guard drop. How deeply he felt couldn’t be denied by anyone who knew what he’d given up for the sake of his family. The new understanding pinpointed the mysterious pull she’d felt to him.
“You think no one notices,” Ruth said, “but a few of us have.”
It unsettled her that Ruth had seen through her. The right response didn’t come easily, so she concentrated on the rock work and said nothing.
Ruth filled the silence. “You’re a traditionalist, Carmen. That’s obvious from this design. You’ve studied our history while trying to find your part in it.”
“Why can’t I just like Whispering Cove enough to want to know about it?”
“You can, but you’re a more complex woman than that. You were lucky in that you found a steady foster home, but that family never became yours and you weren’t allowed to know your own history. Naturally, now that you’ve found a place to plant some roots, you want them to have a deeper meaning.”
Ruth knew more about her than Carmen would have thought. While it was a little annoying, it was also part of Whispering Cove’s charm. If people took the time to learn her secrets it meant they cared. Of course, by that logic, that she was asking questions about Ryan meant she cared for him. How much though? And why?
What was it about the man that made her want to be with him even when he was pissing her off?
“Well,” Ruth said, placing another bundle of rocks in Carmen’s hand. “It’s my afternoon to spoil my grandbaby. I really love what you’re doing here. You should be proud. And don’t give Ryan too hard a time. He’s one of the good guys.”
Ruth walked away, leaving Carmen to work and think back on all the messages Ryan had left on her voicemail. Wanting time alone with her thoughts, she pulled the iPod and earbuds from her pocket. With her country music cued up, she arranged and rearranged rocks until they took the shape of faces.
Dolly Parton came on, demanding to know why he had to look so good. Carmen bopped in time with the music, singing loud and no doubt off key and not caring in the least.
Dolly faded away, leaving room for Faith Hill to move in with “This Kiss”. The emotion she put into the lyrics about a man’s kiss resonated with Carmen. Ryan had made her feel that free with his kisses. Free enough that when Shania Twain kicked off “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” Carmen had never connected more with a song.
She was body dancing while working with rocks. The sun beat warm on her shoulders and cheeks. It was the first time she could remember that she felt completely safe to be herself and not worry about other people. In the seclusion of the town square, uncaring who might hear, she rocked out.
Better than anything else, she wasn’t relying on Aimee or Kendall to fill the spare moments of her life. By the time the next song came on, Carmen was doing more body dancing and head bopping and off-key singing than she was rock work.
Pushing to her feet, with her eyes closed, she held the iPod in one hand and waved the other in the air over her head. Maybe it was the strong women singing about the men who’d inspired them or the things they’d felt or wanted to feel in their life. Carmen was inspired by an inner peace she’d been missing since Aimee left town.
She kicked off her shoes and with the soft grass tickling her feet she moved with the beat as she went to get another round rock to make the second face. Her feet were moving so fast, she opened her eyes, but not soon enough. She moved too close to the pile of rock bags and before she could correct herself, her heel hit a bag. Falling backward, her iPod flew from her hand and jerked the earbuds out of her ears. Her ankle twisted and her hands, practically of their own accord, moved back to catch her.
Suddenly, strong arms came around her from behind and stopped her descent. Her shoulders and head rested against a lean, hard chest. Electricity sparked along her spine. Her insides
“You think no one notices,” Ruth said, “but a few of us have.”
It unsettled her that Ruth had seen through her. The right response didn’t come easily, so she concentrated on the rock work and said nothing.
Ruth filled the silence. “You’re a traditionalist, Carmen. That’s obvious from this design. You’ve studied our history while trying to find your part in it.”
“Why can’t I just like Whispering Cove enough to want to know about it?”
“You can, but you’re a more complex woman than that. You were lucky in that you found a steady foster home, but that family never became yours and you weren’t allowed to know your own history. Naturally, now that you’ve found a place to plant some roots, you want them to have a deeper meaning.”
Ruth knew more about her than Carmen would have thought. While it was a little annoying, it was also part of Whispering Cove’s charm. If people took the time to learn her secrets it meant they cared. Of course, by that logic, that she was asking questions about Ryan meant she cared for him. How much though? And why?
What was it about the man that made her want to be with him even when he was pissing her off?
“Well,” Ruth said, placing another bundle of rocks in Carmen’s hand. “It’s my afternoon to spoil my grandbaby. I really love what you’re doing here. You should be proud. And don’t give Ryan too hard a time. He’s one of the good guys.”
Ruth walked away, leaving Carmen to work and think back on all the messages Ryan had left on her voicemail. Wanting time alone with her thoughts, she pulled the iPod and earbuds from her pocket. With her country music cued up, she arranged and rearranged rocks until they took the shape of faces.
Dolly Parton came on, demanding to know why he had to look so good. Carmen bopped in time with the music, singing loud and no doubt off key and not caring in the least.
Dolly faded away, leaving room for Faith Hill to move in with “This Kiss”. The emotion she put into the lyrics about a man’s kiss resonated with Carmen. Ryan had made her feel that free with his kisses. Free enough that when Shania Twain kicked off “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” Carmen had never connected more with a song.
She was body dancing while working with rocks. The sun beat warm on her shoulders and cheeks. It was the first time she could remember that she felt completely safe to be herself and not worry about other people. In the seclusion of the town square, uncaring who might hear, she rocked out.
Better than anything else, she wasn’t relying on Aimee or Kendall to fill the spare moments of her life. By the time the next song came on, Carmen was doing more body dancing and head bopping and off-key singing than she was rock work.
Pushing to her feet, with her eyes closed, she held the iPod in one hand and waved the other in the air over her head. Maybe it was the strong women singing about the men who’d inspired them or the things they’d felt or wanted to feel in their life. Carmen was inspired by an inner peace she’d been missing since Aimee left town.
She kicked off her shoes and with the soft grass tickling her feet she moved with the beat as she went to get another round rock to make the second face. Her feet were moving so fast, she opened her eyes, but not soon enough. She moved too close to the pile of rock bags and before she could correct herself, her heel hit a bag. Falling backward, her iPod flew from her hand and jerked the earbuds out of her ears. Her ankle twisted and her hands, practically of their own accord, moved back to catch her.
Suddenly, strong arms came around her from behind and stopped her descent. Her shoulders and head rested against a lean, hard chest. Electricity sparked along her spine. Her insides
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