw his polished black boots first at the edge of her vision as he hesitated just inside the doorway. His boots were unfamiliar to her, black and expensive but not tooled, and not a traditional riding boot.
    That must be the reason she knew it was Cameron before she swept her gaze up the rock-solid length of his jeans, ignoring the holstered gun and pager at his belt, along the flat hard ridge of his abdomen and chest to the stony square of his jaw.
    He wore a gray T-shirt, and reflective wraparound sunglasses hid his eyes. “You are one hard woman to find.”
    â€œI’m not hiding. Just working. There were plenty of people to ask where I was. Didn’t anyone help you?”
    â€œDidn’t ask.”
    Ah, typical man. She should have known. Real men never ask for directions. No wonder she’d been worried about him finding her. She must have a sense about him, and how weird was that?
    She tossed the empty gunnysack onto the pile in the corner.
    â€œI’m glad to see you were brave enough to come.”
    â€œI’m no coward. Why, did you think I was?”
    A coward? No one in their right mind would think that. Anyone who looked at him would think he was the bravest man ever. He emanated strength and heart. “A lot of folks call, but once they get out here and see how big horses are up close and personal, they miraculously change their minds.”
    â€œI may be a lot of things, but I’m no coward and I’m dumb enough