“Yeah, you do, but that’s okay. Every young lady from town comes here as often as possible.” Bo frowned as the nozzle clattered and the gas stopped pumping. “This isn’t full yet. Let me get her started back up.” He flipped the silver lever on the pump and the thing clicked to life again. “Tell you what, I’ll go get Troy and offer an introduction. The customer line is gone now anyway.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to disturb him.”
The man nodded once as though the matter was decided, ignored Destiny’s protest and started toward the garage. And the gas, which was taking forever to pump, clicked to a near standstill when he walked away. Destiny didn’t even know the numbers could turn that slowly, but then again, all of the gas stations in Atlanta had digital displays. This one, like everything else she’d seen so far, seemed straight out of the 1950s. And since it continued turning slower than traffic on I-285 at rush hour, she barely had three gallons in the tank when Bo returned with tall, dark and mesmerizing Troy Lee by his side.
He was a good six-two, easy, the jet-black hair even darker shining in the sun. Destiny’s hands involuntarily tightened on the wheel, and she made her fingers relax so the blood could start flowing again. Did he really look this good, or was it the fact that she already knew so much about the man and the thoughts of his heart that made her feel as if she were going to pass out merely looking at him? The subscribers to her magazine would simply have to have a photo to accompany his love letters...once Destiny had the authority to put them in print. Which she’d have, one way or another, before next month’s issue. She had to; she’d already promised her advertisers.
“Troy, this is...” Bo Taylor waited for her to fill in the blank.
“Destiny,” she said. “Destiny Porter.”
“Nice to meet you.” He gave her an easy smile, and a deep dimple popped in place slightly beneath his left cheekbone. Somehow that single indention made him even more incredible.
“She’s from out of town, but I didn’t find out yet if she’s passing through or staying awhile.” He looked again to Destiny.
She really had to get a grip. “I’m from Atlanta. Staying awhile.”
Bo nodded. “Troy, my throat is parched. I thought that line of customers was never going to die down, but Ms. Destiny is the last one for now. Can you finish up here? I’m going to head on in and get a soda with Maura.”
“Sure.” Troy nodded at the man retreating to the station and didn’t seem to notice how guilty he looked as he left Destiny to deal with her unwanted attraction on her own. She did not need to be distracted by his looks. She simply needed his signature on a contract, a contract that would allow her to expose his innermost thoughts to the world.
Nervous, she looked away from the handsome country boy and spotted the latest copy of her magazine in the passenger’s seat, as well as a printout of the email that caused her to take this trip. And the love letters—this man’s love letters. She reached into the backseat, grabbed her gigantic purse and flung it over the evidence.
A deep clearing of his throat brought her attention back to the guy outside the car. “You okay?” He tilted his head with the question.
Destiny noticed he’d leaned against the pump and crossed his arms, which drew more attention to biceps that would put every guy in her Atlanta gym to shame. And she suspected from his letters that he wasn’t the kind of guy to hit a gym. He’d mentioned putting in a good, honest day’s work every day. She also knew that he’d support his wife’s choice if she wanted to work outside the home, but if she decided to be a stay-at-home mom, he’d support that just as much.
She knew so much about this guy, but he didn’t know the first thing about her. She’d have to change that, and she couldn’t waste time about it. Those letters could save her magazine. So she had to gain his trust and then get the rights to run them.
No sweat.
But she was sweating now, and she didn’t think it was necessarily due to the Alabama heat. Did all guys down here look like that?
Destiny saw that he still waited for her to answer his question. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just wanted to have my purse handy when it’s time to pay.” She shot a glance at the churning pump. “I’m guessing the customer lines have something to do with the speed of the pumps?”
He laughed, and the sound rippled over her skin like cocoa butter on a hot day at the beach. She’d have never thought a guy from a tiny town in Alabama could have this effect on her senses. Then again, she’d have never thought a guy from here would be as sensitive and heartfelt as the one standing beside her car.
But he didn’t know she knew about that. She snuck a glance at her passenger seat to make sure his letters were covered.
“So, you said you’re staying awhile. What are you planning to do in Claremont? We aren’t exactly the tourist capital of the world, other than the dude ranch and the fishing camp. But you don’t seem like the dude-ranch or fishing-camp type.” He shrugged broad shoulders. “No offense.”
“None taken.” She felt her heart rate slow and was glad she was becoming more at ease talking to the guy who’d so thoroughly, and unknowingly, touched her heart. “I’m staying a few weeks to write stories about life in a small Southern town.” That was true; she did plan to write about Claremont and about the couples she’d meet during her visit, as her magazine focused on love, but that wasn’t what brought her here.
Troy Lee did.
“Well, then, you’ve come to the right place. You don’t get much smaller than Claremont.” He sighed, a nearly inaudible sound, but one Destiny heard, since she hung on to every word. “But in my opinion, we’ve got everything anyone could need.”
