by Jennie Marts
“Good luck with that. Her car was totaled in the accident.”
“Oh, no. I was in such a rush when she called me this morning that I don’t really even know what happened.”
“Spring thunderstorm and wet roads are what happened. She was a mile south of town when she must have hydroplaned and lost control of the car. Tire tracks show her skidding off the shoulder and into the ditch.”
She brought her free hand up to cover her mouth. “Poor Gram. She must have been so scared.”
“Lucky for her that Taurus was a beast and took the brunt of the crash, or she could have been hurt much worse.”
Mack nodded toward her suitcase. “Why don’t I carry that up to the house, and then we can head to the hospital?”
She held the handle out. “This broke off. But I can get it.” She leaned down and tried to lift the suitcase by the sides. Dang. It was too heavy. She blew up her bangs and got behind the bag to push it forward.
Mack shook his head as he stuffed the broken handle in his pocket. “I got this. You want your backpack inside, too?” He put the backpack on his shoulder, then easily lifted the suitcase in his arms as if it weighed nothing. “If you’re ready, you can head over to my truck. I’ll put this stuff inside and meet you there in a minute.” He nodded to the blue pickup sitting in the shade by the blacksmith barn.
The sight of the truck brought a swirl of memories spinning through her stomach. “Isn’t that your grandpa’s truck? The one you taught me to drive in?”
“Same one. But it’s mine now. Can’t you tell? I added a new sticker.”
The truck had always had an American flag sticker in the back windshield and a Support Our Troops bumper sticker. Jocelyn squinted at the bumper and could barely make out the decal in the shape of an anvil and a hammer. “Yeah, you really went crazy. It looks totally different now.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re still driving it. Or that it still runs.”
He shrugged. “Not everything has to be new and different. Some things are made to last. Especially if they are built strong to begin with. And if you take good care of them.” He kept his gaze on hers for just a beat too long.
She wondered if his words held more than one meaning. But then his gaze shifted to over her shoulder as he gestured to the truck. “Hope you don’t mind dogs. Mine is already waiting in the pickup. His name is Savage, and I’d approach him carefully. He’s quite a beast.”
A beast? She started toward the truck, bracing herself for the growling teeth of a pit bull or a snarling Rottweiler.
Could her day get any better? Her phone was dead and her suitcase had broken, landing her in the arms of the one person she’d hoped to avoid during this quick trip home. And now she was going to get mauled by a mangy mutt.
Welcome home to Harmony Creek. The place she’d had her heart broken.
Chapter Two
Jocelyn’s pulse raced as she prepared herself to face down the beastly brute. She gripped the strap of her purse, steeling herself as she peered through the window.
A laugh bubbled out of her throat as the sinister creature turned his head and gazed back at her—through the saddest, sweetest big brown basset hound eyes she’d ever seen. She opened the truck door, and the dog lifted his head. His large tongue flopped out of his mouth and reached to lick her hand.
“Oh you are scary, aren’t you?” she cooed, letting him sniff the back of her hand before she scratched his wrinkly neck. Apparently Mack still had his witty sense of humor, because the frightening beast he’d warned her about had five-inch legs, and if he were any calmer, he’d be asleep.
“All right, cutie,” she told him, giving his side a gentle nudge. “Scootch over so I can get in here.”
The dog dropped his head to the seat and wouldn’t budge.
By the time Mack walked over, she’d worked up a sweat as she cooed and cajoled and flat-out pleaded, but the dog hadn’t moved an inch. “He won’t scoot over,” she told him.
Mack awarded her efforts with an amused glance. “Oh yeah, I’m all too familiar with that game. So if you want to make it to the hospital before midnight, you’d better just get in on my side.”
She gulped. “And ride in the middle?” With her leg and shoulder pressed against Mack’s? The sweat on her back from trying to move the dog just inched farther up her spine.
Mack shrugged. “I can give you another ten minutes to try to convince him to move, but I’ve argued with that dog before. And have rarely come out the victor. He’s even more stubborn than me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s hard to believe. I remember you once ate an entire earthworm just because someone said they didn’t believe you could.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what I mean.”
She glanced from the dog back to Mack. Savage let out a long groan as he melted deeper into the seat. It didn’t look like she was going to win this battle. “Fine. I’ll sit in the middle.” She followed Mack around to his side of the truck. As he opened the door for her, she was all too aware of him as she slid past his body and into the cab. Her heart pounded as she scooted across the seat and up against the dog’s squat frame.
Savage lifted his head and rested it on her leg, looking up at her with soulful brown eyes. “Don’t try to butter me up now.” She pressed her lips together and glared down at him—for all of three and a half seconds—which is about how long it took those sad puppy dog eyes to win her over and have her reaching out to scratch his neck.
He rolled to his side in doggy bliss, then sprawled his head upside down on her lap, one floppy ear covering the end of his nose. His long pink tongue drooped out the side of his mouth as he gazed adoringly up at her.
“Come on Savage. Have some dignity,” Mack told him. “You could at least try to play hard to get.” Mack shook his head in mock disgust, but a grin played at the corner of his lips as he started the truck.
