prerogative,
a small voice reminded her. “This trip didn’t cost me anything. I had fun, and I loved being up close and personal with the elk calves. As for the bathhouses … thanks for offering, but I finished them yesterday.”
“I see. Then you’re totally ready to open Memorial Day weekend.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish.” There was still an enormous amount of work to do.
“That’s what I thought. I saw a case of cedar stain near a stack of cartons when I was in your store the other day. I assume the stain’s for the picnic tables at the campsites.”
“It is. The tables get a fresh coat every season. It’s time consuming, but it’s a lot cheaper than replacing them.”
“Then I’ll see you after I write my report and take care of a couple of things. Okay?”
With all the work ahead of her, and her summer help not showing up for two weeks, it would be lunacy to refuse. But since Tuesday night, she’d felt as though she were walking an emotional tightrope. Worse, she didn’t know if the tension was her own doing or his. She glanced at her wristwatch: twelve-forty. “You’re sure you don’t have work of your own to do?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then I accept.” She opened her car door. “I have to run a few errands in town and pick up some things for the store. But I should be back by four.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
Rachel watched him walk to the green truck with the PA Game Commission logo on the side, unable to look away from his broad shoulders and loose, confident gait. Then she slipped inside her Explorer, started the engine and drove off, wishing she could see inside his head. Wishing he’d tell her what he was thinking and feeling. Jake Campbell was the most guarded man she’d ever known.
He was also the most intriguing.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Rachel said an hour later as she followed Jenna Harper outside to the B & B’s wide wraparound porch. She’d missed her sounding board and best friend. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” Jenna replied with a smile. “It was great to spend time with my mom, but she’s a busy bee, and any more than a week with me would’ve had her climbing the walls. She’s used to being out and about.”
“Which you can’t do.”
Jenna sent her an uneasy look. “Not in Michigan.”
Not here in Charity either. Most people had something in their past they wish they could change—baggage they couldn’t unload. But her beautiful friend’s was as bad as it got without costing a life.
Jenna set a tray holding frosted glasses of lemonade and a small basket of tiny orange muffins on the glass-topped white-wicker table, then crossed to the porch’s edge to lower a sun-shading white vinyl blind. “But even if I’d felt comfortable running to the malls or whatever with my mom, I had to get back.” She joined Rachel on the wicker sofa. “With tourist season on the way, it’s going to get busy around here. But I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
“Around here” was Jenna’s Blackberry Hill Bed and Breakfast, a lovely pink-and-white Victorian inn with loads of white gingerbread surrounded by rhododendrons and azaleas that were just beginning to bloom. Although she, Jenna and Margo McBride Blackburn had been best friends all through high school, they’d lost touch after Jenna and her mother moved to Michigan. Jenna had returned to Charity a little over two years ago to buy and manage her great-aunt Molly Jennings’s B & B, but it wasn’t by choice. She didn’t talk about the jealous ex-suitor who’d stabbed her. But Jenna believed he was still out there somewhere, eluding the police and waiting for an opportunity to finish what he’d started. Jenna was running.
“I imagine reservations are pouring into the campground, too. Are you ready?”
Rachel took a sip of lemonade. “I’m getting there. I have vendors to call, supplies to shelve and some staining to do—and the game room could use a
a small voice reminded her. “This trip didn’t cost me anything. I had fun, and I loved being up close and personal with the elk calves. As for the bathhouses … thanks for offering, but I finished them yesterday.”
“I see. Then you’re totally ready to open Memorial Day weekend.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish.” There was still an enormous amount of work to do.
“That’s what I thought. I saw a case of cedar stain near a stack of cartons when I was in your store the other day. I assume the stain’s for the picnic tables at the campsites.”
“It is. The tables get a fresh coat every season. It’s time consuming, but it’s a lot cheaper than replacing them.”
“Then I’ll see you after I write my report and take care of a couple of things. Okay?”
With all the work ahead of her, and her summer help not showing up for two weeks, it would be lunacy to refuse. But since Tuesday night, she’d felt as though she were walking an emotional tightrope. Worse, she didn’t know if the tension was her own doing or his. She glanced at her wristwatch: twelve-forty. “You’re sure you don’t have work of your own to do?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, then I accept.” She opened her car door. “I have to run a few errands in town and pick up some things for the store. But I should be back by four.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
Rachel watched him walk to the green truck with the PA Game Commission logo on the side, unable to look away from his broad shoulders and loose, confident gait. Then she slipped inside her Explorer, started the engine and drove off, wishing she could see inside his head. Wishing he’d tell her what he was thinking and feeling. Jake Campbell was the most guarded man she’d ever known.
He was also the most intriguing.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Rachel said an hour later as she followed Jenna Harper outside to the B & B’s wide wraparound porch. She’d missed her sounding board and best friend. “Did you have fun?”
“I did,” Jenna replied with a smile. “It was great to spend time with my mom, but she’s a busy bee, and any more than a week with me would’ve had her climbing the walls. She’s used to being out and about.”
“Which you can’t do.”
Jenna sent her an uneasy look. “Not in Michigan.”
Not here in Charity either. Most people had something in their past they wish they could change—baggage they couldn’t unload. But her beautiful friend’s was as bad as it got without costing a life.
Jenna set a tray holding frosted glasses of lemonade and a small basket of tiny orange muffins on the glass-topped white-wicker table, then crossed to the porch’s edge to lower a sun-shading white vinyl blind. “But even if I’d felt comfortable running to the malls or whatever with my mom, I had to get back.” She joined Rachel on the wicker sofa. “With tourist season on the way, it’s going to get busy around here. But I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”
“Around here” was Jenna’s Blackberry Hill Bed and Breakfast, a lovely pink-and-white Victorian inn with loads of white gingerbread surrounded by rhododendrons and azaleas that were just beginning to bloom. Although she, Jenna and Margo McBride Blackburn had been best friends all through high school, they’d lost touch after Jenna and her mother moved to Michigan. Jenna had returned to Charity a little over two years ago to buy and manage her great-aunt Molly Jennings’s B & B, but it wasn’t by choice. She didn’t talk about the jealous ex-suitor who’d stabbed her. But Jenna believed he was still out there somewhere, eluding the police and waiting for an opportunity to finish what he’d started. Jenna was running.
“I imagine reservations are pouring into the campground, too. Are you ready?”
Rachel took a sip of lemonade. “I’m getting there. I have vendors to call, supplies to shelve and some staining to do—and the game room could use a
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