And there it was, the sentimental side she’d sensed in his letters and the guy who’d treat a girl like pure gold. Destiny fought the urge to sigh right back. However, she’d dated quite a few guys who started out acting that way and then their true colors came shining through, thicker and darker than hard Georgia clay. She hadn’t met an honest, sincere one yet. But if Troy Lee’s letters to his future bride rang true, he could be the real deal. And the type her readers wanted to hear about.
She cleared her throat. “So, what does Claremont have, besides the dude ranch and the fishing camp?”
He grinned. “I was right. You aren’t the dude-ranch or fishing-camp kind of girl.”
She found it very easy to smile at Troy. “I’ll be honest. I’m afraid of horses, but truthfully, I’ve always wanted to learn how to fish.”
“Really, now? Well, I might be able to help you out.”
Destiny already knew that, of course, but she kept her poker face intact. “How could you do that?”
“It just so happens that I have a second job on the weekends running the fishing hole. It isn’t as organized and all as the new fish camp. The Cutter family owns that, and it’s more of a vacation spot. But my grandparents James and Jolaine Bowers own the fishing hole, and it’s the type of place to go if you want to have some quiet time for a day, relax outside, take in the scenery.”
“And catch some fish?”
His dimple popped back into place with his smile. “Yeah, that, too.”
“So you’ll be there this weekend?” Destiny was doing a little fishing right now, and she wasn’t all that discreet about it, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“I will.” He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a leather wallet. “I think I have a couple of their cards left in here. I’ll get you one. It’ll have the address for you. We’re open pretty much from sunup till sundown, so you can come whenever you like.”
“I don’t need a reservation?”
Blue eyes glittered as he looked up from a forest of black lashes. “Nah, it’s not that kind of place.”
She watched his hands, covered in dirt and oil, thumb through the worn wallet, and she noticed a small emblem on one co
rner of the leather, a gold cross. The symbol reminded her of the main theme of his letters.
I want a bride who loves the Lord more than she loves me.
The statement had caught Destiny unaware, shocked her a little. She didn’t have that kind of faith, didn’t really understand it, but the guy wrote about it so much that she honestly believed he meant those words. And that intrigued her even more.
“I know I have them in here somewhere.”
As he searched for the card, Destiny took the chance to look at his face, and she realized with surprise that it was also fairly well covered with dirt and grime, and one thick smear of what she guessed to be oil across his forehead. Funny, she hadn’t even noticed it before. His features had apparently drawn her attention to the important things. Or maybe it was the words he’d written on those love letters that hid any imperfections.
“Here it is.” He withdrew the card and handed it to Destiny. “You’ll have to excuse the smudge.” He pointed to a black smear along the edge. “You can still read the important stuff. And there’s another business on the back.”
Destiny flipped the card and saw the contact information for the Bowers’ Sporting Goods Shop on the Claremont square.
“My grandparents thought it’d be smart to consolidate their two businesses on one card.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” She tucked the card inside her purse.
The gas pump made a loud racket as it screeched to a stop. “Looks like it’s done.” He moved the nozzle from the tank to the pump. “Took fifty-three dollars’ worth.”
She fished three twenties from her wallet and placed them in his palm.
“Hold on, I’ll get your change.” He turned and walked toward the station where Bo and Maura quickly jerked their attention from the gas pumps to something else at the counter.
Destiny’s cell phone rang. She glanced at the display, saw her managing editor’s name, then answered. “Everything okay with today’s blog?”
The magazine’s website ran an original blog post each day. Usually Destiny wrote the material, but Rita had taken on today’s so Destiny could get on the road sooner. Plus, since their entire staff consisted of merely the two of them, if Destiny didn’t do it, Rita did. Destiny may have footed the start-up expenses and therefore held the “owner” title, but Rita cared just as much about the magazine’s success. Hopefully, if Destiny could keep her advertisers and subscribers happy, she’d one day be able to pay her friend a salary worthy of her efforts.
“Of course, everything’s fine,” Rita said. “I told you I can handle things.”
Destiny grinned. “Okay, so why are you calling?”
“To find out if you met him yet, naturally. Have you? And does he look as good as he sounds on paper?”
“No, he looks better.”
“You don’t say? Well, maybe I should’ve been the one to volunteer for this road trip. Then again, it may be a moot point. His grandmother just called again to make sure we weren’t publishing his letters and also asked for us to return the originals.”
Destiny frowned. Troy’s grandmother had entered several of his love letters in the magazine’s first Love Letter Contest, and his had blown all of the other entries out of the water. Then, when they’d phoned the lady to let her know she’d won, she admitted she didn’t have her grandson’s permission to share them. Rita had offered to call and talk to Troy, but the woman had said she’d try to get his permission. When that didn’t happen quickly, Destiny decided to head to Alabama herself and request it personally. “Did she say anything else?”
“That Troy had told her specifically today that he didn’t want anyone but his future bride seeing those letters and that she wanted to make sure we gave the prize money to whoever came in second...and returned those letters. She said she wants to put them back where she found them before he realizes they’re missing.”