She smiled with him, but as they drove, his words rankled her a little. Is that what Mack had been doing their senior year when he’d ignored her efforts to communicate with him? Had her leaving triggered something in him that brought up memories of his mom abandoning him when he was younger? Had she opened old wounds that made him decide to play hard to get, or some other kind of game to make her prove how much she cared about him?
If he was, he’d definitely won that round, but he’d taken the game a little too far when he’d gotten married.
It was a long time ago, she reminded herself. They’d been kids. Their plans to get married and someday take over the ranch had been the daydreams of love-struck teenagers. And besides, she was the one who’d moved away. She couldn’t expect him to wait for her forever. Except a small part of her had expected exactly that—because she hadn’t just been a love-struck teenage girl. She’d really loved him.
Too late now. They’d both obviously moved on. She swallowed back the hurt and kept her focus on the dog. “I never pictured you as a basset hound kind of guy.”
He huffed. “Me either. Although it’s not exactly like I chose him. I just made the unfortunate mistake of petting him and being nice to him one day.”
“And what? He followed you home?”
“Not exactly. He belonged to a couple of out-of-state tourists who had stopped to sightsee at the ranch. I was walking through the parking lot and saw him sitting by their car. I felt sorry for him and brought him a dish of water and gave him a little attention. Next thing I know, the tourists took off, leaving the dog, half a bag of food, and a note that claimed they were bored with his droopy demeanor. They said I took better care of him than they ever had.”
Jocelyn put her hand to her mouth. “You mean they just abandoned their dog? To some stranger in a parking lot?”
“Yep.”
“So what did you do?”
He let out a soft chuckle. “I became the new owner of a boring basset hound who
has short legs, a drooling problem, and is completely averse to any kind of training.” He snuck a glance at the dog. “But he does kind of grow on you.” He reached across her lap to give the dog’s head an affectionate pet.
She nudged his shoulder, trying to ignore the battalion of butterflies that had just taken off in her belly as his arm brushed across her leg. “You always were an old softy. And it doesn’t surprise me a bit. I remember Eeyore was always your favorite.”
He shook his head as he cringed. “Oh dang—I forgot how you made me watch Winnie the Pooh like five times that one summer. Or at least I’ve tried to block it from my memory. Although I probably know half those songs by heart.”
“We watched that shoot ’em up car chase movie just as many times. And Winnie the Pooh was my favorite. You said you liked it too.”
“No, I just liked you,” he muttered, not quite under his breath.
She blinked. Had he really just said that? There was no question that he’d liked her back then—they’d been inseparable and he’d professed his love for her. So was his comment meant to be an opening to talk about their past? She couldn’t imagine he’d want to bring it up right now, just as they were pulling into a spot in the hospital parking lot.
“Molly’s gonna be so happy to see you,” Mack said, effectively changing the subject before opening his door and exiting the truck. And cutting off her opportunity to ask.
Mack held the door for Jocelyn and closed his eyes for just a second as he inhaled the scent of her—expensive perfume mixed with shampoo, something floral and feminine, different but still so familiar. Even though Molly had warned him she was coming, he couldn’t believe Jocelyn Stone was here, climbing out of his truck, his dog’s hair clinging to her fancy purse.
He’d thought about this moment for so many years, imagining what he’d say or how she would react. He hadn’t ever imagined a scenario of her stumbling into him and his being so completely dumbstruck that the opening five minutes of the first conversation they’d had in years consisted mainly of his grunting, nodding, and fielding comments about how much he’d grown. He wanted to smack his palm against his head for admitting that he’d chronicled his tallest height on their old chart in the barn.
Inhaling a deep breath, he tried to get it together as he followed Jocelyn into the hospital.
“Are you sure Savage is going to be okay in the truck?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in concern.
He nodded. “He’s more than okay. It’s one of his favorite places. Sometimes we get back to the ranch, and he’ll just hang out in the truck for another hour after we get home. Personally, I think it may have something to do with his aversion to exercise, but I could be wrong.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you saying your dog is too lazy to get out of the truck?”
“No, you’re saying that. But I’m not disagreeing with you.”
“Hmmph. That would be a first,” she quipped.
“What? We’ve been known to agree on things before. Not many.”
“Okay.” She laughed as she pointed toward him. “That we can agree on.”
Her laugh did something funny to his stomach. Even after all this time, she still made him feel like an awkward geeky teenager. And it didn’t help that she still looked as gorgeous as ever. Different, especially since he was used to seeing her in cutoff shorts and Converse sneakers, not designer jeans, high-heeled boots, and whatever she called that flowy silk top that probably cost more than his whole drawer full of T-shirts. She looked put together and like a true city girl, but he’d caught a few glimpses of the goofy girl he’d known.
She’d been adorable as a teenager: tall and gangly with long legs, long blonde hair that was usually trying to break free of her ponytail, a great smile, a big laugh, and a light spray of freckles across her nose. Her teenage cuteness had turned into a woman’s beauty. Her hair wasn’t quite as long now and had turned a darker blonde, and her freckles had lightened, barely visible, but she still had the great smile, and her laugh was bringing up memories that he’d spent the last ten years trying to forget.
Jocelyn’s easy smile fell as they approached the open door of her grandmother’s room. Molly was asleep in the bed, her arms tucked under the blankets. A purple bruise colored her cheekbone and edged around her eye.
Mack’s grandmother, Loretta Talbot, had been Molly’s best friend for most of their lives, and he’d rushed her to the hospital as soon as they’d heard about the accident, so he’d known how Molly looked, but he probably should have prepared Jocelyn.
She stopped in the doorway, one hand covering her mouth, the other gripping his arm. “Oh, gosh. She looks so small in that hospital bed,” she whispered.
Molly Stone was a small woman—barely over five feet—but her bold personality made her seem bigger.
“She’s okay,” he assured her. “Just a little banged up.”
“It’s my leg that’s broken, not my hearing,” Molly said, cracking open an eye. “And the sight of my favorite granddaughter is the best medicine I can get, so quit standing there gawking at me and get over here and give your Gram a hug.”
Jocelyn rushed to her side, then leaned over the bed and gently pulled her grandma into her arms. The moment was so tender, Mack had to look away. He might not have seen her in a long time, but he knew how much Molly had done for Jocelyn as a kid and how much her grandmother meant to her.
Mack’s grandmother had been reading in the chair on the other side of the bed. She smiled warmly as she stood and set her book aside. “I’m so glad to see you, Joss,” she said, hurrying around the end of the bed to give Jocelyn a hug. She wasn’t much bigger than Molly, and Jocelyn’s chin rested on her silver curl-covered head. “It was good of you to come. How was the flight? Are you tired out?” She leaned back to peer up at Jocelyn. “You look beautiful as ever. I love that blouse. So pretty.”
To her credit, Jocelyn took his grandmother’s mishmash of questions and comments in stride as she smiled affectionately down at her. “Of course I came. And my flight was fine, and no, I’m not tired. I grabbed a nap on the plane, which is why I’m a wrinkled mess.”
Mack didn’t think she looked wrinkled at all. Although he almost wished she did. It might’ve been easier if she’d been a hot mess instead of this stunning, stylish woman. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to remember if he’d even run a comb through it after he’d gotten out of the shower that morning.
“Thanks for bringing her over, Mack,” Molly said, reaching for his hand.
“Happy to do it.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze and smiled, then leaned against the wall next to the chair Loretta dropped back into.
“Now that everyone has hugged and hello’d, tell me about you,” Jocelyn said, turning back to Molly. “How are you feeling? Really?” She reached out and lightly touched her grandmother’s cheek below the bruise.
“I’m fine, honey. Nothing to worry about.”
“Mack said you slid off the road. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Mack’s grandmother said. “Your grandma thought she needed to take a casserole out to the Jenkins house in the middle of a spring thunderstorm.”
Molly frowned at her friend. “It was barely raining when I left the house. And I always drop off a casserole when a new baby arrives in Harmony Creek. The family would be insulted if I didn’t.”
“You don’t need to do everything and go everywhere at a hundred miles an hour all the time. Have you considered that if you hadn’t been racing around like a cat with its tail on fire, you might not have hydroplaned on the wet road and landed your car in the ditch?”
Molly tilted her head, ignoring her friend’s admonitions. “I wonder what happened to that spaghetti casserole. It’s one of my favorite recipes.”
Mack’s grandmother threw up her hands. “It’s probably splattered all over the floor of your
totaled car.”
“That’s a shame,” Molly muttered. “I spent an hour on that sauce.”
“All I’m saying is that it’s okay to slow down once in a while and take it easy.”
“Take it easy?” Molly huffed. “I’ll take it easy when I’m dead. For now, I’ve got things to do and places to be.”
Her friend peered at her over the top of her glasses. “Oh yeah? Was the hospital one of those places? Cause that’s where you ended up.” She glanced at Jocelyn. “At least this might slow your grandma down a little.”
I doubt it, Mack thought. Molly had been an unstoppable force for as long as he could remember.
Jocelyn held up her hand like a referee. “How about you two stop bickering like an old married couple and someone tell me what the doctors are saying?”
Molly shrugged again. “The obvious—that I broke my leg and I’m bruised up. Although one of them had the audacity to call me old.”
“The nerve,” Jocelyn murmured, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
“As if,” Molly scoffed. “I’m barely a day over eighty.”
“So besides insulting your youth, what did they actually say about your health and your recovery?”
Molly waved her hand away. “Some hogwash about resting. And keeping off my leg for at least a month.”
Jocelyn folded her arms over her chest. “Well then, that’s the hogwash you need to do.”
Molly shook her head. “But I can’t. I don’t have a month to take it easy. I’ve got the Spring Festival in less than a week, and the whole town is counting on it.”
“Then the whole town can wait. Your health is way more important than the community of Harmony Creek getting their funnel cake fix.”