“None of those other letters even held a candle to his, Rita. You know that. And we promised our advertisers a sneak peek into the heart of a true Southern gentleman. Obviously, there aren’t that many of them left, and we’ve found a winner. I’m not giving up on getting his permission to publish them.”
Rita’s laugh echoed through the phone. “I thought you’d say that, but I figured you’d want to know what she said. We still need to mail those letters to her, you know.”
Destiny glanced at the letters that she’d read and reread continually ever since they’d arrived in their PO box. Funny, she felt almost territorial about them, as though they were written to her or something. But they weren’t, and his grandmother wanted to return them to where she had found them. “Okay. We’ll send them back,” she said regretfully.
Troy exited the station and started toward her car.
“Hey, he’s coming this way. Call you back later.” She hung up and tossed the cell back in her purse.
“Here you go.” He placed the bills in her hand, and the simple gesture sent a ripple of awareness up her arm. “So, did you have any other questions?”
“Other questions?” She folded the cash and placed it in the console. “Oh, yes, I do. I need to find the Claremont Bed and Breakfast. Could you tell me where it’s located?”
“Sure, you keep heading down Claremont-Stockville Road, the way you’re going, and you’ll run right into the town square. Head to the opposite side and take the road to Maple Street. It’s a block down on the left. It’s an antebellum plantation, white with double porches all the way around, one on the top floor and the other surrounding the bottom. You can’t miss it. Nice place. L. E. and Annette Tingle run it. They’re good folks. They’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t make any effort to start the engine. She really didn’t want to leave him, but she couldn’t think of another reason to stay.
“But that wasn’t what I meant.” His relaxed and easy tone highlighted his contentment in his world, even if he hadn’t found the woman he’d written to for, oh, fifteen years.
“Wasn’t what you meant? What wasn’t what you meant?”
“I was asking if you have any other questions about small-town living. Maybe I could help you out, beyond just showing you how to fish this weekend. Assuming you visit the fishing hole.” He grinned. “Anyway, ask away. You’re our only customer for the time being. Might as well take advantage of a few minutes to ask small-town questions of the small-town guy.”
She racked her brain for every line of those beautifully written letters, and she suddenly knew exactly what to ask in her quest to begin winning Troy’s trust. “Just one more question, for now.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s Wednesday, and I’d love to attend a midweek worship. Can you tell me if there’s a church in town that I could visit tonight?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d graced a church for a midweek service. In fact, she missed more Sundays than she attended, but she did find her way to church every now and again. And this morning, she’d even found her Bible and packed it for the trip because faith was important to Troy. So for now she’d find hers again, too. Never hurt to spend time in church; she just rarely found the time to make the effort. But she’d make it now.
He hesitated, then one corner of his mouth kicked up a notch, and that dimple made a reappearance. “Sure, Claremont Community Church has a midweek worship. And it’s pretty easy to find. There’s a sign for the church at the end of a road a little ways before you get to the square. You can’t miss it. Worship starts at seven.”
A little ways. The quaint term sounded adorable, especially when delivered with that deep drawl. Instead of asking him exactly how far that constituted, she said, “Sounds great.” She turned the key. “And will you be there?”
“I try to never miss.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” She gave him her best smile and a small wave, and then drove away
from the guy she’d planned to meet ever since her magazine received that batch of letters from his grandmother last month. And she’d seen it in his eyes: her church question took him by pleasant surprise. Good. She wanted to convince him to trust her, be her friend and eventually agree to help save her magazine. Perhaps in the process, he’d get his own version of her magazine’s name.
Southern Love.
Chapter Two
Today I saw a vision of what I want for us in the future. Maura packed a picnic lunch for Bo, and the two of them sat behind the service station while I ran the place and they enjoyed their quiet time. I look forward to having quiet time with you, time to reflect on our day, time to reflect on our faith. I look forward to many years sharing quiet time and enjoying each other’s company, building our love together and coming to know each other so well that we can read each other’s thoughts without words.
Troy folded the letter and placed it in the wooden box that held the most recent of the letters that he’d written for the past fifteen years. The thing was, his grandmother had struck a nerve today with her impromptu visit to the station. He hadn’t anticipated passing his twenty-seventh birthday and still not finding the recipient of these letters. Then again, he asked God to send her in His time, so he knew that the Lord would put the right woman in his life one day. Maybe this weekend’s date with Haley Calhoun would be the start of something that would last longer than a date or two.
His mind flashed to Destiny Porter, the woman who’d come by the station today. Silky chocolate hair and bright blue eyes in a pretty heart-shaped face. She wasn’t overly made-up and didn’t appear fake like a lot of girls he knew. Then again, they only seemed fake when they started the bizarre flirting that Troy couldn’t stand. He wanted a woman who spoke from the heart, and he hadn’t found that yet. But this woman, Destiny Porter, had seemed undeniably real. However, she was only passing through, here for a while to write about small-town living. She had big city written all over her, from the snazzy clothes she wore to the flashy car she drove.
Bride Wanted Page 2
